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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (70,939 Views)
DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Wendy cringed as a splash of blood erupted from Turner. She cringed more as he and Ray fell backwards onto the pavement and their bike skidded away. It took a moment for Ray to get back up, and when he saw Turner clutching his gut, his own despair was palpable.

Wendy watched them too long. She saw Ray look up, saw the malice in his eyes, then…

BANG!

A shot rang out, striking him in the shoulder and spinning him backwards. Wendy followed the line the bullet travelled back to Eli – who was still charging for them, like he thought was the Terminator or something.

KA-BOOM!

Another shot from the rifle rang out, causing Wendy to flinch. Pink Hair didn’t hit anything that time – finally, she had missed – but it wouldn’t be long before she could try again.

“Get him in here!” Wendy called out, leaning away from cover to fire a few shots at Eli. Suppressing fire. Nothing more.

Ray was bleeding himself now, from the bullet lodged somewhere in his shoulder, but he was mobile and aware enough to understand Wendy’s order. He shook off his feelings and groaned as he dragged Turner towards the minivan.

Julien reached over and across far enough to open the middle doors on Ray’s side. Then Wendy helped Ray drag him inside as his stomach gushed blood. She frowned at the sight of it.

“We gotta go,” she said, under her breath.

“What?!” Julien asked, angry and incredulous. He pressed his back against the passenger’s seat and turned to her.

Turner was strewn about the middle seats now. Blood kept pumping from his wound, and a harried-looking Ray was doing all he could to keep the loss minimal. He was failing.

It occurred to Wendy then just how much she had fucked up. She had underestimated their prey, which was a too-often fatal mistake in the game they were playing. They seemed like too motley a crew to pose a threat. They had an old priest, a kid, a waify chick with a limp and pink hair -- how much damage could they possibly do? she had asked herself.

The answer was more than she thought.

Too much.

Gorski was only a few metres away, but he might as well have been a million miles. She wasn’t going to sacrifice anyone to get him back.

BANG!

Eli or the chick with the rifle – Wendy wasn’t sure which – got a bullet through the back window, shattering it. It travelled all the way into the windshield, penetrating it somewhere in the middle of Wendy and Julien.

“We’re going!” she repeated, spinning back around in her seat to face the right way. She pressed down on the gas.

Sorry, Gorski.

* * *

Connor remembered that dark night in Flint, when the fires burned bright outside his window. Before and after that, he was hiding under his bed, flinching at the constant sound of gunfire outside. It sounded a lot like the gunfire that was sounding out now. It made him just as scared.

He and his mom were behind the truck, guarded by Brandon and a big rock. Around them, rotters were getting closer and closer. It said something that Connor didn’t even consider them the biggest threat right now.

They might still be the threat that kills us, he realized. The dark thought lingered. It seemed clearer and more real than he was used to.

The first two rotters arrived practically as a pair. Two men, once upon a time, dressed in flannel shirts and denim pants both of them. They were both hefty. Bigger – but flabbier – than even Eli. The only major difference between the two was what used to be their facial hair. One still had a beard of sorts. The other may have at one time, but it hadn’t survived the transformation. Only the stray patchy strand of white hair hung from its chin now.

Both rotters neared the truck, slightly but noticeably picking up speed as they got close.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Fuck!

Willow cursed mentally at her last shot. She knew she was a damn good shot, but she also knew she wasn't perfect. The first one had been a direct hit and she earned that much, but her second shot had been off -- it was with a dash of luck that it still hit. She had lined her third shot up to take out the wheel on the van, but it had gone wide and bounced harmlessly off the concrete. Not quite the result that she was hoping for, but it was easy to justify missing; this was a long-range shot, in the wind, against moving targets. Even the best shots in the world wouldn't hit them all.

Willow loaded another round into the chamber. And then the van took off again. She set her sights through the rear window; maybe she could take out one more as they were running away. She had a better chance at that than hitting the tire.

KA-BOOM!

The right taillight erupted in an explosion of glass and metal. But a destroyed taillight wasn't going to slow them down any. And there weren't any cops around anymore to pull them over for that either. Slowly, Willow raised her head from the scope of the rifle. She wasn't going to get anymore shots off. That, and every shot that she had fired reminded her that her body was still kind of a mess. Her leg throbbed, every muscle in her back screaming at her, and her left lung felt like it was on fire. These high adrenaline situations were probably not helping her recover any faster. She slumped down in the bed of the truck to catch a breather -- her job for now was done.

* * * * *

Jen had stayed low after the firefight erupted. Right now, she was pretty useless. She didn't have her signature baseball bat or Uzi -- both had been in the van that was now no longer in their possession. Willow and Eli were fighting to take back at least something, but everyone else was unarmed. And rotters were closing in around them from all directions. The noise they had stirred lured them in like moths to a flame. Thankfully, Jen still had that old butterfly knife tucked away in her pocket. The little knife that had saved her ass at least twice now. She crawled to her feet and pulled the folded blade out of her pocket.

A quick survey of the area revealed that she was pretty isolated. Brandon had already ushered Annie and Connor towards the truck and was currently standing watch over them like a hawk. Antonio was helping the injured Emmett towards them as well, trying to lend the larger man a shoulder to help him walk. A few were moving in on Brandon, but Jen made her way over to Antonio first. Brandon was strong and capable. With Emmett injured, Antonio was almost helpless from the rotter that was closing in on them.

That rotter dropped dead as Jen stabbed it in the back of the head, digging the knife as deeply into its skull as she could manage.

"Thank you." Antonio thanked her with a nod.

"Less thanking, more moving." Jen ordered. "I'll keep you guys clear."
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Strompy
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Brandon looked through the truck window at the scene playing out. It looked like Willow and Eli had them on the run. One of them was down, but alive. He'd live to tell them exactly where to find his friends. The most pressing matter for Brandon and the others were the rotters. Two larger ones had now gotten close enough to warrant a response.

Annie was readying herself to deal with Emmett. Connor looked completely lost. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He needed to focus, needed to know that nothing had changed and that everyone was there to watch each other's backs.

"Connor. Watch me. Demonstration." he said as he gripped the rock firmly in his hand.

It was just another lesson. Nothing to lose your cool over. Just treat it like any other situation, with calm and composure. It was how he was taught to think and act and it had seen him through. Maybe he could teach that through example. This wasn't a lesson in combat technique so much as a broader lesson in survival.

"Rotters are bad on their feet. These guys are big but it doesn't mean they're more dangerous. they have a harder time getting back up." he yelled over the din in a calm tone.

He moved on the closest one. Just like he'd shown them in practice he put his leg behind that of the rotter. When it leaned in to bite he pushed back firmly, twisting its weight and undermining its balance with his leg. It went down hard. He repeated the process with the other. He kicked the arm out from under the first as it attempted to push itself to its feet. Just like in the warehouse this was going to be a fight about control. Jen and Antonio were still on their feet and they'd be helping with the rotters. With the rotter on its belly again it was a simple matter of force as he brought the rock down with both hands, cracking the back of its skull. He gave it another two strikes until he was satisfied it wouldn't get back up. The second one was just about on its feet but still bent over when he walloped it with a two handed blow to the back of the neck. Something dislocated and its body went limp. The head would still be alive but it'd be chewing dirt from now on, which was fortunate because a severed rotter head could make for a good interrogation tool.

More rotters were closing in. An elderly looking female one was closest of those. He strode over to it and gave it a broad haymaker to the side of the head. There was a crack and the force of the blow sent it tumbling limply sideways. He backed up to the truck again to regroup with Jen and Antonio.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli’s anger intensified as he ran, and watched as glass and plastic exploded from the back of the van ahead – but to no avail. It took damage but sped away just the same. The other vehicles followed it.

“Bastards! Cowards!” Eli yelled after them, even if he was pretty sure they couldn’t hear him.

His breathing was a little ragged by the time he reached the pot-bellied fucker on the ground. Gorski, Wendy had called him during the robbery. He seemed dazed and pained at the same time. He rolled over onto his back as Eli got within a few strides.

Eli saw Gorski’s arm crook as he tried to reach into his jacket – but too late. Eli was on him. As the vehicles ahead disappeared from sight, Eli kicked Gorski’s forearm like it was a soccer ball, earning him a cry of pain.

Gorski’s hand landed on the pavement beside him. Eli stepped on it then bent over and put his hands on his knees. He was breathing heavily from the effort of the run.

“Jesus – fuck, fuck, fuck!” Gorski cried.

Eli removed his foot from his hand, then pointed his gun – empty now, not that his captive needed to know that – down at Gorski’s body.

“Goddamn!” Gorski kept crying. “I think you – you broke my wrist!”

Eli inhaled a few more breaths before looking down at him with cruel eyes.

“Believe me,” he said, his voice harsh. “I feel real fuckin’ bad about that.”

* * *

Connor swallowed his breath and watched Brandon, like he was instructed. He tried to fight back the fear that was rising through his whole body.

Brandon took out three with just a rock, and he made it look like he was nothing. He was a badass. But Connor knew that already. He also knew that he wasn’t. He tried to absorb the lessons, even as chaos unfolded around him – get them off their feet, keep them off their feet, control them – but he was smaller and weaker. He was worried about trying to replicate them.

He was even more worried about doing nothing. The next wave of rotters was imminent, and there were more of them. He was deathly afraid not even Brandon could handle five at once.

Then he remembered some of Brandon’s earlier words. He said it was natural to be afraid – but they weren’t talking about rotters. They were talking about guns. Brandon had told him, “That pistol will save your life if you let it.

Connor surprised his mom – he could tell by the stunned expression on her face – by scrambling towards her bag, opening a side compartment. The gun Brandon gave him. He had left it in there! And the thieves hadn’t taken it!

Anxiously, he pulled it out of the bag by the barrel, and then got a better grip. He looked up at his mom. She was still surprised. But pleasantly surprised now. She turned away from Emmett momentarily.

“Honey, let me…” she held out her hand.

He ignored it. He turned and spotted one of the nearest rotters, coming at Brandon from the left. He was another bearded man in flannel. He was moving alongside four others, but Connor had the clearest shot at him.

He fired from the ground, blinking hard as the gunshot sounded.

BANG!

When he opened his eyes again, the rotter was on its back. It wasn’t moving.

Connor blinked again. Unexpectedly, he found himself with a stunned smile.
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Strompy
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The sound of Connor's gun took Brandon by surprise. He assumed they'd taken everything but Eli and Willow's. More surprising was that Connor had fired it and that he'd just downed a rotter that was threatening him. His first rotter. An important moment for people these days, validating and empowering from Brandon's experience.

Brandon didn't think it was inappropriate for him to take a little pride in Connor. As much as this moment was important to him, for Brandon it was also a validation, that he'd helped give somebody the tools to help themselves. Something very good. He gave Connor a small acknowledging smile and nod, both out of that pride and thanks for the assistance.

Plenty more where that one came from. Brandon launched back into the fight.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"Nice shot, Connor!" Jen gave the kid a brief cheer over the chorus of rotters.

She had just arrived at their sides in time to see Connor nail that rotter with one shot. For a first time, that was better than she had done. Although admittedly, Jen wasn't a great shot herself -- she knew the theory more than the practice. It was why she always carried an Uzi, since she thought she would have better luck with something that had a lot of bullets.

"Alright, Emmett. Easy now." Antonio was reassuring the injured Emmett behind her.

Now that they had made it to Annie and everyone else, he was trying to get him to sit down so Annie could work her doctoral magic on him. While Jen was sure that Brandon and maybe even Connor could handle a few rotters, she didn't want to be left out. Especially with Brandon showing off a little. She strode up to join the blonde man and rolled her shoulders.

"I got the two on the left."

At only five and a half feet tall with a lean frame, Jen couldn't really barrel through them in the same way that Brandon could. She was athletic, but between his longer limbs and taller height, Brandon could simply strike at them from safer and better angles. She had to rely a little more on fancy footwork to get the job done, especially now that she didn't have her bat with her to give her that extra reach.

She moved forward to put a little distance between herself and the others. When the first of her designated rotters came close to her, she went low and slipped underneath its larger body. A movement that would only work against something as slow and unresponsive as a corpse. Before it could turn around, she kicked the back of its knee hard. It fell to the ground. She took a few steps forward now to meet the second rotter. This one was a smaller female like herself. It gave her an idea. As this rotter lunged forward for her, Jen reached out and grabbed her by the blouse she was wearing. She curled her body and leaned backwards. As she hit the ground, she shot one of her legs forward into the rotters stomach and used the backwards momentum to throw the rotter clear over her. It landed on top of the first rotter that was trying to get back to its feet.

Nailed it. Jen smirked as she rolled back onto her feet.

In all honestly, it was a pretty simple move to pull off on a rotter -- which was significantly lighter and more sluggish than a person. A lot of martial arts classes had a move similar to it.

Once back on her feet, Jen approached the entangled rotters and executed them one after another with stabs to the head. The large male she had taken down first required two stabs to kill. For a few moments, Jen felt pretty good about herself. Then she felt a bit of tightness in her back.

Fuck, I think I threw out my back showing off like that.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Connor rose to his feet as the rotters kept coming. Emboldened by his first kill, he raised both arms, searching for another target.

BANG!

The shot punched through a rotter’s neck. It kept lurching forward. Connor aimed upwards and breathed out – something he learned from Jen.

BANG!

Brains spilled out the back of the rotter’s skull that time, and Connor’s unsteady smile persisted. That was two!
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Is that so?
Jen didn't have much time to dwell on hurting herself. More rotters were closing in on them. Of course they would, there were always more rotters. She hoped Willow and Eli managed to pay those bandits back for what they stole. Because if this kept up, they might not all make it out of this. And if any of them didn't, she would hold them personally responsible for it.

She rushed forward towards the nearest rotter. A man slightly larger than herself. She held out her right arm as it approached, grabbed it by the hem of its shirt, twisted her hips with all her force and slammed her blade-wielding left into the side of its head, piercing the brain and killing it instantly. The force of the impact spiked the rotter onto the ground violently, dislodging the knife on its own.

BANG!

The boom of a shotgun was accompanied by a nearby rotter being blown right off its feet. Jen glanced over her shoulder to see Antonio holding his pump-action at his shoulder.

"Guess they didn't check out the truck." Jen smirked, it felt good to have more guns to their name.

"No, they did not." Antonio responded calmly.

BANG!
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Strompy
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Brandon kept up his assault. The rotters were starting to thin now with both Connor and Antonio joining the fray. Now that they were decently spread out he abandoned technique, putting everything he could muster into every swing. His hands were already awash with gore as he clobbered another over the head. the blow tore a great deal of skin from its head, exposing a patch of skull. As it staggered under the blow he put a boot to its chest and kicked it backwards and turned to another striking it in the side of the head. That one went down and he followed his strike up by positioning himself on top of it, smashing its skull in soundly with his rock. As the one with the exposed skull staggered back with in range and took it to the ground and began pounding on its head repeatedly.

His heart was pounding in his chest from the strain and his body began to ache. They needed to finish this soon. With a great sigh of effort he got back to his feet and prepared for the next rotter.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Connor jumped at the shotgun blast, but recovered once he realized its outcome. Another rotter down. He was feeling pretty positive about this fight now.

The rotters were spread out now and further away. Brandon and Jen’s moves had bought them some time. Connor was able to raise his pistol again and take aim, remembering the recoil from the last couple shots.

BANG!

A rotter went down. Connor kept smiling – a stunned, disbelieving smile, but a smile nonetheless.

BANG!

He heard a moan and fired again a few seconds later. He missed.

BANG!

He didn’t miss twice. He heard another moan and swivelled to its source.

BANG!

He cut the moan off short with a bullet to the brain. It looked like that might have even been the last one in the area.

He heard another moan, however, so maybe not. He turned all the way around, raising his pistol, ready to fire. Some sort of instinct or adrenaline had taken over. His finger twitched on the trigger.

He found himself aiming at Emmett. His mom had taken his hand off his wound temporarily to examine it. His moan was one of pain.

Connor relaxed his finger and his smile faded. He inhaled sharply and lowered his arm. No more moans. Just a bunch of bodies.

“Hey,” Connor recognized Eli’s voice. “Everyone okay?

He leaned over to see Eli approaching the aftermath of the fight and the newly littered field of corpses. He wasn’t alone – he was shoving a bearded stranger along at gunpoint, and the stranger looked pained and angry.

“I… I think so,” Annie said, gulping then finding her confidence. She didn’t look away from Emmett. “I think the bullet grazed Emmett’s ribs.”

“I’ll be… fine,” Emmett grunted through the pain.

Connor looked back to Eli, who frowned a little. He didn’t seem as sure. He kept moving anyway, approaching Brandon first. With the hand he wasn’t using to hold up the stranger, he held out another gun sideways for Brandon to accept – he had probably taken it off his hostage, Connor figured.

“We need to get out of the open,” Eli said, all business. “I got Gorski here. Brandon – could you help with Emmett?”

“Where are we going?” Annie asked. She looked up at Eli now, and frowned a little at her first sight of his captive.

“The strip club,” Eli answered and pointed.

Connor’s gaze followed Eli’s gesture. He found himself looking at a pink barn.

* * *

Eli emerged from the office, ignoring Gorski’s cries and vicious insults as he closed the door behind him. Eli had just finished tying him tight to a chair with some rope and the last of Emmett’s zip ties. Now the captive didn’t have anything to but hurl invective. He thought bad times were ahead, so he was lashing out.

He wasn’t wrong. For him, all there was from now on would be a bad time.

Back in the main room, Annie had Emmett laying on the stage. She was using peroxide from her bag to clean his wound. His teeth were grinding from the pain, but he was doing an admirable job of keeping quiet. Strained grunts only. No screams.

Eli passed by the bar on his way over. He spotted a bottle of Tennessee whiskey on the shelf and grabbed it. A few steps later, he had it opened and placed on the stage near Emmett.

“Might take the edge off,” he said.

Emmett looked over to it. His eyes narrowed in conflict, then squeezed tight from a sudden pain. When they opened again, Emmett swiped the bottle and pressed it to his mouth, taking a gulp.

Eli felt a stab of sympathy, but had to move on for now. Willow and Brandon were nearby, which made the next part easy.

“Willow,” he said, jumping right into it. “That ladder in the back leads to a hatch in the roof. That’s where I want you and your rifle, in case Wendy and her band of merry assholes decide to come back.”

He turned to Brandon without waiting for a response.

“Brandon, our guest’s waiting in the office,” he said. “We need him to tell us where his friends are based – where they took our stuff. You mind starting the conversation? I’ll join you in just a bit.”
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Strompy
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"I know it's wrong on a lot of levels but I'm unbelievably hot for you right now." Brandon whispered in Willow's ear salaciously.

Eli approached them with their orders and Brandon stood to attention. There would be time for those thoughts later. For now they needed the information their new friend had. Brandon was going to open the talks. He gulped hard at the prospect of what they may have to do to get that information. If he didn't tell them they'd have to compel him.

Brandon found the idea completely repugnant. It rankled something in the very core of him, but without their supplies their chances of survival went from unlikely to less than slim. They hadn't even left them with an operational vehicle. He tried to grab that outrage and ride it, turn it into something cold and sharp to cut through this mess.

Be cold. he bid himself.

"Make sure Connor and the priest are somewhere they won't hear anything." he said as he made his way toward the office.

Brandon made his way into the office where Gorski waited tied to a chair. Brandon knew how he looked to people. People just weren't afraid of a pretty face. In some ways he was right not to fear him, Brandon imagined that's why Eli chose him. That they were going to do a good cop bad cop routine. Gorski probably guessed the same thing. He was half right.

Silently Brandon made his way to the desk and opened it up. There were numerous little itemsin there. First he drew a fountain pen which looked expensive. Then a paper clip. A stapler. Thumbtacks. And finally he lost his composure and chuckled as he withdrew a large and visually striking dildo, after which he cleaned his hands with the antibacterial hand gel in the first drawer.

"Okay. You know what we want to know, and how we plan to get it. What you don't know is that we aren't just going to beat you for it, since you look like somebody who gets punched a lot. Obviously this is good cop bad cop. I'm the good one, and I know a way to hurt you with every item a just lay out, even the hand gel. If you tell me something I don't want to hear I'll hurt you, and I'll let you imagine how. Keep in mind that I don't like hurting people, not even after you robbed us and left us for dead. We don't want to hurt your friends, we just want our stuff back. That's all. You just tell us everything we want to know as we ask you and you leave here unmolested with a weapon and some supplies." Brandon explained calmly.

"First off. I'm Brandon. What's your name?"
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Thomas Gorski knew this was bad. He knew – to put it politely – that he was fucked.

We shoulda just killed them, he thought, as he struggled in vain with the ties binding his wrists to his chair. Once they pulled over. We shoulda mowed their asses down.

He had tried to make that argument to Wendy before, more than once. She would always shoot him down. ‘We kill when we have to. No sooner.’ It was like her mantra. Probably a remnant piece of morality from her cop days, as short-lived as he’d heard those were. Apparently she had mental problems that got her booted after they came to light over the course of a civil suit – something to do with her kicking a suspect a little too hard, or a little too much, or both.

Of course, Wendy hadn’t admitted that herself. Julien had let it slip drunkenly one night, after drowning a few glasses of single malt. Gorski had no idea how Jules, of all people knew that, but it sounded believable.

As far as Gorski was concerned, though, not killing – that was Wendy’s mental problem. He always knew that one day it’d bounce back on them and get one of them killed. Or captured, as it turned out.

And now here was this pretty blonde kid, giving him some sort of tough guy speech. Threatening to hurt him with hand gel. And the worst part was, maybe he wasn’t even lying.

Bad, he thought to himself over and over again. This is bad.

It was so bad he had to smile at how bad it was. Hell, he even had to laugh.

“Tom,” he said, and then chuckled.

* * *

Eli gave Brandon a serious nod before he departed. His request regarding Connor and Antonio was a fair one, and probably something Eli should have considered himself. He must have been too caught up planning their next step. He had an immediate mission once again – not a slightly nebulous long-term one, like ‘get to California’ – and he wasn’t thinking of much else.

Padre,” Eli waved to him. He was behind Annie, assisting her with Emmett’s care.

He looked for Connor next, but didn’t have to look far. The kid came bounding over to him.

“Where’s Brandon?” he asked right away. “I wanted to – I mean, I killed some rotters. I killed four rotters!

“Nice,” Eli said. He didn’t mean to sound dismissive, but he was a little distracted. “Brandon’s busy, but you can tell him a little later. Padre.

He waved for Antonio to come over again. Annie turned from her work suddenly, holding an arm in Antonio’s way to keep him there for a moment.

“Eli, wait,” she said. “If Brandon’s with that man, and if he’s doing what I think he’s doing…”

“What’s he doing?” Connor cut her off.

His giddiness over slaying a few rotters had clearly drawn him out of his shell a little, if he was interrupting like that. Annie gave him a patient smile but held out a hand to him now. Give me a minute, her finger indicated.

“If that’s happening, then I think we need to talk,” she finished.

Eli felt a tinge of annoyance. “I don’t think we do.”

“Emmett will live,” she pushed on. “And the rest of us are okay.”

Eli supposed if she had the courage to stand up to those robbers while they had guns on her Connor, he shouldn’t be surprised by her not taking no for an answer with him. He crossed his arm and waited for her to say what she had to say.

“We have Antonio’s truck and all its supplies,” she continued. “We have some guns, some bullets – not nearly as many, granted, but we’re not unarmed. We have my bag. We have yours. We have the cure. We can replace everything else.”

She paused. Eli uncrossed his arms. He shook his head, never really considering what she was hinting at. “No,” he said.

He didn’t look to anyone else for their opinion. Annie, however, did.
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Strompy
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"Cool." Brandon said with a pleasent smile.

"Okay, Tom. Please pick one." Brandon said gesturing to the items in front of him.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Gorski chuckled some more.

“You really think I’m gonna play along with your fuckin’ game? You really think that?” he asked, shaking his head.

Slowly, his chuckles subsided.

“We coulda just killed you, you know that? There was nothing stopping us. We coulda just put you down.”
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Brandon stopped smiling.

"I asked you to pick one, Tom. You are you going to pick one. And I'm going to explain why."

He positioned himself infront of Tom. Brandon lifted his shirt to reveal his stitches, where he'd been shot.

"A few days ago another group like yours shot first. They killed one of us, so we killed a lot of theirs. They had more people and more guns then you. That person was the only one we lost. After that we snuck into their camp and destroyed all their vehicles and we still got away. Your friends would be dead right now if they had shot first, and I would be peeling your face off. You were riht not to shoot, Tom." Brandon said his voice shaking with the outrage that prospect generated.

"That bullet hurt. It'll leave a scar. I'll never forget how much that hurt as long as I live. That's not how I'm going to hurt you though, Tom. That's for bad cop and I really don't wish that on you." Brandon said slapping Tom's face familiarly and assuming his more convivial air.

"I'll hurt you in small ways. You ever stub your toe, of course you have. Makes you mad right? Ever had one of those days where you can't seem to help but hurt yourself in small ways? Bending a fingernail back, stubbing you toe, bumping your head. You start to freak out more and more every time as you start to despair like the world is just out to nettle you. That's what I'm offering. Forgettable pain." he said in his best salesman impression.

"But pain, Tom. Lots and lots of forgettable pain until I start to drive you crazy. You can have that or you can have bad cop who will do things to you that will have you reliving this moment when you were presented with a choice between us every time you wake up in the morning and notice that parts of you don't work or just aren't there. This isn't a game, Tom. Now fucking pick one or I call in bad cop." he insisted in a tone that implied exactly how serious he was about the selection and how badly he didn't want to bring Eli in.
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