|Topic Started: Jul 20 2011, 06:25 PM (493 Views)|
|Mini_HELP||Aug 20 2011, 04:38 AM Post #16|
Alright, who the hell plugged in the Overlord?
As Vincent's foot pressed down on her neck, Lynn had a little while to wonder just what exactly had gone wrong. She'd made a mistake somewhere, that was for sure. It hadn't been in the actual fight. She'd done the best she could. Vincent had just been better, better than she'd given him credit for, and better than her. That fucking stung. Before that, then. When she'd tried to intimidate him? No, it would have worked, perhaps, back at school. It had to have been when she assumed he was unchanged, when she thought that he could kill someone and still be a pushover.
The foot lifted, and she gasped for air. She was hoping he'd back off, take his victory and laugh at her, fuck, even spit on her or something, that'd be fine, even beat her up some more. Whatever. Just as long as he let her go, let her crawl away and hide and maybe sob a bit or something, just from the pain of course, or—
She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could barely feel. There was pain, but it was more distant, now. The whole world was more distant. The pressure was gone. Vincent was gone. Lynn was free.
She was alone, and she wasn't afraid anymore. The pain had receded, and then the world did too, and she drifted into darkness, away from all of it.
It was almost a relief, after what she'd been through.
She just wished it didn't feel so very much like losing.
GRY2, Terrilynn Boden: DECEASED
|Fenrir||Aug 20 2011, 04:34 PM Post #17|
Vincent pushed open the door to the cabin with his gun tucked safely into the back of his jeans and his oar held tightly in one hand. Lynn was still lying, unmoving where he had left her. He walked over to her cautiously, oar held ready in case she suddenly got back up again; he had paid for his assumption earlier and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
When he reached her though, he could see that it was definitely over this time; a deep, purple bruise covered most of her neck and throat and she stared blankly at the sky with dead eyes. He knelt down next to her and checked to see if she was still breathing anyway, but he couldn’t feel anything.
Dropping oar and bag onto the ground next to him he reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, it was about time he found out what that padding he has felt was. He pulled the shirt back to reveal a bulky looking layer of, something, with a mark still visible from where the bullet he had fired earlier had hit her.
“So that’s why you were so confident. Fucking bullet proof vest”
Lifting the shirt up completely, Vincent felt around until he found the straps on the side that would allow him to remove the vest. It took him a minute or two of fumbling but eventually he was able to remove the vest without having to disrobe Lynn’s corpse in the process. He stood up and took of his own blood stained t-shirt before pulling the vest over his head and fastening the straps in place.
It was tight on him, the producers had obviously tried their best to find a vest that would fit as many competitors as possible but he was larger than most. He looked down at the dirty t-shirt on the ground and decided against putting it back on, walking over to his bag to find something else.
His fan service costume didn’t come with a shirt, thank god, and the only other options were the sponsor name shirt and the shirt in his team colours. He was about to reach for the brand name shirt when he stopped and gave the bright orange t-shirt another look. He had said before that he wasn’t going to wear it because it would make him too obvious a target, but thinking about it know he wanted people shooting at his chest – as opposed to anywhere the armour didn’t cover that is. Shrugging he picked the shirt from the bag and pulled it over his bullet proof vest, hoping it didn’t look too bulky beneath the brightly coloured material.
Taking a few minutes to move everything of use from Lynn’s supplies to his own, Vincent spent the time getting used to moving with the vest restricting him. It would take some time before he could move without as much apparent stiffness, but being able to take a shot to the chest was worth a little discomfort.
With one last check to make sure he had everything, Vincent took one last look over the scene of his latest fight and murder and said goodbye to the lake area.
(Vincent Sullivan ORA1 continued in Know Your Enemy)
Edited by Fenrir, Aug 21 2011, 07:06 PM.
M10: Aaron Chalmers : Lasso : "Feels good. You did a great job.” Deceased
M11: Gerald Lawson : Picnic Basket and Apple Pie : “Aww, man. You killed the Furby.” : Deceased
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