Post by Vincent. on Sept 30, 2012 22:11:08 GMT -8
August 11th, 2012; 1430 hours.[/color]
The humidity crept into everything. It was in every breath of air and it was under the skin. It stirred up a sort of unspoken tension, some silent frenzy, which everyone felt but no one wanted to comment on. Every individual was just trying to make it through the day without losing his nerve.
Vincent was no exception. He had chosen to wear his fatigues, ripped black jeans and a black tank top, rather than his uniform because of the oppressive heat, and sought refuge in the underground bunker even though he hated the place; the dank subterranean air was still moist, but it was cool. The man observed two recruits struggling over a pack of cigarettes in the back of the room, and he had the urge to smoke so he lit up one of his own, leaned away from the cool concrete wall, and walked casually over to Ig’s tent. He tapped lightly on the smooth fabric by the entrance flap and waited. A moment later it unzipped, revealing darkness that smelled sort of like old blood, and the looming figure of Ignatius Hunt. It occurred to Vincent then that he’d never seen the inside of the tent. The dark-eyed ex-marine stared at Vincent passively, questioning.
“…No tests today?”
“Nope.”
The two men turned and stared at the half-melted languid figures reclining against the walls and silently agreed that it was probably for the better. Then a static voice cut in over Vincent’s walkie-talkie that made the man flinch.
“Hey Cap, we got a situation up here on Walnut by the underpass!” Vincent plucked the thing off his belt and depressed the talk button.
“…Elaborate please.”
“Group’a fifteen or so civilians just showed up an’ demanded we surrender and give ‘em the food n’ stuff we stole!”
“…That’s cute. So why haven’t you killed them?”
“Uh, situation’s a little more fragile than that! They got guns. We ain’t,”
“…I see.”
“So, uh… requesting backup I guess! Unless you wants to open up for negotiations…”
“We don’t do negotiations. But you don’t tell them that. Let them know we’re sending someone over.”
“Right, you got it!”
Vincent put the com back in his belt and sighed. Ig stared at him.
“Can I come?”
“…Sure. Meet us at the gate in three.”
“Yes, sir.”
. . .
The front door opened and urgent, quiet footsteps swept in. Vincent made a beeline for the storage closet in the back of the building and grabbed for himself one of Vespyr’s swords, then changed his mind and picked up a heavy chain. For good measure, though, he did take one of the katanas which had a long strap attached to its sheath and swung the thing over his shoulder onto his back. Finally he felt around along the top shelf until his hands caressed over two familiar cold metal objects. One of the dusty guns was out of bullets but the other still had three. He shoved it in his pocket and felt a rush of the old excitement at the familiar weight of it there.
On his way out he considered telling Vespyr what was up, but she was asleep and he never liked waking her. But on his way through the door another thing struck him and he did turn around.
“…Hey Tuvlan, I could use your help.”
The boy. Stared.
"=D!?"
Vincent never walked around, armed to the teeth. The boy practically jumped at Vincent's request, slapping his hands onto tops of his jeans. Red hair dangled in front of his face, but his manic smile was clearly visible.
"Fun time!?
"=D!?"
"Yeah. Grab an axe or something and meet me at the gate ASAP."
. . .
Vincent and Ig stood by the gate to the parking garage. Isaiah, who'd been woken up to join the small patrol, stared across the barbed fence at Titus in silence. A few others jogged up to join the party--Leech and Medusa arrived grinning together, followed by Evander with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette on his lips, looking reluctant but ultimately apathetic to the entire situation.
If the boy had a tail, it would be flittering about so wildly.
He dashed towards the armoury, and grabbed the most top-heavy axe he could. He tugged on it to rest the handle on his right shoulder, but found it began to bore into him and his bones clicked uncomfortably against each other. Carrying it on both hands was just as draining.
He opened the door.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
*GRIIIIIIND*
*GRIIIIIIIIIIND*
The boy dragged the axe behind him, its handle tearing through the concrete as he did. The smile on his face was positively dazzling and his skin pumping over with sweat. A dangerous situation in which he could be of use. In a hurried "walk," the boy hefted the axe before finally stopping after Evander.
He looked over to Vincent, expectantly.
"...Okay then."
Vincent stepped into the center of the group. Behind him was Ig, who he had hardly recognized at first because the ex-marine had stripped himself of his uniform and put on a kilt instead. On top of that the man's face was covered in savage-looking paint, the bottom half of his face blood red and the top half black. His dark brown eyes smoldered. In his hands were two rusty machétes. Leech took one look at the man and chose to ignore him; they didn't have time to ask questions. The grinning red-eyed man flipped a dagger in his hand and glanced at Medusa to his left. The strange green-eyed woman was pulling her deep red dreadlocks into a ponytail, grinning like the man beside her, so devilishly that they could have been twins.
Evander lit another cigarette and pushed his slick black hair back over his skull. He didn't look amused but the jagged shiv in his right fist said he meant business.
Vincent regarded Tuvlan and his weaponry for a moment, then gave a subtle nod. Without needing to say anything else, he led the way out of Jurassic Park and took the patrol North to Spring Street.
Without so much as a grunt, the boy would heft the weapon in his hands, letting gravity hug it into his stomach as he clasped it horizontally against himself, and trot after the group, lagging back as the last by a few feet. The idea to smoke had completely exited his head. All of his mirth, all of his focus was on the unexplained situation ahead.
They would arrive at Walnut no later than fifteen minutes after the original SOS was sent. Since then the situation had apparently escalated quite irrationally. Vincent narrowed his eyes at the man with the AK-47 who was pointing it threateningly at Gavin Kent, whose hands were in the air, walkie-talkie in one of them.
"I fucking dare you to say that again, prick!"
Gavin giggled and opened his mouth. Vincent knew what was coming and he put a stop to it before the boy, whose nickname 'Craven Kent' was terribly ironic for a reason, found his ridiculous smile turned into a giant bullethole.
"Lower your weapon and back away." Vincent ordered calmly. The man, stricken by the absolute authority with which Vincent had suddenly appeared, stared at him confused.
"No. Who the fuck are you?"
"You don't need to know. But you're on my territory and you're going to leave now, or none of you are leaving at all."
The 'none of you' to which Vincent referred consisted of fourteen other ragged-looking refugees carrying various types of melee weapons, all arranged in the middle of the street beneath the overpass. Three others, including their apparent leader, who looked the least starved of the entire group all carried AK-47s. The other two had been aiming at two other Rogues, the first to arrive on the scene. Pockets and Nikolai each stood on opposite sides of the street with their arms slack. Pockets looked annoyed. Nikolai looked eerily calm and even slightly amused.
The leader of the group aimed his gun at Vincent and gritted his teeth.
"You people have been nothing but a nightmare and we're going to put an end to you right now." he growled.
Vincent gritted his teeth and sighed. He lifted the chain over his head, draped it around his neck, and then swiftly pulled the Glock .45 out of his right back jeans pocket, firing instantly at the man's head. The trigger clicked but nothing happened, except in that very instant everyone on the opposing side ducked, and the other two with the guns shifted their aim to Vincent. A moment of shocked silence passed. The wide-eyed leader of the group realized he was still alive. Vincent's brow furrowed and he pulled the trigger again. Nothing.
"FUCKING GET HIM." the intruder yelled. The other two gunmen attempted to fire their weapons but again, nothing happened. Everyone was confused. Rather concerned, Vincent shoved the gun back into his pocket and grabbed the chain again.
"...Okay kids, looks like a fair fight now. You know what to do."
"Hos.tag.es?" Nikolai croaked, somewhat eagerly.
"No. Kill them all."
The last to arrive. Panting, the boy watched as he kept running up behind hte group as people began to dive into the streets like it was in style. All he heard was the constant click-click-clicking noises that everyone was making with their... guns.
He'd walk up to Vincent's left rear flank, sounding as though he was out of breath.
Orders.
The smile cracked open and the head of the axe fell to the ground, cratering into the asphalt.
"PURGE!
"=D!?"
VIOLENTLY the boy began to race towards the crowd, barely registering the going-ons, the axe's constant grinding resounding throughout the whole street. With sudden strength, the boy flexed hsi bicep as he pivoted his whole body, abruptly leaving the axe, careening it in an upward strike at the bottom left hip of the first man he would stop in front of.
Couldn't find a happier kid, even on Christmas.
The ominous grinding of the axe was somehow more terrifying than the roar of a crocodile, probably because the manic face of the fire-haired boy that weilded it was all-too familiar to the victim. The poor man cringed and dropped his metal pipe, losing all his will to live at the sudden memory of months ago, when he had witnessed Tuvlan and Vespyr on one of their 'fun time' sprees, and somehow lived to tell the tale. The axe embedded itself in his hip with a sickening thud like a single 'NOPE' and took off his entire leg. A blood-curdling, kind of girlish scream made it halfway out of his throat before he passed out from sheer shock, and would promptly die from the blood loss several minutes later.
Meanwhile, Vincent had advanced forward--walking, not running--at the leader of the group with the chain stretched between his hands like a giant chokewire. He did not look pleased. He would walk right up to the main and attempt to spartan-kick him in the chest, knocking him down. He would stomp on his chest with the same foot, bending over the man, loop the chain around his neck and yank the ends in opposite directions to simultaneously strangle/snap his neck .
2/15 Intruders slaughtered.
The leader stared at the cold-toned man, who looked up on them. He was angry. Frustrated. Empowered. These guns were going to make them into goddamned heroes, the heroes who took down these goddamned monsters in this little area.
His normal eyes could barely keep up with the red blur that went to his side, blood blanching out. In a panic, he kept pulling the trigger to his AK-47, hoping it'd suddenly decide to play nice and shoot the fucker ordering all of his guys' deaths. As Vincent walked forward, the man tore his skin at the base of the metal trigger, making him mouth in pain, slowly backing up in a righteous fear. His eyes opened up as his rationality left him. The sun shined down on the fucker and all he could see was a white demon with violet eyes.
There was no more coherency. He blathered out and spat in total confusion as he grabbed the top of the barrel of his gun and tried to swing at the demon's head. The heat was so bad... the hunger...
---Instead, his gun flew down to the ground in the interrupted swing, a gigantic impact cracking apart his sternum. Bone pierced into him at the suddenness of the kick and blood erupted out of the man's throat as he fell onto his ass. All the air had left him and he sputtered, staring deliriously ahead of him.
Everything was crashing down---
And so did he. His back slammed into the asphalt, his body breaking down beneath him. His arms could barely move up, before the lights flashed over the white-haired figure and cold metal began to choke around the man's neck. The leader choked on two irons, before a final, abrupt tug snapped the spine at the base of his head apart. His body fell into a slump.
---The boy lashed his tongue out at blood as it flew into the air, sheer, genuine happiness overtaking him in his intoxication. So used to a richer smelled, he salivated, wanting more, as though the scream were totally and completely ignorable. The body fell his axe deep inside. With a sudden pull at the middle of the shaft, he hefted the axe and let it slam back down into the asphalt.
He twirled to his left, facing another man. The boy would smile insanely as he shot his left hand foward, intending to grab the person by the scruff of their collar and the base of the neck with his long, invasive fingers. He'd try to lift them high up into the air until the kicking would start and he'd slam the body to the ground, where he would grind his way over to...
An overhead swing... to the neck. And a smile.
"=D"
The starving man emitted a shrill squeak as Tuvlan's fingers wrapped around his neck from behind, and he dropped the lead pipe he was about to smash Gavin over the head with. Before he could even tell what had just happened, instrinctively thrashing his legs about into nothing but air, the ground came rushing up at him and his vision became a blank white screen of pain. Screams surrounded him, distant, dazed. The man groaned and spat blood onto the asphalt, his arms weakly trying to lift him up, but he was too late. With another condescending 'NOPE' of the axe, his head split from the rest of him and rolled off, spewing blood, blinking twice and then staring up blankly into the blinding summer sun forever.
"Bet I can take 'em out quicker'n you can, lady!" Leech cackled, pulling out his other dagger, holding them both at the ready like ice cream cones.
"In your dreams, cariño~" the woman crooned, similarly withdrawing the sai from their sheathes at her hips. Leech darted forward at Vincent's right and thrust one of his daggers upward into the bottom of the nearest intruder's jaw, and would use it to hold the man's head in place while he slashed violently across the throat with the other blade, welcoming the spray of arterial blood that would no doubt turn the bottom half of his face dripping red, kind of like Ig's.
4/15 Intruders slaughtered.
One of the more cool-headed assailants looked at their leader fall and get his neck snapped. Instead of fear, anger rushed in his veins and he charged at the murderer's flank, his grip on his gun already fitted for that of clubbing. He aimed a horizontal swing at the enemy leader's head---
---A blur appeared before him and and white, sharp pain exploded beneath and into his skull, his grip on the gun loosing, letting it clatter in his sudden shock. He tried to talk, but his tongue was impaled down. Panic filled his throat as his eyes began to fade over with red---
Explosion of heat and liquid raced out of him, all down his front, as he spurted out like a faucet over his assailant. Everything was red... but the eyes stood out as like crimson ghost eyes. Even as the man's strength drained out of him in seconds, biting his tongue in half as he did from being lifted so far up by the tall man, he would not stop shaking in fear. Would not stop shaking in fear, wouldnotstopshakingin----
---The boy raised the head of the axe up, next to the head. He adjusted his derriere as he locked his knees together and steadied his grip over freshly decapitated head. He would raise the axe behind him... and swing, teeing off like in golf.
He always wanted to try golf.
Unfortunately, as the head was sent careening up, letting out trails of blood after it, in his distraction, the boy's grip on the axe was too loosened... sending the axe flying haphazardly towards one of the invaders.
"That's one, missy!"
Medusa smirked and ignored him. Her eerie green-and-black eyes panned across the fray, selecting her first target. But the mischevous twist of grin at the corners of her dark lips faded a moment later as her first target slumped to the ground and lay pinned beneath Tuvlan's giant axe. She shot the boy an unamused look. "Desmañado." she muttered, stalking toward the fallen man anyways. If he'd managed to recuperate fast enough to get up, the woman would suddenly wrap her arms tightly around his waist and stab him from behind with her twin daggers. For the moment they would be intimately close, and Medusa would smile at him before she let him fall.
If the man hadn't even been able to get up from the ground, she would simply kick him in the eye with the heel of her boot and saunter away to her next kill.
5/15 Intruders slaughtered.
Jeffrey had had it up to here with this whole situation. In a manner of split seconds, his friends were getting torn apart by these assholes. Cowardly fear turned to strength. Rotund as he was, he dropped his gun and drew out a long knife that he stole from his Navy brother's corpse.---
The head of an axe would slam into his rotund stomach felling the man. Fear suddenly overrode him again and he struggled to push to the side the heavy thing that bruised into him deeply. He had only gotten back up when he felt long, slender arms try to wrap around his waist. He howled as pain erupted into his kidneys, heat confusing itself with lust... But there was nothing to be found in the sensously smiling chiquita hermana's face. His jaw would open and close stupidly over the flap of the top of his mouth before he fell down, his blood racing to leave him. His arms flapped retardedly as he died, blood bubbling in his throat.
---The boy's hands felt raw from shaft slipping through his fingers, skipping forward in the fight. He grinned apologetically at the Spanish lady as he shook his hands out, resolving to stick to his hands, So he attempted to slap his right into the side of the face of one of the invaders, trying to get the temporary cool from the blood pushed out from the palm of his hand, trying to slam the head of the man into the ground, potentially causing a concussion. If he succeeded, he would grip his hands together, squeezing his palms painfully against one another and would begin hammering into the head of his next victim, screaming voraciously.
He'd try to crack it open. Like an egg.
"SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!"
"Uno~"
Backtracking to the very beginning for a moment:
"No. Kill them all."
Before the ruckus really even had a chance to commence, Ignatius suddenly emitted an ear-splitting, animalistic trill from deep in his throat. Half of those present flinched and turned to wonder 'what the hell?' for an instant before rushing into the fray, and they would see the man's eyes inhumanly wide, deep-set in his war-painted face. For some it was the first time they'd seen Ig go postal, and it was terrifying. The half-naked man in a kilt rushed forward with his machétes raised over his head, to be brought down onto his first victim's shoulders, lopping the man's arms clean off at his sides. If he fell to the ground the ex-marine would reach down and jam his hand into the man's mouth, grabbing a fistful of tongue, and ripping it out violently with an abrupt shriek of triumph. He shoved it into a pouch that lay over the side of his kilt from a string around the man's waist.
If they'd been in the sun rather than beneath the overpass, the sheet heat radiating off the asphalt under the pitiless August sun would have cooked Tuvlan's egg right then and there. But in the shade, his spilled brains only made a mess. Still, in a sense, the man was quite overcooked.
If Tuvlan looked up he would see Ignatius standing directly behind him, standing eerily still, watching intently. The man's impossibly wide eyes were fixated on the mess on the pavement. His red-painted mouth was a flat emotionless line. Once Tuvlan noticed him he would give the boy a single nod without saying a word, and then stalk away like some sort of demon.
7/15 Intruders slaughtered.
1/15 Tongues stolen.
An ear-splitting scream. Thompson thought as though his ears would bleed, staring at the crazy crowd of people, flinching along with half of the crowd, though he'd never admit it. He turned to face toward a half-naked man, covered in war-paint and stared into the eyes of an animal. The man threw up his arms, dropping his gun.
As he did, he felt a rusty metal tear into his shoulders, making in screech in angry pain, before horror filled his head. He couldn't feel his fingers. In shock, the man fell backwards, no longer able to balance himself...---
Invasive fingers pinched at his tongue, silencing the man's voice forever, replacing it with bloody, gargled shrieks, as he stared at the man scream victoriously before putting it into his collection. The man gaped his bloody mouth open, trying to demand it back... as he fell into darkness, screaming for his voice back---
The aroma of sizzling filled the air as the boy sniffed into it. A presence moved behind him and the boy looked back up, arms ready to suddenly attack. Instead, he saw Iggy. The boy shared the stare...
The boy lit up as though it were his first Christmas. Iggy was so, so cool. He scrambled to his feet and hands and adjusted one of his feet over the cracked egg. He'd snap off a wing and charge forward with his new, sharp club, swinging his arm like a dangly club, perhaps knocking the person into someone else's face or arms with the intent to knock away a weapon. He'd then attempt to stomp on the person's feet with his boot and then pivot and bring a finger towards his next target's left eye.
A trick he'd learned from the twins.
The boy cackled deliriously.
Isaiah wasn't having such a great time. In fact, he couldn't really see anything, fighting in the sun. He made out the hazy form of someone, unsure even who it was, and sent his fist rocketing toward where he supposed the man's face should have been. Suddenly somenody knocked into him and sent the boy sprawling into the shade beneath the underpass, slamming his face into the ground. He scrambled to his feet and looked around, finally able to see, just in time to see Tuvlan stabbing some poor refugee in the eye. Isaiah winced painfully as blood and white fluid streamed down the screaming man's cheek, and reached up to touch the blood running from his own nose. He sighed, slightly annoyed.
He looked up and realized that one of the angrier refugees had spotted him standing around not doing much. Unsure of what the man would do, Isaiah charged him first, barreling low toward the man with his arms outstretched. After headbutting him to the ground Isaiah would reach up to grab the man's skull firmly and crank it in an awkward position, one which would most likely break his neck.
8/15 Intruders slaughtered.
1/1 Isaiah's nose broken again.
Bison was too hotblooded to notice anything. All of his surviving relatives had been destroyed and his once chance to feel truly important was quickly fading away. After getting over the frightening animal-trill of the half-naked man, he had taken up one of the fallen knives of his comrades and stared angrily at one of the red-haired punks that just received a bloody nose. He patted the side of his blade into his palm, looking at this man as an easy target---before the red-haired punk suddenly sprinted in front, barrelling into Bison's stomach. He coughed up his fake teeth, slamming him down into the ground. Air left him, leaving him winded.
A huge, taut weight fitted over him, feeling claw like fingers reach over his head. He screamed in a sudden plea----
---The boy jumped into a stand, staring over the body. He saw a man a ways a way... and he streaked forward like a yeti with down. As he got into the face of his next target, he'd stop on his left foot to explode his elbow into the person's side, gripping his hands together to provide more focused control into the attack. He wasn't going to kill this guy. Oh no.
He was setting it up so that the finisher could...
--swipe downward with one of her sai, immediately opening up a gash in the man's side that spilled half of his intestines out of it. Medusa flicked her green gaze up to Tuvlan and she threw him a catlike grin. "Buen chico."
The woman leaned back and whispered "Dos~" into Leech's ear. The man cackled and shouted "Right back atcha, lady!" as he jabbed both his knives downward into a man's eye sockets. Planting a boot firmly in the victim's crotch, he kicked and shoved him backward to yank his daggers out from whence they were quite firmly rooted.
Meanwhile, Evander was busy intimidating/annoying one of the more angry intruders with his silent attitude. The slender young man merely stood with the shiv at his side, smoking his cigarette, giving the man a haunting green-eyed stare that seemed to attempt to invalidate his entire existence. It simply said, without the need for words, 'you don't matter' in the most personally hurtful way possible.
10/15 Intruders slaughtered.
Killscore: 2/2 Leech/Medusa
An emissary of the Overlords spoke to him in some unknown language. The boy merely nodded before he stomped towards his next target---
---Just as Chris charged alongside Barney, Barney got pushed off to the side, dying and screaming horribly as he was cut apart. Chris reached out with a hand, dropping his gun to help when a gigantic man blinded him with the light reflecting off of his knives...
...Before blinding him with his knives.
Chris let a curdling scream, bending forward, the knives digging into him, before his groin exploded into mulch. The scream died along with him as he fell onto his side, emasculated.
Evander's target was none other than the biggest hot head of the group, affection nicknamed Mr. Biggs. He gnashed his teeth animalistically, picking up a lead pipe from the ground.
"COME ON, YOU FUCK, FIGHT ME, ONE-ON-ONE!"
The silence hurt him more than anything.
Mr. Biggs swung jabbed his pipe towards Evander's chest, taking a step forward as he did, as though attempting to impale the man with the blunt-ended object.
Evander stepped to the side in the most effortless way possible in an attempt to make the man feel even worse about himself. He would take a drag of his cigarette and administer a fatal dose of his bad attitude by hurling his knife into the man's eye. If it was a hit, he'd casually walk over to the man's corpse, bend over to retrieve his blade, and mutter, "Boneyard stuffers."
Vincent sized up the man in front of him with the chain still held firmly in his hands.
11/15 Intruders belittled.
Mr. Biggs frothed as he brought back his arm, ready to stab again. He hated more than anything the way this man held himself, always condescending, making Mr. Biggs cough with all the goddamned smoke being blown into his face. As Mr. Biggs brought up his arm again, face positively glowing red, a knife sheathed itself into his head, making him stop, suddenly. At Evander's movement, Mr. Biggs body would collapse down, dead.---
Nathan sweated hard. He was staring at the man who had killed their leader. He swallowed hard as his heart beat... hard. He clenched his fists hard, as he raised up a broom stick. A attack range advantage. With a step forward, he swept the stick towards the evident leader of this patrol, hoping to bring it down onto the man's neck---
The boy would attempt to leap frog onto the back of another of the targets, hugging away at the neck...
"SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!
"=D!?"
Vincent held out a length of the chain firmly, catching the broomstick head-on as it arced toward him. With a quick flick of his hand he looped the chain around the wooden pole once to restrain it and then slid his hands and the chain lower toward the base as he advanced quickly toward his attacker. At that point Nikolai stepped in.
A tall, skeletal man perhaps between 35 and 40 years old with short silver hair and bright dead-looking blue eyes, Nikolai Sark was the oldest of the Rogues and aside from Leech, arguably the most avoided individual on the territory. Something about the man's eerie looks or perhaps his quietly attentive attitude gave off a bad impression at first sight and after spending much more than a minute with him, people often felt a sort of unexplainable dread tensing in their gut or at the back of their neck. The man stared at Vincent for a moment and then reached out calmly toward the intruder's neck with his inhumanly large hands. Despite his thin, almost emaciated stature, Nikolai's arms were equipped with lean but frighteningly powerful muscles which he often utilized for strangling the fuck out of his victims with his large bare hands.
"I. got. this. one." the man croaked as he attempted to strangle the fuck out of the victim with his large bare hands. Vincent nodded curtly and loosed the chain from the broomstick, backing away slowly.
He backed into a man that was teetering, about to fall because a red-haired boy had suddenly leapt onto his back and was hugging a little too tightly around his neck. Vincent's bump caused him to completely lose his balance and he did fall, whilst trying to wrench Tuvlan off with his hands, and failing. Seeing his comrades dropping like flies around him in the worst imaginable ways possible caused him to shriek repeatedly, the screams literally tearing themselves from his compressed throat until he felt like bleeding. Or perhaps he actually was bleeding, he really couldn't tell.
Isaiah whirled around and punched a young man in the face. It was Pockets. "Dude, not cool." Isaiah realized that Pockets was on his team and turned around again. Pockets went back to looting the bodies on the ground and shoving whatever valuables he found into his pockets.
12/15 Intruders no longer breathing.
11/15 Bodies looted.
For Nathan, he was rather surprised at how well the man's hands hardly flinched. Beads of sweat were forming on the back of his head as he slowly began to discover the differences in actual physical power. Suddenly, he felt the control over the broom get wrested away from him and he began to tug harder---only to realize that the enemy leader was closing the distance between them.---
---Nathan's stomach began to twist in knots and it wasn't the enemy leader's sudden advance. For some reason, Nathan found himself incredibly afraid to look behind himself. The back of his hairs began to stand as the sweat now poured freely.
He heard a croak. It scarcely sounded human to him---
Booming voice, tight fingers, wrapped painfully around his neck, needling at the base of his head, his adam's apple constricted. He couldn't swallow, but his mouth opened in horror as he realized he was going to die from suffocation. As Vincent loosened the chain, Nathan let go of the broom, panic consuming all available oxygen, his body beginning to contort and flail in protest... trying to reach up to his own neck to pry in some air, but the grip about him was absolute. Nathan screamed in silence as his eyes rolled back into his head---
The boy fell along with the man, but his joints were locked, still held on tightly on the man's back, the man's throat. And then the boy did the worst thing he could do... and began to stretch out his spine in full, bending backwards as he did. He pushed the man's legs further away from him as the neck was being pulled further away from the base of his spine, an accordian pulled apart too much.
From his position on the ground, he flashed Vincent a happy smile.
Vincent half-turned to see what he'd hit and watched with slightly widened eyes and a blank stare as Tuvlan began to slowly decompress the man's spine. He waited until he heard an unsettling pop of bone and then flashed a straightfaced smile back at Tuvlan. Upon turning around again, he saw that the man he'd previously been fighting had turned a sickly shade of dying as Nikolai continued to strangle him with the most disconcertingly vacant look in his pale eyes. Vincent took a deep breath, sighed, and panned his sights around the scene. It had only been about a minute or two and already things were dying down, quite literally. Just a few of the intruders were still standing and it didn't look like they would be for much longer.
The commander of Rogues watched from afar as Leech shoved a man to the ground from behind, forgetting all about the knifeplay for a moment. Vincent's gaze fixed itself to the tattooed red eye on the back of No. 1 Rogue's shaved head as he bent over the fallen man and gripped him mercilessly at the back of his neck. Leech dragged the man a few feet over to the nearest curb, and ignoring any screams or protest, pried the man's lower jaw open so that his mouth was fitted around the edge of the curb. Then he placed the sole of his boot carefully but firmly at the back of the man's skull and straightened up, half-turning to look immediately at Vincent as if he'd known the man was watching all along. Leech threw him a toothy grin that made Vincent feel suddenly anxious. Still, he couldn't look away as the man stomped down on the back of the intruder's head. With a crack and a spray of blood that would be audible even from twenty feet away, the victim's jaw would split off from the rest of his skull and the back of his cranium collapse into his brain, which spewed out across the pavement.
Vincent turned around before Leech could and began walking toward Gavin, who was having a bit of trouble. Rather than killing the intruder nearest to him, he had engaged in some sort of battle of dares. Whatever Gavin had originally said to offend the man had now escalated to stupid proportions. A ridiclously excited smile had plastered itself on Gavin's face as he continued to challenge and be challenged by the man. Vincent sighed and draped the chain around the back of his neck, then reachd back to pull out the katana he'd brought with him. He'd carried it here, he thought, and it would be a waste to bring it back clean. Vespyr was starting to rub off on him quite a bit, he realized, and smiled to himself.
From about ten feet away, Vincent stood with the katana and brought it around to his side, holding it like a baseball bat. He reeled back. He aimed. He swung, and let go of the sword, sending it careening through the air in a perfectly horizontal razor-path toward the argueing intruder's gut.
15/15 Intruders massacred.
Killscore: 3/2 Leech/Medusa
He had to... get away. Painfully, the poor man clutched over where his eye used to be only moments prior. He hobbled, groaning obviously, backpeddling away from the group when a powerful shove knocked him to the ground, face first. There was crying involved. The man whined as Leech dragged him through the asphalt, tearing away at his nose, strength dropping away from him. He felt a powerful grip go over his left jaw, which he attempted to keep clamped shut, before his jaw muscles would be sprained open, making the man whine harder, blood dripping over his nose, making it hard to breath. He screamed, realizing what was about to happen as a powerful impact hit the back of his head---
For a second, all he could feel was his eye exploding out and his jaw tearing away.
For a second before his mind was crushed.
Kyle would not live this shit down. He growled at Gavin, desperate to kill at least one of these fucks before running away. He hated the stupid smile the man gave him.
"I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU FUCKING CUNT, IF YOU TALK ABOUT MY---"
But his mouth never coherently uttered those last few words as a sharp blade flew into his stomach. He could barely even scream as his hands dropped down, over his stomach, feeling everythig just starting to tumble out. Everything slipped through his fingers as he fell to the groundd, over the blade, coughing and hacking as all his brilliant retorts died with him.
Silence ensued.
Vincent glanced around him. Most of the other Rogues were already beginning to disperse, as the job was finished. None of the intruders had survived more than five minutes in the onslaught, and now most of them were being dragged off to god-knows-where. Pockets was busy running around from one corpse to the next, stuffing whatever he could find into his already overstuffed cargo pants. Nikolai sat down beside the man he strangled and had a staring contest, which he would win several hours later past sunset when a hungry raccoon sauntered by and snatched the cadaver's eyes out. Leech and Medusa were comparing kills. "You win, niño~" the woman chuckled in her deep, sultry voice before sheathing her sai and bending down to grab the nearest corpse by its collar. Leech did the same, grabbing two, and together they begun the short trek to the Boneyard where they would toss the bodies haphazardly onto the ever-growing pile of decomposing skeletons.
Evander leaned against a pillar in the shadow of the underpass, smoking. The aloof boy looked like he'd be there for awhile. Making his way back to the group from wherever he'd disappeared to, Ignatius passed by the boy with a nod that wasn't reciprocated and then approached Vincent. His dark brown eyes were still terribly wide like an owl's and Vincent couldn't help but widen his a little as he stared at the man, a little bit uneasy. Suddenly Ig's hand flew up to his face in a stiff salute. Then he stalked off, presumably back to the bunker.
Gavin had started following Pockets around as he looted the bodies, talking about nothing in particular in his exciteable voice. Pockets turned around and grabbed the kid firmly by the shoulder. "Gavin, I dare you to shut up, okay, yes, good." An excited look swept over Gavin's face and he shut up. Pockets stooped down again and grabbed Isaiah by the shoulders, flipping him over. The redhead had promptly fallen asleep in the shade not an instant later than when the last body hit the ground. "Oh, it's you," Pockets mumbled, somewhat disappointed. Isaiah looked annoyed. He stood up and padded back over to Vincent, squinting so hard in the sun that he could barely even see anyhow. Vincent stared at him for a moment and then handed him one end of the chain. He stooped to pick up the katana he'd thrown and the looked around for Tuvlan.
As the boy finished stretching, the final invaders fell away and the group began to disassemble. He effortlessly brought the body over his left shoulder and began to work himself over to where his axe had last fallen and pick up any of the spare bodies that had not been moved yet. As turned he turned around, he saw Vincent looking around, presumably for him. He trotted on over happily, seemingly unaware of the load he was hauling.
"Celebrate!
"=D?"
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