C
CosmicWeinerDog
Guest
Original poster
"Any more bright fucking ideas?!"
To be honest, Sue could think of quite a few. Not being here at all would be a tremendously bright idea. Considering the collateral damage capability of a three story super mutant before parading him into a tunnel full of people would have been a doozy. Considering his situation, his options had narrowed quite a bit. It was arguable that this circumstance held a slightly better chance at survival than the one before. That being said, no one was arguing which was the louder option.
Shamu let out an earth shattering roar that shook the tunnel and everyone in it. The tracer patterned swarm of bullets bounced off his hide with molten fury. This one was an angry mutant, stuck in a hole for God knows how long and gawked upon by the masses. Years of pent up aggression and imprisonment all laid before a handful of men with guns. The sacrificial lambs of a unplanned slaughter. In the chaos, the voice of the behemoth weaved into the screams of slaves and guards alike. Mortal men and women with a very real understanding of their own mortality. The beast charged ahead as lines of blood traced his clavicles. A bowling pattern of bodies were sent scattering against the walls with violent force. Collateral damage in the name of a specified target. As it was, Shamu had no focus upon the slaves in the pit. Quite the contrary, She was all too intent on the bodies intending her harm. A bee line was made to the guards in question, cutting through the mass like a hot knife through butter.
Seeing the direction, McLean's mind cleared enough to ward off the violence of action. Looking back, he wouldn't recall where the words came from. The sense or sensibility would illude him and the reason would all but be lost. "Yes!" He screamed back at the nose-less ghoul. "On his heels! Run!"
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He was too old for this shit.
First some gas mask toting nut job shows up to his guard shift and starts spouting nonsense, then the whole damn place goes to hell. It was the kind of event you'd expect in an H.G Wells novel. The pair of guards cut through the improvised entry path leading up to Sea World's main gate. Two sentry towers sat on the ridge of each end of the massive rolling door, but neither of which opened fire. After all, to do so would have brought bullets upon their own... not to mention there was enough to worry about as it was. Reaching the end of the path, the elder guard jabbed a grime infested thumb against the receiver and called into it. "What's the situation?!" He called with a sense of urgency. While the man's rank was lacking, the lot of the lower tier regulators in question gave him a sense of authority all due to his age. After all, it took guts to stick in the game as long as he had. "What's going on in there?"
Static echoed back from the other end of the radio box. Hails of bullets and a grip of creative expletives sounded through the old world tech with a flair that could only be brought on with a lack of planning. Be it the situation at hand or the ignoring of the operator's job, nothing audible seemed to come through the rusted over transistor cube. Whatever was going on, it wasn't out of the question that the end result would effect his ration allotment. Gritting his teeth before cutting off the outgoing transmission, the worn guard glanced up at the rolling gate that barred entry to the pre war amusement park. An old world bus of sorts, pressed against the concrete and steel archway of a world long destroyed. Normally to open the gate the vehicle was started with some pomp and circumstance and the wheels would be moved along a track. However, considering the nature of the occasion the only sentries around the checkpoint seemed to be the ones beyond it. The gate in question seemed to be as lifeless as the Arena challengers from before.
"Hey Gas mask." The Guard called over with a sense of question in his voice, "Don't suppose you know how to hot wire a bus would ya?"
First some gas mask toting nut job shows up to his guard shift and starts spouting nonsense, then the whole damn place goes to hell. It was the kind of event you'd expect in an H.G Wells novel. The pair of guards cut through the improvised entry path leading up to Sea World's main gate. Two sentry towers sat on the ridge of each end of the massive rolling door, but neither of which opened fire. After all, to do so would have brought bullets upon their own... not to mention there was enough to worry about as it was. Reaching the end of the path, the elder guard jabbed a grime infested thumb against the receiver and called into it. "What's the situation?!" He called with a sense of urgency. While the man's rank was lacking, the lot of the lower tier regulators in question gave him a sense of authority all due to his age. After all, it took guts to stick in the game as long as he had. "What's going on in there?"
Static echoed back from the other end of the radio box. Hails of bullets and a grip of creative expletives sounded through the old world tech with a flair that could only be brought on with a lack of planning. Be it the situation at hand or the ignoring of the operator's job, nothing audible seemed to come through the rusted over transistor cube. Whatever was going on, it wasn't out of the question that the end result would effect his ration allotment. Gritting his teeth before cutting off the outgoing transmission, the worn guard glanced up at the rolling gate that barred entry to the pre war amusement park. An old world bus of sorts, pressed against the concrete and steel archway of a world long destroyed. Normally to open the gate the vehicle was started with some pomp and circumstance and the wheels would be moved along a track. However, considering the nature of the occasion the only sentries around the checkpoint seemed to be the ones beyond it. The gate in question seemed to be as lifeless as the Arena challengers from before.
"Hey Gas mask." The Guard called over with a sense of question in his voice, "Don't suppose you know how to hot wire a bus would ya?"
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