OVERKILL: FIRST STRIKE

Status
Not open for further replies.
When the capain announced the time to jump was nearly there, and the mission about to begin, the bulking mass that was Magnus could be seen at the door, pushing other soldiers aside so he could be the first to go. 'so that the others know where to go' was his excuse, though in all reality, he just wanted a clear view to the ground, it's not like anyone wanted to argue with him anyway. When the cargo doors began to open, he put his right foot on them, pushing them open further, and when the intercom began her countdown, he jumped out of the plane before the captain really said go.

He fell, he fell fast, and he liked it. Every drop so far has been timed, and he tried to drop down faster everytime. Head down, arms to the side, legs together, reducing air friction as much as possible to get down faster. Only at the last moment does Magnus flip, to land on his feet, and absorb the massive impact the enormous drop creates, proven by the crater he finds himself in everytime.
Shortly after his landing, all around him more soldiers drop down. A smirk forms on his face as he retrieves his gun. "Give 'em hell, boys!"
 
The world was on fire. Maybe it was from the exploding motorcycle. Maybe from the grenades being thrown at random towards or from him. Some random bastard had gotten a lucky shot in on the front tire, throwing Jack into a tree and the bike into the soldier, which promptly exploded, spraying flame onto the nearby beach and trees. He heard gunfire and explosions from behind him, suggesting Magnus had gotten himself preoccupied, or Carlos had found a spare roll of toothpaste and a sponge and turned it into an RPG. Lupa was surrounded by throat-less bodies, her snout and coat painted red. His SMG was spewing fire, never missing a mark. Recon had always been his favorite job. "Heh. 'Recon'." As if it were only reconnaissance. He'd already pushed himself into the enemy base camp, drawing a path of blood behind him. Which was the perfect time for him to run out of ammo. The gun clicked when he pulled the trigger again, forcing him to fall behind a boulder. "Hm. Maybe I shouldn't have waited until the last minute to stock up on ammo and stolen some from Magnus. Whatever." He holstered the gun on his back, and drew his axe and knife, leaping back into action.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
His team took it upon themselves to leap into the fray like wild animals. In that instant they proved to him that they had forgotten the rules of discipline of time, and would prove their undoing. Luckily they were backed by a surrounding few hundred other Juggernauts. While his squad spread out to command and conquer Genocide troops, Daniel dusted himself off and tried to control the situation to the best of his ability. He drew his assault rifle and called out to two Juggernauts, one bulkier soldier who's armor said Wolf in bold white letters, equipped with a SPAS-12 armed with slug rounds, and another of slimmer build who's armor said Slick carrying dual-wield Desert Eagles. "You two on me. We're gonna push up from the front, draw their attention." they both nodded and followed behind into a blitz of incoming fire.

The hulking fighter took the lead in front of Blaze, popping a single shot and nailing a target. The roguish soldier came right behind applying suppression fire, followed by Daniel before ducking into cover. The area sparked with the bounce of bullets and the scorch of grenades. Blindly aiming his weapon he shot three bursts to disrupt the enemy's focus. Slick quickly peered from his cover and shot three well-placed shots at three individual targets. Twisting around and slinging himself to his knees, he popped a forth shot that tripped up a sprinting enemy. Wolf quickly walked over to the downed soldier, put his shotgun to the cap of his skull, and pulled the trigger.

Daniel pushed up the position and slid into cover. He cocked his rifle to signal a reload, the popped out of cover to his right and taking three enemies in half a clip. Just as he returned to cover, they flanked his left. On instinct he broke his neck with a quick thrust of the elbow, ducking on one knee and gunning down the trail of forces behind him. Slick and Wolf were back to back being suppressed by elevated enemies. Sensing the danger Daniel acted fast and broke into a sprint over a barricade. On his landing he went into a tactical roll and armed his grenade launcher, firing a single shot and bringing down the outpost. And just like that, the first line was crushed.

Slick and Wolf looked to him and nodded, praising his skill. Daniel returned the gesture just before taking off to find the rest of his team, and break the second line of defense.
 
Cyrus follows Daniel from a distance, keeping his Rifle at the ready. As soon as the first Genocide soldier pops into view, the muffled sound of a gunshot spreads out as Cyrus lowers his sniper, the soldiers brain painting the grass. He turns on his inbuilt radio. "Pssst, come in big sheep! There's a few mice coming in from the side, be alert. Hehe. Cassie and I will cover you as best we can. Over." He breaks into a sprint, making sure to keep a good distance away from Daniel, but close enough to have a clear line of sight. Noticing a sneaky group of mice trying to sneak in from the trees, he pulls back the bolt again, cocks his rifle, and fires. The gurgling sound of a dying soldier alerts the others to the position of the sneaky mice, allowing them to come in and take them out. He continues to be alert while still keeping track of Daniel, making sure he doesn't get too far. He pulls back the bolt again, ready to fire on one of Daniels pursuers if they begin firing.
 
Out of nowhere Carlos finds himself in the middle of a battle, instincts kicking in he quickly grabs a weapon off a fallen soldier, and dives behind cover. Quickly disassembling the gun, an LMG of all its ammunition. Drowning out the sound of gunfire between their forces and, Genocide, he whips out his machete. Using it he carefully cracks open the bullet casing revealing a small huddle of good ol' gunpowder. In moments he had amassed a large pile of gunpowder. Using his suits welder, he melts down the LMG into a bomb casing, a couple more strokes of genius later, Carlos flings his home made bomb into the center of the Genocide forces. Lucky for Carlos, he manages to beam one of the soldiers in the head . . . and then the bang goes off. For an instant there is just a luminously blinding flare, the explosion causing the casing of his bomb to rupture, sending shrapnel flying into enemy soldiers, killing most of them, and of course causing the rest to break form, and panic. Machete in hand, Carlos shouts triumphantly, and rushes the survivors. Either too scared, or too slow to react in time, he kills them. Slashing through the rest of the opposition without breaking his stride. Remembering his commanders words, "Group on me.", or something to that extent, checking his radar, he heads towards Blazes position.
 
War. Magnificent, illustrious war. The heat of the battle, andrenaline rushing through your veins, as you struggle to kill, before being killed. To shoot, before being put a bullet in your brain, or before the next missile explodes all over your back. Or before the heavy caliber machine guns drop you dead. Blood, death, screaming bodies, echoes and pledges, lives spared, and lives removed. The bestiality of war. War, after all, is violent. And the only rule that applies in war, is the simple rule, of survival of the strongest. The most capable. The better prepared soldier. Psychologically, and physically. And the Juggernauts were designed to excel in both. Well, maybe not that much in the psychological factor. But they all shared a common trait here - the pleasure to kill. And the pleasure to kill everybody that would ever dare to stand against them. Showing no mercy. Sparing no man, woman, child. Eventually, they would all be killed by their hands. Every man would be punished by death.

Jerry stood there, in the middle of the battlefield, having recently being deployed to grasp the surrounding, and reach into the horizon, peeking into the detail of the landscape. Soldiers and Juggernauts were in a craze, firing massive amounts of projectiles towards every imaginable direction. It didn't matter where, what mattered was how many would drop dead to it. He clinged on himself, checking his communications. "Jerry reporting in." he said. "Any member of the squad copying?" He tickled nervously, started tapping his fingers as he waited for a response.

Some missile flied right next to him. The noisy pitch of the kinetic force that the projectile was generating screeched into his ear. What the hell was that again? Can't he get a second to catch up? Looks like there was little to no time remaining, better to start the business. "This is Jerry, if anybody copies, I've been deployed. What's our status?" He checked back on the battlefield, as the main Juggernaut forces had already moved couple of hundred yards ahead of him. Jesus Christ I'm late. He thought, drawing his two thirteen milimeter chambered pistols, his weapons of choice, Lucifer and Michael.

Lucifer was a heavily modified Desert Eagle standard issue fifty caliber pistol. The customized model that he was wielding featured an extended barrel length, gas powered trigger mechanisms which significantly increased the firepower the gun could put in a fight, and a custom made magazine which could store one more .50 ACP bullet compared to the traditional deagle, featuring a total of eight rounds ready to be fired. Michael was designed from the ground up to be a custom fit for a Juggernaut. The gun weights ten libres, is eight inches long, and boasts an amazing reconstructed thirteen milimeter barrel and bullet chamber, which allow for an amazing firing precision to effective ranges of up to eight hundred meters, if the wielder was skilled enough in handling it. The ammunition mag is the same custom model used in Lucifer - allowing for another eight shot magnificence of the fiftyinth caliber. Both weapons were loaded with Heavy Explosive rounds, and Jerry was carrying two more H.E. loaded mags, one for each pistol. Apart from the explosive rounds, he was also carrying six mags of standard issue .50 ACP, and four mags of Heavy Magnum rounds. Compared to the .50 ACP, the .44 Magnum rounds boasted somewhat less kick, but due to the reduced size each mag could store ten rounds instead of eight, allowing Jerry to sustain fire for longer. Some soldier could say that wielding pistols as main firearms is a lunatic idea, which only crazy madmen eager to die would adapt on the battlefield. But Jerry was not an exception to this. Apart from the part where he actually likes the small firearms. They are more agile, easier to hide, faster to reload, and take up less time to use. Both of the pistols featured custom paint on their handles, classic work of art inspired by Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy. Michael from Paradise. Lucifer from Inferno.

Admiring the two weapons of choice, Jerry stood behind the frontline, essentially waiting for a response to arrive. Any response would do. From a simple order to kill whatever he catches upon his sight, which would be the first thing he wanted to do right now, to demolishing some enemy barricade. He was the tactical engineer after all. And he carried explosives. Kilos of gunpowder and plastic explosives, ready to turn to dust any material required to.
 
More soldiers dropped down and opened fire against the enemy. Daniel pushing forward with a little temporary squad, Carlos made a bomb and threw it at the enemy. Feeling a little outplayed, Magnus decided to announce his arrival by firing his bigger gun at the poor bastard he had his gaze fixed on. The smoke that came from his rocket launcher only momentarily stole the attention, until the brilliant blaze of explosion filled the area again, splattering blood and bits of flesh everywhere.

Satisfied, Magnus looked around, searching for his Captain, then promptly ran for Daniel. Reforming the team was his priority numero uno, for those were the only people he knew, and thus could act appropriately with.
"Captain." He said once he reunited with Blaze.
 
Jack was down to his kukri and a stolen SMG, but was still alive. The armor on his left arm was gone. His helmet had been blasted off, exposing him to the full expanse of the enemy forces. Less forces. More army. So many of them. "Copy that Jerry." He paused to shoot 4 troopers. "I've infiltrated the target. Mind getting your ass over here and actually lending a.... Hand." He noticed the gun he was holding for the first time. A UMP. Heckler & Koch Machine Pistol, Hollow Point rounds. Practically useless against armored targets. Not so against these Genocide troopers. And guards....

And he was running down a corridor. He was practically naked, wearing a pair of boxer-briefs, the only thing the Warden distributed to the prisoners, even the females. He was coated in blood, mostly from that of the moronic guard who had stuck his hand in his cage. Jack had proceeded to steal the bastard's pistol and knife, and sprint down the corridor. He was now faced with a wall of riot guards, SMGs poking through their fiberglass shields. He leapt against the wall and over the pigs, slashed a few hamstrings, curb-stomped one of them, and shot the rest who'd fallen. The elevator was closing. He kept running, and shot the lock off his friends' cells. They at least deserved a chance. He slipped inside the tube just as it slammed shut. Halfway through the ride, the elevator stopped, and he burst out into the light. Artificial light generated by the dome. Inside a miniature army of prisoners stopped in their labor, and looked up at him, a bloodstained 19 year-old holding a gun and a knife. The loudspeaker blared "Attention prisoners. Whoever manages to capture Inmate 114 will be immediately pardoned by the Warden personally." It took them a little while to get what that meant. Only a moment. Then they ran at him, waving their mallets in a vicious battle cry. Jack swept the knife in front of him, cutting down 10 prisoners in front of him. He made every shot count, taking out 7 more, and kept slashing and stabbing. About an hour later, they were all dead. All of them. The Earth was drunk with blood, and Jack was tattooed with red. The loudspeaker turned on again. "Congratulations 114! Now get back to your cell. Now." The inner wall was suddenly filled with guards, armored to the teeth with what looked like M21 DMRs, Kevlar body armor, and riot helmets. What did it matter? He was a god. "Last chance 114. Back into the elevator." Jack ran. Towards the wall. He leapt up and slammed the knife into the cement wall, and began scaling the fortification. Bullets sang past him and into the wall, creating more handholds and footholds. When he reached the top, he jammed the blade through the visor of one of the guard's helmets, instantly killing him. Taking up the sucker's rifle, he began firing wildly into the masses that were collected up with him. Some of the deaths weren't even his to claim. The guards were so tightly packed together they shot each other. And Jack himself never missed. towers of bodies were building up on the bottom of the wall from the dead falling off. Soon, they were as dead as the prisoners they were supposed to have been guarding. He picked up an SMG that one of the guards had on his waist. He recognized it as a UMP. German. High quality. Then, there was a shrill yell behind him. He spun and pulled the trigger. And shot Inmate 115. Ash. She'd had a knife in one hand, raised to stab him. She stopped where she had been standing, and collapsed in his arms. "Jack.... Sorry." He couldn't say anything. He couldn't cry. Until her eyes glazed over. Her breathing halted. And Jack howled at the false sun blazing over him. Through the red tears trickling down from his eyes, he saw a man in a nice suit casually walking towards him, flanked by two heavily armored soldiers. The well-dressed man had a cool heat signature, clearly unfazed by any of the dead around him. Jack lowered Ash's body to the ground and sprinted towards the Warden, only to get thrown back by when one of the guards fired a shotgun into Jack's chest. The Warden forced the gun down, and his signature flared, showing anger. He shouted at the soldiers. None of the words were discernible. Looking rather disgruntled, he walked towards Jack, who could barely breath. "Oh, 114. This is just a mess. But I hope you don't think this means you're getting out? Oh no. You're not going anywhere." He looked towards the bulking masses behind him. "Get him to the medical bay. And make it as painful as possible."

And he wasn't at the prison anymore. He was surrounded by mountains of bloody corpses and fiery trees. The smell of burning flesh pervaded his nostrils. His shoulder was bleeding from what appeared to be a rifle wound. And in front of him was a body who stood out among the rest. A young boy, at most 17, Filipino from his guess. His uniform was that of the Philippine military. He noticed the shadows standing over him, two enemy troopers, pointing their AK-74s in his face. Behind him, he heard more explosions and gunfire. There were even more of these bastards. But that wasn't an issue for him. Half through a sob, Jack said "Captain. Civilian casualty." The rifles fired.
 
Scarlet heard the radio chatter and Jack's report. The gunshots that followed set her head spinning. She had just gotten into the fray when it happened. She thought he'd be okay. "Jack!" was all she could manage, shouted through her helmet. It rang out on the shortband through everyone's ears. Quickly, Scarlet ran out of cover to follow Jack's trail, switching to her shotgun. She let out a furious howl as she pushed her way forward, plinking Genocide left and right. She took a few shots which were absorbed by the shields, which stayed strong for the most part. A hostile got a bead on her with a shoulder mounted rocket, causing her to stop in her tracks to roll away from a direct hit, running out of the smoke.

Of course, her proximity to the explosion did bring her power down to 37%. She was still functioning, but she couldn't take much more. Scarlet had gotten to just short of Jack's last known location before being shot down by a sniper - she tipped over, her armor incapable of moving itself further. She let out a scream for Jack, and luckily her radio was still active - everyone else heard as well. "Jack! Shit, goddammit, someone help me, I'm down! Jack!" Her voice broke and she started to sob, unable to lift her hands to wipe away the tears.
 
Last edited:
  • Like
Reactions: Majem
Daniel was accompanied by Magnus shortly after he made his push up the front line. But the reunion was short when he heard the shriek for help cry out over the comms. The voice was fragmented due the sound of gunfire laying in the background, but he could recognize his second in command, Scarlet, anywhere. His visor locked in her coordinates and gave the fastest route towards her. Daniel waited for nothing when it came to a team member in danger. Quickly, he uploaded the intel to the rest of the team, breaking out into a sprint of desperation, shouting "Specter Engage!" as he opened fire on the enemy.

He cut through the defense like butter, whether Magnus was behind him was irrelevant and a liability. For now, his aim was to cut a path to Scarlet as a chance to both rescue, and regroup with the rest of his people.
 
Like a bullet from his own gun, the Captain shot away from Magnus, headed straight for the Pilot, who was apparently in quite a pickle right now. Also like a bullet from his own gun, it would be impossible to catch up to him when he's that determined. While the same desperation began to eat at Magnus from the inside, he tried to remain calm, then followed the route uploaded to his suit, and shown on his visor.

Magnus was slower, too slow to simply zip past enemies like the Captain did. Though that wasn't a problem anymore, for inside him burned an anger only bloodshed would satisfy. After checking how many bullets were left in his gun, he began his push forward. Now wasn't a time to be bullet-efficient, now was a time to murder, murder any bastard who would prevent Magnus from regrouping. With relative slow steps, Magnus pushed forward, leaving not a single living being behind him. Showing the same accuracy and reaction time he managed to pull off during training, the enemies fell before they could start shooting him. Not that it mattered much, his armour could take a lot.
"If you know what's good for you, you will run!"
 
Sighing at his team leaders choice to ignore the more immediate threat, Cyrus breaks into a sprint, detaching his knife and rushing at the small stealth squad, before they can see him he screams "STRIP THE FLESH, SALT THE WOUND!" As he shoves his knife straight through the eye of the first soldier. They begin firing frantically, but Cyrus easily avoids the brunt of it. He fires his revolver twice, shattering the kneecaps of one soldier, who he then grabs by the neck, slitting his throat like a pig. He fires again, straight through the head. He ducks under an incoming knife, and thrusts his own knife straight up, into his aggressors stomach, spilling his intestines over the ground. For the final two, he reattaches his knife, fires his revolver once, draws his rifle and fires again. He flicks his revolver, and the empty rounds fall out, he then hastily shoves in more bullets, before snapping it shut and attaching it to his waist. A few bullets hit, but no serious damage. The scared ones always miss.

Cyrus easily picks up pace with Daniel, supporting him with a few shots from his rifle. "Keep them occupied!" He shouts, trying to rush around the fighting and locate Scarlet. According to his HUD mapping, she wasn't much further. If he could just get around all the, hang on. Pretty much all the guards were dead, just smoking wreckage. Made things easier. He looks around, attempting to find Scarlet, mostly unaware that Jack was also in the burning rubble.
 
"Well, owie." Jack sat up with a start, giggling uncontrollably. He rubbed the back of his head, his hand coming away painted red. "Aw, why'd it have to be red? Couldn't it have been, like, pink? OR. OR, hear me out: a pretty rainbow." He laughed again. Glancing around, he stood up, prying a discarded Uzi out of some dead guy's hands. "Won't be needing this, will you?" He stumbled around, picking off stray troopers, and even getting shot a few more times (before killing the shooters). That's when he found Scarlet. Or at least her armor. "I didn't know Scarlet didn't put on her armor before getting here. HONEY, you forgot your suit!" He glanced around a little bit, then plunked himself down on the suit's massive torso. "Where is that girl? Oh, what does it matter? A little blood isn't that bad." The suit seemed to stare back at him. "You seem like a good listener. Did you know Ash fucked good? Oh, you wouldn't. But the guards would. And the warden. And the other inmates. She wasn't too picky." He paused, looking at the armor. "How do I know? I really can't say. Maybe it was the moans you heard through the walls. Maybe I did her myself." Tears started falling from his face. "Oh, she was the best thing that ever happened to me. Or was she? I don't remember. That's the thing. I don't remember a lot of things. Except her face. Always smiling, no matter what. Oh, and him. That sick bastard. Maybe he wasn't as bad near the end, but always...." He stood up suddenly. "WHY AREN'T YOU TALKING TO ME?!" He rammed the barrel of the gun into the seam between the helmet and torso. "Oh." He pulled it away. "Good listener. Sorry." A sniper got a shot into his arm, which was responded to with a burst of rounds from the Uzi. "Take that you fucker! Oh yeah, I see where you are! You can run, but you can't hide!" Another shot, and he could see the marksman's signature go blue. He looked at the armor. "Maybe I should've taken up sniping. No, not nearly as fun as this." Turning, he through a knife through the throat of a trooper trying to sneak up behind him. Trying to destroy his world. "But then, if you're Scar's armor, then she's probably dead. Oh well. They always die, don't they? You'd know. Wouldn't you? Maybe. If you can feel. If I can." His gaze hardened. "Yes, the one thing I can't do. The one thing that would mean I'm weak. And what do they do with weak things?" He killed another trooper. "They recycle them. Recycle the materials, discard the body." His eyes watered. "They're all dead. All because I cared. I wouldn't have tried so hard, and they wouldn't have noticed." The armor gazed into the sky. Jack stared into the red soil. "I don't see what they ever saw in me. What do you see?" The armor was silent. Jack waited. And waited. "Please. Talk. To. ME. NOW!" His eyes blazed. He raised the barrel to level with the helmet of the suit, and started to squeeze the trigger.
 
Scarlet couldn't even turn her head to look as Jack got up and sat on her. It was ludicrous. A bit insulting, infuriating. She had enough room in the armor to speak, her voice still a bit broken from shock. "Jack, you goddamn, prick, get off of me!" Luckily, the armor was too strong for his weight to harm her or restrict her breathing. Her arm was starting to ache, though. "If you could fucking help me! Try opening the armor, or maybe powering it up!" She sighed, tears still fresh on her cheeks. He was alive, at least. His psychological profile seemed damaged, though. He was sort of pouring his heart out to what he perceived as an inanimate object. She tried to turn her head only to strain her neck. Her shortband was still active, lucky for her. "Danny, Magnus, could one of you please tell Jack to get off of my armor and help me out? I'm sort of locked in right now." Her voice was shakier than usual through the radio, a slight shiver, a light sob, but other than that, relatively normal. "Please? I don't think he can hear me!"
 
So Carlos was doing his thing, causing chaos, making improvised weapons, cutting or gunning anyone down who got close . . . the usual, when shit suddenly starts to go down. Magnus and Blaze were suddenly there, pushing up the front line, through swarms of Genocide soldiers, it was pretty awe-inspiring. He would have joined them had he not heard Scarlet over the radio, swiftly making his way around the outskirts of the battlefield, he took out snipers, and some stragglers trying to avoid the main battle. He eventually made his way to Scarlet, she was well, Jack was sitting on her power armor, doing normal things like, babbling to Scarlet, about some girl he remembered . . . or couldn't remember . . . so basically he was having a blast. Stepping over corpses, he made his way over to her suit the moment she had called for El Capitain, and Maggy. Giving Jack a light shove to move him out of the way he sat down on her power armor making himself comfy. "I aint Mags or Blaze but baby trust me, I got what you NEED~!" An instant later he had his suit connected to hers, "All you need is a jump start." His armor was literally a walking charger, made to power the other Juggernauts, his suit began to lightly hum, slowly increasing in sound, and intensity before it suddenly jolted, hopefully restoring some of Scarlet's energy. "Heavy ass armor . . ." he muttered to himself
 
He touched him. Nobody touches him. Except maybe Scarlet. Or Ash (who was she again?). Or anyone who had an intent of killing him. And Carlos didn't look like a woman. Jack slammed his fist into Carlos's helmet, leaving a nice size dent. His new opponent stumbled to the ground, where Jack proceeded to kick, punch and shoot him. The bullets didn't work too well ("DAMN ARMOR!"), but the physical attacks damaged him plenty. "Come on little mouse, put up a fight!" Carlos didn't move. Or talk. Or seem to breathe. Jack backed up, shot the armor again, and kicked it for good measure. "There we go. Nice and dead. Wait, did I want to kill him? Well, Carlos, are you dead? No, I see your chest moving. Everything's fine everybody!" Everything went black when something hit him from behind.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Cyrus comes in, all like BANG BANG! PEW PEW! And he shoots down the remaining guys. Glancing at the pile of unconscious, people, he claps his hands together, giggling. "Oooh, it's like christmas morning. Which present should I unwrap first?" He says. He moves over to Scarlets armour and tears it apart slightly. Putting his back into it, he manages to tear open the armour. "There we go. All good." He thinks about who to 'open' next.
 
Scarlet emerged from her armor back first, snaking her arms and head out with a contortionist's skill, then pulling her legs out quietly. She noticed that Jack was missing arm, neck, an head armor and thought up a course of action. Thinking quickly, she took an anesthetic syringe from her medical bag and wielded it back handed like a dagger. She was a heavy weight, so all it would do was make him woozy, but it would certainly take away the strength to move the armor much more. Scarlet approached quietly, the breeze hitting her unarmored skin.

Quickly, Scarlet handsprung onto Jack's back, clung, and put him in a chokehold, then stabbed the syringe into his exposed arm, making sure to press down the cap before he could react, lulling him into a daze if not catatonia. She kept a grip on his neck, halting his breathing. "Jack, shut up for a moment. You went into the fray instead of staying with the squad. That was a really stupid move. You made me do something stupid, too, and then you did another stupid thing by attacking Carlos. Your armor's in pieces. Where's Lupa? And how in the Hell aren't you dead yet, you big, dumb, oaf!?"

Scarlet relaxed her grip and kissed his cheek, sighing. "Im just glad you're okay. Now calm down and let's go back to base. We - no, I can help you. I won't let anyone else touch you. I know you don't trust those guys, and I can see why, after everything you said a moment ago, so I won't let them near you. Come on, honey. Calm down and let's go. You have to apologize to Carlos later."
 
Cyrus whistles and checks his gun. "Shouldn't you help the other piggy?" Cyrus motions towards the unmoving Carlos. Cyruses attention is slowly drawn to all the blood splattered everywhere. He rubs his fingers in it, marvelling at the red liquid as it drips through his fingers. "Piggies had an accident." He rocks back and forth, rubbing his hands through the dark red liquid, having entirely forgotten about everything else.
 
The first thing Carlos noticed was the taste of blood, his blood he quickly noted. He tried to recap on what the HELL had just happened to him, he remembered attempting to fix Scarlet's armor, and then getting a face full of dirt, after Jack slugged him, and proceeded to hit him, even shooting him a few times. Honestly the first punch had felt like a hammer to his head, and the rest didn't feel to great either, and he was bleeding. But he couldn't stop laughing, he didn't know what was so damn funny, but it didn't matter, he kept laughing, with no air in his lungs it was almost inaudible. He finally managed to calm down after hearing Scarlet's distant voice. Looks like Mama Bird came to the rescue, that set him off again, until his bruised ribs made him stop laughing, I'm going crazy, Carlos thought, "You're already there." he answered aloud. "I aint' a piggy, but thanks for the concern Cyrus." Carlos responded sarcastically, with a grin.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom
Back