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Post by Mason Breaker on Jan 31, 2010 19:14:23 GMT -5
Mason was taken aback by Moro's unusually cold tone, but looking at her eyes, he knew that there was something else to this. But when she asked the Irishman to tell the others that she didn't survive the Horde, he was at a complete loss.
"Whu-What!?" He sputtered, something he rarely did. But at the same time, he put several things together. "You want me to lie that you're dead, to everyone else, while you sneak off into the night and undoubtedly get yourself killed? No, I ain't having any part of that, and there ain't no way I'm gonna let you get yourself killed!" His voice was a mixture of anger and concern, staring into her.
He shook his head and put a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. "You know, even if you do try to sneak away, we'll all come after you. We're here to help you if you need it. That's what friends do."
He couldn't believe how sappy he sounded.
"And besides," He added, allowing himself a small grin, "I'm gonna need all the help I can get if I want'a find mah daughter."
With that, he released Moro's shoulder and ran back downstairs, stopping only to grab two bottles of cheap (And rather tasteless) liquor, preparing them into Molotoves before heading outside.
Making sure that the blade happy Roy and Kameko wouldn't be in range, he gave a loud "Fire in the hole!" before lobbing the two fire bombs into the Horde, watching as the howling turned to shrieking, the oncoming Infected bursting into flame and dieing in throngs. Rather satisfying, to be honest.
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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Jan 31, 2010 19:54:34 GMT -5
Slashing mercilessly at any infected too close to her for comfort, Kameko really didn’t mind the blood getting on her face and staining her clothes. She was barely aware of the others as she hacked and cut the horde down. The ones that managed to get past her were either gunned down by Tara or by Keith.
“Fire in the hole!” She scarcely heard Mason’s warning and leapt back just as two Molotovs zipped past, setting the horde ablaze.
What the fuck?! The black-haired teenager thought in dismay as a zombie in a hazmat suit raced through the fire towards her. Fire-proof zombies?
Nonetheless she chopped it down. The loud cry of a charger rang in her ears. She looked up in alarm as the special infected charged towards her. At first her instinct was to turn-tail and run like hell, but she simply held out her katana. She grinned rather sadistically as the katana dug itself into the charger’s throat as it stupidly ran into it.
“Bitch! You should learn who you’re messing with!” Kameko snarled as she took out her weapon with a stomach-churning rip, watching coldly as the special infected fell to the ground.
Suddenly from the corner of her eyes, she spotted an assault rifle lying on the ground. Who the hell leaves an assault rifle lying on the ground? Kameko thought as she bent down to get it. Making sure it was loaded, satisfaction coursed through her as she crouched down and started shooting away.
Well, she was until a certain sneaky bastard decided to pounce her.
Adrenaline flamed through the teenager as she vainly tried to push the hunter off her. In the end it was no use so instead she relied on yelling out for help. “Get it off! Get it off me!” she screamed as it started tearing into her like a cat to a scratching post.
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Feb 1, 2010 22:27:19 GMT -5
Watching kami sprint ahead of him, Roy sniggered, enjoying the view as the flying spin-kicked a few zombies in the face. Unlike his counterpart, he waled slowly, calculating his odds against the massive horde. Odds which were quickly evened by the Makeshift Molotov from Mason's direction.
The flurry of silvery-steel seemed to be nothing more then air. Sharp, zombie-decapitating air. Roy laughed coldly, removing the face of every zombie in his path once or twice, a zombie actually struck him, and he then moved to slice and dice them into itty bitty pieces, snickering as he did so.
His size twelve flew through the air, removing the Hunter from Kameok as easily as the cap for his pills (which were still sitting at home, having seen no need for them running from zombies). As the Hunter rolled onto the pavement, in the middle of the horde, Roy jumped on HIS chest.
"Role reversal you little bitch..." With that, he set to work, first carving up the hunters hands (purely for the sake of iroly you see) and then punching it in thye teeth repeatedly. Not caring that his own hands were bloodied, he stuck the carving knife into the beast's neck and laughing cruelly, watching it spit up and drown on its own fetted blood. Content that it was well delt with, he removed the knife from the ex-gangbanger's throat, along with it's canine from it's bloodied mouth.
Standing up and clearing the blackened blood from his eyes, Roy thought he spotted a neon yellow splotch from within the horde. "Shit guys, one o' those nasty spittin' bitches!" Before the warning had even left his mouth, the green goo-acid-bile combo shot from it's mouth in the direction of Mason and Keith. "More scars for the southerner I suppose... just hope he doesn't slip in it.." (A/N: Howcome nobody ever DOES slip in the spitter goo? Or Boomer BIle? It's gotta be slippery...)
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 1, 2010 22:45:53 GMT -5
Tara, hearing Keith's words, flashed him a grin over her shoulder before returning her attention to the horde. Roy and Kameko were doing pretty damn well on their own, but of course a handful managed to slip by here and there. Whichever infected weren't blasted in half by her shotgun soon had a bullet through their skull via Keith. However, Tara could tell the odds were beginning to stack against them; until, that is, Mason ran out and threw a freaking Molotov into the fray. Grinning wildly at the bonfire of infected, and trying to ignore the disgusting reek of smoldering, rotted flesh, she blasted the few Hazmat infected that staggered through the flames.
"Hey Mason! Where's Moro? She's missing all the fun!" she called over the roar of battle. However, because of the flames, Tara hadn't noticed the Hunter on Kameko until she was well into screaming. By the time she'd ran close enough for her shotgun to be effective, Roy had gotten to the beast and was busy slaughtering it. Grimacing, she pulled Kameko to her feet, simultaneously swinging her shotgun around to blast an oncoming infected in the stomach. "You okay? He didn't get ya too bad, did he?" Tara asked worriedly, reloading her shotgun.
And then Roy called Spitter, and suddenly a ball of green goo soared past them and into the vicinity of Mason and Keith. "Look out guys! God damn zombie whore..." she growled, whipping around. Running forward, Tara slammed the butt of her shotgun into the Spitter's face as she readied another goo-ball, then followed up with two blasts that reduced the special infected to Swiss cheese. Just as she was reloading, she heard the familiar cackle of another special infected and instinctively ducked. A Jockey soared over her head, missing her shoulders and instead grasping her ponytail in its claws.
"OW!! DAMN-" Tara was abruptly cut-off as the force of the pull dragged her forward, making her faceplant the cement with a pleasant cracking sound. 'I... hate... those... bastards...' she thought semi-consciously.
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 1, 2010 23:08:27 GMT -5
Keith very much liked this method of things. Kami and Roy seemed quite happy, Tara was taking care of most everything else, and all Keith had to was sit back and take a few careful shots at a couple stragglers; no injuries involved. He took a moment to fix up his scarf, glad that everything was running so smoothly (at least, compared to some of their other collisions with the zombies).
Of course, that kind of happiness rarely lasted long.
The molotov had been a surprise enough. The sight of all the flames gave him a good start (said ‘start’ being a five-foot jump backwards and away from the fire). The burning flames were shortly followed by a meteor of burning ooze crap; unfortunately, the ooze hit a little closer to home.
As much as he would hate to admit it later, Keith screamed like a girl. Burns on top of existing burns were bad enough, and adding more burns on top of those only worsened the pain. He stumbled out of the ooze, slipping once in the gunk and flinging his palms out just in time to catch himself (fortunately, he was wearing gloves) and scramble back to his feet and out of the burning spit.
Still in a panic, Keith’s second move was to find something (or someone) to cling to in fear and terror. Tara happened to be closest, so he sprinted over, punted the zombie away from her ponytail and shot five magnum rounds at it (only three hit, the other two going off course into the pavement, but those three proved good enough).
By the time all this had happened, Keith felt himself calm down. He paused, taking a quick look around and realizing that he was out of the spit, the fire was still a reasonably-safe distance away, and no one currently appeared to be dying. Still shaken, he looked back down at Tara and held out a trembling hand to lift her up. “Y-You ‘kay?”
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Post by Moro Ashford on Feb 2, 2010 16:00:03 GMT -5
Stubbornly, Moro refused to show any sign of being touched at Mason's words; instead, her teeth clenched in frustration as the man turned and hurried down the stairs. It was, admittedly, what she wanted to hear, of course...all the same, it would be harder to leave.
Trusting that downstairs was covered, Moro turned and hurried down the opposing hall, heading away from the stairs. At the far end a large glass window was spotted with dirt; jarring it with the butt of her gun, she sent tiny shards of glass raining down close to where Keith and Tara stood.
Over the small molotov inferno Moro trained her sights, picking off infected as they fell into range. Through her rifle's scope, however, she was constantly roaming the horizon, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as dread roiled thickly in her stomach.
Unluckily for her, the bastard came far to her right, far from where she was scanning. Mere yards from the building, Moro dropped her scope, eyes flaring wide at the sight of a chunk of concrete hurtling toward her. "Shit...."
Dropping to her knees seconds before impact, the young woman narrowly avoided sustaining a serious blow from an outcropping of the rock; clamoring out from beneath the sill, she was grateful that the debris had stuck where it had landed, and not fallen to crush her comrades below.
"Tank!" she bellowed, blinking and fighting back the urge to cough in the dust that now filled the air. Recovering her rifle, which had slid away from her in the chaos, Moro got to her feet and hurtled back down the hall, clearing the stairs just as the monster's tell-tale bellow sounded.
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Post by Mason Breaker on Feb 2, 2010 20:11:26 GMT -5
The warning came a bit too late for Mason. He had made his way to the other side of the bar to supress some sneakier Infected, but he had instead been met with one seriously pissed Tank. But all Tanks are pissed, so that was rather redundant.
Either way, it baralled over to Mason, slamming into him with its shoulder, sending him sprawling onto the ground several feet away. And holy hell, did that hurt.
Trying to get to his feet, he soon found himself actually picked up and hurled at the bar by the behemoth. Slamming against it with a loud thud, he forced his aching body into an upright position, unloading several shotgun blasts into the Tank. All it served to do was irritate it, prompting it to punch Mason......
And send him through the freaking wall.
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Feb 4, 2010 23:11:46 GMT -5
Moro's warning call rang true and clear, catching Roy's attention as he dismounted the Hunter. He watched in horror as mason, the giant grizzly bear of the group, was tossed from one side of the street to the other with enough force to bust through a freakin' wall. A. FREAKIN'. WALL.
Not only was Mason temporarily out of comission, the Tank was now uninterested. The thing was like a retarted gorilla with ADD: Way too strong, hard as hell to kill, and switching targets without notice. With another unearthly, barbaric Yawp, itseemed to charge him.
Wait... Trajectory, velocity... it's not heading for me...
"Kameko!" There he was, eating his own words, calling out her name in the middle of an armed conflict. The Tank had almost reacher her and was nearly past him.
"Shit, now or never..." With a bellow of his own, Roy broke into a dead heat, catching up to the bulging 'roid-head in a few strides. With another scream, he lepy, driving the carving knife (still soaked in hunter blood) into the Tank's left Laterus Dorsi muscle, stopping it's whole left arm from moving. Unfortunately, he was unable to let go quick enough and was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and tossed, almost face-first into the streetlight across the way. His stomach wrapped the better part of the way around it and he fell to the ground, hunched over. "Fuck..."
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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Feb 5, 2010 19:46:42 GMT -5
“I’m alright,” Kameko huffed as Tara helped her up. She smiled at the girl. “Really. Thanks–”
She cut off as Tara smacked the Spitter in the face with the hilt of her fun before getting pony-tail-grabbed by a Jockey. Kameko had always thought those things were infected monkeys that somehow escaped the zoo. She blinked as Tara face-planted on the cement floor.
“Well,” the girl said slowly. “Wasn’t really expecting that…”
Getting back to reality after spotting three or four infected running towards her, Kameko quickly picked up her assault rifle and shot them down. She spun around to find more zombies to shoot down when Moro’s warning made her freeze. A curse escaped her lips as she heard the shout.
“Tank!” Moro was bellowing.
God dammit! The Japanese girl thought glumly as she recognized the all too familiar roar. Suddenly there was a loud crashing noise and she turned to see Mason literally flying through a wall. Her eyes bulged and she let out a loud gasp. Just as she was about to sprint to the man’s aid, a boomer loomed ahead of her. She turned on her heels to retreat, but was too late as it covered her with its disgusting greenish-yellowish vomit.
“Fuck!” Kameko shouted as she backed away from the infected coming after her, trying to get a taste of the irresistible bile. She smacked them away and gave a few blinded shots here and there.
It looked like the tide of battle had turned against them.
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Feb 5, 2010 20:50:22 GMT -5
Tara, practically unconscious, was thrust back to the world of the living by the sound of gunshots mere inches away from her skull. Tensing, heart leaping into her throat, she probably would have sent a punch flying Keith's way had he not spoken. Instantly relaxing, she groaned harshly and accepted the proffered hand, stumbling to her feet. Tara coughed a bit, blood staining her lips, chin, and nose. Judging from the nose's odd angle, it was obviously broken; an easy fix if one knew how to do it.
Pain was radiating across her face and through her skull in waves from this source of blood and twisted cartilage, making her wince and sway slightly. "A-agh... d-damnit... Nose is... broken.. ow... So much... b-blood... Gonna... pass out..." Tara stammered in a jumble of words, seeing two Keiths instead of one. The smell and taste, the warm feel as blood gushed onto the collar of her white shirt, was horrible. Her stomach twisted painfully as a wave of nausea joined the pain, and she would have thrown up then and there if she had anything to bring up.
All Tara wanted to do right now was have someone snap her nose back into place, wash off the blood, and then sit down. But of course, such a simple matter was impossible during a zombie apocalypse, especially while combating a horde and plethora of special infected. Such as the lovely Tank, which always showed up at just the perfect time. Tara didn't really see the monster toss Mason and Roy like ragdolls, but she heard it and knew she had to do something. Groaning once more, she snatched up her shotgun and, giving another cough, whirled around and fired.
She completely missed the Tank, but her bullets grazed across the Boomer. It belched out a roar of pain and turned to Tara, ready to throw up all over her. However, before it had the chance, she stumbled forward and promptly puked up her own mixture of stomach acid and blood all over it. To say the special infected was shocked and confused would be an understatement, and she promptly took this chance to blast it in the gut. As blood, guts, and vomit smothered Tara and her clothing, her mind shut down at last and she fell to the ground with an audible "thud."
Not the best time to do so, seeing as there was a Tank nearby and she was covered in Boomer vomit, which was attracting what was left of the horde.
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Post by Moro Ashford on Feb 5, 2010 21:14:04 GMT -5
At the foot of the stairs, Moro glanced up in time to bear witness to Mason's flight. With the strike of his arms the Tank sent the irishman soaring into the far wall, where he disappeared beneath a plume of dust. Lifting her rifle, the mechanic fired a round of shots uselessly into the creature's shoulder; before it turned and spotted her, however, it had discovered Roy.
Taking the distraction to her advantage, hoping someone outside would assist him, Moro stole across the floor, crunching shards of glass beneath her trainers as she knelt by the decent-sized hole her companion's body had plowed. He was under a thin layer of rubble, but most clearly not moving.
"Mason," she said, pulling a fragmented plank of wood off his chest. His head was badly bleeding; as the young woman shrugged out of her hoodie and pressed it against his forehead, however, there was a sudden roar from behind her and something large crashed through the hole over her head.
Silhouetted in a film of dust, the Tank stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes rolling listlessly from side to side. The fingers of one hand were a sleek crimson and twitched incessantly; Roy's dagger protruded from his upper arm. Moro remained crouched over Mason, fearing a sudden move would draw his attention, surely meaning the end for both her life and her companion's. Run her body screamed, but her muscles had frozen her; the expression "deer in headlights" flickered in her mind.
Something cold was pressed against Moro's hand; without turning her head, Moro glanced down. From Mason's pocket protruded a makeshift molotov cocktail- nestled in beside it, a pack of lights. Desperate inspiration took her and, as subtly as she could, she eased both out of his pocket.
The disoriented, pain-drunk Tank snorted, watching her with watery, unfocused eyes. In one swift movement Moro lit the match and stood, taking a few hastened steps clear of where Mason lay; the sight of fire awakened the monster. With a roar, he started towards her.
He was too close...she couldn't throw it now....
With a cry the explosive left her hand, just as a crushing force struck her side and flung her against the bottom of the stairs. Stars flashed over her vision and she wheezed for breath; leaning heavily on the banister, one hand pressed against her sore side, Moro saw the Tank momentarily sleeked by the vodka, before fire trailed up his body and consumed him.
In a bellow of rage and pain the Tank clawed uselessly at the flames that had enveloped its body; one hand clutching the rifle and the banister, the other pressed against her side, Moro took an agonizing step up. Get Mason, she tried to say, but only a soft moan left her lips. Her ribs felt shattered.
She fired off two rounds in the Tank's relative direction, receiving what she wanted from him, which was his furious attention. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up the stairs, luring the beast away from her companions so that they may recover. Halfway up the stairwell the Tank got himself stuck; with an indignant roar, he tore away at the walls. Moro gave herself ten seconds max, and continued, quite literally, to limp for her life.
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Post by Mason Breaker on Feb 5, 2010 21:41:15 GMT -5
Mason was drifting in a void. It was pleasant, really. No pain, no weight, just a calm, empty void. But something was calling him back. A familiar voice.... Who was it? One of his companions.....
Moro.
His eyes snapped open, and all at once he bagan to cough violently, all the dust having settled on him. He was also aware that every part of him was hurting. Ah yes, that's why. The Tank had.....
Where was it?
A loud bellow drew his attention. That, and the sheer heat of the burning behemoth was a factor as well. Pulling himself out as far as he could, he spotted his shotgun a few feet away. The Tank was currently after Moro, but if the Tank wasn't dealt with now......
After what seemed like an agonizing forever, Mason finally reached his shotgun. Loading a few rounds into it, he propped himself up on an overturned table.
"Oi! Pea-brain!" He shouted, trying to draw the Tank's attention. It worked. Swinging it's head towards Mason, it bellowed, furious that he was still alive, it began to charge towards him, yelling bloody murder. The irishman responded by raising his shotgun to it, unloading every shot into it's face. He was pretty sure that he saw it's tounge get blown off, but with blood covering his vision, it was hard to tell. He did know, however, that the Tank gave one last bellow, toppling to the ground.
With the Tank out of the way (At last), Mason glanced out of the hole in the wall. And from the (Blurry) looks of it, they were losing. Unless....
Grabbing a nearby bottle of vodka, he took one of his matches and, using a bit of his sleeve, made another crude Moltov. Aiming as best he could with his screwed vision, he spotted the infected running for the biled Tara, and lobbed it. He was aiming for directly in their path, but directly into them worked..... Almost as well. Hopefully Keith would be able to finish the rest off.... Now Mason just had to worry about staying concious.
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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Feb 5, 2010 22:16:52 GMT -5
By now the boomer bile had disappeared and Kameko had stationed herself besides an unconscious Tara. She gunned down the infected charging at the brown-haired girl who was still covered in the vomit. Her breath was heavy with exhaustion and the cuts and scratches made by the zombies hurt like getting stung by a million angry bees at once.
We’re losing! Kameko thought in dismay. They’re going to kill us all! Please, God, let a miracle happen! I have not come this far to die now. (A/N: Anyone thinking of Nick?! XD)
As if answering her prayer, a thrown make-shift Molotov cocktail plunged into the infected. Dark blue eyes getting wide as she stared at the burning zombies, Kameko let out a sigh of relief.
Feeling a new burst of determination, she stood up and, gripping her assault rifle tight, she started shooting down the rest of the horde that mingled around.
“WE DID IT!” Kameko cheered as she killed the last of the horde.
She pumped a triumphant fist in the air before going to work on her injured teammates.
“How you holding up buddy?” she asked worriedly as she helped Roy to his feet. “I’ll patch you up later, gotta go find Mason and Moro.”
And with that she took off running into the Horseshoe Tavern. Upon busting into the building she first spotted a barely conscious Mason lying on the ground badly hurt. A gasp of horror escaped her as she raced to his side.
“Holy crap Mason!” Kameko freaked. “That tank made you his bitch! I’ll got you, don’t worry.”
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Feb 5, 2010 22:39:25 GMT -5
Roy gratefully accepted her hand, getting a foot underneath him before using both hands to pull himself up. "Mmm... thanks love... shit my stomach hurts..." Reaching behing him, he grabbed the pills from his belt, popping a few from the white (and slightly crushed) bottle. "Where's a pack of Tums when you need 'em"
He limped to the streetlight, waiting for the pills to kick in. As soon as they did, he walked, however unsteadily, over to the Tavern behind Kameko. He narrowly missed the "tank made you it's bitch" comment, luckily for Mason. "Damn dude, you some kind of Grizzly Bear or somethin'? How'd you manage to stay concious goin through a WALL?"
Slightly incredulous and slightly groggy from the pills, Roy reached down and patted him on the back before meandering off to find Moro. "Hey miss Moro... where are you..." The pills and the alchohol were making him goofy, no doubt about it. Either or was alright for him, but mixing recreational (if that was how these would be classified) drugs and alchohol had never turned out well for Roy.
Gingerly stomping the crap out of the Tank's corpse, Roy made his way up the stairs where he'd thought he'd seen Moro head before. "Psst. Moro. Where ye' arrrre." The pills were definately making him a bit loopy... had he just talked like a pirate? The walk home was going to be interesting...
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Post by Keith the Great on Feb 5, 2010 23:35:18 GMT -5
After Keith picked Tara up off the ground, things had begun to look like they would calm down. He’d been about to reach out and give her a hand with her nose (he’d been present for enough dumb ideas back home to at least know how to fix that) when Moro’s announcement made his blood run cold.
After that, the next moments were a blur. He recalled jumping away from the fat weirdo who looked like Ellis’ uncle, he remembered leaping away in fear of a molotov (goddamn alcohol supply) that hit a little too close for comfort, and he knew he’d shot his fair share of zombies and put a good clip’s worth of magnum rounds into the Tank in his spare time. Besides that, he remembered as much as the time his ex-girlfriend had knocked him with a hardcover dictionary and he’d woken up the next day in the dumpster behind her apartment.
The molotov’s flames died in time with the action, and once the blaze was a mere sizzle on the pavement, Keith took a moment to glance around and see what’s he’d missed in his stupor.
Kami was quite conscious and was taking the role of team medic. He couldn’t see much of Mason, but through the front door he could spot that the guy didn’t look that good. Moro was similarly missing, and Roy seemed to be stumbling off in an attempt to find her, ‘stumbling’ being a very literal description.
And then there was Tara. At first, Keith thought she was missing like Moro, somewhere in the building. Then he looked down; apparently, his dreamlike-state had bounced him back over towards her, since she wasn’t more than a couple feet away, unconscious and bleeding and covered in two kinds of puke. (Keith would’ve thrown up himself had he not been through worse himself and lived. He swallowed nervously to be safe.)
Unfortunately, Keith was not like Mason or Roy: he couldn’t pull off the heroic fireman-carry that looked ever-so-gallant in the flicks. He couldn’t sweep her up bridal style, either. He could only do so much with his caterpillar-esque arm strength. He sighed, and decided ‘so much’ was better than jack squat. Determined, he wrapped his arms under Tara’s shoulders and dragged her across the rocky pavement. It probably wasn’t the most comfortable ride, but she got somewhere; ‘somewhere’ being the wooden floors of the Horseshoe Tavern.
Keith dropped his rescue-ee (victim) to the floor with an unceremonious thud before plopping down beside her, straightening his hat, and readying himself to play doctor. As a start, he snapped the nose back in place. (He closed his eyes and pretended he was back in Georgia, mimicking the time a teenaged-Ellis had gotten too excited to see Lil’ Peanut and smacked into a stationary column.) Next, he pilfered some medical supplies from Tara’s bag. (He didn’t apologize: it wasn’t stealing if he was using it on her and the woman had plenty of crap in the bag anyway.) He didn’t quite know what was wrong with her, but he wrapped some gauze around the places where was blood and stuck a small band-aid on her nose for good measure. Then he crossed his fingers and willed her to wake up.
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