Enter Buckeye
Re: Enter Buckeye
Tick. Tick... T I C K
Time slows down. The feet move at a snails pace. Sara focuses her mind and sharpens her senses. Death smiles as he opens his arms wide.
She focuses in on the grenade reloads.
Exhale
Hold
Click
Time slows down. The feet move at a snails pace. Sara focuses her mind and sharpens her senses. Death smiles as he opens his arms wide.
She focuses in on the grenade reloads.
Exhale
Hold
Click
Re: Enter Buckeye
Time fractures. Tick. Tick… T I C K.
Everything slows. Footsteps drag like they’re wading through syrup. Sara’s breath steadies, her senses sharpen to a razor’s edge. The world narrows to the grenade crates; the one spot where she can make her move.
Death doesn’t grin this time. It waits.
Exhale.
Hold.
Click.
The explosion is instant and catastrophic, setting off a chain reaction of secondary explosions. A shockwave tears outward, ripping through the street with a force far beyond what she intended. Flames roar skyward. Shrapnel becomes a storm. Vehicles are hurled like toys with jeeps flipping end over end, hovercycles cartwheeling, jump bikes and pickups blasted apart. The Big Boss rolls twice, its passenger side crushed inward like paper.
When the fire clears, the horror settles in. Out of nearly three dozen men and the surrounding captives, only five manage to stand; two soldiers and one man whose face is blackened, his clothes soaked in his own blood. Two other women wander away in shock, hair matted with blood. Their leader is nothing more than a red meaty smear across the street.
Around them, soldiers in nearby alleys panic, shouting over one another, scrambling to understand the devastation. “Scatter! The Coalition figured it out!” one screams.
Bandits along the perimeter rush into town, desperate to assess the carnage.
Sara watches... victory at what cost? Are there any townsfolk left?
OOC: Nice damage... 280 MD... Oof
Everything slows. Footsteps drag like they’re wading through syrup. Sara’s breath steadies, her senses sharpen to a razor’s edge. The world narrows to the grenade crates; the one spot where she can make her move.
Death doesn’t grin this time. It waits.
Exhale.
Hold.
Click.
The explosion is instant and catastrophic, setting off a chain reaction of secondary explosions. A shockwave tears outward, ripping through the street with a force far beyond what she intended. Flames roar skyward. Shrapnel becomes a storm. Vehicles are hurled like toys with jeeps flipping end over end, hovercycles cartwheeling, jump bikes and pickups blasted apart. The Big Boss rolls twice, its passenger side crushed inward like paper.
When the fire clears, the horror settles in. Out of nearly three dozen men and the surrounding captives, only five manage to stand; two soldiers and one man whose face is blackened, his clothes soaked in his own blood. Two other women wander away in shock, hair matted with blood. Their leader is nothing more than a red meaty smear across the street.
Around them, soldiers in nearby alleys panic, shouting over one another, scrambling to understand the devastation. “Scatter! The Coalition figured it out!” one screams.
Bandits along the perimeter rush into town, desperate to assess the carnage.
Sara watches... victory at what cost? Are there any townsfolk left?
OOC: Nice damage... 280 MD... Oof
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
Sara frowns.
Tick
She lets the fury wash over her.
TICK TICK
She hates innocents being hurt but in her mind, they were all giong to die anyways. Any man that executes a child would have killed them all and not even blinked. And the way the others reacted, this not the first....but it will be their last.
TICK
She will begin the reign of fire, dearh and destruction.
Like a hunter picking off the last line of fowler flying through the air, she will target the furthest out heading into town as well as stragglers and those alone. Her method is methodological. Precise. And she goes about her business as though this was target practice.
TICK
CLICK
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
CLICK
TICK
CLICK
TICK
CLICK
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
Until resistance mounts and she must pick her targets attacking her or those trying to flee.
She may mourn later...but she knowna there will be plenty doing that anyways....
T I C K
C L I C K
Tick
She lets the fury wash over her.
TICK TICK
She hates innocents being hurt but in her mind, they were all giong to die anyways. Any man that executes a child would have killed them all and not even blinked. And the way the others reacted, this not the first....but it will be their last.
TICK
She will begin the reign of fire, dearh and destruction.
Like a hunter picking off the last line of fowler flying through the air, she will target the furthest out heading into town as well as stragglers and those alone. Her method is methodological. Precise. And she goes about her business as though this was target practice.
TICK
CLICK
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
CLICK
TICK
CLICK
TICK
CLICK
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
Until resistance mounts and she must pick her targets attacking her or those trying to flee.
She may mourn later...but she knowna there will be plenty doing that anyways....
T I C K
C L I C K
Re: Enter Buckeye
She frowns.
Tick.
Something inside her fractures. The fury doesn’t rise so much as consume, swallowing the last fragile pieces of restraint she had left.
TICK. TICK.
She hates seeing innocents hurt. But in her mind, the truth is merciless. They were all going to die anyway. Any man who can execute a child without blinking would have slaughtered the rest just as easily. And the way the others reacted… this wasn’t their first atrocity. But she decides it will be their last.
TICK.
Her breathing steadies into something mechanical. Detached. She becomes a machine built to deliver trauma and rage, a hunter picking off the last birds in a dying sky. She chooses the furthest targets first; the ones fleeing and the stragglers.
Her method is cold. Precise. She moves as though this isn’t combat, but a grim form of target practice carved into her muscle memory by too many battles.
TICK.
CLICK.
A headshot! Except the bandit’s entire upper torso dissolves into red mist. The violence is instantaneous, grotesque, and she doesn’t flinch. A building behind him begins to cave in.
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
CLICK
Another headshot. Another body erased. Her hands don’t tremble. They don’t hesitate. They simply obey.
TICK.
CLICK.
The next man is already panicking, glancing around wildly. He almost looks toward the cliffs. He almost sees her, but he’s too late. His head vanishes, and the crater erupting behind him swallows his collapsing body. It’s as if the earth itself digs his grave.
TICK.
CLICK.
Two more with one shot. One is decapitated cleanly. The other is torn in half, left staring at his own twitching legs lying inches from his face. He cries for his mother with a voice that sounds too young, too human, too real.
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
Her breathing is the only rhythm she trusts. She keeps firing until resistance mounts... until she must choose between those attacking her and those trying to flee. She knows she could mourn later, but the world has taught her that mourning is a luxury. There will be plenty of people doing it anyway.
T I C K
C L I C K
She missed spotting a motorcycle hidden behind a building. Two bandits stumble out of a doorway, still pulling their pants on. They climb onto the bike, then vanish in a spray of gore as the vehicle erupts into shrapnel and flame. A single tire rolls away like it’s trying to escape for them.
One round left before she needs to reload...
Down below, no one has truly realized they’re being picked off. Most are still trying to understand the explosion, scrambling for shelter, clawing for vehicles, desperate to escape the town that has become a slaughterhouse.
One bandit, half‑burned and shaking, screams into the sky, “El diablo ha venido por mí!”
The devil has come for me. And for a moment, Sara wonders if he’s right.
Tick.
Something inside her fractures. The fury doesn’t rise so much as consume, swallowing the last fragile pieces of restraint she had left.
TICK. TICK.
She hates seeing innocents hurt. But in her mind, the truth is merciless. They were all going to die anyway. Any man who can execute a child without blinking would have slaughtered the rest just as easily. And the way the others reacted… this wasn’t their first atrocity. But she decides it will be their last.
TICK.
Her breathing steadies into something mechanical. Detached. She becomes a machine built to deliver trauma and rage, a hunter picking off the last birds in a dying sky. She chooses the furthest targets first; the ones fleeing and the stragglers.
Her method is cold. Precise. She moves as though this isn’t combat, but a grim form of target practice carved into her muscle memory by too many battles.
TICK.
CLICK.
A headshot! Except the bandit’s entire upper torso dissolves into red mist. The violence is instantaneous, grotesque, and she doesn’t flinch. A building behind him begins to cave in.
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
CLICK
Another headshot. Another body erased. Her hands don’t tremble. They don’t hesitate. They simply obey.
TICK.
CLICK.
The next man is already panicking, glancing around wildly. He almost looks toward the cliffs. He almost sees her, but he’s too late. His head vanishes, and the crater erupting behind him swallows his collapsing body. It’s as if the earth itself digs his grave.
TICK.
CLICK.
Two more with one shot. One is decapitated cleanly. The other is torn in half, left staring at his own twitching legs lying inches from his face. He cries for his mother with a voice that sounds too young, too human, too real.
breath in
TICK
breath out
TICK
hold
Her breathing is the only rhythm she trusts. She keeps firing until resistance mounts... until she must choose between those attacking her and those trying to flee. She knows she could mourn later, but the world has taught her that mourning is a luxury. There will be plenty of people doing it anyway.
T I C K
C L I C K
She missed spotting a motorcycle hidden behind a building. Two bandits stumble out of a doorway, still pulling their pants on. They climb onto the bike, then vanish in a spray of gore as the vehicle erupts into shrapnel and flame. A single tire rolls away like it’s trying to escape for them.
One round left before she needs to reload...
Down below, no one has truly realized they’re being picked off. Most are still trying to understand the explosion, scrambling for shelter, clawing for vehicles, desperate to escape the town that has become a slaughterhouse.
One bandit, half‑burned and shaking, screams into the sky, “El diablo ha venido por mí!”
The devil has come for me. And for a moment, Sara wonders if he’s right.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
The devil can have the one dying. She is after her condemned ones.
She will continue to pick off those fleeing. They will not escape the sentence that was passed. Death is swift.
After the next shot, she will reload with the speed and smoothness of years of experience. A complex series of steps that look like one fluid motion, if you blinked you knew you missed something. The entire time she never stopped searching and scanning for the target.
Once resistance shows up, they will become the primary target. Until then.
Tick
Click
Inhale
Tick
Exhale
Hold
Click
She will continue to pick off those fleeing. They will not escape the sentence that was passed. Death is swift.
After the next shot, she will reload with the speed and smoothness of years of experience. A complex series of steps that look like one fluid motion, if you blinked you knew you missed something. The entire time she never stopped searching and scanning for the target.
Once resistance shows up, they will become the primary target. Until then.
Tick
Click
Inhale
Tick
Exhale
Hold
Click
Re: Enter Buckeye
The devil can have the one dying. She is after her condemned ones.
She focuses on delivering swift judgement to the fleeing bandits. The sentence is death.
Tick
Click Her shot pierces through an adobe wall, striking what she suspects is a propane storage tank. It takes a second, then suddenly another shockwave ripples out, leveling buildings and walls up to the next nearby streets. Several more bandits become nothing more than fleshy stains.
She ejects her clip and reloads, in one smooth motion, as easy as breathing. The entire time she never stops searching and scanning for a target.
Inhale
Tick
Exhale
Hold
Click
Over her next four shots, she decapitates two, evaporates one, and her final shot strikes true into the Big Boss' fuel tank. The resulting explosion launches four large tires with a flaming frame attached, nearly as high as the cliff that Sara is perched on. The bandits nearby are killed, including the one crying about the devil.
A few stragglers are visible. What few are left have scattered, hiding inside of buildings.
She focuses on delivering swift judgement to the fleeing bandits. The sentence is death.
Tick
Click Her shot pierces through an adobe wall, striking what she suspects is a propane storage tank. It takes a second, then suddenly another shockwave ripples out, leveling buildings and walls up to the next nearby streets. Several more bandits become nothing more than fleshy stains.
She ejects her clip and reloads, in one smooth motion, as easy as breathing. The entire time she never stops searching and scanning for a target.
Inhale
Tick
Exhale
Hold
Click
Over her next four shots, she decapitates two, evaporates one, and her final shot strikes true into the Big Boss' fuel tank. The resulting explosion launches four large tires with a flaming frame attached, nearly as high as the cliff that Sara is perched on. The bandits nearby are killed, including the one crying about the devil.
A few stragglers are visible. What few are left have scattered, hiding inside of buildings.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
Patience is her lover.
As the adrenaline slows, so will her heart and her breathing. She will enter a semi trance like state as she searches and scans.
She will begin listening to the radio channels for the tell tell sign of a broken will. Of fear overriding caution. She has no where to go and settles into a relaxed pose.
Maybe the survivors will take a stand. Maybe the one who was sought after will show themselves. It's all the same to her.
Waiting
Watching
Ready
T
I
C
K
T
O
C
K
T
I
C
K
T
O
C
K
As the adrenaline slows, so will her heart and her breathing. She will enter a semi trance like state as she searches and scans.
She will begin listening to the radio channels for the tell tell sign of a broken will. Of fear overriding caution. She has no where to go and settles into a relaxed pose.
Maybe the survivors will take a stand. Maybe the one who was sought after will show themselves. It's all the same to her.
Waiting
Watching
Ready
T
I
C
K
T
O
C
K
T
I
C
K
T
O
C
K
Re: Enter Buckeye
Patience is her lover. As the adrenaline drains from her veins, her heartbeat steadies, her breathing smooths, and the world narrows into a razor‑sharp calm. She slips into that half‑trance she’s trained for; the one where every sound matters. She feels every current of air entering her nose, every pulse of her heart through her fingertips, and every speck of movement down below.
She listens to the radio chatter, waiting for the crack in someone’s courage. A voice trembling. A command given too fast. Fear always reveals itself. oO(Nothing yet...)Oo
She has nowhere to go, so she settles into a relaxed, predatory stillness, watching with a cold, expectant gaze. oO(Maybe the survivors will rally. Maybe the one they were protecting will finally show themselves)Oo Either way, she’s ready.
Ten minutes pass.
A lone bandit finally emerges, wearing so many layers of mismatched armor he looks like a walking scrap pile. He holds a slab of sheet metal over his head like a makeshift shield. Sara spots the exposed fingers that prop up the metal, then checks her distancer.
2,175 feet.
Her focus returns.
Inhale.
Tick.
Exhale.
Tock.
Boom.
The shot snaps through the air. It punches through the bandit’s fingers, blasts a hole straight through the sheet metal, and ricochets off the helmet with a ringing crack. The bandit drops, like with a concussion, as the sheet metal flips end‑over‑end before landing on a nearby rooftop.
The bandit scrambles, bleeding, missing fingers, dazed and frantically bear‑crawling back toward the doorway he came from.
She listens to the radio chatter, waiting for the crack in someone’s courage. A voice trembling. A command given too fast. Fear always reveals itself. oO(Nothing yet...)Oo
She has nowhere to go, so she settles into a relaxed, predatory stillness, watching with a cold, expectant gaze. oO(Maybe the survivors will rally. Maybe the one they were protecting will finally show themselves)Oo Either way, she’s ready.
Ten minutes pass.
A lone bandit finally emerges, wearing so many layers of mismatched armor he looks like a walking scrap pile. He holds a slab of sheet metal over his head like a makeshift shield. Sara spots the exposed fingers that prop up the metal, then checks her distancer.
2,175 feet.
Her focus returns.
Inhale.
Tick.
Exhale.
Tock.
Boom.
The shot snaps through the air. It punches through the bandit’s fingers, blasts a hole straight through the sheet metal, and ricochets off the helmet with a ringing crack. The bandit drops, like with a concussion, as the sheet metal flips end‑over‑end before landing on a nearby rooftop.
The bandit scrambles, bleeding, missing fingers, dazed and frantically bear‑crawling back toward the doorway he came from.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
Smiling, she flips to infrared and follows the bandit inside. Was he alone? Are there others? She will wait and watch. If he hides, she will take her shot. If he rallies with others, she will drop him to flush them out just in case they civilians. Either way, his tocks are ticking down.
Tick
Exhale
Tock
Hold
......
Tick
Exhale
Tock
Hold
......
Re: Enter Buckeye
Smiling, she flips to infrared and follows the bandit inside. Unfortunately, she realizes that her infrared range isn't far enough. oO(Is he alone? Are there others?)Oo
She resigns back to waiting and watching.
Two blocks away, a white flag appears from a doorway, waving frantically for about a minute. Eventually, another scraggly haired bandit appears, hand in the air as he walks out. The man stares into the sky and shouts, "Me rindo! Ten piedad de mí, por favor!"
She resigns back to waiting and watching.
Two blocks away, a white flag appears from a doorway, waving frantically for about a minute. Eventually, another scraggly haired bandit appears, hand in the air as he walks out. The man stares into the sky and shouts, "Me rindo! Ten piedad de mí, por favor!"
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7