Enter Buckeye
Re: Enter Buckeye
Fighting the urge to fire, she will just focus and wait. If he tries to flee or make an escape, she will drop him. She won't move, maybe one of the town folks will accept his surrender... Or maybe they will put a blast into the back of his head. Either way...
Tick
Tock.
Tick
Tock.
Re: Enter Buckeye
Suppressing the twitch in her trigger finger takes every drop of cold malice she possesses. She holds her breath, staring through the scope, silently praying for him to make a break for it. oO(Maybe the locals will accept his surrender...)Oo she muses, the thought dark and devoid of mercy. oO(Or maybe they'll put a bullet through the back of his skull. Either way...)Oo
The bandit remains frozen in the dust, eyes squeezed shut as if darkness could hide him from the grim reaper. Hands trembling above his head, his knees buckle in sheer terror. Minutes tick by, heavy with the stench of his fear.
Finally, two figures emerge from the shadows of a shattered doorway across the street. They close in like vultures, snatching his gun from his holster and pressing the barrel directly against his temple.
The bandit’s spine collapses in a pathetic shudder. "Por favor," he sobs, his voice cracking with desperation. "Yo no se... I didn't know they were going to slaughter everyone. Don't execute me, please..."
"Shut your mouth!" one of the men snarls. His knuckles whiten around the grip, itching to crush the coward's skull, but he forces his fury down.
Raising his voice to the dead silence of the town, the armed local hollers into the empty air, "We have you surrounded! Lay down your arms and you might survive long enough to face a trial!"
Then, cutting through the heavy quiet, Sara catches a low, rhythmic vibration. A distant, guttural rumble echoes from the eastern horizon. Heavy engines are approaching through the gloom.
Has Camp Wilson finally mobilized its militia? Did Aaron make it?
The bandit remains frozen in the dust, eyes squeezed shut as if darkness could hide him from the grim reaper. Hands trembling above his head, his knees buckle in sheer terror. Minutes tick by, heavy with the stench of his fear.
Finally, two figures emerge from the shadows of a shattered doorway across the street. They close in like vultures, snatching his gun from his holster and pressing the barrel directly against his temple.
The bandit’s spine collapses in a pathetic shudder. "Por favor," he sobs, his voice cracking with desperation. "Yo no se... I didn't know they were going to slaughter everyone. Don't execute me, please..."
"Shut your mouth!" one of the men snarls. His knuckles whiten around the grip, itching to crush the coward's skull, but he forces his fury down.
Raising his voice to the dead silence of the town, the armed local hollers into the empty air, "We have you surrounded! Lay down your arms and you might survive long enough to face a trial!"
Then, cutting through the heavy quiet, Sara catches a low, rhythmic vibration. A distant, guttural rumble echoes from the eastern horizon. Heavy engines are approaching through the gloom.
Has Camp Wilson finally mobilized its militia? Did Aaron make it?
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
Sara will maintain and hold her position. She will continue to scan the buildings for any threats as she waits for whatever is coming.
Re: Enter Buckeye
From her vantage point, Sara holds her position, her finger resting lightly against the trigger. Through the crisp glass of her scope, she watches the wretched survivors crawl out from the ruins. Half a dozen more bandits limp into the street with their hands raised in pathetic submission, their spirits completely broken.
Among them, the heavily armored brute stumbles out; most of his armor removed, his hand wrapped in a filthy, blood-soaked bandage that continues to seep crimson onto the dirt. Sara traces the crosshairs over his heart, her breath steady as she savors the delicate power of deciding whether he will draw another breath.
The heavy silence shatters as a convoy of trucks and a quartet of SAMAS units tear into town from the east, kicking up clouds of choking dust. Camp Wilson deputies and militia members spill out like scavengers, greedily rounding up what is left of the scum.
Bringing up the rear of the convoy, Aaron steps out. He immediately scans the ruins with desperate, frantic eyes.
Her dark suspicions are confirmed when he marches directly up to the bleeding, crippled bandit. Through her optic, she watches his jaw work as he hurls questions that the coward can't answer fast enough. Then comes a burst of exquisite violence: Aaron cracks the man across the skull, laying him flat in the dirt, before bringing his heavy boot smashing down onto what remains of the bandit's shattered hand.
The bandit's screams echo faintly up the canyon wall. "I don't know who you're talking about! They killed almost everyone! I'm sorry!"
Then, a familiar figure glides out from one of the transport trucks to assist with the prisoners. A raven-haired beauty, with confident posture and blue eyes that cause many double takes... Kryyn... or Karen, as she now prefers. Karen pauses, taking in the glorious carnage scattered across the pavement, before her eyes drift upward, stopping nearly precisely on the high bluff where Sara lies hidden.
Sara can't tell if the woman has actually spotted her or if it's just the woman's incredible intuition. Holding completely still, crosshairs resting squarely on Karen's position, She watches as the woman turns away to continue herding the rapists and murderers into their cages.
Among them, the heavily armored brute stumbles out; most of his armor removed, his hand wrapped in a filthy, blood-soaked bandage that continues to seep crimson onto the dirt. Sara traces the crosshairs over his heart, her breath steady as she savors the delicate power of deciding whether he will draw another breath.
The heavy silence shatters as a convoy of trucks and a quartet of SAMAS units tear into town from the east, kicking up clouds of choking dust. Camp Wilson deputies and militia members spill out like scavengers, greedily rounding up what is left of the scum.
Bringing up the rear of the convoy, Aaron steps out. He immediately scans the ruins with desperate, frantic eyes.
Her dark suspicions are confirmed when he marches directly up to the bleeding, crippled bandit. Through her optic, she watches his jaw work as he hurls questions that the coward can't answer fast enough. Then comes a burst of exquisite violence: Aaron cracks the man across the skull, laying him flat in the dirt, before bringing his heavy boot smashing down onto what remains of the bandit's shattered hand.
The bandit's screams echo faintly up the canyon wall. "I don't know who you're talking about! They killed almost everyone! I'm sorry!"
Then, a familiar figure glides out from one of the transport trucks to assist with the prisoners. A raven-haired beauty, with confident posture and blue eyes that cause many double takes... Kryyn... or Karen, as she now prefers. Karen pauses, taking in the glorious carnage scattered across the pavement, before her eyes drift upward, stopping nearly precisely on the high bluff where Sara lies hidden.
Sara can't tell if the woman has actually spotted her or if it's just the woman's incredible intuition. Holding completely still, crosshairs resting squarely on Karen's position, She watches as the woman turns away to continue herding the rapists and murderers into their cages.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
For twenty agonizing minutes, the tension stretches like a pulled wire. Militia members and Camp Wilson deputies round up the remaining bandits alongside traumatized townsfolk, loading them into the transports. Karen and Aaron join the column. One by one, the heavy engines turn over, and the SAMAS power armors leap into the sky, forming a tight diamond overhead as the convoy creeps back toward the east.
Then, the town falls dead quiet.
Moments bleed away in the suffocating silence until Sara sees precisely what she's been waiting for.
At the edge of the street, the wooden doors of a rusted garage creak open. Two surviving bandits poke their heads into the light. They exchange a frantic nod and break into a low-profile crouch, darting up the empty pavement. Twitchy, desperate, and sweating with raw fear, they move from vehicle to vehicle, pulling on locked handles, searching for a way out of the graveyard. One moves while the other covers, their eyes wide and wild.
Tick.
Tock.
Exhale.
Hold.
Then, the town falls dead quiet.
Moments bleed away in the suffocating silence until Sara sees precisely what she's been waiting for.
At the edge of the street, the wooden doors of a rusted garage creak open. Two surviving bandits poke their heads into the light. They exchange a frantic nod and break into a low-profile crouch, darting up the empty pavement. Twitchy, desperate, and sweating with raw fear, they move from vehicle to vehicle, pulling on locked handles, searching for a way out of the graveyard. One moves while the other covers, their eyes wide and wild.
Tick.
Tock.
Exhale.
Hold.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
She will watch, wait and be ready. These two may only be scouts for someone more important. Or they may be the only ones left.
She shifts her weight ever so slightly to the left to due to an itch she has had for the past 10 minutes.
If they find a vehicle, she can disable if they try and flee or drop the driver first depending on the angle.
For now, she will observe and wait.
Tick
Tock
Exhale
Hold.
She shifts her weight ever so slightly to the left to due to an itch she has had for the past 10 minutes.
If they find a vehicle, she can disable if they try and flee or drop the driver first depending on the angle.
For now, she will observe and wait.
Tick
Tock
Exhale
Hold.
Re: Enter Buckeye
She continues her silent vigil, shifting her weight ever so slightly to the left to relieve a dull, nagging itch that has plagued her for the past ten minutes. Below, the two men eventually stumble upon an abandoned motorcycle. To their desperate relief, the engine coughs to life on the very first kick.
Click.
The back half of the motorcycle instantly shatters in a violent spray of jagged metal and a rogue, spinning tire. The pair scramble frantically back toward the cover of a nearby ruin, the second man dragging a useless, bleeding leg, having caught a heavy chunk of rusted shrapnel in the blast.
Thirty agonizing seconds bleed away in the quiet dust. Then, one of them crawls back out into the open. He stumbles to his feet, hands raised high, his bloodshot eyes darting wildly across the barren street in a frantic, hopeless search for his invisible executioner.
"Okay! Okay! We give up!" his voice cracks, trembling with raw terror. "Please... please... we're just stupid sheep following orders! I just want a normal life! Please don't kill us!"
His strength gives out entirely. He drops to his knees in the dirt, burying his face in his trembling hands, his shoulders heaving with helpless, broken sobs as he waits for the end.
OOC: That psychological torture of having the power over life and death handed to your invisible executioner.
Click.
The back half of the motorcycle instantly shatters in a violent spray of jagged metal and a rogue, spinning tire. The pair scramble frantically back toward the cover of a nearby ruin, the second man dragging a useless, bleeding leg, having caught a heavy chunk of rusted shrapnel in the blast.
Thirty agonizing seconds bleed away in the quiet dust. Then, one of them crawls back out into the open. He stumbles to his feet, hands raised high, his bloodshot eyes darting wildly across the barren street in a frantic, hopeless search for his invisible executioner.
"Okay! Okay! We give up!" his voice cracks, trembling with raw terror. "Please... please... we're just stupid sheep following orders! I just want a normal life! Please don't kill us!"
His strength gives out entirely. He drops to his knees in the dirt, burying his face in his trembling hands, his shoulders heaving with helpless, broken sobs as he waits for the end.
OOC: That psychological torture of having the power over life and death handed to your invisible executioner.
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7
Re: Enter Buckeye
Death hovers above them, waiting for the sign. Sara waits. They had a chance to surrender and they choose the chance to flee. They can now wait some more. Maybe someone else will take them into custody. Maybe they will try and flee again. For now, they can wait.
Tick
Took
Exhale
Hold
Tick
Took
Exhale
Hold
Re: Enter Buckeye
Death hovers above them, waiting for the sign. Sara waits. oO(They had a chance to surrender and they choose the chance to flee. They can now wait some more. Maybe someone else will take them into custody. Maybe they will try and flee again. For now, they can wait)Oo
Tick
Took
Exhale
Hold
The injured bandit staggers out of the building. Sara can faintly hear him cry to his surrendered friend, "Amigo, la cosa está mal. ¡Estoy sangrando demasiado! ¡Necesitamos ayuda!" As he desperately tries to tighten the tourniquet. Crimson soaks his pant leg from the upper inner thigh to his boots.
His friend finally sits up, scoots over to his injured friend, encouraging him to sit down, "Manténlo elevado o te desangrarás." lifting his leg onto his lap.
Sara can hear him crying as he tilts his head back, "Please help us! I'll do anything you ask!"
Tick
Took
Exhale
Hold
The injured bandit staggers out of the building. Sara can faintly hear him cry to his surrendered friend, "Amigo, la cosa está mal. ¡Estoy sangrando demasiado! ¡Necesitamos ayuda!" As he desperately tries to tighten the tourniquet. Crimson soaks his pant leg from the upper inner thigh to his boots.
His friend finally sits up, scoots over to his injured friend, encouraging him to sit down, "Manténlo elevado o te desangrarás." lifting his leg onto his lap.
Sara can hear him crying as he tilts his head back, "Please help us! I'll do anything you ask!"
"I plan to live forever. Or die trying..." Vila - Blakes 7