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Post by canas on Mar 8, 2015 4:57:39 GMT
SKIN LOG 1
Deimos stepped into the classroom, eyeing the group of people already there. most were between twelve and sixteen, none older than eighteen, and they were all standing around with a familiar awkwardness, Deimos gave a small smile. he knew that feeling all to well. for today at least, everyone was on equal footing there. This was the only class the Battleborn were required to take (war training) and considering being a Battleborn was a secret most kept to themselves for their entire lives, it was strange seeing everyone there and knowing what they were. then the thought occurred to him: they knew what he was, too.
he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and forced himself to step forward. They're the same as you. They won't ostracize you for being battleborn he told himself. he forced a step forward. So calm down and just go with it. another step. You'll be fine. He lied to himself. another step, and then another, and then the moment was gone. he was walking normally again, and he tossed his bag onto a desk he ended up in front of, taking the seat and leaning back.
A few other students looked at him, and one woman started to walk over, when the door slammed, and everyone jumped. The instructor stood just inside the doorway, eyeing them all with a look that instantly brought silence to what small chatter was going on. A sneer that had nothing to do with the scar that ran across his face made Deimos started to wonder just exactly what type of teacher this was.
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Post by canas on Mar 9, 2015 4:45:34 GMT
"Stand up!" he shouted the class, interrupting an wondering of what type of teacher he might turn out to be. The teacher walked to the front, a slight limp in his step, as the class scrabbled to stand. one unfortunate kid knocked over a chair in his haste, and the instructor snapped a glare at him until he picked it up in his white knuckled grip, fumbled it, and picked it up again. "To the wall! single file!" the class moved, and when they were done, he walked down the line, pulling people out until he had a group of four, and sent them to the back of the room. he repeated the process until only two were left. The boy that had knocked over the chair earlier, and a woman of perhaps sixteen. He turned his back on them and addressed the rest of the class. "The group you are with will be your squad mates from here until the day you stop breathing. here, their failures will be your punishment, and when you leave here to stand on the wall, you live only as long as they do." As he continued to speak, Deimos looked to his left, to the other three in his squad. One man and two women. He recognized one of the women as the one that had started to talk to him earlier, and the other was a completely unfamiliar face. He turned his attention to the other boy in the squad. something seemed familiar about him, but before he could find out what he felt a solid smack against the back of his head, strong enough to send him to his knees.
''Something wrong with your eyes, boy?!" he heard through a slight ringing in his ears. he started to shake his head, but he got another smack before he could, another blow that would have sent him to his knees if he hadn't already been there. ''You! boy!" he addressed the boy to Deimos' left. "Thats your squad mate on the ground! Why Is he still on the ground? Is that where you plan to leave him every time he falls down?" one of the women hurried to pick him up, leaning down to grab his arm, and the world froze for a second.
An explosion rocked the room, blowing the walls apart. his ears screamed in protest to the noise, and he started staggering up to see what the hell was going on when he heard a snap, and the floor gave out. he heard a crack as he landed on his arm wrong and the only thing keeping him from screaming was the fact that he couldn't seem to draw breath. He curled up instinctively, cradling his arm, his mind trying to frantically process what had just happened. he looked out, choking on smoke and dust as his lungs started to work again, and then a full, healthy gasp of pain as the spasm of the cough jostled the broken arm he was clutching against his chest. He sat up, squinting through the dust, and blinking away flash marks burned into his vision. he sat there for a few moments, and everything as eerily quiet. the flash marks started to fade, and he saw something stir through the dust. He watched, terrified something else was about to happen, when he saw someone stand. he started to crawl over on his right side, not letting his left arm touch the ground, and then he heard a sharp crack, felt a warm spray of their blood as they toppled over. For a brief instant, he saw the small hole in the dust where the bullet had travelled, and then it was gone, swallowed by the grit in the air. He saw another pile of rubble start to move, another survivor, and scrambled over madly, trying to get to them before they got up.
he slammed his useless arm in his panic, gritting his teeth as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, but he kept going, reaching the person just as they started to sit up, he yanked them down just as another crack split the air, a brief bullet hole in the dust right where their head had been. the person struggled for a moment, shouting, and he put his hand over their mouth. he felt them bite down, breaking the skin with their teeth, and he instinctively yanked his hand back. they started shouting again, screaming their head off, and he covered their mouth again, wincing and waiting for them to bite him again. he felt the teeth start to close, and then jammed his hand down their mouth, making a fist so they couldn't close their mouth anymore.
"shut up," he hissed, still trying to contain the struggling person "Or we're going to both die next." a third crack sounded, and they looked to see another body tumble to the ground. Deimos' words finally sank in, and he felt a small nod, and the biting stopped.
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Post by canas on Mar 10, 2015 2:34:46 GMT
They waited for a moment, until they heard footsteps. Deimos crouched down, his friend following his example. They saw a Silhouette in the dust, and Deimos was about to risk shouting a warning when he realized something was... off. The silhouette drew closer to them, becoming clearer each step, until it was obvious that it didn't belong to anyone from the settlement. the outline was too bulky, too tall, and if that wasn't enough, they were carrying a rifle at their side. he put his arm on the shoulder of his friend and leaned back slowly. a rock toppled with the movement, and the gunman turned towards them, a red laser coming from its shoulder and piercing through the grit in the air. he froze, setting his hand down slowly, and he felt something smooth, round. a metal pipe. He grabbed it without looking, keeping his eyes on the figure. he had one chance at this. He rose, quickly, ran, and slammed into the gunman. The gunman was wearing some type of suit that must have added a ridiculous amount of weight to his body, because he barely stumbled back into the hallway. but it was enough to get him away from the sniper. He drew back his arm and smashed the pipe into the mans face, keeping him off balance, cracking through the glass in the gunman's helmet. he swung again, breaking through, and then discarded the pipe. he reached through the whole in the hole in the helmet, grabbing for the mans throat, and squeezed, slamming the head against the wall while he did it. he felt the glass cutting through his arm each time he moved it, and the man struggling to get his gun to bear on Deimos. But the gun, so deadly at a distance, was useless. It was too long and unwieldy to get the barrel pointed at Deimos. the Gunman's struggles finally stopped and Deimos slumped against the wall, exhausted.
He simply sat there, his breathing calming, and the dust around him settled, giving him a clear view of them gunman. He was in a red armor suit, black print stenciled on the shoulder designating the squad and number. The red laser he had seen earlier was still active. now pointing at what small part of the ceiling hadn't collapsed. a targeting laser. it quivered slightly with each breath the gunman took, moving slightly as his chest rose and fell. It took a while for that to sink in. Deimos looked down at the man for a moment, and then he looked down at the floor. What he had thought in his panic was a pipe was actually a pistol, a smooth black finished gun. he picked it up, looking at it for a moment, and then at the unconscious man in front of him. he stood, pointing the gun at the mans head. his hand was trembling, and Deimos wasn't sure if it was fear or the adrenaline wearing off. his breathing started to grow ragged again. He looked back peaking around the corner, and saw the person still there. it was a woman, he realized, the one that had been in his squad and trying to help him up. and there was another, crouching behind her, the boy that had knocked over the chair. he ducked his head back and looked at the gunman. his eyes were open now, staring at Deimos in terror, silently pleading with him not to pull the trigger. it didn't matter. Deimos' hand stilled, and a single shot rang out.
The man's eyes were still open, but now, they simply stared up, empty.
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Post by canas on Mar 15, 2015 21:02:33 GMT
He shuddered and glanced around the corner again, ducking his head back into the hallway as a bullet grazed by his cheek and slammed into the bricks of the doorway, sending chips of stone flying. He glanced at the other two,Qq taking shelter in the rubble, trying to think how he could get them out. The dust was cleared from the air now, and there would be absolutely nothing to give them cover from the bullets.
He crouched down, looking down the hallway, hoping for an alternate path. He knew there wouldnt be one though. He looked down and his eyes fell on the guns, the pistol he had used and the rifle dropped by the man he had killed. An idea started to form, a completely ridiculous, impossible idea that Deimos would've discarded instantly under normal circumstances. He tucked the pistol into his belt, the grabbed the rifle and slung it over his shoulder, struggling with the awkwardly long weapon with only one hand. He started to get ready to bolt and then paused. He took the helmet off the soldier and lobbed it into the room. With a crack, it was slammed back into the hallway with a new bullet hole through the back. He bolted, running into the room and sliding under the cover the other two were hiding in. A bullet shaved the edge of the metal slab where his shoulder was, and he scrambled back into the meager shelter of the metal.
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Post by canas on Mar 27, 2015 21:57:10 GMT
The other two looked at him expectantly. The girl spoke first. ''What do we do now?'' She asked. For the first time since he first started moving, struggling to stay alive, his mind blanked. He had no idea.
''I... i'm not... I dont know'' belatedly, he realized he was now pinned down by the sniper, the same as the other two. He could have made a run for it back in the hallway. He probably couldve even broken out of the rubble and into the orchards, maybe even the wall beyond, where the sandwalkers were. He should've... his line of thought was disrupted by a choking cough, and rubble shifting. Another survivor. ''Dont move!'' He called out, hoping they would be able to hear him. The person stopped moving, and Deimos sighed with relief. He inched closer, getting as near to the edge of the cover as he dared, and trying to figure out a way to dig him out. As he drew closer, he realized it was useless. A large section of the man was crushed, literally smashed into paste, by the trunk of one of the trees that had previously formed a pillar keeping the building up. He looked at the face of the man, saw the scar across his face.
The combat instructor looked at Deimos. The only one who stood a decent chance of getting out alive now sat there dying. He coughed a spray of blood out of his lungs, and spoke. ''A tunnel... by the roots of the central pillar...'' his lung filled with blood again, and this time he couldnt clear them. His hand drew a simple line across the dirt. The message was clear enough. The tunnel would take them across the wall.
All they had to do was escape. Simple enough, Deimos thought bitterly as he slumped back across the metal sheet.
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