Mr. Grossmann (
dont_turn_around) wrote2012-10-16 12:45 pm
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The Forest

The woods are
The mist has not lifted.
The trees are still.
There's not so much as a bird singing or a fox trundling through the undergrowth.
Even the paths seem to lie in waiting.
Deep in the forest is The Tree.
If you think you know where it is...you don't.
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You never think!
The bullet strikes the tree with a dead thunk as Mike is already on the move.
How can I ever trust you again?
He leaps out at the ones advancing on the tree. Arms wide, made wider by the broad spinning of the nunchucks in his hand.
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Olivia pulls up short fast enough to stumble a step, darting to the side in an effort to keep clear. For an instant, she glimpses the man's face -- oh, hell -- and has a moment, as she bites back a curse, to be glad her instincts to try a non-lethal shot first were on the money.
"Mike!" she shouts, already fairly certain it won't do anything.
Which is why she's already lined up a second shot and pulled the trigger -- this time, aiming for his shoulder.
(In her other hand, the canister continues to hiss.)
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Quickly he gets his sword out of the way of the spinning wood and tries to slice Mike's tendon. They're running out of time.
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There is no wind.
Or it might have been an illusion; depth is hard to perceive when the mist is smothering drowning stealing hiding enshrouding everything.
The loud CREAK is the only warning the would-be heroes have before two of the tree's branches crash down in thunderous fury on each side of its dark child, deflecting the brightness of beams and blasts from their intended target.
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USELESS! You serve no purpose and we're better off without you!
He growls through the pain.
And then he is on them. He has been trained to deal with swords, and this is not the first time he's been on the wrong end of a blade. Tendons may sever, but it takes more than a firm stance to split bone.
I hate you! And I never want to see you again!
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Nothing you do will work --
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He doesn't know if there's anything left in it but at this point he should be able to reach it. Jack will find a way, he's holding onto that thought through everything, because if he thinks more, he might give up.
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The moment she's clear, though, Dani's back to shooting off ecto-blasts.
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Just stay down! Stay down and die
He's just grabbing for the gun when one of the blasts skims the skin of his back and he howls with rage.
Die and let us be rid of you once and for all!
He makes as to grapple Olivia for a throw towards the blasts.
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She meets the grapple, but not quickly enough; as Mike hurls her into the air, all Olivia can do is try to shift her weight and throw off his trajectory.
It works, but barely. A blast misses her by inches just before she hits the ground, and, breath knocked out of her, she can't do anything but cough, and cough, and keep coughing.
Somehow, she pulls up the words like someone dredging sludge from a lakebed. "Throw the -- canister -- " she wheezes.
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It even seems to quiver in indignation.
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And then disappears into a sudden burst of smoke.
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NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO---
A high-pitched rising shriek tears through the forest around them, assaulting their ears to the point of physical pain as branches lash the air with wild abandon.
when the bough breaks
A deep thrum rocks the ground under their feet, and the Tree's branches freeze in place as the crackling purple electricity winks out.
Silence descends.
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Once it passes, she uncovers her ears and lifts her head up.
"What...the hell was that?"
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When used correctly they provide one with a nigh-on fool-proof on-demand and easy to conceal exit strategy for almost any situation.
Sadly, no matter how awesomely dramatic a smoke bomb is, it loses it's effectiveness if you leave blood trailing behind you as you flee for the high ground.
If anyone needs Mike he'll just be up in the purple goo covered tree wondering why he's in as much pain as he is.
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Nothing broken, nothing sprained, no contusions she can find. She's going to have a hell of a couple of bruises come tomorrow, but the worst seems to have passed.
All of the worst.
"I think it worked," she rasps. Dirt sticks to her hands as she rubs one of them across her face. Lifting her gaze to the tree, and lifting her voice in kind: "Mike?"
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The throwing star in his arm gets pushed in a little farther and he tries to cover his ears from the sound. When it stops, he carefully gets up, sheathing his sword before looking to see the damage.
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"Mike?" he calls cautiously. "Are you sane?"
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Much coughing follows.
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