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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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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As she breathes out, quietly letting go of the mental lever holding the gate open, the sickly-looking glimmer gives one last halfhearted jump. Then it's gone.
"Mike," she repeats, softer. "Are you okay?"
(...Aside from the bullet holes and the knee to the crotch, anyway.)
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Then considers the throwing star in his arm, he's going to have to get that out.
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"I think I can get that for you, if you don't mind," she offers, pointing to the throwing star.
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Mike foolishly shifts his weight, and the thick bough beneath him cracks in a rather unsettling way.
"...hello?"
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"Ye need to get down from there 'fore thebough breaks. If ye can, lass, but it can wait till we're back. I've 'ad worse."
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"....am i in a tree?"
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