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Post by terralventhe on Jun 6, 2011 21:21:55 GMT -5
MISSION TITLE: The Bitter Soils MISSION COORDINATOR(S): Orias (That's-a me!) PARTICIPANTS: Rick Fader LOCATION: America, a small town in Maine called Peaty Stream DETAILS: Reports have been coming in from the town of Peaty Stream of several local disturbances. Cats and dogs running rampant and several people have gone missing. Rumors of a creature lurking in the forests outside of town have begun to spread and the town lingers on edge. The mission objective is simple: Investigate the disturbances, conclude the nature of the disappearances, and intervene if it falls under Shibusen jurisdiction. REWARDS: 100 Points + Ability (To be revealed at end of mission, if successful) Current Location: Road to Peaty Stream, Maine Local Time: 5:44PMThe Greyhound trekked along the leaf and gravel coated road with the monotonous drone that only the most well-used engine could produce. Normally, the bus was home to cross-country travelers, its seats loaded with overweight men and women, screaming and complaining kids with their handheld games deafening out the other sounds of fellow passengers, whilst tourists would jabber on in their foreign languages. But today, the bus was empty, save for its driver and lone passenger. Peaty Stream was far from being a tourist hot spot. People rarely went there, and rarely came out. Just about all of its population had been born and raised there, by parents who had been born and raised there in turn, back through several generations, with only the occasional visitor settling down either running away from their problems or simply seeking a simpler, more quiet life. Nothing ever happened in Peaty Stream, and therefore there was never any interest for tourists to seek it out. And those with relatives in the town were usually locals themselves. All of this, of course, went relatively unknown to those who didn't take a direct interest in the town and its people, and thus, as one would expect, the town of Peaty Stream essentially vanished off the map, a small town unnoticed by the rest of America, tucked away between the forests. The bus hit a bump in the road, causing the vehicle to jolt a little bit. So far the most exciting part of the ride in overall by all accounts. Outside, the sun was already setting, sending fiery streaks of red and orange through the thickets of the relatively barren trees and painting the leaves strewn about with its glow. Between the sunset and the subtle layer of fog on the road, it looked almost like the forest surrounding the road was another place entirely, coated with leaves of blood and smog. The driver coughed. Chalk that up for the second act of the road trip's exciting thrill ride. "We oughta be comin' up on the town soon." The bus driver finally said, his tone tired and strained, as if desperately trying to break the silence.
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Post by Rick Fader on Jun 7, 2011 0:25:14 GMT -5
Today, Rick had taken a mission from the board. It was the first mission he had been on in the last six months. After what went down in Detroit, Rick had to settle down for a bit. But unlike Detroit, which was a confirmed Kishin Egg, this was simply an investigation into several disappearances. It was most likely a Kishin Egg, with several dogs and cats acting erratically backing up that theory. However, with Rick’s luck on such cases, it was probably something else entirely.
As usual, Rick was on a greyhound bus heading to his location. However, unlike most occasions where the bus was loaded with people, Rick was the only passenger on board. But then, he liked the idea of being the only one riding the bus. No smell of sweaty, fat people. No being smashed between to morbidly obese men. No deafening shrieks of annoying children. And the driver was pretty quiet. Should he have put anything on the radio, Rick brought his trusty MP3 player with plenty of metal music to drown it all out.
To take advantage of the lack of passengers, the first thing Rick did upon boarding the bus to this town was to fall asleep. Before dozing off, the Demon Chair popped his headphones on, which pumped in Slayer’s Reign in Blood as he slept. Needless to say, for the majority of the ride, Rick would give the driver absolutely no trouble.
-----
It wasn’t until the bus hit a bump that Rick woke up. The resulting jolt was enough to shake Rick awake immediately. After taking a moment to gather his bearings, Rick looked out the window. The sun was setting as they were approaching their destination. And for quite a bit, the sight of fallen leaves blanketing the earth around the trees would keep his attention.
At that point, several thoughts raced through Rick’s head. What if he was biting off more than he could chew? Sure he killed a dark weapon last mission, but this one could potentially be worse. Perhaps Rick ended up signing his own death certificate. What if it was outside of Shibusen’s jurisdiction? Or worse, what if it was just more bitch work? Either one of those two outcomes would just be another mark on Rick's list of missions without action.
Rick’s state of thought was interrupted by the sound of a cough. Immediately, his attention snapped towards the driver.
"We oughta be comin' up on the town soon.", stated the driver, obviously trying to break the silence that continued through the trip, due mostly to Rick falling asleep for most of of the ride.
“Thanks”, replied Rick gratefully. For the moment, Rick was in a good mood. Despite the risk he was running, he was happy to at least have the people that made public transportation so bad not be there for the trip.
((Hope this is alright, DM))
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Post by terralventhe on Jun 13, 2011 8:07:33 GMT -5
The bus driver managed a weak smile at the response, his eyed looking heavy. No doubt driving like this without anything to keep it interesting must've bored him utterly and completely, and so the human interaction was clearly appreciated. At that moment, the driver reached out towards the radio, asking "Wanna hear some music?" without even really waiting for a response before switching it on.. There were not that many clear radio signals around these parts of Maine for whatever reason, though thankfully with some static and a lot of tuning, the driver managed to tune into a station eventually, as a sudden cut into a Ramones song started blaring from the speakers, filling the otherwise dead atmosphere of the bus with far more enthusiasm than there had been before. The driver drummed his hands against the steering wheel whilst the song played out, evidently a fan.. as the road continued on almost aimlessly, weaving between the trees and leaves along the lonely road. After a while it seemed to feel as if there was no life in this part of the world at all.. like nothing could possibly exist out here. That sensation steadily building, starting to become more and more apparent not just to the bus' passenger, but to its driver as well.. his drumming eventually slowing to a complete halt. His hands wringing the wheel as if expecting it to fly away from him somehow. --the radio station cut out. The music replaced by an incoherent garbling of noise that cut into what could only be a local broadcast.. "--and I'm tellin' you, people, we all know what this is about.. We all know it.. we've all heard it, we've all heard the stories, right? It made us tell each other, yeah? Yeah, and that's why we're in this shit right now! We're real, fuckin', deep in this shit now, and you all know i--" ..the driver switched off the radio, muttering in irritance about 'radio dramas' as he kept on driving. Soon after, the first signs of Peaty Stream would finally be coming into sight.. the first houses, wooden with porches out from.. oddly enough with the main highway running straight between the two seperate sides of the street, until a turn led further into the downtown area itself. The fog hadn't let up at all, shrouding the houses, various local stores and the relatively vacated 'Jed's Coffee Shop' in its mists. There was nobody out on the streets, though there was definitely some life in the town.. it didn't have that sort of abandoned look about it so much as a town on the verge of abandonment overall.. ..the Greyhound then slowed to a crawl, as the lonely-looking signpost for the bus stop peeked into sight just below the windows, "Well.. here we are."
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Post by Rick Fader on Jun 17, 2011 10:19:27 GMT -5
"Wanna hear some music?", asked the driver. But before Rick could reply, the driver activated the radio. For a moment, the driver shifted through the channels, until he found The Ramones through the sea of static that came before it. A grin took shape across Rick's face. As someone who grew up around such music, Rick was more than happy with the driver for settling on 'I Wanna Be Sedated.' The sound of the driver's hands drumming against the wheel didn't go unnoticed by Rick.
"You sir, have fuckin' awesome taste in music!", exclaimed Rick in an enthusiastic tone.
As the bus rolled on, Rick’s grin had been reduced to a straight face. Something felt extremely wrong with the path they were taking. It felt like there was no life in this part of the world. The sight of the trees bare of their leaves was strange in itself. He couldn’t help but stare at the surrounding landscape through the window, his stare fixed to the bare trees around them.
Just then, the radio cut out. The song the two were enjoying was replaced by a broadcast. "--and I'm tellin' you, people, we all know what this is about.. We all know it.. we've all heard it, we've all heard the stories, right? It made us tell each other, yeah? Yeah, and that's why we're in this shit right now! We're real, fuckin', deep in this shit now, and you all know i--" Before Rick could listen in on more, the driver turned off the radio, muttering something about radio dramas.
New stop. . ., Rick mused to himself as he pulled out a notepad. With the pen clipped onto the rings of the small book, the Demon Chair jotted in 'Radio Tower' onto places of interest. Along with the Police Station, it was yet another place Rick would be sure to visit.
Moments later, the Greyhound rolled into Peaty Stream. The forest that had sandwiched the road the bus traveled turned into wooden houses with porches. The two rows continued until the bus took a turn into the downtown area. The fog coating the ground of Peaty Stream reminded him of a certain game. However, Rick was going to hold onto that thought for the moment.
Eventually, the bus slowly stopped at the signpost. “Well.. here we are.”, stated the bus driver. “Thanks for the lift. . .”, said Rick with a grateful smile. Immediately, the Demon Chair stepped out of the Greyhound, and onto the foggy streets of Peaty Stream. Today, the boy was clad in his usual blue jeans and hiking boots. The gray and white baseball cap, along with his gray fingerless gloves were also present. However, rather than the black t-shirt and gray hoodie, Rick was wearing a white t-shirt and a denim jacket.
Rick‘s first action was to go for a map of the town. Luckily, there were maps for Rick to use at the bus stop. Rick pulled one of the paper maps out and immediately studied it.
-----
Rick’s first destination would be the police station. Once a route was selected, possible detours studied along with the route itself, Rick got up from the bench and pocketed the map. Without wasting further time, the Demon Chair ran to his destination.
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Post by terralventhe on Jun 21, 2011 7:44:30 GMT -5
Peaty Stream Current Music: [HERE]Current Ambience: [This town..][/right] --=~=--This place had 'wrong' written all over it.. The more that the Weapon would find himself progressing through the town on foot, the more and more worrisome it'd feel like to traverse the streets, like a tangible cloud of it was seeping in through the fogs. The pavements were damp from recent rain, and the mist hanging thick in the air made it so very difficult for the streetlights to effectively do their job of lighting up the place. Not a sound from anywhere.. Just a groaning, droning sound of the wind moving through alleyways and streets, creating what seemed almost like the death moans of some deep, baritone-voiced individual. For a moment, the dead silence was broken up by the sound of a howl in the far-off distance of the woods.. The howl seemed broken, somehow. Like the sound was rigid and only just slightly lifelike, as if it was imitating the sound of a howl rather than actually producing it. At that moment, the sound of snarling and growling could be heard from within an alleyway just around the corner, as two dogs seemed to be in a fit of violent fighting.. The first dog was huge, a labrador to be precise, with its fur covered in bites and blood from the uncharacteristicly superior second dog.. a poodle. The big, black labrador yiped and snarled, as it attempted to fend off the fiercely violent poodle that seemed relentless in its biting and scratching.. fur and blood covering the pavement as before long, the labrador ceased its struggling and keeled over on its side. As if not contented with its victory, the poodle began biting at the labrador's neck, pulling and yanking until another spray of blood was released unto the pavement. The poodle looked like a mess. Its eyes were full of some foreign malice as yellow pus seemed to excrete from the eyelids, the white fur covered in blood, dirt and grime as if it had been rolling around in a pit, a few tread marks along its hindleg as if it had just barely skirted away from being hit by a car. Whatever the poodle had been through, it had come out looking a little worse for the wear, half-dead from the looks of it even. The dog kept biting away at the labrador, though if it was out of hunger it certainly did not seem too taken with the mountain of meat presented before it, instead just savagely brutalizing the now dead labrador's body. Suddenly, however, as if taking note of the newly arrived Weapon, the savage poodle looked up from its punching (or rather biting) bag and fixed its malicious leer on him instead.. ..And then began to snarl.
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Post by Rick Fader on Jun 26, 2011 21:20:29 GMT -5
As Rick sprinted towards his destination, he couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong with the place. Sure, the fact that Shibusen was called over meant the town wasn't exactly Pleasantville, but of all of the places he had traveled to, this was the most creepy of them all. And the radio broadcast he had heard during the bus ride echoed through his mind as his boots hit the pavement with each step.
What the fuck is going down here?, he thought to himself. The sounds of wind blowing through the alleyways and streets didn't help matters either. To say Rick was jumpy was an understatement. As Rick ran by, he found himself constantly checking at his sides and behind him for anything trying to attack him. However, with each look, he found nothing trailing him. Damn this stupid fucking wind!, thought a frustrated Rick.
However, his run to the police station was ultimately cut short by the sound of a howl. However, it sounded like a fake howl. But before Rick could fixate on it, the sound of two dogs fighting nearby got his attention. In one corner, a big Labrador. In the other corner, a small poodle, one he dreamed of using as a baseball. Animals going ape-shit was in the mission description, but what he didn’t see coming was how the poodle was kicking the bigger dog’s ass.
Maybe Michael Vick has something to do with what’s going on down here. . . ., the Demon Chair thought to himself with a smug smirk shaping on his features as he watched the two dogs clash. To say that he was enjoying the bloodbath would be completely true. However, as someone who hated small poodles, he was honestly hoping the Labrador would come out on top. Much to his dismay, the poodle had not only brought the Labrador down, but had also ripped out its throat with its fangs.
“Holy fuck!”, shouted Rick as the blood spattered from the now dead Labrador’s neck. Normally this was something he’d cheer on, but Rick got a good look at the poodle. Whatever had happened to it had really fucked it up. Hell, it looked like it should’ve been dead already.
The dog soon turned to Rick. Its malicious gaze was set upon him as it snarled at him. As soon as the dog turned to him, Rick immediately shifted into his partial transformation. The tips of his fingers became electrodes, sparking with electricity, and ready to fry anything. His body shifted into a stance that would allow him to evade the dog if needed.
“Bring it, fido!”, shouted Rick. A grin of pure bloodlust formed on Rick’s face.
(454 words)
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Post by terralventhe on Jul 2, 2011 14:29:44 GMT -5
Current Music: [HERE]Current Ambience: [This town..][/right] --=~=--
Snarling and yipping violently, the dread poodle bared its teeth and began a relentless and savage barrage of barking and almost rabid degree of growling, its saliva frothing and mingling together with the labrador's blood to create a foamy grunge'y pink around its snout as the poodle lowered its head and continued its display of aggression and intimidation. In that same instance, though, the notable sound of more growls and snarls began to emit from the alleyway and just down the street.. as from each seperate direction, gradually and with movements as silent as death excluding their growls, there emerged two more dogs.. a pitbull and a russel terrier. Neither were in any better shape. The pitbull looked like it'd already gone through hell on its own, half of its face bitten and gnawed upon with its one eye lazily staring off into the distance and its ear torn to shreds. It limped as its left front-paw had more signs of bites and gnaws upon it, and the bone stood out just ever so slightly to show that it was broken. Like the poodle, its fur was caked in mud and dirt. Meanwhile, the terrier looked perhaps the least cruelly treated of the lot.. its eyes milky white with yellow crust surrounding the edges, it shuffled along as if it barely had half of its wits still about it, though the malicious growling and foaming at the mouth, along with what looked like the remnants of a green plastic bag hanging from its exposed, snarling teeth. The terrier, too, was dirty as if it had been rolling in the muck, the three dogs sharing those numerous traits alongside the clear aggression issues. The dogs barked, snarled and bared their teeth, before finally beginning the lunge, as all three bolted towards the Weapon. The poodle reached him first, being closest, whilst the pitbull hobbled behind it, and the terrier snarled and ambled blindly at him, guided by whatever other senses it was relying on. The poodle snarled again, opening its maw and displaying its sharp and painful-looking yellowed teeth, as it kicked its hinds against the pavement and leapt into the air towards the Weapon, leaving itself fairly wide open in doing so. (Sorry for the shortness, there's only so many ways you can descriptively plan out a canine assault. XD)
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Post by Rick Fader on Jul 3, 2011 17:13:43 GMT -5
Rick kept his eye on the poodle who challenged him. And while it was indeed action, it didn't seem like much action. From what Rick saw earlier, it just seemed like a pissed off, undead dog. Rick was mainly looking out for a power, or some sort of variable to raise the difficulty. That came in the form of more growling come from both of his sides. A pitbull and a terrier entered the fray, both looking fucked up.
"That's more fuckin' like it!", exclaimed Rick.
Now Rick was up against not one, but three pissed off dogs. All three of them took off to lunge at him. The poodle was in the lead, followed by the pit bull, and the terrier behind both. The poodle was the first to jump up for a bite at the weapon. However, it left itself wide open in the process. Once it was close enough, Rick's hand reached for its throat. If the Demon Chair was successful in the grab, he would use Discharge to electrocute the beast, while back peddling away from the other two dogs.
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Post by terralventhe on Jul 24, 2011 10:44:29 GMT -5
The poodle yelped and snarled as it was grabbed. Its neck felt soft and a little rigid, like holding a bag full of broken objects that shifted around on their own. The dog yipped and kicked its legs around, trying to scratch at the Weapon's arm whilst twisting its head in a futile attempt at biting the hand holding it by the throat. The yipping and snarling would then turn to a pathetic yelp as the Weapon would release the Discharge attack unto the pitiful-looking canine, causing it to spasm and jerk in the grip. Its jaw would hang a little limp, showing its yellowed, dirty canines as its tongue curled backwards. Inevitably, smoke would begin to rise from inside the poodle's maw, the sound of sizzling and popping skin that bubbled from within, flesh and tissue that cracked and burst in places, only to release smoke from the charred insides with the stench of cooked rotten meat filling the air.
The poodle let out another pathetic-sounding whimper before it stopped struggling and went limp, the only moment left in its body caused by the spasms brought on by the continued electrical current streaming through it. Dark, rancid and coagulated blood oozing from the opened wounds of its body and seeping out like burned pudding.
During this moment, the pitbull moved to attack next, at first attempting to lunge like the poodle had, only to lose its balance due to the broken leg it was sporting and instead planted its face into the pavement whilst still ploughing forward, its body ambling straight at the Weapon's legs. From the side, the terrier also charged forth, blind but guided as its tongue hung from its maw, looking chewed up as if the terrier had been biting and snarling without noticing the damage done to itself while its tongue flopped about aimlessly.
Not as defective in its movements as the pitbull, the terrier, despite having no eyesight to rely on from the looks of it tilted to the side and crashed into the side of the wall, dragging its body along before raising itself into a leap, half-running a foot or so of the wall before leaping into the air, legs kicking around blindly as if looking for something to hit, its violent and reckless barking and snapping sounding through the air while it kicked about like it was having a seizure, careening through midair right at the Weapon.
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Post by Rick Fader on Aug 16, 2011 14:38:29 GMT -5
Rick's hand wrapped around the neck of the poodle. With his success, the poodle made a desperate attempt at scratching his arm with its legs, while writhing around his strangle grip in an attempt to bite him. These efforts were quickly suppressed with the use of his discharge. Whatever fight was left in the dog was reduced to nothing as electricity surged through its body, frying the dog to a crisp.
Despite the fact that one third of the situation taken care of, the pit bull dashed towards him next. Unlike the poodle, however, the pit bull's broken leg had cost the dog its balance, reducing its lunge into a skid towards his leg. Once he was finished zapping the poodle, the pit bull careening towards the Demon Chair's legs had caught his attention. In response, Rick strafed to the side, stepping out of the sidewalk and into the streets.
Meanwhile, the blind terrier had seemingly crashed into the wall, only to start running along the wall it had crashed into. After gaining a half a foot in distance, the dog kicked off the wall, flying blindly towards something to attack. With a grin, Rick's hands transformed into a pair of six foot long leather straps, the neck of the fried dog curled up at the end of the right strap. As the dog got closer to Rick, the Demon Chair swung the fried poodle at the terrier, intending to use it as a makeshift flail.
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Post by terralventhe on Sept 2, 2011 11:54:50 GMT -5
The fried poodle's charred skin let out a satisfactory, if perhaps wretched, crackling sound as it impacted with the terrier's flank, causing the poodle's head to crunch and snap, and twist around at an awkward, upside-down angle with its tongue hanging out of the corner of its mouth, swollen and bloodied, looking more like an inflated, rubbery balloon than anything else. The terrier's body, meanwhile, was tossed meagerly aside by the impacting poodle, its momentum not so much reduced as its direction was altered, causing it to dumbling let out a whining 'urf?' as it skidded across the pavement, causing flecks of skin and fur to tear off along the way, hanging off of the canine's body like peeled wallpaper. 'That's more like it, Ricky. Show those stupid mutts what you do to people who mess with ya.' The terrier stumbled, blind and disoriented, starting to snarp and snap its jaws wildly at the air itself. At the same time, the pitbull was managing to shuffle itself back to its feet, scrambling to rush at the Weapon once more as the terrier followed suit - the two messed up hounds charging at him, one blind and one stumbling about, but both managing to work in a rather disturbing tandem with each other.. their blood dripping from wounds and scrapes in thick, black clumps, even as the charred poodle's own black sludge oozed from the cracks in its skin, coating the sidewalk and street. Even as they did so, that unnatural howling sound from before echoed through the vacant, foggy streets, coming from the woods and flooding across the town itself, leaving a chilling sensation of death lingering in the air, practically clinging to the canines in particular as they were lunging at the boy.
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Post by Rick Fader on Sept 18, 2011 2:16:37 GMT -5
The crackle of charred poodle against non-charred terrier rang through Rick's ears. A homicidal grin formed upon his features as the poodle flail crashed into the side of the dog. Even better, the charred poodle's head to twist into an awkward position, leaving its tongue hanging out. The terrier, however, was simply swatted to the side, skidding across the pavement, while its skin and fur started to tear off.
'That's more like it, Ricky. Show those stupid mutts what you do to people who mess with ya.', Rick "thought" to himself as his grin widened.
Both of the remaining dogs got back onto their feet. Immediately the two of them charged at Rick, attempting to lunge at him. The Demon Chair got himself into position to attack. The sound of howls sounding off through the fog started to unsettle Rick. As much as he’d enjoy slowly killing the dogs, he would have to end this before more could possibly come in.
As the two undead canines lunged at him, Rick’s strap hands transformed back into his electrode-fingered hands. In his battle stance, the Weapon let the two dogs get closer to him. With his grip still clenched around the charred poodle’s throat, Rick simply watched as the two dogs got closer and closer. Once the pit bull was close enough, Rick threw the charred corpse of the poodle at the blind terrier. As the pit bull lunged for Rick, the Demon Chair, reached for its throat, attempting to place it in a strangle grip, and from there, subject the dog to a Discharge attack.
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Post by terralventhe on Jan 8, 2012 0:07:37 GMT -5
The charred poodled bounces off the terrier's face, illiciting a garbled yelp from the blinded canine, whilst the poodle itself gave off a sickly crunching noise as the scorched and brittle surface of its flesh caved in from the impact. Distracted by the unexpected and unseen assault, the terrier began to snarl and bite at the burnt up husk of the dead poodle's body, tearing at its legs and torso in retaliation at the perceived threat.
'Hah! What a stupid mutt!' the strangely familiar voice mused over the sight, entertained by it.
At the same time, however, the pitbull had already been caught in its clumsy launch, having lunged like the ravenously murderous creature that it was proving itself to be down to its core. A feral glint in the pitbull's eye even as it thrashed about. Unlike the poodle, however, it was neither puny nor light, as its flailing legs and weighty body began to push against the discharging hand, seeming almost unbothered by the electrical current running through its body and charring its insides.
In fact, the only thing even remotely seeming to show that the Weapon was having any affect on the canine was the way it twitched and one of its eyes rolling back in a jittering, spasming fashion, and the occasional pop of scorched flesh made its way from its flanks and throat, though still the stubborn beast struggled and snapped its jaws at him, as if it was entirely determined to tear him apart despite its limply dangling, broken leg.
'Stubborn piece of shit, ain't he?' the internal thought cropped up again as if out of nowhere, as if annoyed with how slowly the animal was proving to allow itself to be killed.
Just in the distance, however, another sound could be heard.. neither the strange noises from the distant woods, or the snapping, growling snarls of the terrier as it stupidly tore away at its imagined enemy, but that of a person.. their voice panicked, frantic even, and quickly followed by a series of gunshots.. first one, then two in immediate succession, and then another two and a last one.. a six-shooter judging from the pause as the voice could be heard shrieking, "No! No!! Brad, get away from m--!!"
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Post by Rick Fader on Jan 8, 2012 16:15:59 GMT -5
Rick couldn't help but admire his handiwork. As he hoped, the poodle corpse hit the dog dead on, making a mighty fine impact in the process. And the response from the terrier was priceless in itself. Watching the blind dog fight with the charred corpse of the dog he threw would've brought a tear to Rick's eye, if he was capable of crying tears of joy.
'Hah! What a stupid mutt!', he "thought" to himself again.
However, the pit bull was being a pain in the ass. Unlike the poodle, which couldn't do much, the pit bull was putting up a struggle. Even as his electric wavelength surged through the beast, it still didn't relent, the only signs it was working was the writhing and popping of flesh coming from it. Even then, it still put up a good fight.
'Stubborn piece of shit, ain't he?', he "thought" again, his grin turning into a scowl over time.
However, the sound of screaming and gunfire sounded off in the distance. "No! No!! Brad, get away from m--!!", the voice shrieked as it was cut off. "Fuck this shit, I got bigger fish to fry. . .", he mumbled as he picked up the dog, and threw it as far as he could, towards the blind terrier. This time, he used both of his hands, and whatever strength he could muster in order to hit the dog, with the intent of causing infighting between them.
Whether or not it hit the terrier, Rick immediately took off. The Demon Chair ran off towards the source of the shrieks. As he ran through the foggy streets, he looked back to make sure the dogs weren't chasing him.
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Post by terralventhe on Feb 18, 2012 19:39:54 GMT -5
Sure enough, the blinded, feral beast immediately began to snap and snarl, biting at its perceived enemy in an ambling, stupid manner. Reacting to the violent assault in turn, the pit bull began to tear away at the terrier viciously. It a gruesome sight if there ever was one.. the two dogs relentlessly snapping and gnawing at each other without any kind of relent whatsoever, flesh and fur being turn away in tufts and chunks whilst more coagulated blood oozed from their injuries.. ..In the short distance away, the alleyway beckoned, dark and clouded by the fog clinging to the town's streets and buildings. Current Music: [HERE] Current Ambience: [Dark alley][/right][/sup] The alley looked like a place of dread, where people would steer clear of it for fear of being jumped by some unsavory sort. The thick smell of humid air hanging around due to the warmth of the buildings on each side whilst the dim lighting overhead cast light on the unsettling scenery.. There a man lay, bleeding with a pipe rammed into his chest, struggling for gargled breath. He looked to be in his thirties, short brown hair and eyes that were losing focus quickly from bloodloss. He wore a police officer's uniform, stained with his own blood, and in his hand was a standard issue pistol, the trigger finger still squeezed down, and in front of him there lay a corpse of another officer, face and uniform covered in dirt like the dogs had been and his hands covered in blood.. with a jagged, partly closed cut across the throat and five fresh bullet wounds landed in his chest with a sixth through the eye.. ..As the student would approach the scene, the officer rolled over towards the sound of footsteps, causing blood to trickle from the hollow pipe as he did so. He was fading fast, it was clear for any to see, and so the man gargled in the general direction of the Weapon, "C..Creed.. Creed knows.. started.. the station.. Cr.. ee.."With a sickly gargle, the officer's words trailed off into a final, choked out groan, before his body went limp and lifeless..
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