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Post by Baila el Cheeki Breeki on May 15, 2012 8:18:01 GMT -5
A piece of dust in his contact, Tatar squinted and crouched lower into the grass. He kept thinking of the shape of a bullet, and the average size of the human lung, and how likely it would be that a bullet would hit him in the lung instead of the heart or head for a clean death. Breathing in blood, spitting it back up, dying.
"Bypassing the station on the pretence of official business would . . . eh," he glanced at the American and the masked stalker, "I suppose we're a bit of a crowd to pass ourselves off as wholly affiliated with the scientific community."
Holding a hand up to his brow he scanned the area near where the western foreigner had been indicating. He gestured to get the man's attention, and spoke as slowly and simply as he could to ensure full comprehension,
"The grass to the east of the fence there, do you see it? Do you see the way the grass moves there, and over there? It is dangerous there. Anomalies. We need to move around it further east."
This was a half-truth, of course. Two Type E's was nothing compared to the graviconcentrates peppering the east hills, and besides that he thought he'd seen something odd drifting over there near an abandoned railway car. The lie was necessary: Tatar wanted to urge the group as far from the soldiers as possible. Anomalies he knew. He had an indicator and his studies giving him confidence. Anomalies, unthinking violations of the laws of physics, were a matter of locating the phenomenon and circumventing it. Living men with large guns was another issue altogether.
"We should move past that farmstead and come around from the far east, near the," he fumbled with the GPS imaging on his phone, holding it up for the foreigner to see, "Near this . . . train tunnel. You can use a knife there."
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.4
Rodent
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what is this I don't even
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Post by .4 on May 15, 2012 9:55:44 GMT -5
Hemlock was no longer prescribed by the city of Athens- there were, however, other poisons for anyone determined enough to find them, and Magpie was idly considering how this world where nothing mattered was one of them. The Zone broke, did not mend.
There was no reason to worry about bypassing the blockade: the others would find a solution in time. Instead, Magpie kept busy by looking around, neck hairs pricking up. The air was thick with static, and a storm could be felt coming through the metal of the battered rifle; unstoppable, euphoric power.
Something was happening at the old farmstead to the east. The amount of conversations Magpie had held with the other loners wasn't something to brag about, thus stepping aside for a glance around wouldn't be paid any mind. Magpie crouched low in a clump of bushes in order to remain unnoticed while observing. There was something strange just beyond the farmstead; a vaguely body-shaped lump swaddled by the grass. It was difficult to tell who or what it might be, and the idea of an unburied, unwept body, a corpse for birds and dogs to eat, a ghastly sight of shame, made Magpie deeply disturbed.
Another figure seemed to materialize out of nowhere, perhaps from a patch of grass blurred by the distance and the scratches on the lenses of the mask. It was doing . . . something. The two shapes blended and mingled. Magpie looked back to make sure nobody was watching before lifting the mask up to get a clear view. Unfortunately, it didn't help much. The lump on the ground tumbled in a uneasy way as the figure above it descended upon it. Seconds later, it vanished the same way it appeared.
Without warning came an awful sensation, a sick feeling like the suspicion of a face at one's bedroom window at night. Feeling exposed and uncomfortable Magpie replaced the mask and scampered away just in time to hear the tatar gesture towards the hills past the very same farmstead, telling the group to head in that direction.
Magpie turned back to look. Again, gooseflesh and a feeling of something nauseating and observant lingering there. The air of those hills seemed darker, even in day. The devil was there, with no gods to invoke. The mask turned a drawn-out shout of objection into an eerie yodel:
"No! We cannot go from there. Those hills are dange-... Dangerous. "
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Rifleman
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The Penis is Evil
Posts: 9
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Post by Rifleman on May 23, 2012 21:56:04 GMT -5
‘’I suppose we’re a bit of a crowd to pass ourselves off as wholly affiliated with the scientific community.’’
Scott didn’t understand much – considering that it wasn’t directed to the group in particular, it was possible that it was just a witty comment on Scott’s offer. He didn’t like it, but then again, there was no time to complain. They had to leave.
The scientist-looking kiddo checked the direction Scott had pointed to – then a quick hand gesture, to catch Scott’s attention.
‘’The grass to the east of the fence there, do you see it? Do you see the way the grass moves there, and over there? It is dangerous there. Anomalies. We need to move around it further east.’’
Either Scott was grasping Russian more and more, or people were trying to make do for his lack of language. Not that he cared. As long as he was going to get closer to his goal, he could tolerate being treated as a mentally dysfunctional brute. Feelings didn’t come into it.
Anomalies. Scott was able to take on stalkers or mutants, but these things were real trouble for him. Warps in reality. Gaping holes in the laws of physics. He wasn’t used to them – all he wanted to do was to avoid them, so he nodded to himself. He couldn’t risk getting ripped apart by nothing while trying to cut a gate through the fence.
The scientist in the odd hazard suit and the man with the gas mask were quiet – then again, Scott didn’t hear them talk much throughout the trip either. Pavel was nervous - a quiet moment in such a gloomy place abandoned by time was ought to make him.
‘’No! We cannot go from there. Those hills are dange-... Dangerous.‘’
The masked man spoke, his voice muffled through the filters of his gas mask into an inhuman tone. Pavel was frightened by the sudden eerie voice – Scott did not blame him, the noise was truly unnerving.
‘’And how do you know that, mister Bugface? Do those goggles augment your vision or something?’’
He had slipped up. The words were in English. His mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of revenge to keep the language he spoke stable. It was probably better for the group. A fight could occur thanks to a moment of annoyance. And that could attract the attention of the military. And attracting the attention of the military pretty much meant instant death for nearly all of the group.
‘’How did you understand?’’
Scott repeated his question in an understandably nicer way, and in the correct language. He hoped that the masked man did not know English. Or just didn’t care about Scott’s petty insult.
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Post by VladTheBloodsucka on May 28, 2012 13:34:11 GMT -5
Avram spotted what the rest saw. The flicker of red and transparency was not clear enough for bewilderment but faint enough to perturb the calm.
It's there, one of them...by g...
"You can wait for me here or move on to the anomaly tunnel." he told the group with his gaze still fixated on the mill and on the mutilated body barely in sight. "If you do, do it silently and don't approach the dogs in the eastern hills."
It wasn't easy for his aged bones to crouch and stealth his way around coarse bushes. And there was something else there. A presence of the zone lingering. He drew his gun clumsily as he carefully entered the abandoned facility. When Avram attached his helmet the beeping warned him that he was close to an anomaly formed a few meters above him. It was silent as the vortex had just dismembered the corpse he was there to investigate. The tight lump of energy started vibrating again, bending the metal of the milling equipment and drawing into it the invasive grass and Avram. He hit the ground and felt his backpack and the cursed suitcase pulling him up as they were in the event horizon. Pushing his fingers as far as he could into the ground, he crawled for his life, frenziedly managing to move a few meters along with the expanding vortex. His glass helmet got suddenly stained by the soaring fragments of brain of the previous victim. If he's the "first" victim ...my girl is sentenced here, now, without her knowledge and without any hope . The suit had fragments of the beautiful so called Goldfish artifact in the fabric that were now vibrating with the anomaly. Perhaps...
The pull was unmerciful and sudden. Avram held strongly, dislocating a few chunks of earth that were now with him in the orbit. Instinctively shielding the backpack and suitcase in fetus position, he rotated in the air only a few seconds before the kick. The last thing he saw was another person. Was it person ? For a quarter of a second it looked like a flayed man with a disintegrating jaw and red eyes. They caught a glimpse of each other for one brief and calm moment in time when the laws of physics were as suspended as them. One moment before the tempest discharge. Before his neurons made the connections, he was already across the hall. Avram felt everything hurting for a split second, literally everything under pressure and kinetic energy, and then he was on the ground again. Then fragments and objects ,everywhere, gliding through the air.
Before he lost his consciousness, a slab of flesh landed on his chest. It looked like a pair of tentacles.
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Rifleman
Rodent
The Penis is Evil
Posts: 9
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Post by Rifleman on Jun 1, 2012 9:10:41 GMT -5
‘’You can wait for me here or move on to the anomaly tunnel. If you do, do it silently and don’t approach the dogs in the eastern hills.’’
Move onto the anomaly tunnel, or wait. Simple enough. Yeah, Scott was grasping the language. It was good. He’d need it. Not everyone could speak English in this place. Then again, the Zone was not really fit for the educated people. Most of the men here were here because of necessity. Those who came here wouldn’t last long. Pavel, for example, would have most certainly died to those dogs – if Scott wasn’t around to save him.
And the man started sneaking into the old building. It probably felt dangerous to the man, since he drew his weapon almost immediately after entering the building. Scott couldn’t really blame him – god only knew what kind of aberrations lived in there. Then suddenly, the guy fell on the ground. Scott was confused as to what the hell was going on in that place – then suddenly, he remembered Wolf’s words.
‘’Humans aren’t the biggest threat here, Cowboy.’’
Anomalies.
The guy was desperately trying to hold on to the ground, grabbing onto it with the skin of his teeth, struggling to pull himself away from the sudden vacuum. Suddenly, he was ripped from the ground, and got out of Scott’s vision, which was limited thanks to him simply looking through the door. Scott couldn’t let the guy die in there – it just felt wrong, leaving a man to a twisted piece of reality.
‘’Take this. Hold it tight.’’ Scott abruptly said to Pavel, throwing him his shotgun. Scott started running inside the mill, trying to keep away from the anomaly. He saw Avram on the ground, and.. something much worse on him.
A creature with damaged, ashen skin with brown tint, scars all over it. It was lean, yet muscular – though the muscles were decomposing with the skin, occassionally showing its bones. The creature resembled a human, though only as a sillhouette. Its fingernails were bone-like, sharp to an extent that they could easily slice a man. But the worst thing about it.. was its face.
Hollow, small eyes with a burning red flame in them – it looked like a creature straight out of a dark fantasy novel. Its nose was gone, instead having only two slits, giving it a skeleton-like look. Its mouth was not there, having degenerated into tentacles that hanged around the zygomatic bone and the maxilla. It had small teeth not unlike a fish’s, and even though lacking a lower jaw, it had a rather small hole that was probably used to suck the blood that gave the creature its name.
Bloodsucker.
Scott, out of desperation, pulled out his pistol and started shooting at the creature, which left Avram in almost a split second and punched Scott in the chest. Scott was sent flying to the other side of the room – the creature was a lot more powerful than what he expected.
‘’Come get me, you son of a bitch.’’
He tried to reach for his pistol.
He couldn’t.
The creature came closer and closer.
‘’It’s not like I need a weapon to kill you.’’
The creature was pretty much watching Scott struggle – it slowly walked towards him, its eyes burning with an entertained glow.
Scott managed to slump himself up.
‘’A rock will do just fine.’’
Scott grasped the rock in his hand firmly, and lunged.
And thus the fight began.
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.4
Rodent
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what is this I don't even
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Post by .4 on Jun 1, 2012 11:27:52 GMT -5
Magpie was too impatient for this: standing around and waiting for the two men to return simply wouldn't do. The Siberian was staring through the opening of the old building, seemingly both mesmerized and disturbed by the anomaly there, while the young one stood indecisive. Frustrated at their idleness, Magpie snagged the assault rifle and rushed to the same entrance the other two had used, sticking as close to the walls as possible.
The creature looming over the wounded man was incomprehensible. Magpie didn't like incomprehensible things and wasted no time trying to understand, instead reaching for both the blue bead worn around the neck and the gun's trigger. All shots missed but still caught the mutant's attention: it turned its attention away from the man at its feet to Magpie... and then loped away into the nether, vanishing from sight.
A grunt escaped the tall figure on the ground: his hands on his abdomen, his fingers stained with blood. Magpie knelt next to him, wondering if any of them would know how to offer help for a wound like that; the sort that didn't involve eating garlic and crossing oneself thrice. The man ("the American," Magpie detachedly remembered, "Americans let Smyrna burn") winced and muttered in that western tongue of his; Magpie could only stare.
"Careful..." he tried again, this time in heavily-accented Russian. "It's around."
Standing up abruptly, blood rushed to the head in a dizzying haze. There was nothing there anymore, only that serene moment of near-perfection. Magpie could wait for hours, days; wait until the world had stopped turning because the only things that existed were the cool weight of the gun and the hidden creature.
And then everything turns beautiful. Lightning strikes just outside the ruined farmstead, close enough to make the lenses tremble in the gas mask as the lone flash explodes. There's a rattle not too far away, ears training on it instantly, rifle muzzle following. The creature flickers into being, out of the gap in reality where the air rippled a moment ago.
Magpie touches the trigger once, then twice, cold iron studying palm lines. Jaw set underneath the mask, clenching tighter as the trigger gives way to a wail of gunfire, a note of temple pain trilling.
The creature gargles, holding its now mutilated arm close: a sickening mess of blood and rubbery flesh, retreating back into invisibility. Its foot skids and Magpie's finally past the edge: laughter tears itself, loud and long and hysterical, while hands grip the trigger and fire a shot through the mutant's sinewy calf.
Its roar doesn't even register, drowned out by the raw pumping of blood in Magpie's ears; the haze of euphoric power blotting out the pulsing fountains of red, red, red. Human words fail at that moment; thoughts spiral into howling, consuming rage as the creature's claws connect with flesh, flinging up stringy webs of gore.
Earth broke the fall, pain broke the will, and Magpie tried to run. The bloodsucker wasn't keen on letting go.
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Rifleman
Rodent
The Penis is Evil
Posts: 9
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Post by Rifleman on Jun 1, 2012 17:13:06 GMT -5
Blood.
Scott could see blood. His hands were soaked in blood – his clothing was also carrying the sanguine palette of the liquid, turned into a more brown-like tone thanks to the absorption. The creature was wounded – even though he had paid for it, Scott was able to crack a part of its skull with a rock. And the creature had stabbed him. Scott was able to deal with the pain, but it was still nearly unbearable. And worst of all, he was incapacitated. The pain wasn’t allowing him to move towards his pistol and start blasting at the creature with whatever was left in the magazine – it probably wouldn’t kill it, but it easily could send one of the guys outside to take a look inside and possibly distract the creature or shoot it dead.
Nope, nothing. The creature was recovering from its wound – Scott could barely make out parts of its brain through a hole in its thin skull. The creature could have internal bleeding – Scott wasn’t much of a doctor but that hit would probably hurt a creature with such a thin skull. It wasn’t exactly incapacitated, however – it was able to easily stab Scott, nearly slice his neck, and then leave him there to recover. Scott knew that he wouldn’t last long if nobody came in.
And thankfully, the gas masked guy came in. Scott wasn’t able to concentrate on language – but he knew that if he didn’t, the man in the mask would die.
‘’It’s still here..’’ He mumbled, slipping up again. Scott tried to concentrate.
‘’Careful...’’ He took a breath. ‘’It’s around.’’
He had to release his breath, since it gave him pain.
The masked stalker suddenly readied himself, alertness visible even with the stalker’s concealed face. Scott watched as a thunder growled, and then, the stalker started firing. The creature uncloaked itself, and fell, wounded. The stalker started laughing maniacally at that point – Scott grabbed his pistol, and placed his back against the wall.
The stalker looked around – careful, panicking. Scott did not understand what was going on – but then, the creature stabbed the stalker’s leg pretty badly, smearing its claws with blood. The stalker tried to get away, but couldn’t – he fell, trying to reach for his gun. He turned towards Scott’s direction in a last-ditch attempt to crawl away as the Bloodsucker placed himself on top of the stalker.
It opened its mouth, and started lowering itself slowly towards the stalker’s neck. But then, a gunshot stopped it abruptly. It was confused. There was a bullet hole on its chest, and, not understanding what had happened, it looked up, its mouth still open.
Scott aimed inside its mouth and pulled the trigger, blasting the contents of its bald head onto the wall behind it.
The creature fell off the masked stalker like an empty sack, slowly creating a heavy pool of blood next to the deformed remains of its head.
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.4
Rodent
2%
what is this I don't even
Posts: 7
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Post by .4 on Jun 2, 2012 17:50:36 GMT -5
Years of fatalism and a genuine desire for everything to finally end with are completely meaningless when raw instinct for survival takes over.
A strangled gasp for air, and agonizing, explosive coughs wrack Magpie's frame.
Gradual awareness: sweat drying on the back of the neck, bruises on the palms where metal was squeezed too tight, the sickly-sweet scent of death, abstract formations of gore and grey matter obstructing the lenses of the gas mask. A tentacle, half detached, could be seen from the peripheral. What was left of the mutant's head caught Magpie's attention; in particular, the teeth. Removing one was a challenging endeavour for someone so weary, but in the end the loner triumphed: a keepsake tooth from a Godless creature such as this, a warding talisman. It would eventually take its place hanging on the chain next to the blue bead.
Two wounds were still bleeding out, one in the lower thigh and one near the left false rib. Standing was impossible: the blood-streaked walls rushed forward, floor shifting as Magpie's leg gave out, sending the tired Anatolian down on bended knee. Landing on one hand, trying in vain to stay vertical, Magpie's feet kept sliding across slick floor and bloodsucker brains. Better, instead, to stay low.
Just a few meters away the older man was lying still, seemingly undisturbed by the fight that had just taken place. The American was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and his mouth a tight line.
"Thank you."
The man's breath hitched at the sound of Magpie croaking the words, and a moment later his voice was heard: "Get help."
Help indeed. The two others were nowhere to be seen, presumably still waiting outside. Crawling to the building's exit left Magpie with precious little air left to waste on yelling threats, settling on simply calling for them instead.
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Post by Baila el Cheeki Breeki on Jun 3, 2012 14:11:50 GMT -5
"Tatar."
A completely different set of priorities were being assembled in Tatar's head and he couldn't respond yet. His binoculars were glued to his eyes as he tried to remain still and keep watch on the barricade as his current worst fear began to manifest: two scouts carrying . . . guns. What kind of guns? Bigger guns than Tatar's. An AKM each. They seemed to be moving at a cautious pace. Tatar lost track of them as they sunk behind a hill and then an advance scout crept up, crouching through the bushes, to the top with his own pair of binoculars.
"Tatar."
Shut up, shut up, they'll hear you! What had happened by the farmstead? There had been gunfire. The devil and his subordinates, Tatar, and a voice from the depths of the deep blue sea.
"Watch the hill," he said to Pavel.
Mouthing curses, Tatar slithered back through the grass and rolled to a crouch, moving as quickly as he could towards the source of the voice. Magpie, he could see, lying on the floor.
"What . . . you're bleeding," Tatar blurted out like a fool, "What happened?"
Magpie's hands waved around a bit, making funny gestures and pointing. The stalker seemed faint, confused, perhaps in shock.
"One moment, okay. Just . . . wait," he said, absentmindedly dropping a roll of bandages in Magpie's lap, before crawling back in the direction Magpie had pointed.
His stomach took a nasty turn: blood, something horrible he didn't want to look at lying like a puddle of stinking jelly, and both Scott and Avram on the ground. Scott was breathing heavily but conscious. Avram wasn't moving. Tatar immediately scrambled over towards the scientist but froze in place: his headphones were still jacked in to his Echo, but he could hear that signature beeping sound that meant an anomaly was nearby. Sure enough, that whum-whum-whum rhythm to the wind was there, stroking his cheek in perfect time.
Moving faster than a snail but slower than a turtle, Tatar crudely took Avram by the legs and scooted him across the ground until the Echo slowed its beep. One, two, three raps on Avram's helmet brought nothing. The guy was out cold, if not dead. Four or five good tears in his suit on the front with blood spotting the waterproof suit in fat beads and worming rivulets. Pavel appeared at the door, eyes wide, and whispered at Tatar that he had to retreat or be seen.
He turned to Scott and asked, slowly, "Are you . . . wounded badly?"
The foreigner swallowed deep and hard, sneered and said something in his native tongue to nobody in particular before shaking his head.
"Can you move?"
"Slow," was the answer.
Tatar's mind raced. The soldier had probably already crested the hill and was moving in on their position. Everyone except for Magpie was out of sight at the moment, assuming the loner hadn't crawled back behind cover, but they wouldn't be alone for long. Avram looked helpless in his unconsciousness. Tatar wanted to know for sure if he was dead or alive. Their mission! The briefcase! Yantar, the centre of scientific study in the Zone!
Tatar spotted the briefcase Avram had been carrying, lying alone in a corner.
"Two soldiers," Tatar whispered to the American, "AKM. We need to move."
Scott shook his head, pointing at a thick blotch of blood swelling across the fabric of his jacket.
"Shit," Tatar hissed, "I'll . . . I can't . . . my pistol is too . . . small. Magpie doesn't know they're coming."
Quickly as he could Tatar scrambled back to the masked stalker, keeping his head low and praying to nobody in particular that he wouldn't be seen.
"Two soldiers, AKM, the hill," he pointed. Not waiting to see if Magpie understood or not he tapped the stalker's gun twice with his knuckles and said "If he comes in, shoot. Shoot or we die."
And then back to Scott, painfully conscious of how loud every single little movement of the human body could be. Every sniffle, scuffle of the boot, breath, heartbeat. His thoughts felt as if they were being broadcast as far as Moscow and everyone could see and hear them: guns, guns, guns and death. A chorus of angels, worms in the ground, a prayer from the saints for stupid little Tatar.
"Okay, okay," he mumbled, "Okay."
Scott was saying something but Tatar couldn't pay attention. He was trying to calculate the odds of one choice or another, mentally confounded with panic, until the sound of a twig snapping nearby forced his decision. Digging around in his jacket he pulled out a flare and jammed it into the breach of his TP, slapped it shut, and ran to the window. Aiming in the general vicinity of where he'd planned to lead the group, a distant hillock peppered with graviconcentrates, he popped it.
As he'd hoped, the flare didn't catch until well away from the farmstead. As it crackled into view he heard a shout and then an odd noise, like a frog violently croaking. Likely static from a handheld radio distorted by distance. Not wanting to wait around to find out if they'd head for him or the glow in the distance he hustled back to Scott and asked him to stand up.
The American's response sounded something like "fuck off." Tatar tried to help him to his feet but Scott swung a fist at him. He seemed to be complying, straining through the pain of getting to his feet.
Magpie was another issue. The stalker simply couldn't get up alone. Tatar attempted to sling an arm across his back and become Magpie's living crutch, but the masked one was hesitant and remained tense, clutching the gun close.
"You'll die," he whispered, "Y-you'll, look, just . . ." and then did his best to force the loner up. Stiffly, seeming extremely uncomfortable with the arrangement, Magpie did so. The loner seemed to be trying to keep from touching Tatar as much as possible, but pain wore away at that strange instinct as Tatar brought Magpie into the main room where Scott stood leaning against a wall.
"Just . . . I . . ." Tatar felt at a loss for words, suddenly in charge of not just his own life but two others, "Follow. Just follow. Stay quiet."
Tatar shot a glance back at Avram, hoping he'd magically leap to life and spring to his feet. He just lay there like a wet sack of stones. Tatar grabbed the briefcase in the hand not supporting Magpie as they all slowly hobbled their way out of the building through a ruined hole in the wall. Pavel had tried to help Scott but got a kick in the shin for it, instead settling for shouldering his bag.
Tatar kept one earphone in as they took a wide route around the back of the hill, trying to keep as much brush and obstacle between themselves and the distant glow of the flare as possible. Magpie wheezed a broken request to pause at one point, breathing thick through the mask, and Tatar took the opportunity to peek through his binoculars at the hot-spot he'd created. He could see two figures circling the perimeter of the glow, rifles out. One of them turned their way and he practically began dragging Magpie along at a double-pace, straining, out of breath.
The march towards the tunnel was agonizing for everyone involved. Scott kept muttering in his language and Magpie in some other mysterious tongue. Dogs howled in the distance somewhere. Tatar considered the scent their blood would leave in a trail. He gripped the briefcase tight, feeling like a thief and a traitor for leaving Avram behind.
By the time they'd reached the mouth of the tunnel a small commotion was rising back in the direction of the farmstead. Some figures were moving up from the south, probably from the base south of the village, and the sounds of dogs in the distance was getting more frequent and closer.
Tatar lowered Magpie to the ground against the concrete of the wall by the tunnel opening. At least basic first-aid would be necessary before they continued or else Magpie would pass out, possibly bleed out and die as the bandages he'd dropped hadn't been applied. Scott was taking a breather on a rusty crate, bending over and clutching his side.
Taking steps into the tunnel mouth, Tatar sniffed the air and caught something acrid, like burnt hair or ozone. His Echo was silent, but he didn't trust that silence.
He felt around on the ground for something to toss and found a fist-sized rock, which he hurled like an American softball into the darkness. The darkness responded with the sound of tearing and crackling as a burst of static exploded into the air some four or five meters away.
"Type-5?" he muttered to himself, "This Echo should be able to detect a Type-5 within ten meters. Possible Type-6 or 7, but those are usually mobile . . ."
Somewhere uncomfortably close a dog let loose a piercing howl, and Tatar scampered back to Magpie, unbuttoning his P99 from his belt. Stupid, stupid, stupid: first things first, staunch these wounds. He dug through his pack searching for more bandages and medical supplies, hoping to do what he could before they had even more trouble on their hands.
"Can you fix up Scott?" he asked Pavel as he prepared to bandage Magpie.
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