|
Post by NathanFrost on Mar 21, 2011 22:22:15 GMT -5
His controlled bursts of semi-automatic fire kept him busy while Xavier removed the items from his ALICE pack to administer first aid on the young lady. Ignoring them for now he kept his post, and had enough sense to at least take a knee so he didnt provide too large of a target. Whatever was going on here wasnt any concern to him, just a matter of returning fire and not getting hit.
Speaking of getting hit, he heard a whing shot over his head followed by the impact of a bullet on flesh, then a meaty slapping thud as a body hit nearby. Shaking his head but refraining to look, he heard Xavier moving the young lady to cover and backpedalled continuing to provide cover for his old friend. Turning his head to give a glancing look with his pale blue eyes, taking in the females status, he'd give a slight grunt and return his attention forward popping off another single round into the face of another infected. "SITREP Lord Shiro? Whats the plan here." His voice was calm despite the chaos around him, he wasnt one for theatrics and considering the message played over the intercom he was glad he wasnt one of those over dramatic fools. It was one thing to have a little class like Shiro, but another to make an ass out of yourself with unrealistic boasting. One should know their place after all, and given this situation the lion doesnt fear the jackals.
Turning the rifle slightly, seeing muzzle flashes of the enemy exchanging fire with Xavier's men, he'd sight through his optics and once acquiring a target, his finger squeezed the trigger with enough force to send one round into the neck of a soldier about to throw a grenade. Arterial spray of blood blinding his friend next to him, and unfortunately he failed to see the dropped armed and primed grenade which exploded between his feet. Speaking of explosions, one rocked nearby, enough to obscure his sight of the enemy and feel the heat from it. "Always knew how to throw a good party Lord Shiro."
|
|
|
Post by Le Dark Wolf on Apr 11, 2011 19:24:59 GMT -5
END of CHAPTER " Faites place à vos supérieurs.”- Roughly translated, it meant to make way for one’s betters. It was such a condescending thing to say. Xavier, being the illustrious bastard that he was, had no qualms about making such statements. Especially in the face of biologically tampered ‘super soldiers’. The third generation of Under-Taker genetically-enhanced infantry were formidable enemies. That is, formidable to the undertrained. White Umbrella’s Black Operations unit made short work out of them. Those that ventured into the kill zones established by the Dark Wolf’s minions simply felled to the relentless firepower of the door gunner. And indeed, these artificial creatures died quite spectacularly. Each inhuman goon had been equipped with a self-destruction device that triggered upon death. The Division’s commandos made full use of this ‘ingenious design’. White Umbrella, when UMBSPEC was around, never ever made use of the Under-Takers. U.T. units that tried to advance directly against the Division were not only eradicated, but their deaths helped to further obliterate the already pinned Neo-Umbrella troops. Lord Xavier and his soldiers had been positioned on an elevated deck to the exit. It was unlikely that any flanking manoeuvre could be executed without notice or tremendous blood shed. One Under-Taker did make it through their defence however. The Lord of White Umbrella rifle butted the creature to the still-slippery wet deck. He considered these artificial soldiers to be inferior to true warriors. These ‘things’ in his opinion were simply weapons, not flesh and blood soldiers of courage and honor. As such, the Wolf considered them intrinsically inferior. Obtaining a grip on the UT soldier, Xavier pulled him, or rather ‘it’ up. The artificial human had a strange aroma, it reeked of something nearly mechanical. The Under-Taker was about to grab Xavier in a deathly bear hug, when the Dark Wolf simply threw the thing overboard. “Peasants” he muttered under his breath. “SITREP!” Good ol’ Nathan Frost had called for him. Xavier left his ‘sister’ half-attended to rejoin the spook. Frost was still firing his weapon in well-controlled bursts toward the enemy, making full use of their pinned situation to score a few kills. It was a relentless and merciless way to kill another warrior, even if they were on the other side. But such was war, like the Dark Wolf, Frost was likely well accustomed to it. An explosion went off nearby. It was nothing fatal thankfully. The spook must have intercepted someone trying to lob a grenade. "Always knew how to throw a good party Lord Shiro." Frost had joked. “I’m afraid the party is just about over. We’ve hosted this little game for far too long.” Something had beeped from the Lord of White Umbrella’s PDA. It sounded urgent… nearly impending. Nonchalantly, in the middle of a firefight, Shiro checked it. A certain trademark smirk appeared on his face. It was then that the sky began to rumble. Something was coming. The sky was about to crash down upon them. Baring his teeth in a snarl, the Commander of White Division immediately began to take cover, gripping on whatever had been nearby in the process. “You better brace yourself, Nathaniel.” It was the last spoken word on board the ROME, before a cruise missile struck the ship.>>> End of Transmission
|
|
|
Post by Caliber on Jul 24, 2011 23:16:34 GMT -5
[Izzie (and companions) have entered the Umbrella Mobile Flotilla] [/color]
Izzie gasped as her eyes flicked open, as though she had been underwater and came up for air no more than a second before drowning. She was lying face-up, back against something cold and metalic. The room was almost completely dark, aside from the frosted-over porthole window at the far corner of the room that was letting no more than a narrow beam of light through. Izzie struggled to make out objects-- mere shadows-- in the dark as her eyes began to adjust.
Izzie tuned in to her body, trying to focus on any aches or painful sensations, to see if she had been injured. She suddenly realized that she was freezing-- her skin was covered with a fine layer of frozen sweat, the bitter cold stinging her bare skin. She opened her mouth to call for help, but no sound emitted. It wasn't until now that she had noticed the deafening silence of her surroundings. She listened carefully, trying to focus on a barely audible sound that felt distant. Waves-- crashing against hard surfaces, just outside of the room that captivated her, alongside the whistle of rushing winds. Izzie tried to speak again, this time thrashing her arms and legs up and down, but to no avail-- she was restrained. She began to shiver as the bitter cold of the room captivated her, puffing small clouds of steam into the air.
"Help me!" Izzie was finally able to blurt out with broken words, but not loud enough for anyone to hear, continuing to thrash her whole body violently.
To her surprise, one of her arms suddenly broke from the leather restraint that bound it. With a few quick motions, she reached over to her other hand and tugged at the next restraint, ripping off a patch of velcro. With both arms free, Izzie jerked her body forward, sitting up, on what was now apparent to be a gurney of some kind. She ripped off her leg restraints, then shuffled her body to the edge of the table, throwing herself off of it. She attempted to stand, but immediately fell to the ground. In that moment, her legs refused to work. Izzie thought for a moment-- being a surgeon, she had seen this before. Patients who were comatose for long periods of time often experienced this type of temporary paralysis.
After lying on the ground for no more than a few minutes, Izzie regained control of her legs and arose to her feet. Her eyes were well-adjusted to the dim lighting of the room, and she could now make out every object within. The room was very small, roughly twelve feet long, by nine feet wide, by eight feet high. There were only three points of interest in the room-- a large metal door, one window, and the gurney. The metal door was shut, but there was no indication that it was locked. Before trying the door, Izzie approached the small porthole window, standing on her toes and trying to peer out. It was very small, not much larger than the span of an average human hand. It had no latch, and was not built to be opened. Izzie attempted to rub away the frosted-over layer of condensation, but the outside was well-frosted, as well. It was impossible to see through, but Izzie could vaguely make out a constantly mutating shadow through the beams of light that were shining through. It was apparent that water was splashing against the window every other moment, which meant that if she was indeed on a ship, she was on the lower deck.
Izzie whipped around and headed for the doorway, slowly pulling outward on large metal door that enclosed the room. It scraped against the door frame, emitting the painfully loud screech of two metals colliding. The door opened up into a narrow, four feet-wide hallway that went in only one direction-- to the left of the room. Izzie walked into the hallway and looked toward the other end, which lead to a set of metal stairs. A large amount of light flooded on the stairs from above, and Izzie knew that they must lead to the top deck. Ignoring the other three doors in the hallway, Izzie headed for the stairs, trotting up the unusually steep, ten-step staircase, using the hand rail as support. Now on the top deck, the light blinded her, and the rushing winds deafened her. The bitter cold of small frozen flakes of snow slamming into every piece of exposed skin on her body occupied every pain sensor until she retreated backward, climbing back down the stairs and back into the hallway.
The ship was rather small. Izzie could not help but wonder why it was abandoned, where it came from, who it belonged to, why she was restrained on it, and most importantly, where it was headed. Before she could find out the answer to any of the questions, she would have to take care of the more immediate concern of freezing to death. In nothing but her combat boots, tank-top, and thin cargo pants, Izzie did not have much to keep herself warm. She peered back down the hallway, inspecting the four doors, one of which she emerged from, two on each wall. Randomly choosing one opposite to her own, she walked toward it, pushing inward with the usual screech of metals colliding. The room was identical to the one that she woke up in, and had a gurney in the center with the shadow of another human on it.
Walking closer to the table, she looked down at the body, letting her eyes re-adjust to the dim lighting of the room. Just as she was able to make out facial features, the person's eyes flicked open and their entire body thrashed violently. Izzie stumbled backwards, startled.
"Holy sh*t!" Izzie grunted with her wounded voice, breathing heavily.
It was an infected man-- a civilian-- strapped in restraints, just as Izzie was.
Ignoring the restrained zombie for the moment, Izzie stepped back and looked around the room, noticing another corpse in the far corner, lying face-flat on the cold metal floor. Izzie approached it, while the zombie on the gurney continued to thrash around. Moving the corpse onto its back with her boot, Izzie immediately recognized the necrotic flesh of an infected. However, the corpse had sustained a bullet wound to the forehead, and must have been neutralized after succumbing to the infection.
The man was no civilian, and was obviously military. He was wearing a large, thick coat that sported Tricell's logo across the breast, and had a handgun holster strapped to his waist. Reaching down, Izzie pulled a pistol from the man's holster and lifted it to eye level, inspecting it. She pressed the magazine release and caught the mag in her hand, checking to see if it had any ammunition left, finding not a single round missing. She pulled back on the slide, exposing the chamber, and peered in to make sure the gun was fully loaded and ready to fire. She made sure the safety was on before shoving the pistol under the lip of the waist of her pants against her back.
She considered removing the large winter coat from the body and wearing it herself, but decided against it. As much as she needed the warmth, it generally wasn't a wise idea to cover yourself with the blood of an infected, and she was sure there would be spare coats somewhere on board-- perhaps the captain's room on the top deck.
Izzie backed out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the restrained infected to continue groaning in the dark.
|
|
|
Post by NotAvailable on Jul 24, 2011 23:46:11 GMT -5
The B.S.A.A operative moaned and shifted around, unconsciously. Anna had been lurched over on her side, her cheek pressing up against freezing cold metal. Her face was bright red along her nose and cheeks, lips dry and pale. Her fingers had twitched in their heavy set gloves, eyes fluttering open. Everything seemed pretty blurry and the stinging bump on the crown of her head had ached.
She's lied there for a moment, trying to register what had happened, where she was. Eventually, her arm trembled and she'd felt a lock in her right arm. Grimacing, she'd glanced over to see her wrist was confined in a belt-like clasp wrapped around a metal rail. Her other arm ached and had a matching torn cuff, ripped off but tightly wrapped around her newly freed hand.
She'd let out an exasperated, hoarse, sigh, a light fog escaping her lips.
"Where...?" she choked out, sitting up and cradling her cranium. She'd licked her drying lips and glanced around the room. It looked like the captain's deck where the wheel was. The room was fairly small and aged. There'd been rust staining the rail guard and the meshed floors beneath her.
Making sweeping scans across the little room, she'd tried to remember just what the hell had happened. Moving, she'd felt a tearing sting in her arm and shoulder blade. That certainly woke her up. Without must hesitation, she'd screamed out, her voice breaking it's raspy whisper and blaring in the room.
She'd clenched her teeth down, breathing harder through her nose as she'd looked at her confined arm. Her shoulder seemed almost out of place and in searing pain. It was definitely dislocated. She'd used her free arm to grasp at the leather binding her to the rail. Fumbling with it, she'd managed to unbuckle it and her arm dropped to her side. Grasping it tightly, she'd panted and pressed her back up against the cold walls, sucking back tears. No matter how many times it can or has happened, it never feels any better no matter what anyone says.
"Holy s***!"
Darting her eyes toward the opened archway, Anna had heard the feminine voice nearly screech at something. Letting go of her injured arm, she'd reached for her sidearm, only to find it was gone, in fact, everything but the clothes on her back had been gone. That could only mean they were shanghaied. Of course, she couldn't remember when, how or with whom, but that wasn't important right now.
What was important was that she'd ensure no one got the jump on her. Looking around, she'd seen nothing really useful as a weapon and moving alot only ached her shoulder more so. Cringing, she'd scooched on over toward the side of the archway, keeping her back up against it until she struggled to pick herself up off the ground.
What if it was another enemy up there? What the hell was she supposed to handle that in her condition? Plus the blistering cold had made it harder to do anything, the cold sweat drenching her was bound to stunt her recovery.
|
|
|
Post by Winters on Jul 25, 2011 0:24:58 GMT -5
Turning the corner, Trent seen a woman standing still, standing outside of a door. Two and two were put together, and he figured she was the one that yelled out in disbelief. None the less, he ran forward, and he he made impact, violent words came form his mouth. "You piece of wh*re trash, tell me what the f*ck is going on here or ill make sure the only way your getting up off that ground is as one of those walkers!" The woman had been knocked to the ground just a few feet away, and before she even hit the ground, Trent had raised up the steel pipe he had found, ready to come down with lethal force if she even tried standing up.
However, it was at this time that he noticed the BSAA emblem on her sleeve, which was a little alarm. She didnt seem to be armed at all when he attacked, which would be a little strange if she really was a BSAA agent. "So you BSAA, huh? Is that who got me strapped to that table? Planning on doing some experimenting? I never liked the BSAA, anyways, a whole damn conspiracy of former Umbrella Emplyees, hoping the name change would let them get away with still pulling off all their scientific bullsh*t!"
|
|
|
Post by Caliber on Jul 25, 2011 1:10:56 GMT -5
Just as Izzie shut the door behind her and backed into the hallway, a man charged her, presumably coming from one of the other rooms below deck. He knocked her off her feet and sent her flying to the floor, landing on her back.
Coughing, from having the wind knocked out of her, Izzie looked up in confusion as the man began ranting. When he lifted the pipe up to strike, Izzie instinctively reached behind her to retrieve the sidearm that she'd picked up from the back of her pants. Just as she lifted it from behind her, the man suddenly lowered the pipe, looking surprised.
He continued ranting as Izzie shuffled to her feet. She was tempted to charge him, take him down, and disarm him, but he continued ranting and he came off a little more harmless than before. Regardless, Izzie aimed her newfound sidearm forward, just to be safe.
"What...?" Izzie questioned, confused about the man's conspiracy theory. "Who the hell are... wait, where did you come from?" she prodded, still pointing her sidearm at him, trying to determine whether or not he was a threat.
Blood began dripping down Izzie's cheek, coming from the top of her head. Izzie quickly reached up and wiped it off, assuming it was sweat. Looking at her hand, she saw the smeared red liquid on her palm. Lowering her sidearm, she felt the top of her head, suddenly feeling the excruciating sting of a migraine. It hadn't occured to her that in order to be kidnapped, she must have been knocked unconcious, and was likely struck over the head and given a severe concussion. If she was still bleeding, she must not have been unconcious for long. Her hair was wet with blood, and diziness set in.
Speaking in a daze, Izzie went over the common symptoms of a concussion. "Amnesia... drowsiness... confusion, pain, nau- she began, cutting herself off on the word 'nausea'. She leaned into one of the surrounding doorways and vommited onto the floor, falling to her knee for a moment out of diziness.
|
|
|
Post by NotAvailable on Jul 25, 2011 1:23:58 GMT -5
Anna could hear the upstart from right outside the doorway. Some crazy ass man was attacking someone else, probably the screaming woman she'd heard previously. She'd listened to the man scream nonsense about Umbrella and B.S.A.A. conspiracies and then a confused squeak from the woman.
She'd gripped her shoulder roughly, adverting her eyes from the side of the archway down to her feet. She really wasn't in any condition to go out there and man-handle him or pistol whip him. Not like she could, anyway.
Leaning to her left to peek around the corner she'd seen the woman vommitting and the man shoving her aside while she did so. She'd taken the oppertunity to move out of the room and put her good arm up, a sign of peace.
"Put the pipe down. No one's going to hurt you." she informed him. "She needs medical assitance, from the looks of it, you do too, so calm down...
|
|
|
Post by Winters on Jul 25, 2011 2:01:05 GMT -5
After watching the woman now vomiting on the ground, Trent now gripped the pipe in one hand, and than walked toward her. While she was defenseless, he grabbed the handgun from her hand, and then pushed her to the side. At that moment, the door behind him opened, and another woman came out, looking to be BSAA as well. She didnt have a gun point at him, and she looked to be in the same condition as the woman vomiting on the ground. It had been even more to comprehend that they were both with the BSAA, he was missing something. Feeling a little light headed himself, Trent tossed the pipe to the ground, but not because the BSAA agent had asked her to, but because he didnt need it with the gun in his other hand.
Quickly jolting in her direction, Trent opened his eyes, and then drew up the pistol. Carefully aiming it at her, he listened as she spoke out more words, trying to get him to calm down, to put the gun down, and not make any stupid decisions. But his attention had been on the blur in the fog fifteen feet between her, and when he realized what it was, Trent moved forward and shoved her to the side with his overpowering arm. At the same time, however, he still aimed the gun forward, but with one arm. Not toward the woman, but the now shambling infected coming toward them at a very slow pace. A gunshot rang off, clean headshot. Still, not taking anymore time, he backed away from them, and spoke. "Tits n legs, I suggest you get your seasick partner up, and do whatever you do best..." Walking off in the direction, Trent moved into the thick fog, and mixed with the blowing snow, he was almost invisible.
|
|
|
Post by Caliber on Jul 25, 2011 2:25:39 GMT -5
Izzie heard another door open, and then the voice of another woman, as she finished vomitting. After a short interaction between the two people, Izzie grunted as the man ripped the gun from her hands. The infected man that had been restrained broke loose and wandered into the hallway. Before anyone could react, the man put a bullet between its eyes, killing it, then walked off. As he began climbing the stairs, Izzie wiped her mouth and spoke to the woman behind her, who was dressed in B.S.A.A-wear.
"I generally find sexist, B.S.A.A.-hating conspiracy theorists to be particularly dangerous toward female B.S.A.A. agents while holding a gun," Izzie said as she arose to her feet.
Just as the man climbed the last step and walked out into the blizard, Izzie fought off nausea and diziness and leapt up the staircase, skipping every other step. Following the man into the blizard, she charged him from behind, taking advantage of her basic hand-to-hand skills, which many B.S.A.A. agents often take advantage of. Grabbing the man's right arm, she pulled it backward, twisting it, while simultaneously slamming the heel of her boot into the back of the man's leg. With the man standing in an uncomfortable position, Izzie snatched the handgun back and gently smacked the man in the back of his head.
"Calm your ass down," she told him, letting him go. "We're not going to accomplish much if you're gonna act like some wife-beating, inbred redneck. I suggest you cooperate, we go inside, and then dress whatever wounds you have before we all freeze to death out here.
The blizzard engulfed them, depleting their body temperatures by the second. Izzie knew they weren't going to be able to stay like this long
"Or," Izzie began again, raising the pistol to the back of the man's head. "I could just kill you now and save myself the trouble."
|
|
|
Post by NotAvailable on Jul 25, 2011 2:34:29 GMT -5
Anna watched the scene unfold and felt a sense of satisfaction when the other agent had done exactly what she had wanted to do herself. She agreed that the bastard needed a good whoopin' otherwise he'd be a problem. When she went off, threatening to shoot him, she'd grasped the gun and lowered it a bit.
"Killing him here isn't important right now. I think the crazy ass is just confused. We all seem to have taken a beating...argh..." she grunted, grasping her arm again, a look of pain playing her features.
"Should keep the gun on him though, for now....you gonna be okay, cock and balls? We won't have to be hasty and blow yer f*cking head off, right?"
|
|
|
Post by Winters on Jul 25, 2011 3:38:41 GMT -5
As the gun was taken from him, in the obvious counter attack to take order, just as the BSAA was trained to do so. Trent had stumbled back now disarmed and angry. As the woman from before spoke to him, there wasnt much else to say to either of them now, nothing possitive at least. "Then shoot me, woman! Come on!" Turning around to face the BSAA agent, Trent pressed the gun to his own chest, not one single bit afraid of it. Hes been on this side of the barrel more then enough to know what its like, and judging by the whole scenario, she wouldnt shoot him unless given a good enough reason to.
"Maybe you should be point that thing somewhere else, save those bullets for the walkers." Now turning his direction to the other woman, who reacted to his previous comment with one of her own, Trent stepped away from the gun and toward the red head. She was shorter than him, so he had to look down, but got his point clear. But then he reframed from saying anything to her, and looked away, further down the ship at far as he could through the fog. "Storm aint lettin up anytime soon, if you got anything better to say, you can do it inside." Moving toward the closest door, Trent pulled it open with little effort, and left it open before stepping inside.
The lights inside werent on, only source came from emergency flashers in the corners of the room, and the white glare from outside. Without having the pipe in hand, Trent reached into his back belt, and pulled out a switchblade, quickly extending the eight inch blade. The red flashes lit up the back of the room every few seconds, and within less than a minute, he could see the place was clear.
|
|
|
Post by NotAvailable on Jul 29, 2011 1:39:59 GMT -5
Anna grunted and stood firmly and tall as the man sized her up. She was in terrible pain but this jerk off wasn't gonna get any sort of impression that she was intimidated, because she wasn't. When he'd went off yapping about handling crap later when they're safe, she'd grinned a bit and watched him take a look at one of the rooms infront of them.
She stayed behind, however.
"I need my gear and a a doctor, anyone know how to pop a shoulder back in place? I'm useless like this..." she said, licking at some dried blood in the corner of her lips. She'd had a dislocated shoulder only once before and it was a b*tch getting it back in, for her, atleast. It was as painful as being shot, which she was also familiar with.
|
|
|
Post by Winters on Jul 29, 2011 2:04:57 GMT -5
Moving to the back of the room, Trent noticed that it looked to be a cabin, which didnt connect to any other part of the ship. There had been windows, but they were all frozen over from the storm. His own slight paranoia told him there had been infected passing by the window as soon as he stared at it, but there was no way to be sure. Not like they could smell anything all the way up in the cold like this. When the red hair woman spoke, he responded with a little smerky tone. "Aint no doctor on board this ship, darlin. Yad think the BSAA would teach you how to do it yourself, right? Heh, I could do it for ya, but I dunno if your fine ass could handle it..."
Trent had was up anywhere between two, maybe three hours prior. He since already explored a good portion of the ship, and didnt seem to notice any first aid kits. His first guess was they were all taken, unless they were being held in the captains quarters. Upstairs is the only place he didnt explore yet, it was well worth the risk to get up there if he were going to even think about getting off.
|
|
|
Post by Caliber on Jul 30, 2011 1:25:55 GMT -5
Once she was sure that the man wasn't going to try anything again, Izzie lowered the pistol and let him walk off, back inside. Still outside, the red-haired woman spoke to her. Izzie noticed the clearly dislocated arm that the woman was talking about, and knew the cold of the storm wasn't making the problem any worse. Just before Izzie opened her mouth, the storm began to pick up, getting even worse. The speed of the winds began rising steadily, and the amount of snowfall worsened.
"Here, this should cover the gear," Izzie said, shoving the grip of the pistol into the hand of the woman's uninjured arm, giving it to her. "I couldn't find any of my gear, and I somehow doubt our captors would have kept it on display. We might be able to find a few odds and ends on any corpses we find, I snatched this from what looked to be, obviously, an armed guard," she told the woman.
Izzie briefly looked to the sky, then shivered as she rubbed her cold, bare arms with her even colder, bare hands. She continued, "The storm is brewing up, let's just get inside and find some way to get warm, then we can introduce ourselves. I'll take care of that shoulder for you, too."
Izzie and the woman walked back down the stairs, to the lower deck. It wasn't any warmer inside, but at least they weren't being bombarded with harsh winds and snowflakes.
|
|
|
Post by NotAvailable on Jul 30, 2011 1:34:28 GMT -5
Anna chuckled at the man's crude humor when the other Agent had given her the gun she'd found. She hated to admit it but at this moment in time, she felt incredibly useless. She refused to be useless or helpless, in fact, the entire situation had reminded her of someone else. When she was accompanied down the stairs by the agent, she'd mentioned that she could fix her arm, which was great news.
"Ah good, thanks," she began before glancing around the empty lower deck. There had been two other bodies lying opposite of eachother, slumped against walls. It wasn't hard to notice the matching B.S.A.A. patches on their uniforms or the bullet holes in their faces.
Trying to rake through her memory, she couldn't remember what had happened but the turned over fold up chairs, papers and what looked like strewn about cargo that toppled over another body had all pointed to a scuffle. A scuffle, they'd survived somehow, but with whom?
"Any of you two remember anything at all...? I can't remember sh*t and my head is pounding like a mother-!" she groaned. Of course it didn't help that the frigid cold winds were licking at her face and arms.
|
|