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Brandon Gray "Here," Brandon says, reaching toward Ray Tailor's gas mask and adjusting it carefully before donning his own. Fortuitously, some of the hospital staff had been given some (extremely) rudimentary disaster training in the month or so before the cerebrosus outbreak, which had included a basic lesson in how to properly handle a gas mask. Jacob, the ex-marine, had showed him what little he had missed of this simple procedure, and had probably shown the others as well. It's likely that he's just nervous, Brandon thought about Tailor, and he could hardly blame him. Brandon struggled to appear enthusiastic about the prospect of leaving the bunker, as did the others, but internally he dreaded the prospect. Cabin fever had taken its toll on his psyche just as it had on the others, to be sure, but as the date that they planned to leave drew closer, his nightmares had continued to intensify. More than once he dreamed of wandering the surrounding countryside and towns--only in the dreams, they were blanketed with the corpses of birds, blackbirds, and as he walked he could feel the hundreds upon hundreds of their black, soulless doll's eyes as they watched him silently. Brandon felt a momentary stab of panic in his chest--what if the outside world is just as it was in the dream?-- and forced himself to suppress it. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Just the same, he was cautiously optimistic about the prospect of finding other survivors. He allowed himself no illusions that most or even more than a handful of the people living in the area would be either alive or still around, but the possibility of finding someone else who had survived would be tremendously uplifting. Brandon forced himself to concentrate on that, instead, as the door slowly opened. Character sheet is here. Possessions: code:
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Jul 5, 2007 05:29
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Brandon Gray "I have no idea what caused the rust," Brandon says, visibly relieved to find the landscape a fairly reasonable facsimile of its former pristine state rather than some blasted hellscape, "but it was widespread even before we went underground. It's probably a question for the scientists, presuming any of them are still alive." "Anyway," he says, leaning over Raymond's shoulder to have a look at the GPS machine, "we should be careful when looking for supplies. Water especially. Just because the radiation levels are safe out here doesn't mean fluids aren't still irradiated. We should check them with the Geiger counter to be sure."
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Jul 6, 2007 03:06
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Brandon Gray Responding to Jacob's question, ("what could have caused this?") Brandon says, "If I had to guess, I'd say the acid rain. Probably enough to kill off most of the plants by their roots, and maybe even poison the water table. Let's make sure that we don't drink any 'natural' sources of water until we're sure it's not acidic." "I agree with John, though. Let's try to make that convenience store by nightfall. But let's try to stick to cover whenever we can. A flash rain shower could hit at any time, and I don't have enough supplies in my kit to treat full-body acid burns on any of us, much less all of us. code:
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Jul 6, 2007 18:41
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Brandon "You know, Jacob," Brandon says, leaning carefully over the sinkhole to get a better look, "it reminds me more of an ant lion hole than a sinkhole, honestly." Brandon rummages through the first aid kit, looking for some spare bandages and/or antiseptic solution he can add to his own larger kit. Afterward, he takes the largest stone he can find and, on a whim, rolls it into the sinkhole toward the pile of bones to see what will happen. Assuming nothing does, he says: "Probably best not to waste much more time here than we have to. We should get to the rest stop as soon as we can, and get the lay of the place by daylight instead of fumbling around in the dark. We've made great some so far; we should be able to get there fairly quickly." code:
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Jul 7, 2007 04:07
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Brandon Perhaps it took someone else pointing it out to realize how absurd what he was saying was, or would have been under less trying circumstances, Brandon laughs along in spite of himself, but still steps back quickly after releasing the rock down into the pit. He looking sheepishly at the others while the rock rolls toward the center, and takes this moment to wring some sweat from his improvised head wrap.
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Jul 7, 2007 04:31
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Brandon Amid chuckling and electronics repair, Brandon re-enters the building, gas mask on his face. He enters the office and gingerly removes the .22 revolver from the hand of the man who killed himself with it, nearly choking on the sickeningly sweet, almost cinnamon-like smell of his nearly mummified flesh. He looks at the small revolver and the flecks of blood and bone on the end of the muzzle and thinks, well, at least we know it works, and immediately feels like a gigantic rear end in a top hat. Wiping the organic matter from the gun with the cleanest surface he can find in the office (but not his fatigues,) he loads the revolver with its four remaining bullets after ejecting the spent shell, crams it into one pocket, shoves the painkillers into the other, and heads back to the main shop area to help the others open the garage however he can. Going to take the gun and bullets and the painkillers, then help with the door opening as best I can, which is probably not all that much. code:
prussian advisor fucked around with this message at 17:45 on Jul 7, 2007 |
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Jul 7, 2007 17:39
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Brandon Brandon, ordinarily slow to rise, rises out of consciousness in a haze of humidity and sweat-slick fatigues on the heels of a particularly disturbing nightmare, but he quickly gets his bearings when he hears the urgency in Jacob's voice. Instinctively clutching at the small revolver in his pocket, he rushes to the front of the store at the summons of the others. Once there, his blood runs cold. Not merely because the sight of a man with mutilated fingers and empty eye sockets is chilling on its own, but because he's encountered it before. In countless dreams, ranks of the afflicted staring at him, And in the clinic , before he fled to the relative safety of the bunker with the others. "Stand back," Brandon hisses to the others, "he's a cerebrosus victim. Extremely late stage 2, I have no idea how he's still alive. We have to be very careful, he's likely to become violent suddenly. Just...just don't attack him until we're sure he means us harm. He's probably delirious from the pain." "Sir!" Brandon calls out to the man as he approaches, already certain that it'll do no good, but determined to try anyway, "we know you're in a lot of pain. We have drugs and we can treat you, but you need to sit down, right there and right now. Now, what's your name? Have to try to resolve this peacefully if possible  code:
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Jul 8, 2007 03:52
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Brandon "Extremely, but we could never figure out the vector of infection," Brandon whispers to Jacob, if only to try to quiet him down before he gets the cerebrosus victim more agitated. "Some people seemed to develop it spontaneously, with no exposure. I was breathed on, spat on, even bitten, and I never developed it." "I know I'm immune, or close enough. You guys, I'm not so sure, especially if you've never encountered it before. All the more reason to stay back."
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Jul 8, 2007 04:08
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Brandon Brandon is still backpedaling awkwardly and pointing the puny revolver in the general direction of the assailant when he goes down. In his state of shock, it takes him a few seconds to realize that "Jack" has finally died for good, and that the danger is over. Once he does, though, old instincts and his training take over quite quickly. He thrusts his revolver, three rounds still remaining, into his pocket, and turns to face the others. "Jake, Mike. Sit down, backs against the wall. Keep your arms below your shoulders. Ray, go get my kit!" With kit in hand, Brandon goes to work, disinfecting the wounds with generous amounts of antiseptic solution before carefully checking for and removing any foreign debris from them and then dressing them with bandages. "Jesus Christ, guys, I'm sorry. I had no idea he'd attack us like that. I've...I've treated cerebrosus victims in the past but I've never seen them get that aggressive that quickly." He rubs his hand across his forehead, mopping up a few beads of sweat. "This is my fault. God, I'm so loving sorry. I never realized I would be a liability to the group like this." He continues rambling as he treats both Mike and Jacob. code:
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Jul 8, 2007 16:24
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Brandon Gray "That sounds like a good idea, I guess." Brandon says, somewhat flatly, as he helps the others load the car and use one of the ponchos as an impromptu reinforcement for the sunroof. "I used to live in Battle Creek." He is still shocked from the results of the attack by "Jack," and nearly jumped out of his skin when Jacob's gunshot rang out. Despite feeling personally responsible for Sir Reginald's death and the injuries of the others, he is determined to shake off his moping impulses as best he can. "If, uh, if we do go into town, though," he continues, to no one in particular, "I can't say for sure how many other "active victims" we might run into. I've seen thousands of people die from cerebrosus, and all but a few of them were less advanced cases than he had. If it's somehow turning people into," Brandon hesitates, not really wanting to embrace the absurd reality of it despite the earlier antlion incident, "zombies, or something like that, there's no telling how many of them might be in even a small town like Battle Creek. But we should be able to tell if there's a lot of them well before we're in real danger, and the car should be good enough to escape in at least once."
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Jul 9, 2007 13:49
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Brandon "I don't think it's a good idea to be wandering around town without them knowing we're in there. I figure there's a good chance of being accidentally shot that way. Let's continue to watch them and monitor the radio traffic. Probably best not to call them on the radio at all, though. If one or two of us goes out to meet them, we could find out their intentions just by listening to how they respond to each other. I doubt they'll be as honest if they know someone's listening in or if there's more than a couple of us."
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Jul 10, 2007 02:26
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Brandon Brandon's stomach leaps into his throat as Markson casually gives the unknown military types in the township accurate information about their group. He gives him a severe look, but otherwise remains silent, waiting intently for the response on the radio as his mind races.
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Jul 10, 2007 04:44
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Brandon "I'll hold on to it." Brandon takes the proferred rifle, and looks at Markson with some apprehension. "Keep in touch with us." He turns on one of the walkie talkies and sets it to the same frequency as Markson's.
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Jul 10, 2007 05:18
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Brandon Brandon watches the goings-on from through a pair of binoculars, with Markson's rifle strapped over his shoulder. "I don't think it'd be a good idea to go into town, Ray. Whatever's going on in there seems to have these others worried, and they're a lot more organized than us." He jumps somewhat as the ground trembles underfoot, as though someone were setting off explosives underground. Brandon, with rising fear, wonders what the face smiles, wider and wider, until the skin of its cheek splits and tears, blood and juices running down its chin. A blackbird caws could be going on under there. His right arm begins to throb. Brandon picks up the radio. "Guys, we need to get out of here. It doesn't sound like they want our help or our company. I have a really bad feeling about what's going on here. There's no need to go through this township to get to Battle Creek, right? Let's take the car and find another way around. Please."
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Jul 10, 2007 13:05
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Brandon Brandon grabs the radio and unslings the hunting rifle, slipping into the shotgun seat. "Guys, get out of the building and try to find some place where you're shielded from the rain. I'm coming to pick you up. Whatever you do, stay away from any holes in the ground." Brandon turns to Jacob. "I know we're in a hurry but you've got to take it pretty easy. There's tons of obstacles on the way there and if we crash the car we'll be stranded in the rain and we'll all die." Seeing his excitement, Brandon does his best to seem calm, though his heart is racing. "Just don't panic, whatever you do. We'll all get out of this just fine. Just make sure to steer clear of any potholes or any other large holes in the road." If something gets too close and seems like an imminent danger, I will take as many rounds to aim at it as seems practical, until I max out the aiming bonus, and will then take a shot with the rifle. code:
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Jul 10, 2007 20:54
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Brandon Gray Brandon reaches for the door behind his seat and flings it open as Markson and O'Neill sprint for the car. He is holding the rifle between his legs now, with the safety on, muzzle facing the ceiling--it would be stupid to ruin it by dangling it outside in the acid rain to take useless shots at an essentially unstoppable horde of cerebrosus victims. Instead, he brandishes the small .22 revolver in one hand while gesturing insistently for the others to come on with the other. Once they are in, he keeps a close eye on the approaching group and says to Jacob without turning around: "Just don't drive faster than you have to. I'll tell you if they're getting close and you need to speed up, just concentrate on not hitting anything. If the car crashes, we're all dead." I'm assuming at this point that the only real way out of the town is straight through, right? code:
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Jul 11, 2007 01:09
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Brandon Gray Brandon looks at O'Neill and Markson as the door shuts and the car drives away, hopefully leaving the approaching horde at a fairly safe distance. Keeping one eye on the victims down the street, he says: "Careful not to touch anyone else with those ponchos. Are either of you burned?" Little too early to risk this fancy new car committing mass vehicular homicide just for the sake of going over the slim pickings in the convenience store again. I vote we continue on to the north, out of the town and toward Battle Creek.
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Jul 11, 2007 01:18
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Brandon "Jacob," Brandon says, unable to take his eyes off the massive creature, "you're doing good. Just keep concentrating on the road ahead, and pick up the pace a little." He does his utmost to keep his rising panic out of his voice. "We're almost out of here."
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Jul 11, 2007 03:44
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Brandon Gray Brandon has been largely quiet since the immediate danger of the attacking creatures from Brady Heights has ceased. Part of it is the fact that the group has started to move into areas of the state with which he is closely familiar, and the gravity of what has taken place in the year they were underground has truly begin to sink in, but mostly it is adrenaline-soaked exhaustion. He supposed he had a few things to be thankful for. The subterranean humanoid creatures that had attacked the group in Brady Heights had looked and behaved more or less exactly as they had in the nightmare he had experienced the night before. He hadn't experienced shock or even any fear beyond what one might typically experience when facing a dangerous wild animal. Jesus, he thinks to himself, with as much as Raymond used to talk about his nightmares, wouldn't it be ridiculous if mine turned out to be prophetic? His spirits rise when he catches a glimpse of the massive Wal-Mart in the distance, however. "There's bound to be something left for us in that Wal-Mart, food and water, and possibly even some guns or ammunition scavengers might have overlooked." He begins to massage his temples in a probably futile attempt to stave off a sudden, but thankfully mild, headache. "Let's press on, but carefully. If any of those militia types are still in the town, we don't want to startle them into ambushing us. Or anything else, for that matter."
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Jul 12, 2007 06:07
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Brandon Gray Brandon lags a bit behind the others, his vision transfixed on the flock of blackbirds sitting on the top of the store, silently watching them. He has a sudden recollection of a blackbird's caw, alerting him to danger, and then the sudden burning pain of his arm being torn from its socket. Of stumbling through the acid rain, slowly bleeding to death, while the blackbirds watched, as if they were saying, you should have listened. He speaks up suddenly after a long period of silence. "Ray's right. This is loving ridiculous. I can't believe we're even seriously considering going in there after what we've seen. We don't even know if whatever's sending out that radio signal, assuming it isn't some sort of trap, is inside this store." He looks at the others pleadingly. "We need to just keep going. There has to be easier ways to find food and shelter than this. If the militiamen from earlier passed this place up there's no way in hell we're equipped to handle what's in there. And I know it's going to sound stupid, but these blackbirds," he waves a hand toward the birds perched on top of the Wal-Mart's facade, still staring blankly down at them, "they only show up when something's dangerous. Or that's the way it seems to me. And there's a lot of them there. We need to just get the hell out of here, move the rest of the roadblocks out of the way and just move on. If we go in there, we're going to die, I can feel it." code:
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Jul 13, 2007 22:06
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Brandon Brandon holds his hands up defensively. "You've got to calm down, man. We've all been through a lot, and you more than any of us. But we can't just go running off doing insanely dangerous poo poo just because we don't really have a plan." "Look, I'm not trying to boss anyone around here. I just don't want any of us to get killed. Already we've been in some incredibly dangerous situations, and it's likely that the only reason none of us have died so far is luck. We just have to be more careful." Brandon hesitates for a second. "I'll head in there if everyone else decides to. And I mean, I guess you're right. This is the first sign we've seen of electricity. I guess we have to investigate it. But I'm telling you, this place is extremely dangerous. I can loving feel it. We need to just take it slow. If we move into here, let's do it cautiously. If there's booby traps in here or some other kind of hosed up creatures, we can't afford to let it get the drop on us." "One way or the other, once we've found out what's going on here or decided to leave, I agree, we need to sit down and decide as a group what we're trying to do here, beyond just surviving."
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Jul 13, 2007 23:20
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Brandon As John makes his case, Brandon listens and realizes that he is making it with genuine emotion. "John," Brandon begins, hoping desperately that he's right, for the sake of anyone inside, "we don't know for sure that there's even anyone in there at all. Everything about this place screams 'trap.' The new cameras, all the rotting bodies and razor wire, the blackbirds, the weird poo poo we keep hearing on the radio, everything. If we go in there we'll probably get ourselves killed trying to rescue someone who either doesn't exist or died ages ago." "I like Jacob's plan. Let's go to the suburbs, check the water heaters for fresh water, and any food or other gear that might have been left behind. I figure the chances are better that we'll find something in random houses than obvious scavenging locations, which have probably all been picked clean by now." code:
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Jul 15, 2007 04:33
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Brandon Brandon climbs into the shotgun seat of the Taurus, handing the hunting rifle back to Markson beforehand. He looks back at the bizarre, Mad Max-esque Wal-Mart, hoping that he and the others are making the right decision. Once in the suburbs, he is amenable to playing any role in the scrounging process. "We just have to make sure to post a lookout," he says, "while the others are going through the house. The last thing we need are more of those things catching us unawares." I will be lookout if no one else volunteers, but I will need a decent loaner gun, any will do. code:prussian advisor fucked around with this message at 19:07 on Jul 16, 2007 |
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Jul 16, 2007 19:05
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Brandon Brandon, inwardly pleased at how quickly and naturally the group seems to have formed up an organized watch, he volunteers for the last shift and settles in for some long-deserved rest himself. Unrolling his bedroll on the nearest patch of unstained carpet, he climbs inside and falls asleep, like Jacob, almost instantly.
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Jul 17, 2007 04:21
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Brandon Brandon, having taken the last shift, is still a little wide-eyed from the vivid nightmare he experienced the night before. Unlike typical dreams, or even typical nightmares, these hardly seemed to grow distant and unintelligible over time. If anything, the memory of them grew more lucid as the day dragged on, and he found himself remembering small additional details--the pile of loose organs in the corner of the Wal-Mart's "workshop," little flecks of meat and bone streaking both sides of the cleaver. Brandon agrees with Jacob's plan, hopping in the car with some feigned enthusiasm, but he is silent. He thinks, what if there really are people in there? These dreams haven't led me wrong before. Just because I was helpless in the dream doesn't mean I will be in real life--we had no trouble running from the creatures in Brady Heights, and those were just as I dreamed them. Brandon continues to mull the subject over as the group patrols the suburbs and car dealerships for essential supplies, pitching in as best he can. But inwardly, his certainty that leaving the Wal-Mart was the right thing to do is shot. He does not voice these concerns to the others for now, however. code:
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Jul 17, 2007 19:50
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Brandon Brandon, seeing the improvised armored car pulling away from the fortified Wal-Mart and hearing the radio transmission, puts two and two together and immediately feels his eroding reservations about going after the "Wal-Mart guy" evaporate completely. "Guys, let's go!" He climbs into the drivers seat, now-loaded revolver in his left hand. "This is our opportunity to put this guy down while he's away from his little funhouse, and before he hurts anyone else." He throws his rangefinding binoculars to Jacob who, it seems, has the best vision of anyone in the group. "Keep an eye on him and make sure we don't lose track of him. I'll drive." He slams shut the drivers' side door and turns the keys. "The rest of you, load up whatever weapons you have on hand and let's go!" Going to try to follow this guy before he kills again and hopefully stop him in the process. Brandon will say anything and make any necessary promise to get the others to come along. code:
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Jul 18, 2007 21:09
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I volunteered to drive because I figured you (Tindjin) would be better suited as lookout. You have two points on me for Perception, but only one for driving, and I figure driving is of little use if the guy loses us. Whatever the following-people-in-a-city skill is might also default to your huge Survival Urban skill too. But honestly it probably won't make a ton of difference either way. Let's work out real quickly who has which gun and who is using what. I have the recently discovered .45 revolver which, sadly, I am not ready to give up just yet. Box of 24 more rounds (presuming it was empty when I found it) I shall leave in the car. I also have the old .22 revolver from the gas station, with three rounds left, which anyone who cares to take is welcome. I gave Markson back the hunting rifle, he has that now. 46 bullets originally, not sure how many times it has been fired. That leaves, all from the shelter: The hunting bow and 20 arrows, minus any used because I am pretty sure nobody ever used this (did we even take it?) The 12g shotgun and 20 rounds, minus used. The .357 revolver and 18 rounds, minus used. The .38 revolver and 24 rounds, minus used. Melee weapons: The crowbar, the axe, and the machete. That's enough guns for everyone to have one, and still leaves the three melee weapons and the bow. As for skills, I have Knife 12, Brawling 12, Handguns 12, and Rifles 11.
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Jul 18, 2007 21:55
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I will take the bowie knife if that is cool/no one else needs it.
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Jul 18, 2007 22:41
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Brandon Brandon merely slows down the car as the others leap out, Jacob toward their sniper assailant, Mike toward the woman in the semi, and the others to lay down covering fire for Jacob's advance. He pulls the car up until it nearly touches the wall of the grocery store, forming line of hard cover behind which Ray and Evan can hide. Keeping his head down, he snatches the keys from the ignition and leaps out of the shotgun seat onto the pavement on his belly. Getting up, he takes cover behind the car and points his revolver toward the far end of the store, ready to figure should the figure peek out from behind the corner again.  code:
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Jul 19, 2007 03:33
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Brandon Seeing Jacob once again on the move, Brandon narrows his eyes and concentrates intensely on the forward sights of the revolver, waiting for his chance to fire again on the assailant at the far end should he show his face again. code:
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Jul 19, 2007 04:09
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Brandon Brandon sees his second shot seem to hit the man, causing him to withdraw around the corner, but as Jacob pursues him and a smattering of gunfire breaks out from the far side of the building, and Jacob collapses in full view of the others, Brandon's spirits sink. "Evan, go back up Mike. Ray, come with me!" Brandon, shouting at the others, reaches into the car for his large paramedic's kit, and sprints without regard for cover toward the far corner of the building, revolver in his right and the kit swinging wildly in the left. Reaching the edge of the building, he pauses for a moment, and then bursts around the corner, looking for any sign of the shooter. Finding him prone on the ground and surrounded by blood, Brandon immediately drops his revolver beside Jacob and drops to one knee, opening up the kit. "Just stay calm, Jake," he says, in as calm a voice as he can manage himself, which may be little consolation. "You killed him, and Mike and Evan have the other guy taken care of. We're safe. The woman's safe. Just relax." He quickly disinfects the area, and then gets to work with a thin pair of surgical forceps, trying to remove the bullets before administering painkillers and tying off any major blood vessels that were damaged. code:
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Jul 19, 2007 04:40
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Brandon Brandon feels ice cold panic flood into his veins as the armored van roars to life and takes off toward him and the helpless Jacob. He grabs the gun in one hand, and hooks both his arms under Jacob's armpits, attempting to drag him back around the corner to the "south" side of the store before the truck can run the two of them down. code:prussian advisor fucked around with this message at 05:06 on Jul 19, 2007 |
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Jul 19, 2007 04:58
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Brandon Brandon smiles at Jacob, a little shocked at his having regained consciousness so quickly. "She's fine, we all are. Quit moving. And you're stable." He continues to treat Jacob's wounds, though more gingerly now since he is awake. "Which is a miracle, really. You were shot three times." He holds up the bullets, three badly deformed 9mm lead slugs, as proof. "You're going to be in a lot of pain for a while, but you'll live. Eventually you'll be in perfect health again." He fills a compact syringe with Dilaudid, and injects it into Jacob. "You're incredibly lucky. I've seen people killed by much less. Now just relax, and don't move at all, or there's a chance you'll reopen your wounds." Brandon replaces the syringe and lets out a deep sigh, still not quite grasping the totality of what happened in the last two minutes. He tries to think of how they could transport Jacob out of here to someplace safe...he won't be moving around much for quite awhile.
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Jul 19, 2007 06:04
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Brandon "Don't worry," he says, grasping Jacob's own arm in turn to reassure him, "I've dealt with opiate addiction before. I won't let you backslide." He smiles again, even more warmly than before. "Besides, if you could beat it the first time, and can beat getting shot in the chest three times, you can handle this."
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Jul 19, 2007 06:22
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Brandon Brandon eagerly endorses Mike's general plan--a two-story house will allow for much easier observation and perhaps even posting a sniper or lookout on the roof. It will likely take two trips from the grocery store's lot to the house they choose to set up in, given the extra passenger and Jacob's incapacity. With Jacob laid out across the back seats of the Taurus, Brandon answers Raymond's original question. "I'm actually hoping they come to get him. That would mean we get to face what's left of them on our terms instead of going after them in their little fort. They might even be stupid enough to bring all of what's left of them, but I'm not sure we're going to be that lucky." Back at the house, Brandon sets Jacob up on a comfortable location, lying down on a couch found in the living room. "Honestly," he says to the others, "Jacob is pretty much totally stable. I'll need to check up on him every hour or so, but I'm able to help out getting this place ready almost as well as anyone else." "As for the butcher, let's not be too quick to cash in our humanity for a little security. Let's wait until we have a better idea of what they've been doing in this town recently. I can keep him tranquilized if we need to, and I can give him some mild barbiturates to loosen him up, maybe make him a little more talkative. We've got more drugs than we need; Jacob's is the first major injury any of us has sustained so far, which is kind of a miracle if you think about it." I will contribute to the prisoner's interrogation however I can. Brandon has no objections to beating the guy for information if its necessary, as its obvious that he's a murderer, but it should probably be kept to a minimum to keep morale up and to keep Rebecca from freaking out any further. Brandon will object VERY strongly to executing the guy, either before or after interrogating him. code:
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Jul 20, 2007 01:13
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Brandon Brandon looks Mark in the eye, and interposes himself between Mike and their prisoner. "No, we aren't going to kill you, which is awfully generous considering that you tried to kill us. Now how exactly are you saving people?" He leans in a little closer, though not close enough to get bitten in the face should the guy become suddenly aggressive. "Explain to me how castrating people helps them."
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Jul 20, 2007 02:22
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Brandon Brandon attempts to wait for Mark to stop laughing, as patiently as he can manage. He had handled himself dispassionately during the interrogation so far, despite his hostility and lack of remorse for any of the things he and the others had done, but somehow the fact that he was mocking the scene he experienced in his dream, which for one reason or another it had never occurred to him might be inaccurate, was somehow a hundred times worse. Suddenly, the stored-up emotion from the truly hosed up events of the last few days reaches a critical point, and Brandon can no longer contain himself. Quite suddenly, he stands, and reaching for the nearest fairly heavy object he can find, he takes it up and smashes Mark across the mouth with it, repeatedly, until stopped.
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Jul 20, 2007 02:41
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Brandon Brandon hurls the phone at the wall in disgust, and stares at Mark's horribly beaten face for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Old habits die hard, however, and he walks over to take Mark's pulse, his breath still heaving. He looks over at Mike while doing so, looking both angry and defensive. "We were wasting our loving time. They're all crazy. Who else could laugh about the poo poo they do?" Brandon glares at him. "Don't look at me like that. You were a minute away from doing the same thing yourself." But inside his skull, a voice insists, you just killed someone. He was helpless. Brandon's head is throbbing. Did I kill him Actually, scratch the CP. prussian advisor fucked around with this message at 03:33 on Jul 20, 2007 |
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Jul 20, 2007 03:12
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Brandon Brandon, realizing that the man still has a pulse, but must have suffered profound brain damage and near death as a result of his sudden beating, looks to see Jacob and Markson enter the room. Previously they had regarded him as a comrade, but now, suddenly they were looking at him like a psychopath you are a psychopath aren't you and his fury at Mark, previously white-hot, evaporates in an instant. "He, I-I..." Brandon stammers, "I attacked him. He's totally insane. I asked him about what he did, and what the others did...he just laughed in my face, like a maniac." It sounded like a reasonable course of events when Brandon had attacked him just seconds before. Now it sounded absurd, a line of bullshit that even he couldn't swallow less than a minute after doing it. He looks at the others staring at him, and feels, absurdly enough, like a dog which has just been caught making GBS threads on the rug. "Guys, I'm sorry. I've never done anything like this before, to anyone, ever." He reaches for his parademic's kit, already in the room to supply the drugs he used for the earlier 'interrogation.' "Let me see if I can bring him around. I, it's just...who the gently caress can laugh about something like that?" He goes to work on Mark's head, trying to undo some of the damage he's done, now half-talking, half-mumbling. "I know what they do down there. Jesus." "Jacob, please just go lie down. You can't tear any of those bandages loose. Just go tell Rebecca...tell her that he got loose and we had to subdue him. Or something." The gravity of what he just did truly sinks in. You nearly killed this man. Not innocent, no, but helpless. Voice of reason my rear end. You're no different from them. "Don't let her panic, not on account of what I did. I've hosed up badly enough. Just let me see what I can do here. I want to come up and have a look at you in a minute." I imagine this is going to require a pretty massive guilt check, or whatever else you think is suitable. Either way I am going to see whether he could possibly be restored to health, partially or otherwise. code:
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Jul 20, 2007 03:56
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| # ¿ Apr 27, 2024 05:20 |
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Brandon Brandon looks at Jacob, then back at Mike, defiant to the end, with bits of his brain peeking out through holes in his skull, holes he inflicted. "Yeah," he says, "okay, alright." He digs into his paramedic's kit, takes another hypo filled with a massive dose of painkillers (Jacob said he wouldn't need them runs crazily through his head,) and inject it directly into Mark's heart. The absurdity of administering this comparatively humane execution to him, right after doing what he did, is not lost on Brandon, but he forces himself not to laugh or do anything similarly idiotic. His gently caress up this time only cost the life of a proven murderer, fortunately--another one could cost the life of one or all of the rest of the people that depended on him.
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Jul 20, 2007 05:12
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