((Bobby continued from: Battle Of Epic Proportions
Standing bolt upright, Bobby swayed unsteadily for a few moments, carbine clattering to the ground from suddenly nerveless fingers. He slowly raised one hand to his face and wiped it clean with the back of his forearm. Then collapsed to his knees and heaved, coming close to losing what little he had managed to eat so far in SOTF. Bobby took several deep, shuddering breaths, forcing air into his lungs and violently expelling it moments later. The rain may have washed it away by now, but to Bobby, he was still drenched in blood - had been since the very beginning on the game.
It was funny, really, how the events were afflicting him, he had been, after all, stalking the girl with the express intention of snapping her neck from behind.
Bobby looked up, finally, and his eyes alighted on the dead body in front of him. He had been just about to make his move when the announcement came on. Bobby had cursed his luck as Danya's voice started to inform the students of the deaths over the past day. Luckily, it seemed that his target was intent on listening to the PA, so it gave Bobby an opportunity to duck for cover and remain out of sight.
Moments later, Danya started blowing collars. As most others must have felt since he had apparently decided to make the detonations at random, Bobby found himself, for a few moments, simply terrified, before he shut the feelings down. It was a chance, he had reminded himself, to take out his target whilst she was distracted, he had sprung from behind his hiding place and...
Wednesday Ryan. Eliminated.
Did it make it worse that Wednesday was one of the few people Bobby knew outside of school? Ironically, it was purely because she had, in the past, attended boxing training, which just meant he was a little more familiar with her face than with most people's. It didn't really matter any more though, she was dead he had seen her head get blown off just metres from him. But for the rain he would still have been doused in Wednesday's blood.
Bobby eased himself up from the ground, taking hold of the carbine again and stowing it in favour of the SIG Sauer that he had emerged from the encounter at the field in possession of. He had relatively little ammunition for it, but at least he could fire it more than once without having to fiddle with the bolt. Still, he was going to have to watch where he was shooting with it Bobby had only managed to pick up a single additional magazine, he didn't know too much about guns, so his best guess was that he had around twenty bullets to burn. Not an inconsiderable number, but Bobby knew all too well how quickly you could go through clips in a firefight.
Something glinted in the gloom and caught Bobby's eye. It was hard to figure out just what the object was due to the lack of light (it was heavily overcast after all) and the mire which the jungle floor had turned into. He knelt and brushed at the dirt with his fingertips, his eyes widening as the beginnings of a gleaming blade were revealed. Locating a handle of sorts, Bobby pulled, freeing a sword of some description from the sucking mud.
Well well well, what do we have here?
Bobby would be the first to admit he knew absolutely nothing about swords, but he recognised a katana when he saw one. The weight felt good in his off hand, and he thought only moments before sticking the SIG into his belt and reaching around his back to grab the golf club he had picked up back on day 1 and hurl it into the trees. There was a snapping sound, followed by a distinctive WHUMP and a twang. Bobby frowned in confusion, then a crossbow bolt winging past his head, missing his ear by inches before lodging in a tree behind him. He shuddered at that this jungle was a death trap.
The boxer turned away from Wednesday's body and continued into the jungle, making sure to check for any tripwires or traps carefully. He'd almost paid the price for carelessness twice, he didn't think it would be a good idea to test the concept of 'third time lucky' out. Bobby's ears pricked up as he heard a voice not far away at all. He stopped, then let out a long, heartfelt sigh, reaching around to pull out the carbine from its place on his pack, then pulling back the bolt and chambering a round.
I don't suppose I have much of a choice. I'm damned either way,
Bobby stepped into the edges of a clearing, immediately spotting two drenched figures there. Knowing that he would be spotted in a matter of moments, he fired the carbine, first at the boy standing up figuring that he was the biggest threat in that he was actually on his feet. Bobby proceeded to work the bolt back again, and without checking to see whether he hit or not, fired off a second round at the girl who was on her knees in front of the guy.
This path I tread... is there an end to it?
Is there a destination or only the journey?
And... and is there... a way to walk from the road?