((Maxwell Crowe Continued from Some Fantastic))
As a person, who slacked through every moment of every PE lesson ever, and as someone who's biggest running challenge would be catching a bus, Max quickly lost his strength during his mad dash from the felled forest. He tripped a lot, slow down his pace, started coughing, almost fell flat on his face on several occasions - but he still went on. He had to. They were after him. For sure.
Or at least that's what he thought.
In reality, no one was chasing him. No one threatened his life so far. Even more, HE was to one to threat Peter after that one unfortunate misunderstanding some time before. His mind refused to acknowledge it though, just as his legs refused to stop.
Finally, after god-knows-how-many-hours later, Max emerged from the sea of trees and entered the Warehouse area, and allowed himself to stop for a while. He fell on his knees and started wheezing desperately for some fresh air for his lungs. He considered just hitting the ground and not standing up until the next day, but the thought about a shelter just about 50 meters away, convinced him to stand up once again and make those last few steps. Still wheezing and coughing, Max stood up and entered the Warehouse.
It was already the middle of the night, and thanks to a complete lack of lighting inside, the area was pitch black, similar to the caves he woke up in one day ago. That was fine for him. At least, whoever wanted to find and kill him here had to use a night-vision to do so.
Maxwell went to the nearest cargo box outside of the view from the main door, and leaned his back on it. At first it was perfect. Far from anyone, dark, peaceful. Perfect place for a rest. He sat there for about 10 minutes, regulating his breath, but as he finally calmed down, and his nervous breathing stopped filling the area, his arch nemesis came back to haunt him again.
Silence. The god damn silence.
Max tried to ignore it, close his eyes and sleep as deeply as possible, but it just couldn't work. Suddenly, the ground became too cold, the box was too hard, the air was too dry, his clothes were too dirty, and the porridge was too hot. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, Maxwell opened his backpack and took his iPod from it. He swore, he won't use it too much to preserve the batteries, but that was his only help at that point. Also, it's been 2 days already since his last does of music, and if now wasn't the best time to listen to some relaxing stuff, then Max couldn't even imagine what that would be. He scrolled down the menu, and without even deciding what he want to listen to, he hit the 'play button' after choosing random album. As it turned out, it was 'Brave New World' by Iron Maiden. Max could hardly complain. After plugging his ears with the earphones, Max closed his eyes once again, and escaped the reality for several hours.
Pay to kill, die to lose
Hunted, hunter which you are
Diablo come again
To make trophies out of men...
Max made a few inarticulate noises as he woke up in the morning. Well, at least he guessed it had to be morning, because he could actually see anything, unlike the previous day.
...Lose your skin, lose your skull
One by one the sack is full
In the heat dehydrate
Know which breath will be your last...
Although, the place he spent the night wasn't really comfortable, Maxwell felt rather good. For a moment, he almost completely forgot where he was, and that he wasn't supposed to fight for his life with his fellow classmates. Almost. Then, his sore back reminded him he wasn't sleeping on a comfortable bed, while his leg muscles started protesting against any movement after his marathon from yesterday. Even Bruce Dickinson seemed to be aware of Maxwell's current situation, as he sang 'encouraging' words right into his ears.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
You've got to kill to stay alive...
Show them no fear, show them no pain!
"Wise words, Mr. Dickinson." Said Max, while stretching his hands. "But I would like to avoid that 'killing' part for some time, thank you."
As he said those words, the scenes from yesterday came right back before his eyes. Maxwell failing to operate his gun, Peter telling him to give it away, Max babbling some crazy conspiracy theories and pointing his handgun at his companion. All those memories made Max facepalming at his own stupidity. He couldn't believe he was so close to doing something so incredibly reckless. He could only thank the God he wasn't crazy and/or dumb enough to pull that trigger back in the felled forest.
"Maxwell... You are a fucking moron..."
But, as the minutes passed, Max got a hold of himself, and started thinking straight. Peter and his group was the past now. Ultimately, nothing bad happened except from a few spooked people, and he was still alive. That's what was important.
The other important thing, was his iPod battery. Max looked at it, and sighed in relief, as he noticed he still had about 3/5 of it full. He had no idea how long it may last, but he quickly turn the music off to make sure it will be enough for at least few next days.
The annoying silence attacked him once again, but since Maxwell managed to rest a bit, it didn't have that much of a destructive effect on him as it had last time. Just to be on the safe side though, Max decided to eat and drink something, while making as much rustling sounds as possible. He didn't have to do it for too long though, as soon enough, a speaker nearby started screeching. Seconds later, Danya's voice filled the Warehouse, and Max listened to the announcement. He really wanted to be disgusted at the classmates who killed their colleagues, but that disturbing thought, that he might not be much better than them, kept him far away from that feeling. And then the lightning struck.
"Speaking of the highlight reel, Maria Graham showed some real flair in taking out Francine Moreau. Let's just say that deep fried Moreau has joined Vaughan at our little take out."
Max almost choked himself, as the piece of bread he munched, entered his throat too early.
Maria killed someone.
Why? Did she lost it like me, and became a crazed killer? She definitely was on the upper end of the 'craziness' scale, so that could be an option. Or maybe she killed in self defense? Or maybe that was an accident? Or Danya is a dirty liar? Or maybe... Or maybe...
Max finished his meal quickly and packed all his stuff to his daypack, before leaving the Warehouse. Seconds later, he was in the forest again.
I gotta hurry. I need to find her, and, and...
And then what? I'm not exactly someone suitable for dealing with that kind of prob-
"OH FUCK IT!" He silenced his thoughts, and quicken his pace, despite his protesting legs.
Maria needed a friend's presence right now. And frankly? So did Max...
((Maxwell Crowe continued in But I Might Die Tonight))
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- Joined: September 25th, 2008, 12:34 pm
B019 - Maxwell Crowe (In Transit) - Weapon: Auto Mag 180 (.44)
B068 - Michał 'Mike' Maszer (The Key) - Weapon: Cyanide Pill
B075 - Robert 'Rob' Jenkins (In Transit) - Weapon: Kevlar Bulletproof Vest, M15 General Officers (.45 ACP)
B078 - Gareth 'Gary Griffith (The Warehouse) - Weapon: Nightstick
V4 Dead: None (Yay!)
V5 (Hopefully): No ideas yet ;]
This is not a song, IT'S A SANDWICH!!!
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