Ares
Winner
Joined: January 12th, 2007, 5:33 am

November 3rd, 2008, 6:27 am #46

((John continued from This Fire Burns))

Aside from a couple of birds and a corpse or two, John had not found anyone.

"Its an island with like 200 of my classmates, and I can't find anyone." John muttered, hoping his string of bad luck like he'd experienced a couple days ago wasn't manifesting itself once again.

Pressing on through the bushes, John soon could make out what appeared to be a clearing. Slowly creeping up to the line where the brush stopped, John peeked through and could see he was back at the Chapel, site of one of his unlucky failures. Rolling his eyes at the thought of that day, John noticed there was a girl sitting at the door of the Chapel, and another guy standing out in the open shouting to her.

"Edgar..." John snarled. He'd never been a big fan of Edgar. The guy looked like and played off the big bad ass tough guy. Thought he'd never actually spoken a word to Edgar, John despised his type.

Looking around, John tried to decide if there was way he could get to Edgar without being seen by whoever that girl in the door was. The rain falling would muffle out his footsteps, so he could sneak up on Edgar, it was all a matter of getting to him. Edgar was about 5 feet out of the brush, so John decided to take the risk. Making sure the safety was off, John readied the pistol.

Time to see what you can do my friend.

John slowly crept out of the bushes behind Edgar's back. He stopped behind him, hoping that the bulk of Edgar's body had blocked the girl's view of him. He raised the pistol and pointed it at Edgar's head. There would be no playing with him. No this one was going to be quick.

John squeezed the trigger and felt the gun pop. The noise it made was the same one you'd hear in a spy movie.
Is in...
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Super Llama
Contender
Joined: July 20th, 2008, 3:52 am

November 3rd, 2008, 6:46 am #47

"Look, what your thinking right now, that's not what I meant. What I meant wa-"

Edgar didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. He didn't even get a chance to realize that he'd been shot. The bullet simply ripped through the back of his skull, shooting out the other side, and his body quickly dropped right to the ground. Ed had secretly hoped that if he had to die, he could at least deliver some snappy one-liner first.

Sucks to be him.

B113: Edgar Hoskins - DECEASED

----------

It happened so fast, Hannah wondered at first if it was just a trick of the imagination. First there was this odd "Fweet" sound, and then something struck the wall just to the right of her, leaving her startled and confused. For a split-second, he thought that the boy had just shot at her, but then he fell right over, revealing a smaller figure behind him, wielding a rather menacing looking gun.

"Oh...oh God..."

She would've wondered why she hadn't heard a bang or anything, like she would've expected from a gun looking like that, if she wasn't so busy freaking the hell out. She quickly brought the shield to bear in front of her. "Uh...g-guys? There's trouble out here."

Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"

[+] Spoiler
Maria "Animal" Graham is dead at the Residential District.
Duncan McMahon is dead at the Residential District.
Sebastian Decartes is dead at the Infirmary.
Petrushka Ivanova is dead at the Groundskeeper's Hut.
banthesun wrote:She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs
ZombiexCreame wrote:But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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Solitair
Player
Joined: April 26th, 2008, 11:42 pm

November 4th, 2008, 4:42 am #48

Warren gaped at the smaller boy right after his bullet drilled through the prospective newcomer's skull for a moment. Then he glared and fished his gun out of his pocket. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled, and quickly fired off a shot.

Quincy quickly turned to Warren after hearing him fire. It was nice to see the big guy take charge for once, but did he even know how to aim? Not to mention that he was currently wide open. "Get under cover you idiot!" Quincy hissed, ducking behind one of the pews. He wouldn't likely be that much of a help in this fight, but if the attacker came closer, he could always ambush the fucker and bugger him with his new sword. His hand gripped the sword's surprisingly comfortable grip. Yes, that would do nicely.

Warren ducked inside the doorway and struggled to cock the hammer of his revolver before he's ambushed again. Great, and most of our weapons are still with the others. Where the fuck are they, anyway?
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
[+] Spoiler
B081 - Roland Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"Fuck it." c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3<
G070 - Cassidy Wakemore Condition: DEAD.
"No doubts. No regrets." <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
G076 - Lillian Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"My best wasn't good enough..." <> <> <> <>
G079 - Eiko Haraguchi Condition: ELIMINATED.
"Is it really over?" <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3<
V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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Ares
Winner
Joined: January 12th, 2007, 5:33 am

November 4th, 2008, 7:04 pm #49

The return fire came as a surprise to John, as from where he was, he hadn't seen the larger boy. Luckily for him the boy had fired under a panicked state and the bullet missed him wide right. John raised his gun to return fire, but the boy had disappeared behind the safety of the walls. The girl however, had not sought cover inside the building, and instead looked like she was trying to hide behind a piece of plastic.

John smirked and fired two shots in her direction. He didn't look to see if they'd found their mark. This group in the chapel had the advantage of a solid cover where JR had nothing.

"Not in my best interest to get in a firefight right now." John said to himself and he darted back into the bushes.

Running along the trail, John found himself chuckling at how easy killing Edgar had been.

((John continued in Panic Attack))
Is in...
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Super Llama
Contender
Joined: July 20th, 2008, 3:52 am

November 8th, 2008, 7:26 am #50

(OOC: I do believe I have permission for this as well. Really, Joe just needs to go at this point.)

Hannah had heard of riot shields like the sturdy plastic one she held on to. Supposedly, they were able to withstand small arms fire to a certain extent. Hopefully, this one would happen to be one of those.

Any thoughts like that went out the window, though, when the two bullets that were fired went right through the shield, one whizzing right by her ear, the other, in some insane twist of fate, deflecting off the baton, knocking it out of her hand, and hitting Joe right in the neck.

Hannah stood frozen, her shield still intact, though looking as though a sharp blow would shatter it, as the boy who fired at her made her getaway, her mind a complete blank for a moment or two, before a single thought formed.

Just an inch or two to the right, and...

She slowly turned around, dropping the shield, thoroughly shaken, and trudged back into the building. All the color drained from her face, she headed straight for her pack, failing to adknowledge the others inside as she picked it up and slung it over her shoulder. "We've got to get out of here..." She mumbled, heading back out the door, stopping only to pick her baton back up.

"We've got to get out of here..." She repeated as she walked right off into the brush, not even stopping to see if the others were following. "We've got to get out of here..."

{{contined in Wierd Fishes}}

Enough expository banter! Now we fight like men! And ladies! And ladies who dress like men! For Gilgamesh...it is MORPHIN' TIME!

V5 hopefuls:
Hiro Fukuyama: "N-n-no, I-I'm not scared."
Lucy Rosenberg: "If you're looking for friends, I don't think I can help you with that."
Angus McDonald: "To hell with you! If anyone here deserves to live, it's me!"

[+] Spoiler
Maria "Animal" Graham is dead at the Residential District.
Duncan McMahon is dead at the Residential District.
Sebastian Decartes is dead at the Infirmary.
Petrushka Ivanova is dead at the Groundskeeper's Hut.
banthesun wrote:She wanted those horrible metal balls to stop banging against her legs
ZombiexCreame wrote:But would Celeste even want help from a guy that whips out his pistol without a second thought?
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Solitair
Player
Joined: April 26th, 2008, 11:42 pm

November 8th, 2008, 6:52 pm #51

A few moments passed without any return fire from the gunman. Warren eventually peeked around the door of the chapel and saw that there was no one there. "Phew. That was close."

"Yes," Quincy nodded. "Have you noticed anything different about today, Warren?"

"Eh?"

"Well, it is morning, in case you haven't noticed. Shouldn't we-"

"The announcements!" Warren realized. Quincy nodded and reached for his daypack. "You're telling me this virus stopped them from broadcasting?"

"Apparently," Quincy said. "It's irritating, isn't it, Warren? We have a golden opportunity on our hands and few other people to help us out. Neil, Matthew, and Dominica have been gone for a day, and all we have to help us out is Han-"

As per the rules of dramatic irony, no sooner did Quincy mention Hannah's name than she rushed past them in a daze, mumbling to herself and submerging herself in the brush. "Hannah? Hannah, where are you going? Hannah!" Warren yelled, chasing after her for a few steps before losing sight of her. "Goddammit!"

"And then there were three," Quincy stated, before turning to notice Joe lying down, sporting a brand new hole in his neck. "Make that two." He hefted his bag onto his shoulder and moved toward the door.

"Wait!" Warren called. "Where are you going? He's still alive!"

"Not for long, he isn't," Quincy replied. "Honestly, Warren, have you ever known anyone to survive being shot in the neck? He's a lost cause, Warren, but the others can still be saved."

Warren glared at Quincy and moved next to Joe, his pose defiant. Quincy sighed and turned away. "Suit yourself. I'll be searching for the members of our team worth a tinker's damn. Feel free to join me once that one croaks." He walked out of the church, following Hannah's hasty exit.

With Quincy gone, Warren turned his attention to Joe, digging into his daypack and producing the first aid kid. "Don't worry, Joe, we'll have you up in no time," he said, knowing full well that he'd be unable to keep his promise.

((Quincy Archer continued in Weird Fishes))
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
[+] Spoiler
B081 - Roland Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"Fuck it." c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3<
G070 - Cassidy Wakemore Condition: DEAD.
"No doubts. No regrets." <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
G076 - Lillian Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"My best wasn't good enough..." <> <> <> <>
G079 - Eiko Haraguchi Condition: ELIMINATED.
"Is it really over?" <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3<
V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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Solitair
Player
Joined: April 26th, 2008, 11:42 pm

November 11th, 2008, 2:20 am #52

Useless. It was all useless. By the time Warren got the first aid kit open, Joe had already lost most of his blood, both from the neck and from his previous wounds. He was spared the pressure of having to decide whether or not to remove the bullet from his neck by Joe's complete lack of a pulse.

Only now did Warren remember the antics of Ninja Joe, another of the more obvious punchlines among the student body. Always with his nose buried in the same damn book, actually thinking that he could do the same badass stunts as Ryu Hayabusa or Naruto. Honestly, Joe was one of the few people that he could laugh at genuinely, without pretending to fit in.

Now, though, he was just another brick in the wall. Warren clasped Joe's hands over his chest and closed his eyes, then sadly walked off into the distance.

Joe Cande - Deceased

((Warren Pace continued in Weird Fishes))
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
[+] Spoiler
B081 - Roland Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"Fuck it." c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3< c3<
G070 - Cassidy Wakemore Condition: DEAD.
"No doubts. No regrets." <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
G076 - Lillian Hayes Condition: DEAD.
"My best wasn't good enough..." <> <> <> <>
G079 - Eiko Haraguchi Condition: ELIMINATED.
"Is it really over?" <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3< <3<
V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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Schizophrenia
Cannon Fodder
Schizophrenia
Cannon Fodder
Joined: November 9th, 2008, 10:20 am

November 11th, 2008, 8:33 am #53

It was raining outside. There was the quiet thump of crystalline raindrops splattering against the roof above the altar where a young man huddled, archaic long coat clutched around himself as much as a safeguard against his own fears as against the cold. He'd run inside the chapel after running in every direction like a panicked beast; not a human being, but the very sort of creature he loathed most; driven by emotion, not logic. Recalling back to Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Daniel Clifford took several deep breaths, looking out at his only companion so far; a dead body staring upwards with closed eyes. Someone had at least taken the time to give the young man the semblance of a burial, and for that, Daniel was grateful. It was close enough already to hell on earth, here, and inviting Gaki or a Dybbuk to feast on the poor boy would've been insult to injury. Whatever this kid had done... Someone had cared for him in his last moments, a tenderness Daniel couldn't help but hope for himself.

He'd come inside because he knew people would come back here, looking for something; a student to kill, a place to hide, the love of a God who was out fishing... Even just someone to play cards with and make awkward conversation with. And that was what he was waiting for. He'd gone through it several times in his head, while playing one-man solitaire with his 'weapon', a pack of cards, jokers neatly left in. He'd pretend to be friendly, talk for a bit, and then jump on someone, scrawny fingers around their neck, and... And... And then what? No matter how you look at it, you couldn't kill anyone, for the same reason you can't talk with people. If it'd really been that simple, the scary little occult boy would've gone on a rampage during the opening chaos, one way or another. Instead, you just ran, whispering to Shakti for guidance and obscurance... And she led you here. It's funny, isn't it? People like you are supposed to hate places like this... Yet it's just as important to you as it would be to a priest, isn't it? Yeah. He'd gone over it loads of times in his head... But reality was a different thing entirely.

Daniel sighed, and scooped his cards off the ground, slipping them into the tiny monochrome box they came in. Leaning on the pulpit, he watched the weather from outside, a sad little smile crossing his face. Well, he certainly couldn't change his hesitation to kill, but maybe it was now, with death seeming seconds away, he could at least try to work on something else. He knew people would come to this chapel, looking for something... Someone to talk to. And although he certainly wasn't a priest, or even devoted to one God (Or Goddess!) in particular, there were some things that come naturally. Walking over to the young man dressed completely in black, he raised his hand over his head, and begin to intone quietly.

"Left-hand at my side,
placed firmly on the breast of this sovereign soul.
I beseech thee, Decarabia, opener of the quiet gate,
guide this soul through the fires of Purgatorio to the warmth
necessitated by his unquiet ghost."

With a smile, Daniel pushed his glasses onto the rim of his nose, covering his eyes. He'd wait here. Everyone needed a priest, a psychologist, a person to talk to. And until someone came for him, until he joined the ranks of the unquiet, he would be here for them. He resumed sitting behind the pulpit, scattering cards on the floor as the rain echoed above him.
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nope
Winner
Joined: July 23rd, 2008, 11:45 pm

December 8th, 2008, 7:20 am #54

((edited slightly for continuity C:))

James and Morgan both looked on with wide eyes as Hannah struggled to separate the stake from Pascal. There was something comedic about the minute long ordeal, at least until they fully realized exactly what she was struggling with. The thing finally gave way with a sickening "squelch" and sent the girl slightly back with it, revealing a sizable hole in the corpse's chest, dark with a mess of coagulated blood. The wood was similarly drenched in the darkish red tar.

"I don't know if you've gotten any decent weapons yet, so..."

Morgan reached dazedly up with a shaky hand towards the girl's offering. Since her hand was on the only dry portion, Morgan grasped the end covered in the sticky, clotted mess. She lowered it and gazed down will all the intent of a burned-out junkie.

"...Morg?"

She continued to look down at the stake. This thing had just been in a corpse. This thing had killed someone. It was covered in his blood like it had been driftwood in a sea of tar. It had been in a sea really; a wet jumble of seaweed organs and coral bones, blood puddling up like water as the severed veins spewed their load. She could see in her mind's eye as its tip pierced the skin, the muscle, the lungs. She could feel it in her own chest.

She let it clatter to the floor.

--------------------------------------

James was on his knees beside her as soon as the thing hit the ground. His mouth was at her ear.

"Come on, let's get you out of there."

She swung her daypack on and he took her duffel. He helped her up after getting to his own feet, then steered her by her shoulders towards the back room of the oratory. He kept his eyes on the worn red carpet and away from his peers' gazes.

He swung the door closed behind them and glanced around the dusty room. Directly across from him was a large overturned desk with a chair off to its left, to his direct left was a large bureau, and to his right was a large mirror. Their collective largeness dominated the cramped room. All of it was blanketed with a heavy coat of dust. He walked over to the chair and quickly wiped the worst of the dust from the leather, then carried it over to where Morgan was. She dropped her bag to the floor and collapsed into the ancient thing. She buried her face in her hands. James dropped her duffel where he stood and knelt beside her.

"You gonna be okay?"

She nodded.

"You sure?"

She slid her hands off her face with a slight sniffle, and looked at him.

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

He smiled a bit. "I'm just gonna go grab my shit then we're out of here. Sound good?"

She smiled back and nodded.

He got to his feet, walked over to the door, and began to turn the knob. At that exact moment the gunfire began.

--------------------------------------

There was a commotion on the other side of the door. The sound of something falling, yelling, and then a mess of footsteps. Something was wrong.

"Give me the chair."

She obliged. James tried his best to jam it under the doorknob. The back was just tall enough to make it slightly awkward, but otherwise it seemed it could hold.

Morgan's heartbeat doubled its speed. "What the fuck is going on?"

He shook his head and put his index finger to his lips. He led her to the far side of the room. He faced her and held both her hands and let out the lowest whisper he could manage.

"Someone has a gun. If we run we're fucked, the treeline is too far away. If they get in here just run the other way. Don't wait for me. Got it?"

She made as if to speak, then just simply nodded her head. He leaned against the back of the wall. She followed next to him. As time wore on they slid down towards the ground, propelled by fatigue and gravity. By the time they reached the floor their hands were again clasped. The rest of them descended further until they were both asleep on the dusty wood flooring.

--------------------------------------

Morgan came to consciousness as fluidly as she'd left it. For the first time in nearly a week there had been no nightmares. She was grateful for it. She stretched her legs out and was for a moment puzzled at why she couldn't move her fingers. She looked down and realized they were still twisted between James's. She carefully wriggled them out and gingerly removed his head from her shoulder. He gave a light snore and turned towards the wall. For the second time that week, she smiled.

She got to her feet with another stretch and a yawn. She cracked her neck and back and looked around the little dust-covered room. The one window of the room revealed a dull light mottled by a thousand tiny drops of water clattering against it. The chair was still in place and the rest was as dusty as they'd left it. She walked over to the mirror.

She began to remove the dust with her hand. Her index finger was split against a crack she hadn't noticed. She brushed it off on her filthy carpi leg and sucked the finger with annoyance, then dusted the rest off more carefully. The reflection revealed a much older creature than she'd expected to see. The bags under her eyes were puffy and deep. There were numerous scabbed scratches zigzagging their way over her features. A small cluster of acne had begun to form at her left cheek. There was mud all over her neck and coat, and her once baby blue tee was dark with dried sweat. In short, she looked like hell.

Her hair, however, was perfect.

She turned from the mirror and looked at the sleeping figure before her. She began to wonder if she should let him sleep or wake him up now. Her thought was cut short by the sound of footsteps in the chapel behind her.

---------------------------------------

"James! James!"

A voice called out from far behind him. He had no time to wonder who it was. He had to keep running. The pavement of the street below him thudded against the sole sof his sneakers at a slower and slower rate. It was gaining ground fast. He had to keep going.

"Get up!"

He could feel it getting closer and closer. He tried to force his legs to pump faster but they only met more resistance. It was like he was running through water.

"There's someone here!"

He felt something vile brush against the back of his neck, then everything began to fade.

---------------------------------------

"Huh?"

James squinted up at Morgan. Her brow was furrowed and she was whispering harshly through gritted teeth. Whatever had been lost of her hard demeanor the previous day had apparently been restored by the night's rest.

"There's someone in here!"

Morgan barely had time to register when James sprung up, nearly hitting his forehead against hers in his mad dash for the door. She turned to see his hear pressed to it. He turned towards her and whispered.

"My bags are still in there. If you here anything, run. Got it?"

"No, y-"

"We need that gun. We don't have a choice. Just trust me."

She had no retort. She simply glared as he quietly removed the chair, cracked the door and slipped out into the chapel.

---------------------------------------

There was a figure behind the pulpit. They were staring intently at something else, and hadn't noticed James's entry. So far, so good. James crouched, hugged the wall to his right and quietly made his way to the pews.

If he went down the center isle they were sure to spot him. He looked unter the pew. The fit would be tight, but if he were careful enough he could crawl under. His bags (and his patient, he now remembered) were only a few pews back. One he got them he could rush out the front doors, circle back to the entrance in the back for Morgan, and book it to the jungle. If Joe was still there, he could do nothing but leave him. He was surprised at how little guilt he felt at that thought.

James laid himself on his stomach and began to drag himself through by his arms. His coat zipper made slight scraping sounds against the floor as he went, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it. They didn't seem to hear. After several arduous minutes, he finally looked up to see a body laying above him.

By the stiff feel of his arms, rigor had already set in. He hadn't been dead for too long. James wasted no time feeling pity for him. He struggled to break the rigor on the arm as quietly as possible. Eventually he gave it up as a futile task and instead wriggled the bag from the corpse's grasp. To his surprise, it came with relative ease. He had begun work on getting the daypack from under the cardboard legs when a nearby PA boomed to life.

James paid no mind to Danya's musing over the newly dead. He didn't need his affirmation to know shit had hit the fan. He was staring into a corpse's crotch at that very moment. No, he knew what part of these announcement were really important.

He was ready. The beeping in his collar had hardly begun by the time he reached the chapel doors. He could hear muttering from somewhere behind him. He didn't spare the time to look. He burst though the chapel doors and sprinted through the clearing. It wasn't until he reached the treeline that he realized Morgan wasn't with him.

((James Ellet continued in The Threepenny Opera As Performed By Potted Plants))

-------------------------------------

The agonizing silence was broken by a booming voice piercing through the walls and to her ears. It was the last thing she wanted to hear. The list of the dead numbed her as well any anesthetic. It was more than she could bear. She sunk back into the chair as the smug voice droned on, crossing her arms and trying her very best to keep her brain from translating what her ears were receiving.

It was the sudden beeping of her collar that tore her from her stupor.

Morgan gave a frantic glance to the cracked door. She knew she had no time to hesitate. That didn't make in any less painful. Within seconds her bags were on her shoulders and her hand was on the handle of the door leading outside. A few seconds more and she was dashing towards the dark smudge of trees ahead of her.

((Morgan Ackland continued in A Convoluted Conventicle))
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SOTF_Help
Winner
Joined: November 16th, 2006, 8:44 pm

December 10th, 2008, 8:47 am #55

Judging from the beeping emanating from Daniel's collar, it was time to get out of there. He didn't bother to gather up the cards he'd littered all over the floor; he'd grown tired of them anyway. If only he'd brought along a good book to read.

'Well, I guess I should figure out where to go to next,' he decided as he withdrew his map from his daypack and eyed it over. The beeping under his chin continued, but he was getting pretty far from the chapel so it was bound to stop any second. It had stopped raining, so maybe he would head towards the...

...?

"...Come on now, I'm sure that's far enough." Daniel turned back toward the chapel, wrinkling his nose confusedly for a second before deciding to make better use of each second of impending doom. He began to jog away from the new dangerzone, confident that the unnerving beeping would finally cease.

Instead it got steadily faster, which was beginning to become very alarming.

"Come on! Stop the beeping already!" Daniel looked back in the direction he'd come from. He couldn't even see the chapel anymore. What was the fucking deal? Just how big an area could "The Chapel" take up?

He couldn't see the fucking building anymore!

Come on!

Daniel broke into a frantic run, the beeping from his collar still increasing in tempo. It was in the neighborhood of Vivace now; there was no way he had more than a few seconds left. A sharp cry of panic escaped his lips, a plea to the Gods to deliver him from this twisted cursed church. This sick joke. This--

--in a most confusing turn of events a bewildered Daniel Clifford suddenly found himself back in the chapel, slumped over the podium with sweat-drenched hair and cards stuck to his face. Then his neck exploded.

B117: CLIFFORD, DANIEL -- DECEASED
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