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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 5, 2006 22:24:41 GMT
I enter the kitchen glancing out of the window as I can.
"Mike, I think something's up. Who else are you expecting?"
I've got to play this carefully. I don't know how much time we've got, but I hope it's enough. God, please just let us all get out of this.
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Post by Storyteller on May 8, 2006 22:26:54 GMT
He turns away from the back door.
"A woman i've known for a while. Not a member of the Lance, per se, but still."
"What's up?"
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 8, 2006 23:00:13 GMT
"I don't think its safe here. I get the feeling that something big's going to happen soon. Anbd this room is where it's going down."
I look out the window again. He's taking too long to act.
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Post by Storyteller on May 10, 2006 20:49:36 GMT
He narrows his eyes slightly.
"What d'you mean? Watched maybe, but we're safe here."
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 10, 2006 21:37:39 GMT
Damn...maybe it wasn't here...
"I'm not one to be paranoid, trust, but I'm just feeling like something's not right."
Who was that meant for? I'm not so sure if that vision was mine or someone else's. But I can't take the chance. I've got to play this very carefully.
"But I trust you."
I smirk in that way that says "yeah, I feel dumb."
"Let me let you do your thing. Rann and I were having a really good conversation anyhow."
I glance out the window once more and head back to Rann a bit slowly. Hopefully this'll put enough doubt in Michael to check things out.
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Post by Storyteller on May 10, 2006 22:00:42 GMT
He frowns slightly.
"I'll keep a look out."
You return with Rann to the Library, and you're about to sit down again, when it starts.
At first, you think it's another vision, but you quickly realise it's real.
What sounds like gunshots from outside is joined by the shattering of glass in the room you're in. You see an indistinct object, about the size of a fist, fly through the air, hit the floor, and roll under one of the desks.
Rann leaps to his feet, and produces an automatic pistol from his jacket, before crouching to the floor, keeping low.
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 10, 2006 22:21:58 GMT
I watch the item roll under the desk before it hits me.
"Move now!"
I pump my blood, making the world around me seem to move slower. With my new boost of speed I draw my gun as I run crouched low away from what's probably a grenade and towards the exit.
"Mike!?"
I left the ghetto so I didn't have to deal with this shit. Even if this is an "I told you so" moment. Fucking blood...
Celerity and Defend
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Post by Storyteller on May 12, 2006 20:35:49 GMT
You use your preternatural speed to dodge and dive to the exit, rolling dramatically into the hall. Rann emerges from the room a few seconds after, still low, still clutching his gun, a fairly disciplined pose. The door to the kitched in closed, and there has been no response from Michael.
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 13, 2006 5:33:52 GMT
"You okay?"
I stay low, looking both ways out of the hallway then I focus my attention on the kitchen.
"You got anything that can help in a situation like this?"
How many are there? They're obviously prepared and packing serious heat. We need backup...I pull my phone out, holding my gun towards the kitchen door ready to shoot or move at any moment. Flipping it open with my left hand, I press the button for voice dial.
"Wic."
Please pick up...
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Post by Storyteller on May 14, 2006 10:33:30 GMT
You hear the ringing tone, as you wait to pick up.
Rann looks at you.
"I've got this." He gestures with his pistol, "and i've got a few other tricks up my sleeves."
He spins the gun round, and offers you the handle.
"If you can cover me from the door, i'll blast through and check the kitchen. Can you use one of these?"
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 14, 2006 15:03:54 GMT
I nod as I take the gun.
"I got you."
Pick up Wic.
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Post by Storyteller on May 14, 2006 15:36:12 GMT
Your attention is distracted suddenly as a strongly-accented voice answers the phone.
"Yes."
Yes!
Post with Wic on his forum, the "Phone Call 1" thread. Time-scale wise, please limit the number of phone conversation posts to the number of posts here, ie. one for one.
Rann approaches the kitchen door, and motions you a bit closer. He leans up against one of the walls to the side of the door, and indicates you to take up position in front of it.
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 14, 2006 20:26:02 GMT
I ready the gun, pointing it at towards the door in what I'd consider the normal chest vicinity of a human. My blood begins surging as I get ready to call on it's supernatural power once more. With that out of the way I nod to Rann.
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Post by Storyteller on May 14, 2006 20:54:51 GMT
Rann spins round, trying to stay out of your sights, and kicks open the door, and ducking back slightly.
From your position, the kitchen looks empty. You can just see the back door open, but can't see out of it.
Rann nods to you, then ducks round the door inside.
You hear his voice.
"Clear."
A renewed burst of gunfire comes from outside.
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Post by Treyvon Johnson on May 15, 2006 0:55:05 GMT
I duck into the kitchen as well, positioning myself on the other side of the door.
"Can you see anything out there?"
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