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(CYOA) The Last Article -PART 2

Discussion in 'Choose Your Own Adventure Land' started by WetWorks, May 14, 2014.

  1. Zero Credibility Arcane

    Zero Credibility
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    2,889
    So we can get upstairs without getting in front of his gun? If yes, then do RUNRUNRUN. Even if there is no escape from there (and there might be a fire escape or a window we can jump down from or something) we can then try reasoning with him (doubtful since he was willing to open up with an automatic weapon on someone in a building, he might be just nuts or could consider us a witness) or taking him on (again, very doubtful we can take on an assault rifle with just a hammer - maybe if we disable all the lights we can force him to hunt us in the dark, but even that is insanely risky).
     
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  2. tindrli Arcane

    tindrli
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    Dragodol

    nooo, distract a subject with something and use the hammer!!!
     
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  3. Zero Credibility Arcane

    Zero Credibility
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    Well, we can distract him by having him shoot us. Apart from that our best bet may be killing the lights if we can do that without exposing ourself to fire and / or making a run for it if there is somewhere to run to without him shooting us in the back.
     
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  4. Nevill Arcane

    Nevill
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    Shadorwun: Hong Kong
    The whole town has gone insane, there is nowhere to run.

    Just hammer him and get the gun. Then you'll be safe.
     
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  5. Azira Arcane Patron

    Azira
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    Location:
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    Codex 2012
    Charge a person with an assault rifle while you, yourself, are only armed with a hammer.

    Now that's a bright plan. :roll:
     
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  6. Nevill Arcane

    Nevill
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    Shadorwun: Hong Kong
    Shush, don't question it, you'll ruin the magic.
     
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  7. tindrli Arcane

    tindrli
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    if he's a ninja it is a plan!!!!
     
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  8. Azira Arcane Patron

    Azira
    Joined:
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    Location:
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    Codex 2012
    And the current protagonist is a lesbian sales(wo)man. Do the math.
     
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  9. Gondolin Arcane

    Gondolin
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    Location:
    In the Playground, reading LPs
    The math says she can't run either. Oh, well. Two protagonists dead before page 5 has to be some kind of record.
     
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  10. Nevill Arcane

    Nevill
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    Shadorwun: Hong Kong
    The logic says that if someone is toting a shotgun and shooting at shadows in a blind panic, you might want to avoid rash moves and try and talk to them first, preferably out of cover, to get them used to the idea you are there and not surprise them with a sudden movement. He isn't afraid of you personally, of that at least we can be certain.

    But hey, logic and the 'Dex rarely go well together.

    Myself, I just want another notch on a keyboard, since the author is offering. :lol:
     
    Last edited: May 28, 2014
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  11. tindrli Arcane

    tindrli
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    the logic says that that particular person is easily distracted. throw something and hit it hard
     
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  12. Gondolin Arcane

    Gondolin
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    Playing dead until the last possible moment is the way to go. If we're going to fight, we might as well strike from behind and fast. No sense in playing fair.
     
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  13. tindrli Arcane

    tindrli
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    thats a good idea.-

    beside that, i wouldnt mind if we call a police and she appear

    [​IMG]
     
    Last edited: May 30, 2014
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  14. WetWorks Arcane Patron

    WetWorks
    Joined:
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    Location:
    Facedown in the mud
    Project: Eternity Codex USB, 2014
    The firm steps are coming closer and with desperation in my hands and fear in my eyes that cause them to water, I rise, slink over besides the door and raise the wicked looking hammer to prepare for a surprise blow to the shooter. I unconsciously picture a skull getting with the hammer, breaking, the pouring of blood and bone.
    He is nearer. Steps coming. Closer.

    Then it stops.

    He must be right in the door, looking in.
    My head swims, but with a murderous resolves I swing around into the doorway striking the space where his head is likely to be. The hammer connects with nothing but air and I lose footing for a second while I feel incredibly stupid, and then when I see him, terror.

    He is black, big. The top of his left skull is scorched, blackened and twisted skin in its placed flanked by what remains of his buzz cut. His left eye is a fluidic pulpy mesh that leaks messy tears down his cheeks. He regards me for a brief moment, light in his right eye, then he hammers the butt of the black rifle right in my face and I hear a sick, cracking noise and feel red seething pain. I taste blood, and my throat chokes on the thick liquid that has a strong tinge of iron.
    I drop like a sack of bricks, not feeling the impact on the lobby floor. Instead, I am awash in the pain in my face and the blood in my mouth. The black man steps over me, checks out the lobby with a twist of his head and then screams something at me. I cannot really focus on it, since my skull really hurts, but I pick up the words bitch, and something in me thinks that is one of his kinder words. He leaves my sight, and I start coughing up the blood in my mouth. I touch my nose and recoils in grinding pain as I feel it is broken. The burnt, black man returns and points his rifle at me.
    “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, BITCH?” he screams. His spit flies.
    I try to reply, but only manage to cough up some more piles of blood.
    I calm myself and try to reason with the obviously deranged man.
    “Look, I’m sorry, but you shot at me.”
    “I ASKED YOU WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE? DO YOU WANNA GET SHOT IN BRAIN?” His face is contorted in rage, and his bad eye leaks more thick fluid. There is a track of the grimy tears going from his eye to the top of his mouth. Something in me shivers with the thought of him eating his own infected matter.
    “No, I don’t want to get shot. Please!” I manage to say, and I sound surprisingly calm and collected as I say it. As if dealing with this unhinged shooter has equaled my own levels of tranquility.
    “My name is Jill Thompson. I’m from Chicago. I travel around and sell cleaning products; well I travel to vendors and demonstrate cleaning products.” I feel stupid as I say this, but I retain my calm demeanor.
    He looks at me with his shiny right eye. A few seconds pass by, and it feels as if my words hang in the air and he is trying to use his one remaining eye to determine whether I am telling the truth or not.
    “You a fucking cleaning lady?” He says with a sense of disbelief in his voice. “A fucking cleaning lady?”
    I consider correcting him, but decide against it. His features and body instantly relaxes. Gone is the deadly readiness that had been there before. He even lowers his rifle.
    He regards me again, and then starts laughing loudly, with a slight touch of mania in his laughter.
    He calms himself after a good guttural laugh, and then looks at me with a pitying smile.
    “Wow, lady, you got the shaft. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
    “What’s going on here?” I implore him, my own calmness now dissipated in worry and uncertainty.
    “You’re fucking dead, that’s what going on here, lady.” He smiles again. He looks around one more time, takes the five steps over to the coke machine, rummages about in his jeans for coins and then gets himself a Coke. He uses the cold can on his forehead before opening it.
    I look at his back, at his dirty white windbreaker. “Please, what is happening here?” Tell me?”
    He turns around, sips and looks slightly content.
    Look lady, they are gonna kill all of us here. Or those fucking things are. It doesn’t really matter, cause you might as well go back up to your room and hang yourself. Theyre gonna get you, you hear?” He looks unsympathetically at me.
    “They sure as shit want me dead. Fuck the fact that they just posted me here themselves, they still want me fucking dead. But they ain’t getting me. Nothing with a fight, they ain’t.” his eyes glaze as he speaks. He is rambling, and I let him go on, hoping to salvage something from his broken words, from his broken mind.
    “This is their thing, though I don’t really think it’s their thing, cause all the people disappearing and stuff, that must have been something else, cause they sure as shit didn’t go to the greenhouse. They all went of fucking east I think. Into the hills. And they were like fucking zombies man, all dead inside and shit.” He grows quiet, a defeated look on his face. “They are probably all dead now.”

    I feel sympathy for this man even if I don’t understand what he is saying, even if he did break my nose, and yes, even if he did try to kill. He is a broken shell of a man and I feel a desire to help him. He has been through enough.
    “It’s gonna be okay. I don’t know what you have been through but it looks to be a lot. But you don’t have to worry anymore, cause I called the police. They are going to be h…”
    He instantly returns to his threatening body language and expression. “YOU DID WHAT?”
    I retreat a few steps, holding up my hands defensively. “They said they were going to send someone. Look, it’s all right now!”
    He sends out a sardonic burst of laughter. “You fucking bitch. YOU GOING TO GET THE BOTH OF US DEAD!!! DON’T YOU GET THAT???”
    “I’M SORRY!” I yell, not knowing what else to say, to get him to call down again. However, I sense that it is all too late.
    He grabs the rifle in his hands, peers out the windowless door. He seems to be searching the night sky. “Oh yeah, here they come. Here come your cavalry!”
    And he is right, off in the distance I hear the low, low sounds of propellers slicing up the heavens into pockets of air.
    The burnt man turns to face, wearing a particularly grim, mocking smile. “Look you can go out and have a happy little get-together with them boys, I don’t care. But whatever the hell you do, don’t fucking follow me, you got that? I’ll put a fucking bullet in you if I see you again! And with that angry threat, he disappears out the door, shards of glass twisting loudly under his black boots.

    I am alone in the lobby, and somehow I feel even more alone than before I met the crazy burnt man. In the distance, I can hear the helicopter coming. Coming for me, as the burnt man said. I am utterly confused, not knowing what to make of everything. This whole situation makes no sense, and I am overcome with a wish to be on the road again, to be in Clarksville, Pennsylvania or Wompton, Idaho, pitching a sale to some mom & pop store. I tear up again, and my thoughts wander off to Antonia once again. I suddenly feel I should do as the soldier suggested that I should go and hang myself in the motel room; to be done with all the confusion and the hurt, with the past and with present. Then I focus on Antonia’s face and feel her hands on me again, I smell her hair and feel her lips and I start crying again. I am a mess of tears and blood. Suddenly I feel a great big surge of life go through me. I want to live. I WANT TO LIVE, I think and my tears stop and are replaced with a smile.
    I want to live.


    Wait for the helicopter.

    Try to follow the burnt man.

    Get your mace, carkeys, money and stuff in the motel room.

    Run from the motel.

    Hide.
     
    Last edited: Jun 7, 2014
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  15. ERYFKRAD Barbarian Patron

    ERYFKRAD
    Joined:
    Sep 25, 2012
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    18,490
    Serpent in the Staglands Shadorwun: Hong Kong Pillars of Eternity 2: Deadfire Pathfinder: Kingmaker
    Get stuff from motel.
     
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  16. asxetos Augur

    asxetos
    Joined:
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    Location:
    Greece
    Try to follow the burnt man.

    Seems legit.
     
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  17. tindrli Arcane

    tindrli
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    Dragodol
    another vote for get stuff
     
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  18. Jester Arbiter

    Jester
    Joined:
    Mar 24, 2013
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    1,493
    Grab stuff so you can sell something to new arrivals.
     
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  19. WetWorks Arcane Patron

    WetWorks
    Joined:
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    Location:
    Facedown in the mud
    Project: Eternity Codex USB, 2014
    wtf happened to my text? Small fucking fonts
     
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  20. anus_pounder Arcane

    anus_pounder
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    Yiffing in Hell
    Grab stuff :salute:
     
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  21. Pussycat669 Liturgist

    Pussycat669
    Joined:
    Jun 13, 2006
    Messages:
    667
    Location:
    In a fine suit
    Hide from whatever is coming

    Maybe that way we'll able to collect some intel on what is really going on.
     
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  22. Grimgravy Augur Patron

    Grimgravy
    Joined:
    Sep 12, 2013
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    Codex 2016 - The Age of Grimoire
    Get the stuff.
     
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  23. WetWorks Arcane Patron

    WetWorks
    Joined:
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    Location:
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    Project: Eternity Codex USB, 2014
    Busy being busy with stuff. Update coming this weekend. Apologies.
     
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  24. WetWorks Arcane Patron

    WetWorks
    Joined:
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    Location:
    Facedown in the mud
    Project: Eternity Codex USB, 2014
    A slight, dusty rain has commenced as I make my way across the parking lot and back to the hotel room. Up in the black dusky sky I can see the outline of an even blacker machine, and I hear the battering blades sending it my way. Towards the motel.

    I lock myself back into the room and stop for an instance, overcome with confusion as to why I am here. Then I remember, and start to survey the area. I quickly spot my cell, snag it off the bed with a gluttonous movement and check it. There are no bars, no coverage and no message from Antonia. Despite the lost signal, I try her anyway, wiping a forming tear from my right eye. There is a delayed silence, then a series of metallic sounding beeps, and then I reach the 911 operator. The same silken voiced operator. What are the odds? I Hear her speak; hear her tell me to stay put in the motel, that the army has sent in a chopper to come get me. However, there is something about it that just seems wrong. Why are there no cell coverage anymore? There was a fine reception when I got here yesterday. How did she know it was me? But, of course, she can probably see my number displayed somewhere, probably on some great 911 computer or something. But, why is she the only one staffing this “mission” or whatever it is? And what about that helicopter? Didn’t she say she would send patrol cars?

    I am confused again, and disquieted. Instead of getting lost in this inferno of the unknowable, I start cramming my belongings down into my purse. I spot the cigarettes and I suddenly feel an overwhelming need to indulge. With trembling hands I light up, take a drag and exhale while my eyes moist over. Outside, the sound of rain on the window mixes with the incoming sound of the helicopter. It is getting much higher, almost deafening, but my eyes glaze over with a sort of calmness, probably a mixture of nicotine chock and the aftermath of adrenaline. I feel sleepy and apathetic, and walk slowly towards the window. As I peer out through a crack in the yellow curtains, I see the great black machine hover across the parking lot. Then six people in black uniforms wearing gas masks and black helmets jump out. They have dark, plastic looking rifles and stuff on their mask that might be some kind of night vision things, but I am not sure. After discharging its payload, the helicopter slowly rises, hovering above the motel, as if surveying the area.

    The smoke fills my lungs, and I taste a wonderful coarse taste in my throat.

    The men mull around on the parking lot, checks the space between the cars, rifles ready. They peer up at the roof and the first floor. Then they bark some words at each other and split up. Two men head to the office building, two remain in the parking lot, their eyes cruising the surroundings for something to shoot. The last two seem to head to the first of the motel rooms. Which means they will probably come my way soon. I look into my purse and see my mace and my car keys. I can drive out of here if I can just get to the car I think. Get far away from this nightmare. Get back to Chicago. Run up the stairs embrace her, and climb down under the cover and never come back out. I smile again and put out my cigarette in the tray. Outside I hear them calling me.

    “Mam? You in here? We have been sent to save you?” The voice is far away, I’m guessing they are in one of the other rooms.

    “We are not going to hurt you mam. We are here to help you. Come on out here and we can take you with us.” They want me out there. And maybe they CAN help me, I think quietly. Maybe they really are here to help me. I mean, they are human just like me, with empathy, with families, with morals, with the capacity for love. Why wouldn’t they help me?
    Then I remember the bodies on TV. The blood in the sand, tuned into a thick purple looking clot. And I remember the men in Butte, their hand and their smell of sweat.
    Then I know that empathy is sometimes in short supply, that morals are sometimes totally forgotten and that love is for those lucky few, the rest having to make due with bitterness and hardship.
    Then I know that they might not be here to help me.


    Outside a black rifle gleams with the wetness of rain droplets



    Go to them. Get help.


    Hide in the motel room.


    Use the bathroom window to escape the room.
     
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  25. anus_pounder Arcane

    anus_pounder
    Joined:
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    Yiffing in Hell
    Black Uniforms, gas masks, rifles. I've played enough games to know where this is going...

    Go to them.
     
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