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Post by Saint Juarez on Sept 8, 2009 10:09:39 GMT -5
Saint strode through the halls getting angrier with every fallen student he saw. He despised gangs, considering them bullies that were less than men because they could not keep their violence among themselves and let it spread terror over entire communities. He pulled the knives from his boots.
He might not have been so insane if he wasn't terrified for his siblings whom he felt greatly responsible for. He entered the cafeteria and saw the gang members heading for the teachers lounge. One of them sent a tall young man sprawling to the floor with a slender red head. he began to see more red than just her hair. With a smooth flick of his wrist a knife flew through the air and lodged itself in one of the boy's arms. He screamed as Saint transferred his remaining knife to his main hand
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Post by Admin on Sept 8, 2009 20:29:09 GMT -5
Mr. Phan was, it seemed, nowhere to be found. The ordinary occupants of Gould, and those of its rival Silver, were fleeing as fast as they could. Had he already escaped? Velasquez grunted in frustration. This raid on the school was supposed to be easy. Go in, find Phan, get out. Perhaps he and the other three had gone a bit over-board, interested in a little revenge against the snotty rich natural citizens. But now, now that it was clear this wasn't going to be easy, he was beginning to think this had been a mistake. The community was going to crack down harder than ever on their activities, and frankly this had not been authorized by the higher ups. He had meant to impress them....didn't look like they would be so impressed now.
He shrieked with pain as a knife glanced against his arm, dropping his gun but quickly grabbing it again with his uninjured hand, and he turned to glare malevolently at the source. Stupid brat, bringing a knife to a gun fight! He snarled, taking aim at the knife-throwing idiot.
"Bad idea, Pana." A blonde youth appeared next to Velasquez, dragging a spitting, snarling brunette demon with him. "Callate!" He barked, pressing the gun against the nape of her neck. "Move it, trinchante, or I shoot."
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Post by Anibal Desales on Sept 8, 2009 20:46:38 GMT -5
Anibal slipped and scrambled towards his brother, panic rising. This wasn't right, this couldn't be right. Jorge did not hold girls hostage, especially not girls that they went to school with. "Jorge!!" His voice went several octaves higher than he would have liked in his anxiety. He didn't know Jessica all that well; she was two grades higher than him, and a bit of a loner as far as he could tell. But he recognized her, and he recognized that there was a gun in his brother's hand. Only, it didn't make sense, because their step-brother was Japanese, so Jorge couldn't be involved in anything like this.
Jorge glared at his little sister. No, brother. Argh, it was so difficult to keep that straight mentally. "Anibal! GO. AWAY." The girl in his arms jerked, and he pressed the gun to her more firmly. Velasquez was firing indiscriminately at the kid with the knives, a kid he happened to recognize as they were in the same grade. It didn't matter; he apparently was operating under the delusion that he could win a gunfight with knives.
Anibal, however, had no intentions of going away, particularly not when, as Velasquez had to stop and reload, Saint made a move with his knives. "Don't touch my brother!" He flung himself at the goth boy, at that moment not caring that Jorge was part of the havoc being wreaked at Gould.
"Go find Phan," Jorge murmured to Velasquez, who gave one contemptuous look at the two wrestling on the ground before stalking off to the teacher's lounge, intent on his victim as Jorge held tight to Jessica Pruitte, watching with some amusement as his younger brother (sister?) attempted to wrestle a goth in his defense.
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Post by Levi Rubenstein on Sept 8, 2009 21:58:21 GMT -5
“Okay,” Denny was starting to get a little wound up. Levi could always tell because Denny would start to sweat from his brow just a little. “So assuming that it is a virus based thing, zombies could run just like any living thing. Running zombies make sense!”
The two were sitting in the cafeteria. Lunch today was entirely unappetizing, so the pair had simply gotten sodas and chips from the vending machines. Levi had even gone so far as to get a M&M cookie, which prompted a look of envy from the tubby diabetic that was his best friend.
Levi didn't like the idea of running zombies. A lot of it had to do with just the classic idea of what a zombie is, but there were too many logical hurdles for a running zombie to exist. “Look, a virus still couldn't produce enough of what a body needs to stave off muscle decay. Maybe a fresh zombie could, but they would slowly decompose. And any injury to the muscles wouldn't be repaired like in a live person. A running zombie would be a rarity.”
“No. No! Anyone who contracts the virus and dies would rise up just fine! They would be able to-” Denny was cut off by the echo of gunfire. Everyone in the cafeteria went silent, looking towards the source of the noise. There was hardly any movement and only whispers floated through the air. Then the intercom bleated it warning, and voices rose. Some panicked and began to stand as four armed men entered the cafeteria.
Levi and Denny both dove to the ground. Neither were men of action, the heroes in the stories they read. Levi mentally went through a list of super powers he wished he had so that he could do something about this disaster. People were crying, screaming. Levi kept his eyes shut and tried to imagine it all away. He could hear Denny breathing incredibly hard.
A scuffle caused Levi to finally open his eyes. Confusion washed over him as he saw two students rumbling on the ground. Neither looked the same as the guys who had guns. However, Levi did notice that one of the armed men had grabbed a girl, a hostage. He was holding a gun to her neck. Jessica something, a junior. Levi recognized her from Silver.
Not knowing what came over him, Levi stood. Denny peeked up at him in amazement. “Get down!” he hissed, “You're going to get yourself killed!” But something compelled Levi, something he had never felt before in his life.
“Take me.” Levi stepped forward towards the assailant, his hands in the air. “Let her go, man. Take me instead.”
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Post by Saint Juarez on Sept 8, 2009 22:43:02 GMT -5
Saint went still in the other student's arms. He didn't want to hurt someone who was worried about his brother. ¿Su hermano va a matar a esa muchacha y cómo él entonces vive con se, amigo?" he said softly, his accent pure Castellan as it came from his father who came from Spanish aristocracy. "None of these kids have hurt anyone. I just wanted to draw their wrath away from the innocents."
Saint's eyes widened as one of the roleplaying nerds offered himself in place of the girl they were holding hostage. His respect level raised significantly in his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't release me," he hissed. He wasn't a wrestler which was obvious by his almost anorexic build, but he was quick and limber and he still had one of his knives.
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Post by fryn on Sept 10, 2009 1:11:12 GMT -5
<snip form another post that has some effect>
As soon as Evan flew out of the kitchen and started shouting words that Takumi couldn't even hope to understand, the Japanese boy darted out and slammed his hand down onto the fire extinguisher, aiming at the gunman who was holding the girl as his hostage. The CO2 stream struck him with full force in the back of his head, sending him sprawling. The foam coated the girl and all of the people close by as well with a few of them sliding over to join the gunman. A couple of boys... then a third... ran in to grapple with the gunman but Takumi had turned to face the other one. The one being prodded with the handle end of a ladle.
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Post by Saint Juarez on Sept 10, 2009 11:30:05 GMT -5
Saint could hear his brother and sister and he twisted out of Jorge’s arms to try to go to them. As soon as he stood he was down again, red clouding his vision and a dagger of fire piercing his brain. “I' madre apesadumbrada de m, le fallé,” he whispered as he went unconscious.
“Saint!” Lia screamed and ran to him. She cradled his bleeding head in her lap and tried to stop the bleeding with her multicolored gauze skirt. Salty tears fell to dilute the blood on his face. “Don’t die, I love you too much,” she sobbed.
The gunman, distracted, barely turned before Jandro jumped him with kitchen knives, driving them into his back. He was crying as well, but an anger that was totally new to him was burning in his chest and someone had to pull him off the gang member whom he continued to stab over and over again.
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Post by losangelespolice on Sept 11, 2009 9:32:37 GMT -5
The police swarmed the halls, and the fighting students were quickly taken down. Jandro and the gunman were forced to the hall floor their arms jerked behind them as zipties were fastened against their wrists biting into the flesh there. The SWAT officers and the police didn't have the time to figure out who was "good" and who was "bad" in this situation. Treating the incident as a full blown assault, the officers treated everyone equally. Sometimes it was obvious to see who was innocent and who wasn't.
Other times, such as now, there were no innocent. The boy with the gun and the boys with the knives were arrest. Saint's wounds checked over, the by standers and the martyr were quickly assessed and told to "Stay put!" the school was on lock down and no one was getting in or out. Then they moved on, one staying behind to wait for the paramedics to arrive and tend the fallen youth in the girls lap.
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