Night 52: Rec Field
[from here]This was already further than Sai had gotten the past couple nights, which was saying something. It was getting over the wall that would be the real test, though. The actual act of scaling the brick would be simple, but the night had an odd way of ending before he'd gotten beyond that point. Hopefully the same wouldn't hold true this
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Mello stepped outside and stopped, lifting a hand to signal to Matt to hold up, too. It was already active out here tonight, a shouting brainwashed prisoner he did not want to tangle with, and that was assuming they made it that far without attracting the attention of the... bird thing.
"Bloody fuck," he muttered, and thought fast. Chance it, or not? Both threats were occupied with other prisoners at the moment, but they might not stay that way. Matt was in no condition to decide. There might be worse behind them. There might be nothing behind you. Do you just get a kick out of risking Matt's life?
Mello did let an annoyed huff escape now. Let the bugs say what they liked; they wanted to make him waver, and wavering was never the answer. He squared his shoulders. "Run for the wall, and don't stop for anything."
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He chanced a look at Mello, sharper than he initially assumed he was capable of; vicodin on an empty stomach? Matt was honestly surprised he hadn't collapsed before then. He wasn't sure how far into the battle he could get before his body just... gave up on him. Hopefully he could hang on as long as Mello could. It would really aggravate him if he let the blond have one more thing to boast about when they decided to be pricks at each other.
"Oi!" he called back, giving their possible opponent a really grouchy look. "They're not pajamas. They're uniforms." A point which was somewhat skewed, he had to admit, but accurate nonetheless ( ... )
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"Oh, poor form, Landel," Mello muttered, even as his eyes widened at how fast and agile the brainwashed, armored bastard was. The Head Arsehole had never played fair, couldn't be expected to start, but. It wasn't fair, letting someone have abilities like that.
If he took time to think, that wicked-looking blade would make mincemeat out of them, so he grabbed Matt's arm and bolted for the wall, dragging him along. Action first, justify later.
There was always going to be some damn thing or other blocking the way to whatever goal he set, he thought as he ran. He was sure of that, and it didn't matter which part of his brain was trying to argue that he should have turned back, or which was accusing him of useless recklessness (that had to be the bugs). He was sick of dead ends and wasted time, of every damn night bringing him no closer to getting out, of never feeling like he'd tried everything he could. He was not willing to wake up wondering if they should have pressed on. They weren't ( ... )
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"Hah! Is that so?" Sechs asked as he rolled his scruffy head to the side to glare down at his prey, "A stupid-looking grey getup with some goofy smiley face?! Well, I'd say those are the weirdest 'uniforms' I've ever seen yet!"
And once again, the Replica's prey took the coward's way out and made a desperate scramble for the wall. Watching the two stumble and drag themselves down the lawn, Sechs' grin only grew all the more wolfish. There was an excited roar, shortly followed by another dull crunch of the building losing more pieces of its exterior as Sechs leapt into the hunt ( ... )
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His face scrunched into a glare as he watched the guy practically throw his blade in Mello's face. Leering forward, Matt swiped at the sword with the arm not currently firmly held by his friend. "Get that thing out of his face, arsehole! We're not waltzing through anyone's territory - 'cept Landel's."
His eyes narrowed; this situation rang a little too familiar for his taste, and it was finally starting to dawn on him that something wasn't right with this one. "Oi, how much do you want to bet that you're stuck here just like we are, and they brainwashed you t'handle us like this ( ... )
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"Of course he's one of us," he said, ostensibly to Matt, but of course for their attacker's benefit, too. He ignored the whisper that this tactic had already been proven not to work. That German was a git even when he wasn't brainwashed. Someone who was reasonable under it all might be a different story. Or maybe you have to believe you can talk your way out of this, since you didn't have the sense to admit it was hopeless when it would have done you some good.
He adjusted his grip on his flashlight, readying to try to parry an outright attack, just in case. I'll talk my way out of it, because I have to. "Landel's making you do this," he said. "You'll realize it in the morning. ( ... )
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"Blah, blah, blah! Is that all you crazy pajama kids do is talk and run?!" Sechs barked, as the weapon wielding arm slowly rotated, shifting the crystalline blade into a vertical angle, "You're starting to bore me here!"
The next second brought with it another violent blur of sharpened teeth and metal. Sechs threw back his blade and stomped forward, swinging the flat side of his weapon towards the two patients. A good smacking ought to knock some sense into them!
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But this guy seemed intent on smacking them around with that giant blade of his. What was that about? Why dick around on them; why not just swing, chop, behead? More and more was seeming out of whack - of course, that could very well have just been the drugs making things seem out of whack, but Matt had that good ole gut instinct that that wasn't it. Something was weird about these patients, and it had Landel's name written all over it.
Of course, as he was thinking, Matt never thought to actually duck. The flat side of the blade ended up meeting the front side of his nose; there was a small crunching noise, and he forced himself back, stumbling out of Mello's grip as he silently fell to his butt on the cold grass. The brunet was far too surprised by the attack to make any sort of noise, but, even as the searing pain made its ( ... )
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The blade struck its mark, sending the two prisoners tumbling over like hapless rag dolls. Withdrawing his heavy blade, Sechs chortled and shook his head at the sad sight. That was too easy! He had barely put any effort into that swing! If he had used his full strength, those two punks would have found themselves flying across the whole field!
Thinking that the two should have learned their lesson by now, Sechs raised his Titan blade once more for another strike. It was time to send these kids back to bed! In its folded state, the weapon reached five feet in height, but that quickly changed when its owner extended its true length with a strident KA-CHAK that echoed throughout the field ( ... )
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One hand still covering his nose - which was bleeding now by the way, thanks crazy brainwashed arsehole - Matt planted the other firmly against the grass, shoving himself toward Mello. The other darted out, blood on the palm, but that didn't matter, because in the next second he was grabbing Mello's arm, and his other hand dug through the dirt and the grass for a rock; taking it in his hand, he swung it down, hard, and it smashed the ring just as he grunted, "There!"
[teleporting to here]
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