OOM: Pre-Milliways
"Game Over."
He wasn't entirely sure where he was going or what he was doing as he abandoned Rigg amid steel and twisted metal, fully expecting that the wound to the gut would kill him in a matter of minutes.
He'd die slowly. Painfully.
A variant of the blanket drag is the clothes drag, where the rescuer drags the victim by the clothing on the victim’s upper body
It was hard to ignore that police instinct. Still hard,doubly so. Feelings he thought he had surpressed for almost a year rising to the surface thanks to Rigg, his friend, his victim.
Stopping short, he put a hand on the wall and did his best to ignore the buzzing in his pocket. The plan'd go ahead as scheduled and the girl-the little girl-
If the casualty is ambulatory, you and your partner should assist him to safety. However, if the victim has either a spinal injury or a fractured extremity, there are a number of two-rescuer techniques that can be used to move him to safety.
He kept walking.
Remember, in any instance of a need for rescue, your first priority is to preserve all life at whatever cost to you.
He pretended that his footsteps weren't slowing. He needed to sleep, he needed to eat, fuck he needed to take a piss and he couldn't. Not yet. He needed to play a part, to do something important so that John fucking Kramer (who was dead by now if god in his infinite fucked-up occasional mercy actually existed).
He picked up the cellphone in his pocket, slicked with sweat, "...Corbett?"
"Mr. Hoffman?" She'd been mispronouncing his name all night. He found it endearing.
She's as good a reason as any not to go back for Rigg.
The poor little girl had probably been in there for hours since Amanda put her in there. She'd had sense, they learned that, but the very idea that they were now reduced to kidnapping children left a bitter taste in his mouth so bad he gagged.
No sleep. No food. It will be the best thing in the world to crawl into bed and take three ambien so that nobody wakes me up-
He stood in front of her door, "I'm coming baby." She was too goddamn endearing for her own good. He hated doing this to her. You're my way out kiddo, and I'm yours. It's only fair.
And then he'd keep going. Do the last two jobs out of obligation, make sure to talk to Tuck (the bitch) then continue living his life. Everything would be fine.. He'd come out a hero, John was dead. He knew if he'd just waited, bided his time..
That was it. He told Rigg that. He did! No one could fault him for it. There had to be a few casualties, but John Kramer was dead, he fucking had to be and then-and then-
His headache had turned into a roar. Closing his eyes he threw open the door to the storage room and stepped in-
"It's going to be okay kiddo. It's going to be-"
"...What the fuck?.."
He wasn't entirely sure where he was going or what he was doing as he abandoned Rigg amid steel and twisted metal, fully expecting that the wound to the gut would kill him in a matter of minutes.
He'd die slowly. Painfully.
A variant of the blanket drag is the clothes drag, where the rescuer drags the victim by the clothing on the victim’s upper body
It was hard to ignore that police instinct. Still hard,doubly so. Feelings he thought he had surpressed for almost a year rising to the surface thanks to Rigg, his friend, his victim.
Stopping short, he put a hand on the wall and did his best to ignore the buzzing in his pocket. The plan'd go ahead as scheduled and the girl-the little girl-
If the casualty is ambulatory, you and your partner should assist him to safety. However, if the victim has either a spinal injury or a fractured extremity, there are a number of two-rescuer techniques that can be used to move him to safety.
He kept walking.
Remember, in any instance of a need for rescue, your first priority is to preserve all life at whatever cost to you.
He pretended that his footsteps weren't slowing. He needed to sleep, he needed to eat, fuck he needed to take a piss and he couldn't. Not yet. He needed to play a part, to do something important so that John fucking Kramer (who was dead by now if god in his infinite fucked-up occasional mercy actually existed).
He picked up the cellphone in his pocket, slicked with sweat, "...Corbett?"
"Mr. Hoffman?" She'd been mispronouncing his name all night. He found it endearing.
She's as good a reason as any not to go back for Rigg.
The poor little girl had probably been in there for hours since Amanda put her in there. She'd had sense, they learned that, but the very idea that they were now reduced to kidnapping children left a bitter taste in his mouth so bad he gagged.
No sleep. No food. It will be the best thing in the world to crawl into bed and take three ambien so that nobody wakes me up-
He stood in front of her door, "I'm coming baby." She was too goddamn endearing for her own good. He hated doing this to her. You're my way out kiddo, and I'm yours. It's only fair.
And then he'd keep going. Do the last two jobs out of obligation, make sure to talk to Tuck (the bitch) then continue living his life. Everything would be fine.. He'd come out a hero, John was dead. He knew if he'd just waited, bided his time..
That was it. He told Rigg that. He did! No one could fault him for it. There had to be a few casualties, but John Kramer was dead, he fucking had to be and then-and then-
His headache had turned into a roar. Closing his eyes he threw open the door to the storage room and stepped in-
"It's going to be okay kiddo. It's going to be-"
"...What the fuck?.."