Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » Comfortably Numb (Semi Open, Ask First)

Josh glanced up at him, his sapphire blue eyes wide and shocked. He looked back down at the gun in his hand, dropping it after a moment of thought like it was dangerous and was going to infect him with a deadly virus or something.
"Wh... What...?"

"Its okay. You got PTSD. Mild, but still. C'mon. Grab my hand, and lets get the hell outta here before their leader shows up," Sanders said, still reaching out with his right hand. He had the guns holstered, and reloaded. His Bowie knife was on his belt's chest.

Little did anyone know, Vladimir wasn't too far away. In fact, he was at the plane's hull. He was observing all the damage he had caused, and was moving closer, his trench coat flapping in the breeze, his cigar smoking above his head.

He nodded numbly, reaching down to pick Randall up again. It was then that the kid let out a sort of snarl and his eyes shot open and he instinctively shot a hand out, almost smacking Josh in the face.
"SH-"
"Randall! Shush!" He clamped a hand over Randall's mouth to keep him from finishing his cuss, holding a finger to his lips to tell him to keep quiet. Randall nodded finally, rubbing his head before freezing when he saw Sanders. His brow furrowed in distrust and he glanced at Josh like Who the hell is that?

"Goddam kid, keep quiet! Those Reds are anywhere!" Sanders looked around, getting a little paranoid. And he had right to. Vladimir had heard the noise, and sent his men running towards it. He began his slow walk, taking great care not to damage anything. In that way, he was the scariest man alive.

Randall held his hands up in an apology before slapping Josh's hand away. He sat up quickly, ignoring the painful thrumming in the back of his head, glancing around quickly before asking in a low whisper, "Where's Mom?"
Oh... Josh had forgotten about that in the midst of all the excitement, which made him feel horribly guilty on top of everything else.
"I... I don't know," he gasped weakly, starting to rock back and forth while hugging his knees. "I don't know, Randall, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..."
His brother frowned; something was definitely not right here. "You okay?"
He was met with a shake of the head from Josh.

Sanders thought that they were going to be alright. Hell, he thought that he'd never have to use his gun again today. Unfortunately for him, he was wrong. Oh so wrong. There were Russian soldiers running towards them. Many of those soldiers were well trained, and would be more than a match for all three of them. As much as he'd love to stay and talk, he'd have to run. He tossed a flash grenade, and a smoke grenade, in the direction of the enemy, watching as they ran around blinded.

"C'mon girls. We gotta go," Sanders said, and pulled both of them up, and pointed towards the water. "Navy Pier. The last stronghold here. We make it to that thing, we are saved. You understand? One of my friends is there,"

"Talk about it later?" Randall asked Josh, who merely nodded again. How uncharscteristic. "Good. C'mon, let's go."
He stood up and staggered there a moment like a hungover alcoholic. "Whoa... Holy crap..."
Josh limped to his feet and steadied his brother with a skinny arm around his shoulders, his eyes still wide and vacant. "Have a gun... I don't want it anymore... I don't know..."
Yeah, something wasn't right, Randall figured.

"No, fools! Kill American!" A voice boomed in a heavy, loud, commanding accent. He was Russian. No doubt. Sanders didn't waste a second in opening fire with his MP5, sending the poor infantrymen to their deaths. Vladimir smiled, his Aviator glasses letting him see through the smoke, and his fist tightening. Sanders was just about to see the man behind all of this.

Roberts got up, another man with him. That man screamed, and two 20mm shells ripped through his chest, killing him instantly. Vladimir's hand just rested by his side, returned there by his will. In his left hand was a .475 automatic machine gun, most likely something not known to mankind yet. It looked like an MP5, but wasn't. It was short, and had a clip of 30 rounds. Light enough to be carried in one hand, and very accurate.

Roberts tried to distract him, shooting his 9mm pistol into the man, but it didn't even hurt him. It just hit his armor, which was the usual infantry body armor for commandos. Kevlar with a titanium plate. Vladimir took one look at that man, and swung his fist, shattering the skull.

"NOW WHAT?!" Randall yelled over the gunfire to Sanders, locking and loaded and plugging an unfortunate Russian who had gotten too close for comfort.
Josh was breathing heavily, the sounds deafening and rattling around in his currently empty mind. This... This was incomprehensible. The kid just couldn't compute.
He had killed people, and now Randall was too. The hell?

"Vladimir... Oh dear god..." Sanders couldn't understand. Vladimir had ordered the strike, ordered everything. Now he was raiding the US with everything he had. And that was a lot. As far as Sanders knew, there wasn't much that could kill Vladimir. The infantrymen in front of Vladimir were shredded by Randall and Sanders, but Vladimir wouldn't budge. He just kept smiling. "Run. Like. Hell."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, shoving Josh behind him and toward the place Sanders said to go originally. "Josh- RUN, JOSH! I'LL COVER YOU- GO!"
The order found its way to Josh's brain and his instincts kicked in. Run? He had never heard a better idea before in his life.
Off he went, limping as fast as he could go, as Randall back pedaled and covered his brother's retreat. He was definitely taking the idea of death better, mostly because he didn't think about it like Josh did. Josh over thought the situation; Randall merely looked at them as enemies who were threatening his life and his brother's life and had to be knocked out before they could cause any harm. Simple as that.

"Randall?" Sanders had his gun ready, but had a couple of grenades unpinned. He'd distract Vladimir while they escaped. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too hard. Unfortunately, that's just what he always thought. Sometimes he was right, other times he was wrong. Oh so wrong. He hoped it wasn't like this today.

"What?" he asked in return, glancing over at Sanders quickly after blowing out the kneecaps of a Russian. "What is it?"

"When I drop these, run in the opposite direction of me. Got it? Meet up at Navy Pier," Sanders said, and dropped the grenades. He took off on the right side, so that he would draw the cannon fire from Vladimir, and that the .475 weapon was trained on Randall. He knew Randall would be okay, but he didn't know about himself.

"Got it. Watch your ass," he added after a moment of thought before sprinting away as fast as his long legs could carry him, catching up with Josh and helping to drag him along to the Navy pier. "How's your leg?"
"I killed people, Randall. People."
Now that explained everything.

As per Jacob's orders, a 1 hour artillery barrage was ordered, and prepped. He knew that Vladimir was out there, but he didn't know where. So the artillery strike was ordered on the airplane. Huge 152mm guns roared in the night, pounding the ground to rubble. Vladimir, Sanders, and the boys escaped, and Sanders got to the gates of the barbed wire. Hopefully they'd recognize them.

(Keep going, I'm not sure how to respond)

( Happened twice.)

"Hey, boys, you okay?" Sanders said, crouching down on a piece of rubble. The barbed wire gate in front of them had to be opened from the inside, but he could've just as easily hopped the fence. He didn't want to, but it was a good option. If any.

"Fine," Randall said with a nod, an oddly comforting arm around Josh's shoulders. "Got a helluva headache but it should go away in the morning."
If he lived to see the morning.

"Good, good. How about you, Josh? Still got the PTSD?" Sanders was rubbing his head, mostly because it hurt like hell. Of course it would hurt like hell. What part of him WOULDN'T hurt like hell?