art trade: unsure Mun: Jess, she/her, chaotic dumbass Roleplay blog, MUTUALS ONLY (Dm if you wish to interact) multi fandom,multi muse, multi ship. main blog: @villiansofsatanism
Listen, bout time we set boundaries here, I was lenient at first but due to some Recent events I'm making the choice to set some rules.
This blog interaction is mutuals only, if I'm not following you I will not interact with you. (This blog is a side blog so all followings is from @villiansofsatanism )
If you wish to interact then dm me and we could discuss.
Please do not spam me to respond, I usually do get busy and side tracked alot reminding me once is good enough.
If I do drop a thread please do not get upset, it's either I lost interest or haven't come up with a good response.
Do not be disgusting/ a general nuisance. (Seriously)
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
His hands found themselves interlocked with one another, "...I got resurrected. Brought back to fight for a rebellion. And, I fought. Fought until I didn't have any damn flesh left." He looked down, a weak grin cracking his lips. "Their spell didn't work for long. Time they found me, it'd been months. So... It only kept me walking for so long."
A beat, as he planned out his next words. "I killed Enrique. I held him down while the others blew the entire place up, and..." He made a general waving motion with one hand, "Boom. I was dead. Again. Here's the weird part though-" As if everything else didn't sound fucking insane. "Adam brought me back."
Technically- no. But getting into the finer details of his resurrection seemed minimal in the moment.
Willow took a moment to process all that. She would believe that is what exactly happened but...
"You said Adam brought you back?... why is that the one thing I can't wrap my head around?..." Willow questioned. Granted, she only knew him on the surface level.
"If it helps, I think this whole goddamned situation is one big mindfuck." He gave a roll of his shoulders before continuing, "He got brought back too. Uhm..." Dean paused, debating mentally if it was worth getting into how Adam was brought back. He still didn't even really get it.
He decided on just waiting to tell her that part, maybe later down the line. There was a lot she had to know, actually. The masked butcher, Adams true intentions in Coasty, what death was really like, Retalon as a whole- too much, too soon.
"...so that's been my life." Dean wrapped it up simply, giving a brief chortle as he sat upright, meeting her eyes. "What's been goin' on with you?"
"Yeah, from how it sound it's seems like you been through alot..." Willow sighed..
She thought back to what she had done after coasty..
"After leaving coasty, I just traved for awhile. I may have gotten the reputation as 'the potion lady' or 'benevolent healer' from a few villages... and I guess finally settling here not so long ago..."
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
His hands found themselves interlocked with one another, "...I got resurrected. Brought back to fight for a rebellion. And, I fought. Fought until I didn't have any damn flesh left." He looked down, a weak grin cracking his lips. "Their spell didn't work for long. Time they found me, it'd been months. So... It only kept me walking for so long."
A beat, as he planned out his next words. "I killed Enrique. I held him down while the others blew the entire place up, and..." He made a general waving motion with one hand, "Boom. I was dead. Again. Here's the weird part though-" As if everything else didn't sound fucking insane. "Adam brought me back."
Technically- no. But getting into the finer details of his resurrection seemed minimal in the moment.
Willow took a moment to process all that. She would believe that is what exactly happened but...
"You said Adam brought you back?... why is that the one thing I can't wrap my head around?..." Willow questioned. Granted, she only knew him on the surface level.
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
"I dunno." He shrugged, looking down as he moved further inside, trying to find a seat. "You wanna hear about it? Long story. Or there's the short version. Both involve Adam and gettin' killed."
Dean gave a short gun of acknowledgement as he sat down, shifting his weight in the seat while leaning back into it. "Well..." He paused, trying to think about the best way to word the explanation. It was better to tell her the whole truth, he figured.
"...after I killed Blue, I left. Walked a couple miles, I think. And I let myself starve to death." He looked up, trying to gauge her reaction. "You ever hear of that war out in the plains, west? That one guy, Enrique. He was trying to take control of everything, become this all powerful fuck?"
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
"I dunno." He shrugged, looking down as he moved further inside, trying to find a seat. "You wanna hear about it? Long story. Or there's the short version. Both involve Adam and gettin' killed."
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
Strange. No one else did, although it was nice to not have to immediately start blabbering that it was him. That simple sentence made him smile a bit, cracking across cut lips. "Shit, I... Yeah. Uhm-"
There was so much he wanted to say. To explain what the hell had happened in Coasty, where he'd gone, what he'd done... But it was too early for that. So, he looked her in the eyes, and spoke softly.
"Of course, how could I ever forget?" She gave him a warm smile.
"I've been alright but uh, do you wanna come in?" Willow asked, offering hospitality to her old friend. Sides it would be better to catch up inside than standing in the doorway.
The only way this could get better was if he didn't have to explain why he didn't have his mask on... But, that question was inevitable. Reasonable one, too.
"That'd be good... Yeah." Dean nodded, "You build this place, or did you get help from the guys out there?" He asked, pointing a thumb back to the village. He'd wondered the same thing all the way back since the original village, but there was never an appropriate time to ask.
The moment he stepped in, he stopped. There it was. He understood, he did. But it truly brought nothing but bad memories from all angles back... At the very least, the woman who's given it to him was back. She'd forgiven him, he just couldn't seem to give himself that reprieve.
"...it got blown up. Second time I died." He cut straight to the point, turning to look at her with a grimace. "A lots happened."
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
Strange. No one else did, although it was nice to not have to immediately start blabbering that it was him. That simple sentence made him smile a bit, cracking across cut lips. "Shit, I... Yeah. Uhm-"
There was so much he wanted to say. To explain what the hell had happened in Coasty, where he'd gone, what he'd done... But it was too early for that. So, he looked her in the eyes, and spoke softly.
"Of course, how could I ever forget?" She gave him a warm smile.
"I've been alright but uh, do you wanna come in?" Willow asked, offering hospitality to her old friend. Sides it would be better to catch up inside than standing in the doorway.
The only way this could get better was if he didn't have to explain why he didn't have his mask on... But, that question was inevitable. Reasonable one, too.
"That'd be good... Yeah." Dean nodded, "You build this place, or did you get help from the guys out there?" He asked, pointing a thumb back to the village. He'd wondered the same thing all the way back since the original village, but there was never an appropriate time to ask.
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
Strange. No one else did, although it was nice to not have to immediately start blabbering that it was him. That simple sentence made him smile a bit, cracking across cut lips. "Shit, I... Yeah. Uhm-"
There was so much he wanted to say. To explain what the hell had happened in Coasty, where he'd gone, what he'd done... But it was too early for that. So, he looked her in the eyes, and spoke softly.
"Of course, how could I ever forget?" She gave him a warm smile.
"I've been alright but uh, do you wanna come in?" Willow asked, offering hospitality to her old friend. Sides it would be better to catch up inside than standing in the doorway.
Closed Starter For @chaoscryptid-inc (Post Mortem)
All signs pointed to this being the right place.
At least, from what the people in the village said. How they described the woman, that had to have been Willow. Even if it had been... Well, he wasn't sure. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. His sense of time had been obliterated with death. Either way, he found himself at the cottages front door.
One bruised fist raised up, as he began to rap his knuckles along the wooden barrier. It came off as impatient, resulting in him halting for a second, before continuing. This time, with one knuckle, his hand turned back to give a gentler knock.
Lyric prompt: "ashes, ashes dust to dust. Tell me I am good enough."
(Just a quick drabble of this scene that plays out in my mind whenever I listen to Curses)
(I would like to thank Dean for the help :>)
The flames grew higher, being fueled by the tents, supplies and the dozen upon dozen of corpses of outlawed men charred away to the point of being unrecognized. A few feet away sat alone a brunette fiddling with her schofield revolver, not admiring her handy work but in deep thought.
This... this was supposed to be revenge, revenge on these men who stole her sister’s life, but now... she feels empty. Cinder was full of grief then anger...but now she feels nothing. Even if she just murdered dozen upon dozen of the ones responsible to avenge a loved one, she feels nothing. This wasn’t gonna bring her back and she knew it.
Yet this is how Cinder could cope. Cope with the last piece of her innocent past now taken from her.
“Cinder?”
A familiar voice called out to her. Cinder looked up blankly to see her pa arriving to the scene.
"Cinder, I've been looking all over for yew-" Rusty began before getting interrupted.
"Am I good enough,pa?"
"Huh?" He responded in confusion to his daughter's sudden question.
"Tell me, I am good enough?..." She asked again as she stared down at the dirt than to look at her pa. Only to be met with silence.
In that moment, Cinder closed her eyes as her hand held the revolver up, aimed at herself letting fate play it out till she was met with some kind of force.Now it wasn't the force of a bullet, this was more of a force of a whitetail buck ramming into to you because why not.
As Cinder opened her eyes she was met with her hand empty, as her gun was ripped out of her grasp and her pa, angered and panicked, holding tightly to her for dear life.
"Yew are good enough." Rusty stated, his voice breaking, like he was about to sob. "Please, please.. talk to me, for Christs sake, talk to me, don't do this shit.."
That was enough to snap Cinder back to reality. The brunette now realised what she could've done, what essentially she attempted to leave behind.
"I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry..." was all she could let out.
Honestly don't know who would read this but I do apologize for being inactive for awhile.
For the past few weeks or month, I decided to take a break from writing simply because it was starting to not be fun anymore and I lacked motivation.
I wanted to get back into writing but then I got busy with school and home life.
So to actully get back into it, I decided to make a s/o scenario blog mainly for the purpose to practice writing again. Since it's new, I will be starting out with a few ocs of mine (this is mainly for friends) before branching out to canon characters.
The blog is @soft-chaotic-cryptid feel free to stop by
Static crackled over the radio that sat in the center console of the car, Mac barely paid any mind to it as he sped down the road with Charlie in the passenger seat.
"-mac, I know you can hear me! Answer me, damnit!"
Miles. Of course it was.
Mac gripped the wheel tight with his left hand as he fished out the radio with his other, he held it to his mouth, "Whaddya want, kid?" He grunted, keeping his eyes glued to the road as he drove around the dozens of zeds and tossed over cars in his path. "I want you to come back, you and Charlie!"
The marine turned his head to look at the radio, it made sense that Miles would know he was gone. What, with Mac storming out carrying a shotgun and his crowbar and Charlie suddenly disappearing in the commotion. You put two and two together, and it made sense.
"Can't do that, Miles." The older male stated, "I haven't trusted those sons of bitches since the jump, I told you something like this was going t'happen! And now, I'm handling it." He practically growled, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were ghost white.
The survivors could understand why the other group had gotten angry, but they simply weren't able to help them at that time. They were busy with trying to keep their own heads above water, they couldn't risk stretching themselves thin any further than they already had. But to threaten them?
The words of their now enemies still rang throughout Mac's head and made his blood boil, threatening to storm their base with a horde and leave them to die, it hit far too close to home for Mac. Lily too, he saw the horror and rage mix in her features. It was the reason he'd demanded that someone stay with her while they were gone, and if he came back to find that girl alone, God help them all.
"Mac, please." Miles voice cracked, he was desperate. He didn't want anyone to die, it didn't need to happen. At least in his own mind, his blind optimism and assuming the best had made him believe that no other survivors needed to be hurt. But Mac knew what really needed to be done, in this new world they found themselves in, if you made a threat like that? It was always followed through, and he wasn't risking losing anyone because he didn't strike first. "We can try to talk it out with them, please, just get back here."
Mac didn't know how to answer, he didn't WANT to answer. Despite Miles rose tinted vision of the world being extremely agitating at times, it was the only sense of innocence that remained anywhere. He didn't want to break that now, it needed to stay. In a moment of silence, Mac held the radio out to Charlie without looking at him. The ravente hesitantly took it and answered for Mac.
"Miles, we'll uh.. we'll try to talk to them, okay?" Charlie lied, glancing at Mac who nodded, giving him the go ahead to continue his charade. "We'll be back soon." He went on, leaning forward and staring ahead. Creed raised one hand up and pointed to the left side, the other groups base being just in sight now. "You promise?" Miles weakly asked, a part of him knew it was a load of bullshit he was being fed, but he wanted to just believe it.
"I promise. Now listen, we gotta go. Talk to you later." Charlie didn't wait for an answer before stuffing the radio back into the console, muffling the other leaders voice as it spoke softly. "Thank you." Mac told him, slowing down the car and pulling it off the road. It was close to the small home, but still far enough that they wouldn't be able to immediately tell it was them.
Although, with how Mac had screamed back over the radio that he'd come over there and tear them apart.. he had a feeling they'd be expecting him already. But they wouldn't be waiting for Charlie as well, still possibly giving them an edge with an advantage.
"What's the plan?" Charlie asked, finally being met with direct eye contact with Mac. "I'll go in from the front, get their attention.. maybe stall them a little," The brunette began, "You go around the back, when I pump that shotgun- you take down the first fucker you can either get a bullet or that knife into. Make sure they hear you, they'll get caught off guard, we can do a lot more damage without all their attention and firepower focused at only one of us."
He nodded, Charlie took his gun out of its holster on his right leg and cocked it. "You can count on me, brother." He told him, opening the car door and slowly shutting it to stay quiet for a little longer. Charlie crouched down and began to move quickly away to get around the house and move in from the back, as the plan told him to.
In the meantime, Mac would prepare himself. He opened his door and didn't bother about the noise, slamming it shut as he moved to the backseat and wrenched open the door. He grabbed onto the shotgun and it's ammunition, he stuffed the shells into his right pocket. He didn't bother to count how many he'd grabbed, but it was a good fistful, and that would be more than enough to take out a few punks.
His crowbar was already strapped tightly against the side of his backpack, but not tight enough to make it difficult to pull it out when he needed it. Mac backed away from the car and used the barrel of the gun to push the door shut, the noise he'd made already seemed to get a bit of attention from whoever was closest to the front door. Mac could see one through the window as he turned his head to look over his shoulder, his motions signified that he was calling anyone else inside to come out with him.
And that they did, as Mac approached with his shotgun in hand- the group went out onto the porch. Seemingly surprised that the number of them wasn't enough to even make Mac slow down as he walked, he counted 6 outside, but he knew there were 8. The other 2 must've been sitting inside, probably thinking that their friends could take on one man. If only they knew.
"Look who decided to show!"
The voice sent rage washing over Mac once more, it had been the man on the radio who'd made the threats and received Mac's in return. "I'm not one to make false promises, you threatened my family, so I'm gonna follow through with every goddamn thing I said I'd do." He spat back, stopping only a few feet away from the bottom of the stairs. "Really now? So, how do you reckon you'll be able to take on all'a us and- what did you say you'd do.." The leader pretended to think before grinning, "Tha's it! Butcher all of us like sheep! Howre you plannin' on doin' that when you're all alone?"
A twisted grin grew across Mac's features as he stood up straight, cracking his neck from side to side before speaking once more. "I never said I'd be alone to take on you inbred fucks." He snarled, gripping onto the pump of the shotgun tighter than before and slamming down, racking the firearm with a loud "ka-CHUNK."
Perfectly on queue, a scream ripped through the air from inside. A part of Mac was hoping that Charlie would've just shot one of the bastards, but the scream was enough to catch their attention and make a few turn around in a panic. And as they turned around, Mac raised up the shotgun, the stock pressed against his shoulder. He didn't really aim, just pointed the barrel of the gun in their general direction, and he fired.
The slug round tore through the leader, his right side catching the brunt of it and sending him backwards into one of his friends. Mac slammed down on the pump again and pulled it forward before firing once more, another man being hit by the blast. The rest that were still standing ran inside, much more terrified of the shotgun reigning hell on them than whatever could've made their friend scream inside- which was a horrible mistake.
Mac cackling from outside sent chills down their spine, but not quite as much as the sight they were greeted with as they ran back in. Two of their friends were already dead on the ground, and the murderer stood in the middle of the room. Gun in his left hand, and a bloodied combat knife in the other. Charlie opened his mouth to let out a quip, but was stopped as he saw one of them raising their rifles at him. His left hand snapped up, between him and her, Charlie was a hell of a lot faster with his draw.
He barely had a moment to aim his gun at her before he shot twice, hitting her center mass. Both bullets pierced her chest, only one made it through her back and hit the wall behind her. While firing, Charlie had begun to step forward, his right hand pulling back. When he got close enough to another one of the survivors, his arm thrusted forward and the blade dug itself into his victims side.
While the veteran might've thought before this apocalypse that this was a little too far, his mindset had changed drastically. These people had threatened the only group he had left, neither he nor Mac could let that just go how Miles would've wanted it to.
Charlie pulled himself up and used the person he had stuck on his knife as a meatshield, just for the incoming bullets from his final standing behind him. The man's screams of pain as Charlie subconsciously twisted the knife in him as he ducked down, mixed with the shattering of the window as Mac kicked one of the armed women through it, it had already began to attract the attention of the undead.
Back on the porch, Mac had made his way up the stairs. Stepping over the soon to be corpses of the first two men he'd shot, he scuffled with the last one on the porch. She had attempted to grab onto his shotgun, Mac backed up slightly and raised up his right leg, just to send it forward and kick her in the stomach. Having successfully knocked her backwards and through the glass behind her, Mac got a moment to see what Charlie was dealing with.
The woman he'd shot was still alive, crawling backwards and attempting to get outside through the door. Mac looked down to the side to catch her, he aimed his shotgun at her head and slammed down on the trigger. The blast ripped her head open, before he might've been sickened by the sight of this, but he'd seen enough zombies die the same way. He was used to the sight of brains and chunky bits of flesh being splattered across the wood, painting the oak with a deep crimson red.
Charlie in the meantime had pushed forward with the man he'd stabbed, slamming into the last one standing who shot at him with his 1911. He hit the wall and dropped his gun, once Charlie heard it clatter against the ground he stood upright and pulled the knife out of the male. Only to stab it right back into his throat, listening to him gurgle and choke on his blood for a moment before pulling it out again and tossing him behind him, stepping aside to do so.
The brunette had stepped inside to watch what Charlie would do next, and he wasn't disappointed. The marine pressed his left forearm against the final man's throat to pin him there, before he could find anyway to fight back, Creed began to stab him repeatedly in the chest at a rapid pace. With each time the blade pierced his flesh, he let out a shriek of pain, flailing his arms wildly and hitting Charlie's shoulders and the sides of his head in a vain attempt to break free.
But as much as Mac would've loved to continue to watch Charlie stab this man to death, the soft sounds of grunts from behind him caught his attention. The one Mac had kicked through the window was now up, a shard of glass in her hand as she pressed herself against the wall, ready to fight back against the brunette. Her eyes widened in surprise as he tossed the shotgun down to the side, but they were quickly filled with fear as he pulled out his crowbar from it's straps.
Dove looked behind Mac to see what was currently happening to her friend, he had began to slide down the wall and his attempts of fighting back grew weaker and weaker as blood spurted from the several stab wounds Charlie had made in his chest. The sight was horrifying, and in a final fight for her life with a mix of adrenaline, she stepped forward and took a swing at Mac with the glass.
Her attempt failed miserably as the attacker leaned back slightly before coming back in with a headbutt, it cracked against the bridge of her nose and caused her to stumble back and hit the wall. She barely managed to open her eyes that were beginning to tear up from the hit to her nose, as she did she caught sight of Mac's crowbar swinging directly at her.
The business end of it cracked her against the head and knocked her down to the corner, with this; Mac just began to beat down on her with his weapon. He gripped it tight with one hand and shouted out with each hit, no words, just pure animalistic rage as he struck her again and again. At this point, Charlie had already killed his final enemy and just stared as Mac hit her again, and again, and again.
Creed couldnt say that how Mac was handling her was overkill, considering he'd just stabbed a man at least 37 times and only stopped because he heard his friend yelling incomprehensibly. But he could safely say that the sight itself was a bit of a terrifying one, even though Charlie was more than certain he could fight off Mac. One was a trained killer, the other was an engineer who was pissed off, the winner would be fairly clear.
Even after Dove was dead, Mac continued to hit her. Breaking open her head and just continuing to bash her head in, essentially making a bowl out of her skull. "Mac. MAC!" Charlie shouted out, not wanting to get too close to the leader at the moment. Another voice shouting did seem to break him out of his rage induced trance however, he turned his head with the crowbar raised above it, ready to swing down once more. "She's gone... We gotta go. I think I can hear zeds." Charlie told him, gesturing to the door with his gun.
Mac took deep breaths before nodding, he slid the crowbar back into it's straps on his backpack as he did so. "Go to the car.. if those guys I shot are still alive, shoot 'em for me." He told him, Charlie simply nodded and walked out of the bloody scene. As Mac turned to the side and leaned down to grab his firearm, he could hear two gunshots ring out. Those two bastards hadn't died yet, but Charlie did exactly what Mac told him to. "Thank you!" He called out breathlessly, standing upright with his shotgun in hand and turning around.
Mac moved quickly to get out of there, stepping over bodies and trying not to slip on the spilled blood while he speed walked. Charlie was right, the zombies were already close, their groans becoming louder as they only closed more and more distance. Charlie stood by the open passenger side door, once Mac got down the stairs he got in and slammed the door. Leaning against the seat as the leader did the same as him, he absent-mindedly tossed the shotgun into the backseat with one hand as he shut his door with the other.
Once the door was shut and the shotgun was out of his way, both hands grabbed onto the wheel and Mac put the pedal to the metal. Dirt and pebbles kicked up under the wheels as they sped off and moved the two away from the scene, and the horde.
"Get the radio, tell Miles that.. fuck, tell the kid that they attacked us, you hurt?"
"Nah, you?"
"They didn't do shit. Okay, so just tell him that we had to fight back or we died. He'll understand."
"I hope you're right."
"Trust me," Mac sighed, squeezing the wheel. "-so do I."
