ωσяℓ∂s cσℓℓι∂ε || αυ мεмε ρяσмρт
The impact wasn't immediate like he'd expected, no instead it seemed to happen in slow motion. As if he were watching it from outside of his own body-- an ethereal experience. First it was the sound, the overwhelmingly loud wail of metal that was caving in on itself and crunching bones and upholstery beneath it. It crumpled up just like the front end of a car that rammed into an unmovable object like a brick wall. idly his mind registered the luck he'd had being seated towards the back of the plane. Was that where he was? What was happening? Oh-- right. He was on a plane, and it had finished catapulting into the ground-- now came the part where it crashed.
I'm not gonna fuckin' die here.
The second thing that registered in his mind was the insane amount of people screaming around him. Claustrophobia had kicked in right off the bat, the second he'd stepped into the aircraft but now-- with so much noise and hysteria around him it was really driving him insane. Something had to give. He had to get out of here.
Women crying blared out above everything else, them and the few amount of children that were on board. After all, their cries were shrill and pierced the lower pitched fright of the men on board. Not like it mattered what gender was yelling which, all he care about was guaranteeing that he wasn't one of the dumbfucks that was going to end up dead on the news. He was a fighter, after all.
That was the reason for this whole event in the first place-- he'd been en route to a championship UFC match. It was being held in God knows where, some foreign country that wasn't in Europe, and that's all he bothered to remember. None of it mattered now though. And as Grimmjow managed to shove his way past insolent individuals who refused to move when he told them to, he finally got a grip on the handle of the emergency exit in the back of the cabin. But there was no time-- there couldn't be because there was no way people screamed that loud unless they were dying. So that's what it meant, right? They were already dying and he'd been too caught off guard to do shit except lie down and take it.
A wrench of his wrist had the suction seal of the door hissing in protest as it was opened, the chunk of metal blocking his exit soon flying open just in time for him to see the front rows of seats racing their way towards him as the plane ran itself further and further into the ground. Without another thought, he jumped. And after that everything went black. But there was no screaming anymore, no metallic scraping making his ears throb. There was just quiet, something he could fall asleep to-- and suddenly that's all he wanted to do.
A splitting headache brought the groggy male out of unconsciousness, commanding himself to sit up, to move, to do something. Everything hurt, but that wasn't an excuse. Grimmjow lifted his head from the loamy dirt that had thankfully seemed to cushion his fall, though a ungraceful swipe of his forehead had a mixture of blood and soil covering his fingertips.
Squinting due to the pain in his head, he managed to push himself into a sitting position, a piece of scrap metal falling away from his torso as he did so. The scene before him was like something out of a movie. A broken and bent plane lay halved and much akin to a wadded up piece of foil. One of the wings must have snapped off, as it lay about twenty or so feet away and on fire. There was more of that then anything else: fire. Its smoke billowed and streaked into the sky that had long since been cloaked in night and the smell it emitted made his stomach churn when he realized it was a mixture of burning metal and human flesh. A combination he'd have more appreciation for if it'd been on different circumstances.
He stood, wobbling slightly from initial disorientation before taking a deep breath and subsequently throwing himself into a coughing fit upon inhaling the smoke. His throat was dry and screaming at him for water but he had no idea where we was or how the hell he'd even survived.
"Well ain't this just a load'a bullshit..." The voice that left him was hoarse, causing him to cough once more before wiping his mouth and licking his dry lips. The surrounding area seemed tropical, like he'd just fallen off the face of civilization straight into the Amazon. Though with nowhere else to go, he chose to head for the shelter of the nearby trees in order to get away from the fire and stench.
Countless hours passed, or maybe it was just a good handful of minutes. He couldn't tell. All the blue-haired male knew was he could feel his heartbeat in his ears with how bad his head was throbbing and that was too annoying to ignore.
Heh, guess it's a stretch ta think this shithole's got aspirin.
Leaning against the trunk of a tree, Grimmjow sunk down onto his haunches, hands rubbing wearily at his face. Normally his sense of direction would have been a bit better, then again, he had absolutely no clue where he was or where he was going. The only thing he did know was that he felt like utter shit and needed a stiff drink.
Suddenly, he heard rustling in the nearby leaves, the distinct sound of footsteps echoing around him. Sapphire eyes opened, peering into the darkness as he focused on listening to the steps of whoever was coming closer. If it turned out to be a tiger or whatever the hell was roaming around out here, he'd be fucked. But on the off chance it was someone who lived around here, he might be able to get some information on his whereabouts out of them. Either way, staying silent sure wasn't going to help anything.
"Oi!" He called out, eyes sifting back and forth. "If ya speak English and don't wanna get the shit kicked outta ya fer stalkin' me then get the hell out here!" His voice was a bit more ragged than he'd expected, but still carried the innate air of intimidation and promise that his threats would not go unfulfilled. Whoever was there, they were his only chance at getting out of here alive.
