#redrenegade

[prpl-renegade]

The Glitch

To whom it may concern; We are sorry to inform you all that on November 6th, J̷̘̖̋͗ö̵̖̮́͋̀̀ͅh̸̡͙̤̣̒ņ̶̻̘͈͛n̶̝̑͘ỳ̷̧ ̸̨̱̿Ŗ̷͓̙̊͂̊̅ͅŏ̴͇̈͗m̷̟̃̉̆͊e̴͍͊͊̓͠r̷͙͔̓̑ő̸̭̼̘̓͆͒ became another casualty to respawn error.  W̶̰͍̰̬͎̖̏̍͠ḩ̵͕̙͈̹͉̮͙̉̓͋͋̑̇͂é̵̛͔̟̂̎͆̌̊̾̊̅͘͠r̸͚̖̝͉̘̈͒̎̃̇̀̇͋̉͜ę̵̜͍͈͚͓̠̱̟̔ ̶͎̲̝̫̖̞̦̊͑̏̎̀͐̎͜͝a̴̤̭͈͕̬̅̈m̶̪̻̞͋̑ ̵̙̘̪̩͛̓͌̊̾̉͝͠Ḯ̵̧̼͔̠͙͈̯?̸͍̜̙̻̿̎̀͆̒̅ͅ    Please be aware that we are shutting down that particular respawn                  machine until further notice.    Ơ̷̡͕͚̥̖̣̖̼̯̍͆͗͗͌̄͘͜ḧ̸̰̩͚̺͇͓̠̲̭̌̅͝ͅ ̷̩͙̃̏̒̈̒̉̓̆̋̇͘͝g̵̦̺̘͒̔́̄́o̵̢̯̻̫͓͈̺̿̇̏̊͜d̷̬̣̥̺̗̖͍̩͙̙̫͛̋͆̔̒̀͆̌͘,̶̢̝͙̰̤͓̪̦̳̱̼͕͋̒͒͑ ̷͔͈̝̟̦͉̱̮̀̊̆͋̀͊͌͌̀̚̕͝ͅI̷̘̫͙̽͆̍̃͒͂̄̌̚̚ ̴̧̱̤̺̼̟͋̓͝s̴̰͈̤̏̋ė̸̳͉̰̙̜̂e̴̛̞̖̠̝̲͋̉̓͆̈̈̒͗ ̴̢̢̹̣͔̜͉̠͚̹͗͆̎̎̐͝ͅt̷̢̘̹̙͚̣͔̙̘̥͕̱͌̔̀͋͝h̶̗̼͂̇ḛ̸̢͍̬̘͓͎̭̰̰͎̖̿̑̽̆̓͂̊͒̕͠m̸̝̠͌́̆͝͝            There will be a service to honor his memory this  ẁ̵̧̲͓͔̮̽̑͋̏̆́͂͐͌̕͝h̶̡̨͈͎̝̩̩͎͚̎́̌̅̚͘a̷̘̬̘̼̪͑̉̎̿̊̎̕t̴̳̦́̊̈́͠ ̵̛̛͇͓̲͔͖̽̌͂̓͊͂̓̀͝h̵͍̱̫̄̾̏̆̇͗̃̃̀͘a̴̧͕̋̊̓̿̔̉̏̀͊̄̿͝v̷̡̡̗̣̣̞̓̕ḛ̷̛̳̰̄͊̈́̄̈́̽ ̴̨̥̻͉̙̖̟̳͌͐͂̀̎̈́̓̏̓̽̚͝I̶̢̘̯̜̯̠̰̘̙̟̅͜ͅ ̷̗̰̣̖̫̅̅͒́d̴̥̪̫̞͑͝o̷̖̖̟͈̺̰͋͂̓̍́̕̚n̵̖̞̗̟̪͊͋͊̔̿̌͠ę̵̛̛̤̼̫̯͖͕̣̇̆̋̎́?̵̜̊̃͑̌̆̓̂  Saturday at 1pm.                        Keep in mind that we will be                               keeping his            Ì̴̡͚̲̻̳̂̉̈́̎̈́͝ ̵̻͎̤̪̲̯̒a̵͍̮̰̐̅́̚ḿ̵̲̠̠̃͒̎͌͗͘̚ ̴͎͙͕̼̭̩̉̎͊̉̄́͋̑̃̇͜͝ͅs̷̢͖̠̺͔͌̿͛̒̋̂̌͐͆ͅǫ̸̢͙͉̈́̀̌̉͛̌̃̀̄̀̓ ̷̟̪̱̻̺͖̥͈̞̜̪̳̔̾̑̓͗̂͑̓͌͠͝s̵͖͎͓̳͈͗͊̔̓̓͗̏̈́̽̚̕͝ơ̵̫͂͗͒̿̔̈͛̉̈́̕͜͝ṟ̶̪̼̝̝̳̗̦͊̈́́͒͗ͅͅr̶̢̬͉͖̰̈́ͅy̷̢̦̞̅̓̇̎̏͐̇͑̒͐́͠   mailbox open for those who wish to leave their condolences  to his family. I̵̱̱̓ͅ ̷̘̾̉͂͌̉̆̓͛̚͠͝a̶̧̺͍̮̣̙̥̼̫͓͉̺͌͊͘͘͝ḿ̴̨̞̻̖̳̭̮̘̥̪͋͊̾͆͊̅͘͠ ̸͇͇̹̻͚̫͗͋̇̈n̷͍̰͌̾̃̑o̷̧̮͉̬̻͉̦̺̬̱̩͆̅͛̍͛̍̃̾͜͝͝t̶̯̹̩̥͇͊͐͛̄̊ ̴̢͔͍̲͔̝̹͆͆̂̂̀̀̈́̌̇̈́̓͊d̶̨̎̅̈̚͝ë̶̛́̈́̌͑̏̏̕͜͠a̴͚͈̥̾̄̒̍̀̑͗̾͆͑̕̕d̸̘̝͉͌͐̒ I̵̱̱̓ͅ ̷̘̾̉͂͌̉̆̓͛̚͠͝a̶̧̺͍̮̣̙̥̼̫͓͉̺͌͊͘͘͝ḿ̴̨̞̻̖̳̭̮̘̥̪͋͊̾͆͊̅͘͠ ̸͇͇̹̻͚̫͗͋̇̈n̷͍̰͌̾̃̑o̷̧̮͉̬̻͉̦̺̬̱̩͆̅͛̍͛̍̃̾͜͝͝t̶̯̹̩̥͇͊͐͛̄̊ ̴̢͔͍̲͔̝̹͆͆̂̂̀̀̈́̌̇̈́̓͊d̶̨̎̅̈̚͝ë̶̛́̈́̌͑̏̏̕͜͠a̴͚͈̥̾̄̒̍̀̑͗̾͆͑̕̕d̸̘̝͉͌͐̒ I̵̱̱̓ͅ ̷̘̾̉͂͌̉̆̓͛̚͠͝a̶̧̺͍̮̣̙̥̼̫͓͉̺͌͊͘͘͝ḿ̴̨̞̻̖̳̭̮̘̥̪͋͊̾͆͊̅͘͠ ̸͇͇̹̻͚̫͗͋̇̈n̷͍̰͌̾̃̑o̷̧̮͉̬̻͉̦̺̬̱̩͆̅͛̍͛̍̃̾͜͝͝t̶̯̹̩̥͇͊͐͛̄̊ ̴̢͔͍̲͔̝̹͆͆̂̂̀̀̈́̌̇̈́̓͊d̶̨̎̅̈̚͝ë̶̛́̈́̌͑̏̏̕͜͠a̴͚͈̥̾̄̒̍̀̑͗̾͆͑̕̕d̸̘̝͉͌͐̒ I̵̱̱̓ͅ ̷̘̾̉͂͌̉̆̓͛̚͠͝a̶̧̺͍̮̣̙̥̼̫͓͉̺͌͊͘͘͝ḿ̴̨̞̻̖̳̭̮̘̥̪͋͊̾͆͊̅͘͠ ̸͇͇̹̻͚̫͗͋̇̈n̷͍̰͌̾̃̑o̷̧̮͉̬̻͉̦̺̬̱̩͆̅͛̍͛̍̃̾͜͝͝t̶̯̹̩̥͇͊͐͛̄̊ ̴̢͔͍̲͔̝̹͆͆̂̂̀̀̈́̌̇̈́̓͊d̶̨̎̅̈̚͝ë̶̛́̈́̌͑̏̏̕͜͠a̴͚͈̥̾̄̒̍̀̑͗̾͆͑̕̕d̸̘̝͉͌͐̒  Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜  Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜ Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜ Ì̴̻͎̳̹̺̼̫̈́̄̽̈́̃̒̽̚ ̴̖̩͎̪̹͇̀̏Ȧ̶̡͈͇̞̩̰͛̏̋̏͝M̴̨͍͖̮͕̐͝͠ ̴̛͙͔̟͋̎̊̐̿̿͋̒̉N̶̨̨̛̠̣̲̐O̷͇̾̈́̍T̷̥͜͝ ̴̡̲̹̪̼̌̀̈͛̎̎̔͆͝D̵͕̊̇̾̽́̏͆̕Ḗ̷̡̛̜͕̤͔̔̓̔̈͘͜Ǎ̸̘͚̻͎̤̤̫̮͐̚D̶͖̙͎̪̮͓́̓͘͜ Į̸̥͕̭̱̹͓̜͉̘̞͇͂̇̆͊̚̕'̷̡̨̧̭̫̬̪̟͓̳̠̥͐̐Ṁ̸̧̨̛̰͉̝̠̗̘̝̘͈͋̍͐͗̇̍͠͠ ̷͓̟͙̣̗̳̻̩̪͔̺̈́́͌̽T̸̠̘̻̝̣̻̫͕͖͐̄̌̏͛̎̅̏͝͝R̸̥̥̖̝̗͈̬̪̤͗̍̿́͒̓̈̏̆̋Ą̷̥̱͓̟̻̼̪͚͓̫̽̋̉͘͝P̷̫̺̺͓͎̹̹͕̬̈́̀̒̄̓͋̅ͅṖ̸̡̦̲͕̩͇͎̓̆̀̇͐̒͑͗̍͠E̵̡̦̰͎͚̹̺̝̅͑̐͛̒̕D̷̨̩̩̳̝̳͇̩͈͚̋̄́̓ ̶̡̢͉̘̗̪̬͔͚̳̖̹́́͐͒̒̀͒͗͛̃͠I̴̡͗̀͗̏́̑̋͆̏N̷̩̞̮̦̤̣̈̍̀ ̶̢̙̹͇͓̺̲͋́̾̍͋̎̑̕͝ͅŢ̸̨̗͔̦̹̝̤̄͊̇̍̆̒̑́ͅH̸̡̢̛̦̤̞̪̻̘̞̪̙͍͌͠͝E̷̪͎͎̗̓͗̀̈́̈́̂́͝ ̷̛̦͚̬̭͈́̀̒̑͝M̶͈̮͍̥̠̭̩̬̪̒̈́͋̽́͒̌̾̊͝͝Ą̶̫̱̻̫͈͖̿͌͂͂̎̈́͝ͅC̵̬̙̿̾̈́̇͊Ḩ̸͙̺͚̯̬̫̱̬͉̩͕̂́͆̅̿̎Į̶̡̟̹̼͍̲̱̀̀̆̉̒́͂͌͜͠N̴̡̪̣̟̪̈́͑͌̅̅͐̾͠ͅḚ̴̡̪͕̯̯̹̼̜̊̄̕͜'̸͈̹͐̽́̇͋̊Ş̴̗̻̦̥̼̗̓̔͆̀̄͛͝ ̸̢̢̣͈̳̗̘̬̺̬͚̓L̵̢̗̼͎̺̥̾̍I̵̧͚̻̟̠̰͓͇̼̟͑̽̾̄͗̾̈́̕͠M̶̺̪̥̬̜͍̺̝͛͒̂̽̄͝B̷͉̠̜̪̰̱̠͈͖̍͑̈́̆͗͋̈́̈́̆̒̀͜͜͜O̶̼̼͖̻̝̟̗̜̻̣̞̐̃̇,̵͉̲̠̟̥͒́̌̆́̈́̓͑͘̕ͅ ̵̛̝̼͉̖̙̩͛͑͒̿̄̎̈̿̉I̵̧͙̫̲̗͍͚̞̍̽̄͜͝'̷̨̫̰̪̻̊̊̈́͐̾M̷͕̖̳̉̎̓̚͠͝ ̵̨̬̘̩̞̲̟̟̟̞͚̋̇͜N̵̢̤͑̋̅͋̏O̷̢̮̦̼̳̹͕̺̱̬̓͛̈͗̄̇͘͘Ț̶̯͍̪̣͈̫̼̗̼̗̓̇̋̿̍ ̶̧̢͎̞̙̭̮͚̘̰̟̽͐͛̋́̓̀͆͑͛͘Ḑ̵̬̖̫̖̺̠̑̉́̀̀̔̇̐̕͘Ĕ̸̃͋͗͜Ạ̷̻̣͆́͊͠D̶̩̙̭̓̀

[krankenklaus]

Illuminating the hall in an eerie green glow was Johnny. His eyes pierced the dimly lit hall, and glowed far brighter than his skin. But despite that, one could see desperation and panic in those glowing orbs. An almost white glow escaped his mouth when he spoke. "Doc...Doc...where did all of the toxic waste go? I need it, really, really, badly. Don't ask me why i need it, I just do."

“Very funny,” Klaus replied, assuming the whole thing was a joke. The glowing skin could have very well been from paint. “Are you being the Hulk for Halloween?” 

[blu-force-a-nature]

My bad if this is late.

“Ooooooooooooo, I love it!  Thanks so much!!!”

[pushspacetocontinue]

⚰️

Russell stands in front of another simple headstone. He does the business of cleaning it and making sure it looks nice. He then places a mix of white and yellow roses down onto it. 

“I can’t believe Ma won’t even come and tend to her own Ma’s grave, then again, she wouldn’t do it for Lewis…” he says to himself, some disdain in his voice. 

The epitaph can be read perfectly now. It reads:

Cora Anderson 

1863 - 1956 

Her family’s golden light. 

She will be remembered and cherished. 

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” Russell says, “I… I hope you’re not too ashamed of us, well, me, and Ma mainly… ehehe… I know you were a lot more accepting and loving than she and Grandpa are. I’ll try and come back a bit more often. I hope you’re resting peacefully, wherever you’re at.”

He then stands up and turns to leave. He stops when he sees the familiar face and fidgets.

"Oh, ehe, hey, it’s been a while, ehe... if you wanna laugh at me for being a sappy shit, then you can, ehehe…”

[bluteamblueprints]

Where are all the pop tarts?

“I hid them away, everyone else kept eatin’ before I had a chance to get them. Or you know, puttin’ them out of my reach. That’s just a jerk move.” 

[lil-lady-lily]

@redrenegade

Lily skidded to a halt behind a wall, her shotgun in a white-knuckled grip as she leaned heavily into her cover; her free hand came up to wipe blood across the back of her hand, and she spat out the rest pooling behind her teeth. Gunpowder and napalm burned her clothes, her skin; she was running hot, and was thankful for the break, however short.

Somewhere up ahead, battle raged; explosions and gunfire pushed against each other, but there was no mistaking the fact it was getting closer.

She cursed heavily under her breath, backpedaling through the halls behind her in search of a kit. REDs medics were too preoccupied with pushing to dominate the only capture point, so she was on her own. In her search, there came footsteps gaining quickly on her, and Lily leveled her gun in the direction of the source.

They were fast, but it could be anyone. Damn it all, she wasn’t in any condition to take anyone toe-to-toe; did that mean she wasn’t going to try? Hell no.

[ask-strangelyvic]

Johnny’s Lore - {Closed RP}

@redrenegade

______

“Vhat zhe hell are you doing?!”

Victor was aroused from his sleep at the sound of a drill whirring in the Medical bay beside his temporary bedroom. Within minutes the Medic burst in with only his pants and a thick night tank-top. What he saw before him made his insides churn with anger and horror.

A few of the RED Team members had the Scout Johnny strapped to the operating table by his limbs and head. The Sniper weilded the bone drill with a menacing grin as he neared it towards the terrified Scout’s head

Those monsters didn’t even bother putting the boy under, Victor thought bitterly as he stormed over. “Put zhe drill down! Vhatever you plan to do I vill not allow it!”

The Sniper looked to the others, the Heavy and Engineer, and gave a curt nod. It was a notion to attack, and to make sure he wasn’t a witness.

Victor had only seconds to respond, grabbing the nearest object he could to defend himself. With a hefty swing, the bottle of magnesia found lying on the counter was broken, the bottom half in pieces and its contents spilt onto the floor. It would have to do.

First came the Heavy, roaring with rage as he poised his fists for a blow. Victor narrowly managed to crouch, sweeping his bad leg to take the Heavy from his legs. The large man crashed into the desk, causing pages to fly and leaving him in the broken heap in a daze.

The Engineer wasn’t as easy to dodge, seeing as the merc wielded not his fist, but his trusty wrench. Victor did his best to back away from the swings, but managed to catch a blow to his left shoulder. The old Medic let out a yelp as he trusted his makeshift weapon forward, nicking the Engineer just enough to distract him.

Victor made a risky lunge forward, hoping to catch the other off guard and knock him to the ground. With luck, he did manage to do just that, pinning the other under his weight. Curling his fist back, the Medic used all of his strength to punch the Engineer in the side of the head, knocking the merc out cold.

At this point the Sniper backed from the Scout, an irritated growl just barely audible from the still whirring bone drill. Moving fast, the aggressive merc lunged onto the Medic as he was still on the ground.

Victor, not knowing what hit him just yet, felt himself being shoved to the side, his back making contact with the tiled floor. The Sniper sneered as he pinned the other down, “You should've gotten involved, mate” With that he shoved the drill hard into Victor’s rib area.

The old Medic gave out a pained yell as he writhed. He gritted his teeth, urging himself to grab the Sniper’s arms. The Medic pushed as hard as he could against the other to remove the drill from himself.  After a good amount of effort, Victor managed to twist his body enough to roll on top of the other. 

After feeling the drill leave his body, the two wrestled with the drill for what seemed like hours. The Sniper, wanting to now kill the man himself, turned the drill up towards Victors face, attempting to give the exact treatment intended for Johnny. 

Fear drove the Medic into an adrenaline induced panic, grabbing at the drill and shoving, trying to turn it away from himself. Struggling, the old merc gave a last effort to push the drill away, With a sickening crunched shunk, the drill inserted itself into the Sniper’s jaw. The other opened his mouth to scream out, but merely twitched as, within moments, the Sniper died beneath him

Now Victor only had moments before the other respawned.

Shoving himself off from the dead merc, he ran over to Johnny, fumbling with the sraps and eventually setting him free. “Ve have to go, Now!” Victor urged as he helped the Scout from the table.

[pennedbyzazz]

💊

Send 💉 to tend to my Muses wounds!

Alternatively, send 💊 for my Muse to tend to your Muses wounds! @redrenegade

“Let me guess– You tried messing with more BLU Spies,” Viktor commented, smirking a little. He was partially annoyed, given how beat up the other was, but couldn’t help being also a bit amused.

“This is going to sting, by the way,” He added, before dabbing at his cuts with a cloth coated in rubbing alcohol.