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Old 03-19-2017, 06:35 PM   #110
Icelander
 
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Join Date: Mar 2006
Location: Iceland*
Default Everything is Awesome

While sneaking around in the tunnels, avoiding homicidal guards, Special Agent O’Toole had turned off the handheld radio captured from a guard he had with him. He still had his DHS-issue Motorola XTS 5000, but kept it turned to Channel 16, the Coast Guard emergency channel, at a very low volume.

While close to the fire from the incendiary and then while running the length of a corridor after his phone call ended, O’Toole didn’t hear anything at such a low volume, but once he slows down, he can make out a radio operator calling his name and that of Agent Banks. As O’Toole moves to answer, he hears somebody else cut in.

Randall [over radio]: “Calling US Coast Guard, South Portland Station and any cutters or air units around Jewell Island. This is Randall speaking. I’m a guard with Manhanock Security here on the island. Our boss, Warden Tyrrell, has instigated a mutiny, but not all the guards are with him willingly. Our families are being threatened. If you can guarantee their safety, I’m willing to surrender and many…”
[crackle and noise, including what sounds like violence]
Other voice [in background over radio]: “What the ----!”
Another voice [background of radio]: “Stop him.”

There are brief sounds of an ongoing struggle before the sending from that source cuts off. After scanning rapidly for any threats close to him who might hear him if he speaks, O’Toole grabs his own radio and presses transmit himself.

O’Toole [whispering]: “This is Agent O’Toole, still on Jewell Island, avoiding the guard force and trying to stay alive. Warden Tyrrell has hostages now. Any news on that rescue, over?”

There is no response. Changing the channel yields nothing but more silence. Looks like the jamming is back up, though O’Toole can’t hear any interference or white noise, just that ominous total silence on all channels.

O’Toole: “[faeces]! [fornication]! Ass!”

O’Toole decides to just run the length of the D Wing corridor as well. He can’t see any threats and if anyone walks out of a room or comes down the corridor while he’s walking it, it won’t matter how stealthy he is, they’ll spot him anyway. Better to cut down on the time he’s exposed. O’Toole manages a pretty stealthy run, too, which probably won’t be heard by anyone in the rooms and is feeling pretty good about his decision as he can see that it’s only a few more steps to the stairway that leads to the cellars.

It’s at that point that O’Toole hears the roar of a gun fired close by. He dives for the stairway and lands in a half crouch, with his M9 pistol held in an attempted two-handed Isosceles stance, aiming down the stairs, and hears another ear-splitting roar. The firing is definitely taking place over where D Wing crosses into the main buildings, which is less than 50' away, all too close for comfort.

---

Dr. Anderson amuses himself quite thoroughly running Mrs. York through endless variations of feasts of human flesh, all of which are designed to awaken in her feelings of terror, abhorrence and revulsion at the very idea of consuming it. Human flesh with her face, dreams where she is the main course, enticing meals of human meat which then changes into maggots and rot, flesh which comes to life inside her when being eaten and, of course, flesh which turns out to be that of an accusing and judgmental Agent O’Toole. These latter scenarios appear to be the most effective at terrifying and tormenting Mrs. York.

Dr. Anderson can see Mrs. York has transferred all her hope of rescue and a better life towards O’Toole. Apparently, he personifies for her the joy that she feels at renewed human contact and being taken out of the darkness, held and cared for. Judging from what Dr. Anderson can tell from their actual contact, Agent O’Toole in no way deserves the halo of romantic hero Mrs. York has endowed him with, but in light of the fact that the ‘girl’ in question is scaled and horrific-looking almost-certainly-cannibal, Dr. Anderson is perfectly happy that she hasn’t imprinted on him.

After designing a range of dreams that he’ll leave Mrs. York with, Dr. Anderson comes out of his trance and takes a look around. He has a handheld radio, but didn’t use it to contact the Coast Guard, mostly because without Taylor around, he doesn’t really know what he should tell them that would help in ensuring a quick and bloodless end to these events. Also, he suspects that the hostile guards would hear everything he had to say, which rules out giving the Coast Guard his location and hoping for a rescue.

When he hears the shots upstairs, Dr. Anderson grimaces. Almost simultaneously, he can hear someone in the stairway. It might be Bell and Taylor coming back, but he just isn’t sure. Trying to remember how to use the optics on his M16A2 rifle to see in the dark, Dr. Anderson leans his head through the cellar door into the stairwell and scans upward. Someone is up there, but Dr. Anderson isn't sure whether it's guards, Bell and Taylor or someone else.

The stairwell is close enough to the place where the shooting took place for Dr. Anderson to hear a noise immediately after the shots, like a body falling to the ground, and then another noise, maybe another body falling down or a beating going on, a few seconds later. As he scans for the threat in the stairwell, he thinks that someone might be talking up there, in low, intense voices, but he can’t be sure.

Nor is Dr. Anderson sure what he’ll do if the person on the stairwell turns out to be hostile. He can’t shoot someone, for all that he might appear to be some sort of SWAT member in this ridiculous get-up, holding a military style assault rifle.

Dr. Anderson: “O’Toole?”
O’Toole [whispering]: “Yes, damnit! What the [fornication] is going on?”
Anderson: “Anderson down here. Please join me.”

O’Toole hurries down the stairs while trying to minimise any noise he makes. When he sees Dr. Anderson in his SRT guard disguise, he does a double take, but Dr. Anderson dispels any nervousness by immediately handing him the M16A2 rifle.

Dr. Anderson: “I do not want that thing. You are the federal agent, you must have training with it.”
O’Toole: “Uh, thanks, doc. [faeces], are we all that’s left?”
Anderson: “No, Taylor and Bell are upstairs. At least, I hope that what we just heard was them taking out guards and not vice versa.”
O’Toole: “Guards would probably scream for help, right? Or try to report in if they got them?”

Anderson nods and then takes a good long look at O’Toole. He notes the dried blood in his nostrils, his extreme paleness, bloodshot eyes and the way he keeps blinking his eyes and frowning.

Dr. Anderson: “ Are you quite all right?”
O’Toole: “Uh, that’s just from a flashbang. Blew up by accident, I was close by. Nothing serious.”
Anderson: “Let me take a look at you.”
O’Toole: “No! I mean, we’re still in danger. It could be guards up there. I’m a federal agent. Can’t ignore my duty.”

O’Toole aims his assault rifle at the spot where any threat on the ground floor might emerge into the stairwell. There is a low voice from the ground level, pitched to carry into the stairwell. Both O’Toole and Dr. Anderson can hear it fairly clearly.

Taylor: “That O’Toole? Two here on ground level, comin’ in.”

Cherry Bell comes first. She’s holding her rifle haphazardly, not in any kind of ready stance and the patrol sling is not attached to her gear. She’s been crying, her helmet is loose on her head and she’s very clearly in the grip of some strong emotion, at least some of which can be surmised to be anger toward Taylor, as she is walking extremely fast to avoid being close to him and does not glance in his direction. After her comes Taylor, moving backwards for the first few steps to cover the hallway he emerges from. He’s moving stiffly and when he turns around, his face is etched with pain and other, clearly negative emotions.

Dr. Anderson [to both of them]: “Are you all right?”
Cherry Bell [angrily]: “Fine!”
Taylor: “Not really, doc. But we ain’t got time for me, we’s onna clock an’ gotta find them hostages.”

Dr. Anderson is not prepared to accept this explanation, but Taylor moves right past him, holding up his palms calmingly.

Taylor: "I ain't refusin' treatment, doc. Jes' not while we might could get shot in the next few breaths."

Taylor looks O’Toole over, notices the rifle he’s carrying and checks Dr. Anderson. Then he looks back at O’Toole.

Taylor: “Got separated from them others?”
O’Toole: “Uh, yeah. Accidentally.”
Taylor: “First firefight?”
O’Toole: “Yeah.”
Taylor: “They’s rough. Sorry it had to happen to ya. But, hey, at least ya done saved someone, even if’n ya couldna help Burr an’ Townsend an’ them. Mrs. York done tole’ us to thank you.”
O’Toole: “Uh, who?”
Taylor: “Lady what got shot down there. She done said you went to find her help.”
O’Toole: “Of course. I was just looking for someone to send down there.”
Taylor: “Okay, doc, ready to help me with the stretcher?
O’Toole: “Stretcher?”
Dr. Anderson: “Would it not be better for O’Toole to carry it with me? That way, you can provide security. I would feel better that way.”

O’Toole notices that in a dark shadow in the cellar, there is a person on an EMT stretcher with an IV drip in her. Not having much choice, he puts on another pair of plastic evidence gloves and goes to pick up the rear end of the stretchers, facing Dr. Anderson, who picks up the front end. Taylor looks at Cherry Bell, his eyes filled with pain.

Taylor: “Please hold yer rifle right an’ cover me. If’n ya can, use powers instead o’ pullin’ the trigger, but try an' be kind. They’s not monsters, most o’ them, jes’ scaired men.”

Bell doesn’t answer and makes no move to hold her rifle correctly. Taylor sighs and moves ahead without her in support.
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Last edited by Icelander; 01-27-2018 at 12:24 PM.
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