Elaine Winters & John Dove
Location: Road to Town
Phase: Morning Phase
Date: 11.09.1994 (SUN)
Weather: Overcast
[BGM]
It very quickly dawned upon John that there was no fixing the car, not without getting a new tire... and installing a new wheel as a whole, not that he looked at it closer. The whole left front of the car had been mangled by the collision with the bullet - clearly a powerful one considering how much damage it had done and how much it had ripped apart in the machine. There was nothing that could be done in a situation such as this, with a heavy breath of death hanging so closely around their shoulders. If the Mustang was ever going to be fixed, it would take a proper equipment and proper time... something they really didn't have now.
--- And Elaine Winters must have known that as well, for she rushed towards the hilltop with an inhuman speed.
It was fitting, of course, of her inhuman look at the moment. She was something that much more beast than a man right about now, and the ground quaked beneath her hurried steps as she dashed forward, expelling the energy of life from her limbs to proper herself forward, weaving and bopping around the sycamore trees to get into a proper position. The burst of sunshine that she had released in a turn of a hand had, certainly, made the would-be-sniper stop for a moment.
But she got the feeling that it wasn't because it had made her harder to hit.
No, the scope was still trained at her, she could feel it in her bones.
Which meant that the shooter must have been planning something else, something like---
["ALRIGHT, MUTT! WHY DON'T YOU CHILL A BIT! JUMPING TO ACTION IS NOT A BAD THING... BUT OH TOO PREDICTABLE!"]
Sudden noise.
Sudden voice.
A raspy, electronically magnified voice blared over the patch of forest that had become a battleground and a site of a car crash... in other words, somebody using a megaphone to make sure both Elaine and John heard her loud and clear. There was a militaristic sense of gravitas and pressure to that voice, the same sort of intonation and cadence that a drill sergeant would use to admonish new rookies... though with a much cruel tint to it than any drill sergeant could muster. They were, after all, not allowed to kill their charges.
But this woman... she wasn't even trying to hide her bloodlust.
["IN OTHER WORDS, STOP THERE AND RAISE YOUR HANDS UP! SAME GOES FOR MR. MONOCHROME OVER IN THE CAR!"]
Straight up orders and demanding ones at that, like a robber or a terrorist listing their demands to the police that were about to kick down the door.
Of course, that wasn't the problem in itself. The sniper could bark all she wanted. Only a moron would have stopped just because the enemy told them to.
But the thing was, when demands like these were made, it was usually with the looming threat of...
["IF YOU DON'T, WELL... CAN'T PROMISE JACK WHEN IT COMES TO THE SAFETY OF THESE TWO!"]
--- Hostages.
A dirty tactic, one of the dirtiest, no matter whether one was from the mundane world or from the turnside.
Those who resorted into taking hostages were the types to use all means available them to fight, which meant that the person they were up against... wasn't above just plain cheating.
First take out the car, then present hostages before they had time to recover.
But who...?
["AND SO THAT YOU KNOW WHAT YOU STAND TO LOSE... HERE! WHY DON'T YOU TWO SAY SOMETHING NICE!"]
Eerie five seconds of silence followed.
Along with sounds of the megaphone being forcibly shoved to the face of someone.
And then... then...
["J-JOHN! DON'T LISTEN TO HER, SHE'S GONE MAD! YOU TOO, ELAINE, IF SHE---"]
A loud screech of the equipment cut her off, as somebody else pushed forward.
["ELLIE! JOHNNIE! STAY AWAY! RUN!"]
Two voices... two hostages, as promised.
And those voices were utterly familiar to the point that it felt like the temperature of the forest dropped below zero. The first one was a voice often gentle, kinda and peppy - especially when she was making breakfast or lunch for the various students of the dorm, or excitedly planning on a beach party. The second one was a voice that was usually carefree and full of energy, teasing those around her with her boundless energy and apparent plan of making everyone her friend. But now... the voices sounded terrified, exhausted, and like they had been crying only moments before this.
--- First one was Sakura Tsukioka.
--- Second one was Ubon Sĕeklêun.
Yet... when it came to voices of the people involved... that wasn't even the worst thing. The worst thing was the voice of the third person, the sniper. a voice that was vaguely familiar to both of them, to whom they had talked to in passing and heard talking in the class. A rough, almost masculine, husky voice that liked telling bad jokes and complain whenever she lost at video games. A voice of a person who had never appeared either too isolated or too center of the attention. Somebody who had simply been content in staying in the background...
... But who now barked cruel orders with an odd, almost hollow echo in her voice.
Like her voice had dipped an octave and become even rougher.
["SO THERE YOU HAVE IT! STOP AND PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! AND JOHNNY-BOY, GET OUT OF THE CAR, WOULD YOU! I WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE!"]
--- The voice of Ramia Ramalsaqr.
Originally Posted by Hisa
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