[Emerson] Kill of the night

[Bjorn]

Months of fighting had kindled a certain appreciation and interest in weapons. In truth, he almost felt naked without his gun in hand. If he asked her about the number of bullets she had, it wasn’t so much for practicality’s sake, but rather, out of an undeniable need to know where they were at. Bjorn had learned to measure his chances with the number of shots he had left. Enough, he was good. Not enough, he’d have to improvise. And improvise they would.

“I—what’s it doing? What did you do?” he asked, glancing over at the fadebeast. Was he seeing a dispersing swarm or had he hit his head particularly hard? The telepath closed his eyes and shook his head in a futile effort to readjust his vision. He wasn’t imagining things, and it really wasn’t the moment to start questioning what he was seeing. Glancing down at the sword he’d picked up, he was trying to formulate a plan she was clearly intent on hearing.

“Aim for the head, but save your shots for—” Bjorn grunted as he got to his feet, one hand gingerly pressing the tattered cloth over the wound. “—when I need cover. The only way I’ve managed to kill one of these before. Jesusfuckingchrist. Is by spearing its head. I don’t know how good this will be for that, but I’m going to give it a go.”

The vampire had to remind himself that in spite of the pain, his body was healing. Whether or not it was a critical wound, he didn’t know, but it was healing. All he knew for certain was that it’d take a few more claw incisions to send him to a place he had no interesting in visiting. He still had luck in his corner, and the shield he’d raised had strengthened the connection between body and mind. With a bit of luck, what the injury took from him was the little extra he’d gifted himself, and nothing more.

Swinging the blade around, getting a feel for its weight distribution, he took a step forward and sought to rely on his training. He was far more aggressive with projectiles than he was with blunt objects (though there was certainly nothing blunt about this blade), but that’d have to change if they’d have a shot. In fact, it was reasonable to be more aggressive when in close quarters. Slice em and dice em, he thought to himself, bloodied fingers tightening on the grip. Without any further hesitation, the fadebeast already charging towards them, he moved forward. Would he manage? With her help, surely. One thing was certain though, after today, he’d be spending far more time training at Sanctuary.

“Try not to shoot me, yeah?” he yelled, swinging the long-blade towards the fadebeast.

Code: Select all

You failed in your endeavour.

The steel slid through dispersing shadow, sending him stumbling past the fadebeast. It’d be necessary to incapacitate it before he’d have any chance at killing it. Bjorn tried to use his newfound position to land a swing, but the fadebeast was too fast.

Code: Select all

You failed in your endeavour.

“If you got any other mind tricks, use them!”[/font]

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson followed the man’s gaze and shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t so concerned as to what it was exactly that she’d done, but rather if it was working as she intended it to and helping them in their current sticky situation. “Dunno,” she replied simply, her voice nothing above a mumble. It was the first time she’d ever reached into her mind and tried out one of her tricks before. She could explain later, or try to, at least - rambling would’ve been the worst thing to do at the moment - but none of that really mattered if there wasn’t actually going to be a later. She was hopeful about walking out of the situation alive, but it seemed that anything could go in Harper Rock.

Headshots. If her target had been much smaller, Emerson wouldn’t have imagined being able to successfully go through with one, but the Fadebeast was massive and had an equally as massive head. The only issue, the only flaw in the plan, was that the monster was in constant motion, head swinging from side to side. A moving target was obviously much more difficult to hit than a still one, but there was nothing she could do about it. If the man was going to be moving, attacking, killing the thing, it was quite possible that she could end up hitting the wrong moving target. Emerson really wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing, but at that point in the game, she didn’t really have much of a choice. At least the stranger had killed a Fadebeast before. That gave her some kind of hope, some kind of confidence, some kind of upper hand in the situation.

Emerson watched as two slices were attempted and two slices were missed. Crap. That was her cue to do something. Her hand tightened around her gun, but she hesitated. It didn’t seem like the time to take a shot just yet. There were only a couple bullets left and no need to waste them. Mind tricks seemed like a better option, but the brunette didn’t feel like bothering all the bugs of Harper Rock again. What else could she do? There had to have been something. She knew she was a smart girl and that the Fadebeast was dumb. It only had the intention to lock in a target, catch it, and kill it. It was easily distracted, as she had seen before, and therefore could be easily confused. She was sure of that much. What she wasn’t so sure of was exactly how she could confuse it.

And so she tried not to think into it too much. The bugs had seemed to have done something, because as Emerson dashed around the Fadebeast and out of the way of the stranger’s sword, its attention was on her, hazily so. If it were smart, it would have paid more notice to the person that had an actual chance with their weapon, but the silly mistakes, the slowed swats that reached out and failed to grab at her, were good. The Fadebeast’s head swung back and forth still as it tried to find Emerson as she changed directions, skidded to stops, changed her speed, but it was confused and distracted and letting out a scream that humorously sounded frustrated. While it was only a matter of time before her energy wore thin, it was only a matter of time before the man would finish off this fight for good. At least she hoped so, as she paused, lifted her gun, and caught the Fadebeast with a bullet to the jaw. “Close enough,” she mumbled.

[Bjorn]

It was becoming apparent that in spite of his tireless training, he’d come to rely too heavily on a specific type of weapon. His aim was near-perfect, but such skill was useless when there were no bullets at his disposal. Without a loaded gun, Bjorn felt naked. Without the weight of it in his hand, he felt his confidence waver. He wasn’t poised. He wasn’t relying on his training for he had not put much effort in training this aspect of himself. He was trying to hit a moving target that moved—and healed—faster than he did.

But he’d done it once before.

Shifting his weight onto his back leg, he watched with flitting glances as the stranger darted to and fro with the finesse of an athlete. It was dangerously stupid, but it was exactly what Bjorn needed. He cupped the front of his abdomen, feeling the need to reassure himself that the presence of pain didn’t denote an absence of internal organs. He was surely healing on a molecular level, but he’d yet to feel any better. His hand came away as red as it had before, and he wiped it along the side of his jeans to ensure his grip on the blade wouldn’t sleep.

The fadebeast had it’s oddly-shaped back to him, rendering it defenceless in the face of a well-timed, well-landed strike. It was a delicate balance between relying on the stranger to bid his time, and acting fast enough not to let her down. By watching the creature’s movements and tapping into his mind’s eye to better see it’s potential future movements, he felt his confidence swell. He could —and would— deliver the final blow.

Bjorn grasped the blade’s handle with both hands. He felt the gravel crunch beneath his shifting weight, and then pushed himself off the ground. He dived towards the fadebeast’s without a sound, the blade catching the lamppost’s light as he swung it through the air.

The metal slipped easily through the side of the fadebeast’s head. Bjorn’s whole weight and strength went into the action, the blade immediately reappearing on the opposite side. He was surprised to see it resisted the force of impact, not accustomed whatsoever to a weapon of this grade. He had other things to consider however, for he was on a collision course. He caught a misshaped elbow to the gut and fell unceremoniously on to the ground, leaving the blade speared through the creature’s head. His vision blurred as his head hit the gravel, and it was his predictive reflex—and not his sight—that alerted him to roll out of the way just in time to miss the fadebeast’s colossal weight from landing on him.

Bjorn stayed down, managing only just to roll off his stomach and onto his back.
Blindly, he gently begun brushing away the gravel stuck to his leaky insides.

“You good?”

Code: Select all

Bjorn slew the fadebeast.

[/font]

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

It wasn’t long before the stranger was taking the opportunity to leap up and kill the Fadebeast once and for all. Emerson skidded to a halt and held her breath in anticipation as she watched the blade push into the monster’s head. The weapon stayed there as both the male and the monster toppled to the ground. The brunette was quick to get out of the way, just barely avoiding the scratch of a rather long claw, which hooked into the material of her shirt and tore through part of her sleeve. At least it wasn’t one of her favorite shirts. At least the claw hadn’t torn through her skin. At least she was alive. Emerson counted to ten, careful eyes on the unmoving Fadebeast. She stood on the balls of her feet, hand still tight on her gun. She had one bullet left if she needed it. When she was sure that the Fadebeast wasn’t going to suddenly lash out, grab her, and tear her to pieces, she side-stepped it to check in on the man.

The stranger was on the ground, upside-down from she stood and peered over him. He was alive, which was good, but there was lots of blood. Crimson seeped through his clothes and soiled his hands, and he was worried if she was okay? With scrunched eyebrows, Emerson slowly nodded. “M’fine,” she shrugged easily, maneuvering around him. Her head didn’t hurt as much and she was calmer now that her life wasn’t in danger. She stuck out her free hand to help him up, if he’d take it. Granted, she was much smaller than him, but it was the thought that counted, right?

“Thank you,” Emerson started hesitantly. “For helping. I couldn’t kill something on my own. Not something like that.” Green eyes found where the beast lay and she shivered. “I wanna help you now,” she said before she could stop herself. “M’no doctor, but I think I have a first aid kit. In my bag.” She nodded in the direction of the swings, where she’d left her belongings in the spur of the moment. Where she’d left her bullets. If she’d had them on hand, could they have killed the Fadebeast faster? Avoided his injuries all together? She shook her head at herself. That wasn’t her fault. “Oh,” she quipped, raking a hand through her hair. “We didn’t- I didn’t-” She started and stopped, started and stopped, taking a breath before trying again. Third time’s a charm. “I’m Emerson,” she introduced herself finally.

[Bjorn]

When the stranger popped into his field of vision immediately above him, Bjorn hazarded a glance to the vanquished fadebeast on his left. It took many seconds of watching it to reassure himself it was, without a doubt, dead. He blinked into focus the blade still sticking from its head, and felt gratitude towards it for not falling to pieces.

His attention returned to the girl as she moved around him. The telepath lazily shook his head at the hand outstretched towards him. A breathless chuckle rattled his body, the discomfort it caused making him wince. He closed his eyes until it ebbed, tired smile settling on his features.

When she began struggling with her words, he peered at her through his lashes.

“Bjorn, he said, halfheartedly stretching his less bloody hand towards her. It was an empty gesture, for he dropped his arm back to his side. Exhaustion was the most prevalent sensation he felt, the pain secondary now that he’d stopped moving.

“I’m just gonna stay down here for a few if you don’t mind. It’s nice and flat, no turbulence. But if you got a bandage in that kit of yours, I’m game, Nurse Emerson. I’d rather stow my insides before we move this ****** out of the open.”

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson’s hand was left empty and she dropped it to her side in embarrassment, curling her fingers around the material of her leggings. However, as the man began to explain himself more, it made sense as to why he wouldn’t want to get up. It wasn’t her fault - he was just in pain. Moving would only make the pain worse, especially a stomach wound that he most certainly had. So, it was understandable and gave her some relief on her own part.

“Bjorn," she parroted back - not to mimic him, but to try it out on her own. It wasn’t a name she’d ever heard before. “Pretty,” she said. Because it was. She wondered what it meant. What it’s origin was. Would it have been weird to ask? Invasive? They’d only just met, after all. Emerson decided to save her questions for another time. If there was another time. Would she see this man again? He’d saved her life, basically, so that gave the girl the opportunity to repay him for a long time. And he’d help her actually fight, which was something she’d never done before. Since he seemed to know what he was doing, maybe she could pester him for more help from time to time. Or she could pester Prudence. Mordie. Robin. Or no one, and make this a one-time thing.

Emerson was able to giggle when he called referred to her as a nurse. It was the first time since she’d arrived in the park that she hadn’t been scared or frustrated or lost, which was good. “Yeah, s’okay. I’ll go check.” She almost told him not to move but bit her tongue just in time. Obviously, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Leaving Bjorn on the ground, Emerson went back over to the swingset. Her bag sat where she’d left it, and she picked it up, lightly dusting it off. She shoved her gun away into one of the pockets as she walked back to the man. When she’d returned, the brunette sat herself down beside him on the ground, legs crossing over one another. She dug through her belongings before pulling out a small white box with a red cross in the center. The first aid kit with cracked open on her lap and she shifted through its contents. “Will this work?” she wondered, holding up a roll of some sort of white bandage. There were other things - scissors, creams, a bottle of pills, smaller bandages. It wasn’t a lot, but it’d have to do for now. Emerson was no where near medically trained, but she’d have to do for now.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn hummed noncommittally, happy to stay where he was while she meandered off to where he presumed he’d first spotted her. As he lay there, he breathed as steadily he could manage, seeking to find distraction in the meditative act. He didn’t bother to monitor his surroundings, barely making out Emerson’s footfalls as she approached. Distant police sirens weaved in and out of his focus, on the edge of his consciousness as he centred his thoughts on his healing body. If he’d been paying any more attention, he’d have noticed they were getting louder.

“It might,” he said, turning his head to gaze up at her. She’d fared well, and looked far better than he did. Sure, her aim could use some work, but her trick with the side-to-side drill had been incredibly smart.

“Pull on this, yeah?” he asked, stretching his arm upwards and parallel to his body. With difficulty, he slid onto his elbow with his other arm, wincing at the pain eminating from beneath his armpit. ****. He’d forgotten about that one. Still, it was nothing he’d never healed from before, and far less obstructive than his abdominal wound was.

“You did good,” he said, clenching his teeth as he begun to shift his weight. Talking and moving were not the best choice combination, but conversation gave him something other to focus on than his pain. “Nice line drills.”

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

“Okay,” Emerson said, half to reassure herself that everything was, in fact, going to be okay, and half in response to Bjorn. The first aid kit was closed and put to the side, the white roll of bandage placed on top of it as to not dirty on the ground and then be rendered useless. She didn’t know much, but she had enough common sense in her head that she knew a dirty bandage coming in contact with an open wound was only a recipe for an infection, and thus, a disaster. There had already been a disaster, so she could do without an even bigger one. Both of them could do without an even bigger one.

Emerson’s attention was brought back to Bjorn when he asked her to help him sit up. She complied hesitantly - but complied all the same - pulling on his arm ever so carefully. It took a bit more strength out of her than she’d liked to admit, but her effort helped at least a little bit. She noticed he was wincing still, and wondered if sitting up was even much of a good idea, especially with a wound to the stomach. Wouldn’t gravity do its job just fine if he stayed laying down, keeping everything in place? Would his organs just spill out of the wound, now that he was upright? Probably not. This wasn't a horror movie.

Praise. Emerson was being praised, and well, she was relishing in it. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips, even if Bjorn was obviously in pain. Not that his pain went unnoticed or became less important, but it was put to the side for a second or three. “Oh, thank you.” The girl didn’t know what exactly line drills were, but she’d take any compliment she got. “I’ve never done it before, actually.” Which she probably said already, but it mattered little as she went back to the bandage and started to unroll it. Looking between the bandage and his wound, something flickered in the back of her mind. It was small, but it was there. A memory, of sorts. Like she’d been in a similar situation before. The girl almost went right in with the bandage, wrapping it around the man, but she stopped herself before she got the chance. Some people didn’t like being touched. Emerson wasn’t really one of those people, usually, because physical contact was good. It made her feel more secure when she was spiraling out of control. “Do you want to do it?” she asked, holding up the bandage for him, head cocked to one side.

[Bjorn]

This wasn’t his first encounter with a fadebeast, but his experience was sufficiently limited that he had felt like a fish fresh out of the water. Bjorn was certain this wouldn’t be the last fadebeast he’d cross paths with, and he’d learned a valuable lesson about not solely relying on guns. Luckily for him, the Sanctuary catered to his new needs.

A fleeting sideways glance to the beast reassured him, once again, that it was 100% dead.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a go,” he replied, sliding his dominant arm out of his sleeve. He hoisted the sweatshirt’s excess material over his shoulder before plucking the unraveled bandage from her hands.

His legs bowed as he managed, with difficulty, to wrap the gauze around his midsection. His arms were long and his waistline just narrow enough. It would surely be easier to let Emerson do it, but the telepath was feeling a little tender ego-wise. It’d only been a fortnight since he’d relied on his latest familial acquaintance, Aliyah, to patch him up within minutes of meeting. This wasn’t a habit he wished to fall into, no matter how attractive the makeshift nurses were.

“I feel like I’m going to need a crash course in first aid one of these days. Keep getting caught up in all kinds of ****. That, or I need to set the gun down and learn to throw a meaner punch. You could use some training too by the looks of it.”

Perhaps it was the pain sharpening his tongue, but Bjorn felt it was a point worth making. Running out into the streets of the city with that on her tail wouldn’t have made her life any easier. Then again, being in the wrong place at the wrong time was her only fault.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

After the bandage was taken from her hands, Emerson busied herself by returning to shift through the contents of the first aid kit. She personally wouldn’t have liked close eyes on her, in the act of bandaging herself up or not, and took that into consideration as she looked away. It didn’t take the girl long to realize that there wasn’t much else for her to shift through. The first aid kit proved to treat only the most basic of injuries, like scrapes and burns and headaches, not the gashes of a monster’s claw. If she was going to keep stumbling into these types of situations, she’d have to stock up on better medicines and materials. Knowing her luck, stumble she would. The girl mentally made a plan to stop by a store some time or another.

The bandage, when finished being wrapped, could have been tied to keep it secure, but of the few items inside the small box was a roll of medical tape. It was an option, one that would leave out the risk of tying the bandage too tight and thus worsening the pain of the male’s injury, but it was his choice to make. Emerson balanced the roll on her leg, and behind a packet of sanitary wipes, found a hidden sheet of stickers. She held them up so he could see. “To decorate?” she suggested, letting a small laugh follow. She wasn’t too sure if pink flowers and small hearts suited Bjorn’s taste in decor, but people were surprising her every day.

“Me too,” she nodded in agreement. What little she somehow seemed to subconsciously know about tending to bruises and welts and the most minimal amounts of blood was only going to take her so far. Knowing how to tend to much more serious injuries would be beneficial in a lot of ways. A green gaze temporarily fell to Bjorn’s wound. The bandage would help to stop the bleeding and decrease the risk of infection from being left in the open air. But how long would it take to heal? Days? Weeks? “I mean, I don’t do this kinda thing every day, but it’d be good to know. If I want to help someone.” If she ended up getting the short end of the stick next time and was the one who was hurt, at least she’d know how to fix herself up. Maybe there was a first aid class she could take at the hospital or something. When her lack of training was brought up, Emerson shrugged her shoulders and avoided eye contact by peeling off one of the stickers from the sheet. “Yeah. I just never thought to ask anyone to help. Help me train.” She stuck the sticker to the back of her palm. “Didn’t think I would need it, y’know?”