ataraxionlogs | 03 ▒ EVENT: STRELA OUTPOST ▒ EXPLORATION

Soon as the guys in uniforms started appearing, Murphy was gone. He knew when to exit stage left, and seeing those white suits with their cattle prods, his mind barked just one order and he followed it:

Run.

At first it seemed easy enough to avoid them. He just ducked into some alleyway, between a couple of apartment buildings. It seemed hopeless to even try and pretend to be anything like them anymore. The collective whole already recognized him and his behavioral patterns, so not even his feigned attempts at blending in had any meaning.

He stumbled a few times, starting to just walk backwards as he traversed between one alleyway and into the adjacent street.

He was met with an electric jolt to his side, knocking the wind and kicking his feet from under him.

"Augh!" He gasped, face meeting dirt. He coughed it up, eddies blown around his face. Movement out the corner of his eye clued him in on the very well-known white shapes that were closing in on him, ready to bound his hands together and...

Run.

In a moment of raw panic, Murphy's fingers wrapped around the handle of the shiv he kept at his belt. The sharpened blade whipped the air and slashed through the wrist of the authority, as his hand reached out to take him. Oddly enough, the white suit did grunt in pain... They just never talked, did they? They had no reason to.

Scrambling to his feet, Murphy pushed himself away from another authority as they lashed out with their cattle prod. The electric spark grazed past him, as Murphy turned and dug the crafted blade through. Red spurted from the white cloth, embedded into the authority's shoulder. Again, only muffled sounds of pain, but nothing more. That alone was freaky as shit, enough to falter him.

They did not scream in pain, or fear of the inevitable. It was wrong, but in a sick and wrong way, it made cutting them easier.

Briefly, he hoped that others were having better luck than he was. He cursed himself for having left his communicator back at the Tranquility, even if it was useless to him now.

Now: He booked it, clutching his burnt ribs that searched with the metal heat that had impacted him. His legs moved and for a second, he felt like a cartoon character running away from more of these guys in white coats with cattle prods.

Fuck that.

Murphy did what he could make of his surroundings after he booked it down the street. He reeled himself forward with ambling legs, knocking over unsuspecting citizens as they were hurled to the ground. They practically served as obstacles as he glanced around to see the authorities either tripping or having to hop over the fallen meat shields.

That worked. Which gave him another idea, as he turned around the curve and made his way into the mess hall. The authorities were relentless, but dwindled in numbers as Murphy slipped in and out of view. He threw over more people, slamming objects and other things in the path behind him. Food, crates, trays from the mess hall were used to slow down his faster pursuers.

Animal fear propelled the adrenaline rush, a primal flight instinct that was only necessary for survival. If that meant having to use anything and anyone in order to lunge to safety, then he could deal with that.

These people weren't technically alive anymore, anyway. Not really.

So it was okay.

Time to jump through an entrance now. Some poor, completely hapless lady that had been leaving her house would then find an ex-convict throwing himself through her unlocked door. She didn't even try to avoid him when he had pushed her into the wall, just tore through her living room, out the back door, and onto the other side of the street that was otherwise still clogged with what looked like regular people. The door slammed behind him, wrenching him from his frantic state of rush.

He looked down at the bloody shiv in his hand. His entire body was shaking, sweaty by the time he had stopped. When he looked around at the teeming street, some of the people were already gracing him with peculiar leers and stares.

After a glance, he was no longer being followed. That didn't leave Murphy fully in the clear, as he heeded this fleeting respite to catch his breath. Wiping the blood the blood off the blade with his sleeve, he put the shiv away. He told himself through rasped breaths to keep moving, even if he was unable to walk to the synchronicity of these people.

No, no no no...

He panted still, ambling between people towards the direction he hoped led to the shuttles. He didn't know for certain. Couldn't stop to ask. His hand clutched his burning ribcage. Somehow, he had a feeling that he was going to be feeling that for long afterward. If he would ever make it out of this outpost...

Meanwhile, during the majority of this epic chase scene, Alex was taking a nap.

He startles awake as he tends to do, bleary-eyed and confused until he realizes he's not in the waiting room; it's hard to keep your head straight after nearly getting it sucked right outta' you. But now's not a time to think on that; he's quickly back on his feet though when he looks to his left and sees people in white [so very passively] scanning the halls and alleys for escapees. Or maybe they're looking for people actively on the run from them. Hard to say. All he knows is with how messy he looks, he's definitely an easy target for someone who needs droning.

And he's angry toward them still, visibly so, but... he's also at the end of his stamina rope when it comes to charging into the fray, so he turns tail and starts off. One of them tries to intercept him but they didn't see that he's got an axe and a prod, so they get a neck full of electricity before he shoves them aside and keeps moving. Everything's hard to keep track of, but he knows one thing--moving toward the shipyard is the important thing. Gotta run, gotta keep moving, gotta rush it--

Turning the corner, he's about .5 seconds from slamming into a convict.

(Hi there.)

What do you get when you have two guys crazy-running in their efforts to escape the fate of being dragged away to have their brains unscrewed?

An asphalt sandwich, pretty much.

Some kind of incoherent curse barked out. Murphy hit the ground harder than he expected he would. He had been too busy punching his way through people in such a blind panic that he almost didn't remember in his blind disorientation that he'd been plowed into. All he saw in front of him was a bloodied and beaten blur and a very familiar cattle prod.

Who Murphy lunged at and almost wound up punching in the face. If he hadn't recognized that it was Alex, he definitely would have.

Got to love that moment when you realize you're grabbing someone by the jacket, and they look worse off than you do.

"What the hell, man?" Murphy breathed. "Really... What the... hell...?"

For the time being, it looked like they were clear. It didn't help that the crowd treated Murphy with all the courtesy of an infectious disease, avoiding him in a way that made him easier to spot by the authorities. Yeah, they probably didn't like him very much by now. He didn't exactly leave a very good impression.

His face really hurts, and he's just glad at this point that he's not getting hit again. He drops the back of his head to the ground, temporarily giving up on his life, because it seemed like as good a time as any. "No punching... please... Head hurts already..."

Wait 'til he tells you how fucking right he was. Fuck this place, fuck the guards, fuck the rooms with stupid white walls... Is he still hanging there by the jacket lapel? Let me go, man. Let me collapse properly.

"R'they following?"

Because he wasn't checking.

Sorry Alex, but you look like shit, bro.

Murphy didn't know whether he should let go or not. The way Alex just collapsed like that -- he went down like a rock than Murphy did.

He glanced up. People were starting to move away from him, make a clearing. But no sign of the suits just yet.

"Right now? No." He looked back down at Alex. "Think you can walk?"

Getting out of the streets took priority at the moment.

"Yeah." He thinks maybe he can get to the shipyard, anyway. But after this, he's going to sleep and sleep until it turns him into a lethargic walking headache. Not that he wasn't halfway here already. He shoves himself upright with his hand, blinking hard as he goes. "I can make it far enough. I'm guessing you were getting chased, too... Did you get caught? Your head feeling okay?"

Murphy could have made an ill-timed joke at that. Your head feeling okay... After spending a few days trying to avoid guys with cattle prods, he sure as hell didn't feel fine. More like he was starting to lose his mind.

"Guessed right, no, and yes. Been runnin' and layin' low for awhile." Murphy answered simply at first, rising to his feet at least. He leaned over, offering his hand in case if Alex needed one -- and he seemed like he did. "What about you? You look like shit."

To put it nicely.

He groans, still winded as he's taking Murphy's helpful hand up. At least it's not like back home--didn't have a hole in his leg he had to limp through. No, he got a little more 'luck' this time around. His mind goes back to the waiting room--to Annie, and he works his jaw, wincing. She was a little too good at headbutting. She wasn't there when he'd left, so... he just hopes she got the hell outta' there.

"They did a number on me, yeah. I was trying to help this girl--she was cornered by those assholes in white out here. But they caught me and dragged me off, too." He shakes his head, holds out the prod for him to take, if he wants it; since he's already got the axe, he figures Murphy would be better off with it than him.

... Geez. Murphy's got blood on him, he's got blood on him. They're big flashing target signs. "They threw me in this--this processing room, or something. I don't know. It was killing my head, like--like some weird pressure..."

It has to be the way they turned all these other people. He just knows it.

Edited 2012-07-31 02:42 (UTC)

To be fair, Murphy managed a bit of bloodshed, between brute force and outright stabbing his would-be captor. He didn't know how badly some of those people got banged up when he knocked them over, either. Hopefully nobody got too badly hurt... Even if it was to escape, and they didn't care, anyway. It was creepy.

Murphy had been keeping an eye on their surroundings when Alex mentioned the girl. There were others who'd been taken... Of course, that shouldn't surprise him. He'd seen people getting dragged off, seen the patrols making their rounds, trying to find any digit that didn't belong. Whatever they did, whatever Alex was describing -- God, no one should have to deal with that.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Soon as I saw them commin', I just..." Ran? "Hope she got out, at least." He stared, before taking the cattle prod. Murphy barely scraped by with what little he had, so this was good. "Good thing you got out. Shuttles'll be leavin' soon. Doubt they're gonna wait on any stragglers, given what's happened."

He started moving backwards towards an unsuspecting alleyway. Get out of sight, out of minds. Figure out how they're going to get to the aforementioned shuttles without getting caught.

"Yeah... That, uh. That smiley guy opened the doors and let everyone out..." He wasn't sure he would have made it, if whatever the hell that was left them in there. Who could last that long, fighting that? He walks after Murphy, focusing on one step at a time. This isn't the first occasion he's blinked away blurred edges, or the first time he's shaken off something blaring in his head after a chase. Silent Hill was a catch-all, he thinks, as he runs a hand against his forehead to survey the rough scab forming.

"I'd rather not end up trapped here, while the ship takes off, no." A dry swallow. "Have you seen Annie? I haven't found her, but I--heard she knew you, so..."

Murphy stopped suddenly. They were in the alley. Didn't seem like they were being followed -- but then, Murphy had been followed, chased after, and nearly apprehended for the past couple of days. He had a right to be paranoid.

"Really? That makes twice now..." The sad part was that... didn't seem odd at all. It was hard to forget how they were helped when everyone was sick -- they probably wouldn't have found the cure if their red smiling friend hadn't shown them the way. How many people would he have had to watch, coughing and oozing blood out of their faces...?

He wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead.

"Christ, they took Annie?" That wasn't good. God. Of all people... "No, I... shit. I haven't seen her. I haven't seen much of anyone, ah..."

No, going back wasn't a great idea. Seeing how many he could use this prod to knock down to find her was actually the opposite of a great idea. Not when his face was kind of the last thing most of these people wanted to see. But still... tempting.

"I tried looking for her, back around the waiting rooms... but she wasn't there, so I'm hoping she went back to the ship." He staggers to a stop, using Murphy's shoulder to keep him balanced when the movement nearly topples him. "Sorry."

As he straightens himself out he looks around the alley himself. Even if Murphy didn't say, he could tell that he was just as freaked out over getting unwanted attention as he was. "How far off do you think the shipyard is from here? I, uh... lost track."

Being out of it. Y'know. Usual Alex problems.

Edited 2012-07-31 05:19 (UTC)

Murphy straightened as Alex leaned on him. He wasn't in such great shape himself, but at least he didn't look like he was ready to fall to the floor. Hell, he'd carry the kid if he had to.

"Maybe..." He hoped so. Thinking about it, trying to fight his way through the people here would only do more harm than good. He might not get to Annie to help her, and what more, he'd risk getting caught himself. Like he'd ever let that happen.

For now, Alex was his priority. Because Alex was here and this much Murphy could do for someone. God forbid that he tell the kid that, though. But Murphy couldn't do anything, for anybody since all of this shit started. He just ran and hid and then ran some more. Useless...

"Pretty sure it's just a few blocks from here, so... close." He cast Alex a brief look before he would start moving again. "If we get jumped, though, I'm not leavin' you behind, got that? Don't you dare suggest it."

He snorts despite himself. "Alright, alright, don't scowl at me just yet. Haven't even done anything stupid yet." Yet. He just likes to poke jabs at Murphy to lighten the shitty situation, considering in such a sorry state he's in. So, not far from the shipyard, got a nap in--he might be able to handle a sprint or two. It's just how he rolls. "Isn't that jinxing us?"

At the risk of saying You got your ass captured -- that was pretty stupid, Murphy snapped his mouth shut. Yeah, even a convict had at least some concept of "time and place" and tact.

Instead, he scoffed: "Like we aren't already jinxed." It was a wonder that the universe didn't just implode when the two were in the same room.

Murphy then took a couple seconds to peek around the corner of the alley. Some of the suits were running by. One of them looked like he'd taken a pretty nasty hit to the shoulder...

Unbelievable. Even after taking a shivving, the fucker just walked it off like it was nothing. But he came and went, and Murphy looked back to Alex. "So, blending in probably isn't gonna be an option anymore. We should just force our way to the shipyard." Not like Murphy wasn't just mowing people down already.

Okay, that wasn't stupid, that was unfortunate. I will defend it to the death.

He uses the wall as a crutch when Murphy's taking a look see, frowning at the reply. Well of course blending's a piss poor idea. But Alex isn't sure just how well he can force people aside right now; let him look down at his own feet, eyes scanning as he considers his own limitations. If they make sure they don't get surrounded by more than four--six? six, he can definitely put up a struggle. If Murphy's caught, he can kill at least three. Yeah. He could kill that many. He's already a bona fide murderer anyway.

For now, force their way through, avoid guards, just move.

"Okay."

He really, really wants to say 'if we get jumped, leave me behind'. How the fuck did you quote him word for word back there? Ugh. He wants to roll his eyes, but goes for an affirmative nod instead as he clenches the handle of his axe. "I'm on your clock, whenever you're ready."

In all fairness, Murphy wasn't one to talk. The one time he ever did get caught, he did it intentionally.

But that was back then. Now, he was getting a good grip of the cattle prod. His side still ached from being electrocuted a couple times not too long ago. He didn't like that so much. The thought of giving it back to those assholes almost seemed like poetic justice.

"Alright. Stay close to me, I'll have you covered." That way if Alex decided to fall behind, Murphy wouldn't let him. Yeah, he quoted word-for-word because he knew exactly the kind of guy Alex was. Like with like.

As it would turn out, however, it wasn't going to be that hard to plow through the crowd -- considering how the citizens just avoided them as soon as they emerged. Great! Less people to knock down.

"Oh fuck..." The bad part was, it also allotted more room for the real threats out there to spot them.

On the bright side -- shouldn't be much of a jog to get to the shipyard. If they hurry.

"Go!"

Alex is right on that, forcing his legs into overtime. He can keep up the pace regardless of what his body wants to tell him; no way in hell he wants to go back to the rooms. The guards--how are there still so many, goddammit?--are moving past people in the crowd to follow. The electric hum of cattle prods reminds him that keeping one step ahead of them is a damn good idea.

He'll make it. He's gotta make it. Elle's at home waiting, Josh couldn't have saved him for nothing, there are people on the Tranquility he has to check up on--

They're coming, Murphy. They're surprisingly fast and perk at the sight of a flurried movement in the parting crowds.

...Yeah, any hope of not making a ruckus was moot. None of these people were too particularly fond at the sight of Murphy, and had no intention of getting in his way. After charging and hurling several of them off their kilter, they weren't particularly excited to get in his way.

He kept an eye on Alex, making sure the kid wasn't falling too far behind. Otherwise, Murphy would have been able to run much faster, in spite of his burning lungs and the screaming pain that ached in his bones. But he could deal with that. He told himself that none of it would matter if he was dead.

When Murphy turned around the corner, taking what was hopefully a shorter way to the shipyard, he was met with a cattle prod to the neck. He felt himself thrown back several feet by the electric jolt, coming from a lone white and red-colored blur. And familiar shoulder wound...

Jesus. This guy didn't fucking let up.

Also, ow. Somehow, it hurt worse the second time.

It all just takes a matter of seconds. But it all feels so slow to him, the current situation.

Fuck that. Alex charges right past poor ol' Murph, teeth grit--no more of that shit. He's so sick of seeing people getting tossed around, hiveminded, shocked (shocked), he's about to see red at the sight of that cattle prod. He ducks low at the prod in the man's hand, which was fine because his legs had decided to temporarily give out from under him anyway, and with one hard swing he hacks into the guard's knee. It bends in such a way, it almost makes him flinch back. Almost.

But then he thinks of the electricity, the feeling of his whole body convulsing against a gurney, and he lets that take control momentarily.

I got him, I got him-

Alex tries to pull himself to his feet but the falling man isn't so willing to give up; even with watering eyes and a reddening nose bridge, his face is blank when he takes Alex by the leg and tries to drag him down with him. Slippery blood under his fingers as he stumbles forward, breathing heavy, jerking his wrist out of the man's grasp.

Just as the man in white falls, Alex feels something jam into the middle of his shoulder blades.

An electric, white-hot burst, no more than a few seconds after he'd ran his axe into a kneecap, a pain that further ruins the concept of time as he topples with a strained cry onto his shoulder. The puddle of blood, not his, ripples beneath his weight. But he refuses to pass out this time around, struggling to get back up as soon as his body lets him.

shit, shit, shit

They're so close to the endgame.

Murphy was grabbing the side of his own neck. He tried to collect some sense of reality. Everything had just split apart for several seconds. Trying to pull all the pieces together... he might as well be holding water in his hands.

His hands... He still had the cattle prod. Didn't drop that. While Alex was hacking away at the one that Murphy had stabbed earlier, there was another flash of red and white coming up from behind him, and--

A hot, electric flash. Not his own this time, but coming from the prod he had. With it, he lashed out. And, at his downwards angle, reached for the most convenient angle that he could have below the waist.

Yeah. Let no one say that prison brothers didn't fight dirty. At least it made the guard go down pretty fast -- like a brick. Stunned by the searing pain now between his legs. Murphy just totally went there. Though at this point, the citizens seemed to be taking a less passive approach and started to narrow in on the two interlopers. You'd think they were upset about something or something.

Recovering from all of that was, naturally, easier said than done. Running on sheer willpower, Murphy rolled over, pushing himself onto his hands and knees and scrambled to get to Alex. Cattle prod in one hand, the other took him by the upper sleeve of his jacket to help him onto his feet.

"C'mon, we're almost there...!" Murphy choked, his voice hoarse from the nasty jolt he'd taken, on top of the physical exertion wearing him down. He could keep running even after taking a heavy beating, though. For a long time.

Harsh, bro..

But Alex is too focused on getting his sluggish ass back up before he gets someone else to prod him with electricity. He almost fights the hand jerking him to his feet, until he realizes who's voice that is. He looks past the pounding in his temples and the cotton stuffed in his ears and moves again, wobbly like a top about to reach the end of its spin.

Move, move. Keep moving. They make it halfway there running--he's even able to run on his own for a while--before his legs buckle again and he's back on his knees and hands. The floor dots with beads of sweat falling away from his chin. Move. Move, goddamn it, move. No giving up. Not even if your body says no, kick yourself in the ass and go-

"I can't," he rasps.

What are you sitting for?

Pathetic.

Still can't do anything. Still not a soldier. Still the guy in the hospital bed who imagines he's vomiting alone, away from his squad. Still a sad kid who crumples under the pressure, who lets his weaknesses hurt people. Kill people.

Joshua saved you with your memory of him, and this is what you do?

He speaks at the ground, "Joshua... I'm sorry--I'm sorry..."

Okay.

Sure, Alex was probably going to hate him for this -- but that was neither here nor there. Not the point. The point was actually surviving this mess. Living. Murphy didn't give a damn about what Alex had said, about his curse, about not dying. He was starting to give up and that much was obvious.

Murphy was quick. He was still dealing with the pain in his skull, the rattling, ongoing hum that shattered his brain and every word in his thoughts just screamed run. Murphy, run! Seeing Alex, though... He couldn't just leave him that way.

He thought he was going to collapse again, but instead dipped down to grab Alex's arm. He tugged it, pulled it over his shoulder to better carry his weight. "I got'cha. Easy, now."

It sure as hell wasn't anything like carrying Heather, dragging Alex at his side like that. It also didn't make dealing with this pain any easier. But he was going to start hauling their weight no matter how dead it was.

"Stay with me, man."

Didn't care how many of those assholes were coming after them now. Murphy ran. He was good at running. He could handle it.

Come on, come on...

Something in the back of his head chimes, I deserve this. He deserved to be left behind again, just like his father did to him, just like his mother was forced to do. Strela is just one big boat, like the one he and Joshua had rowed out in at the lake, and he was supposed to be stranded on it. Maybe it was how it was supposed to be. But regardless, he feels his legs trying to support him and move when he's dragged along.

"Thanks," he manages. Almost away from this place. So close to the shuttles, so close to the Tranquility. The dog tags around his neck jangle harshly as they move, a clunky sad mess of people wanting freedom from consumption. He'd put all he had left into running if he had much left to give.

Can't give up. Not yet.

Feels like he'd thought this a lot, running through Shepherd's Glenn, though Silent Hill.

Don't mention it, was what almost came out of Murphy's mouth just then. But he was cut off by the onslaught of stubborn civilians that were attempting to crowd around them now. Hold them off until more authorities could come...

Hauling Alex's weight at his side, he practically dragged him now. Eyes failed, lungs burning -- he used his shoulder like a blunt battering ram through the mass of people reaching out. But he could do this. He could do this.

When the shipyard was in view, it was the most welcome sight that he had ever seen in a long time. Even more so when the shuttles were in view. From there, it was a battle of wills, so close yet so far.

The end is near. Don't worry. Got it, got it...

In a last-ditch effort, he hurled them both through the doors of the shuttle.

Safe? Not sure yet. Close enough, though.

28th-30th | OTA (basically an excuse to write up a chase scene and violence, don't mind me)

30th | HUFF

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