That's all it takes. There is no room for hesitation. The lieutenant moves, like a spring unloaded. He grabs the gun from your bloody hand and fires behind him.
I think he's calmed down a bit...
Even if it comes to a fight it's a good idea to get under his skin first.
There is a hole in his cheek. Blood gushes out as he stumbles backward, eyes filled with rage and disbelief -- gurgling, muttering something unintelligible...
Is there anything -- *anything* -- we could use to protect this frail body? That gun will tear us to pieces.
This is the scab leader. His chest rises and falls under the ceramic breastplate. His fingers reach for the butt of his sidearm.
"What's that, loincloth? I can't hear you. Sounds like you got your mouth full of dick. Ruud..."
He's trying to find a straight line of sight before the rifleman can take you out. In the background, the leader staggers...
Shoot him in the mouth. Shoot him before he shoots you.
"Kim, I lied. About not remembering who I am. I made it up... I remember everything."
This is the mercenary at the gates! His chest rises and falls under the ceramic breastplate. His fingers reach for the butt of his sidearm.
No. We can do this. Drag it out a bit. Get under his skin.
Let it happen.
No. No. It's just a fear. Even if... who cares. No one wants you anyway.
This time feels different. You aim higher -- as if pulled by a magnet. Your hand goes numb from the explosion and a plume of smoke erupts from the gun...
This time feels different. You aim higher -- as if pulled by a magnet. Your hand goes numb from the explosion and a plume of smoke erupts from the gun...
This time feels different. You aim higher -- as if pulled by a magnet. Your hand goes numb from the explosion and a plume of smoke erupts from the gun...
Wait. It's a good thing you have an anthropomorphic petrol bomb. It really is. But you have to soften him up first. Present an argument!
There's no way, you're just gonna die. Just close your eyes when it happens...
From the corner of your eye you see the lieutenant raise his pistol -- and aim it at Ruud.
"STOP!!!"
"There's a white shadow that smells like apricots, it's... always there."
If you waste time people will die.
A low shot rings. You feel a tapping, like rain on your chest plate. Heavy drops of rain. Then the sound of dice rolling, as the cuirass distributes the shot evenly from plate to plate.
Throw the gun at him: "Die!"
Wow you threw it far -- great throw. Too bad the goal was to throw it a very *short* distance and now everyone will die.
No, wait! It's good you have that gun. It really is. Just soften him up first. Present an argument!
Just dodge the first shot -- and the second will be easier. Drunks are quick to anger -- and make mistakes.
Joopson AS catalogue no. J327 shone on the tie rack, trying to get his attention. The sad man picked it up and put it on. He looked at himself in the mirror. Didn't smile.
You're bleeding like a pig, but the bullet *seems* to have gone right through you. Don't go into shock and you might make it.
No, he didn't -- he's about to open fire.
"You're all drunk, look at yourselves!"
You stare down the barrel of the gun. You see Ruud's mask behind it -- his eye in the slit of the helmet. Like a camera lens focusing on you.
A plume of smoke and fire erupts from the gun and your hand goes numb from the explosion...
It's Titus. With a splat like meat, you hear bullets rip into him. His voice, still giving orders, grows fainter... A gurgle...
There is no room for hesitation. The lieutenant turns around and fires, his body falling on yours in the course of the motion...
This third one -- he is the most dangerous of them all. Heavily armed.
"My plan is not to get killed." He puts his hand on his holster. "But we have to intervene."
If you waste time, people will die. And they will still attack you later.
This third one -- he is the most dangerous of them all. Heavily armed.
He's trying to find a straight line of sight before the rifleman can take you out. In the background, the leader is still on fire...
You leap left. A swarm of angry lead passes mere millimetres from your side, tearing fabric off your coat. Feels like the lightest of tucks.
A small explosion expels the bullet from the chamber. With a puff of smoke it hits the man square in the chest -- producing a soft clicking sound in the armour.
This is death. One more door, baby. One more door.
He's trying to find a straight line of sight before the rifleman can take you out.
He's drunk. Drunk fighters over-correct. Move right -- he aims further right. Get him to overshoot!
Even if it comes to a fight it's *always* a good idea to drag it out. Get under his skin.
Titus -- behind you -- must be aiming at him right now. Don't forget, there's additional reinforcements. Just survive this...
A big pillow falls on you. Cold nylon and blood. Slumped on you as the lights go out. All the lights. And the sounds. Of the world. Disappear.
A big pillow falls on you. Cold nylon and blood. Slumped on you as the lights go out. All the lights. And the sounds. Of the world. Disappear.
That's all it takes. There is no room for hesitation. The lieutenant moves, like a spring unloaded. He grabs the gun from your bloody hand and fires behind him.
There's something very wrong with him.
No. Not a disaster. Weave this into the story of you. Walk out of its *ruins*. Save those who still can be saved -- *I'm* on your side.
"Why did I not find my lost gun..." (Just stand there.)
Stand there quietly; hope nothing bad happens.
Stand there quietly; hope nothing bad happens.
With a crash of shattering glass and a terrible roar the fire draws in oxygen -- the bomb hits the mercenary in the chest, swallowing him in flames as he staggers backward.
IT'S A *FIASCO*, BRATAN!
IT'S A *FIASCO*, BRATAN!
Like how did I get you, or...?
I bet you are... The fiery container hurtles toward the earth with a last wink of light. It shatters to a thousand pieces.
There is no room for hesitation. The lieutenant turns around and fires, his body falling on yours in the course of the motion...
Another soft explosion, like a firecracker goes off in your hand. Another soft *click* from the gleaming white cuirass.
The pain is too immense to scream. It pushes the air out of your lungs. Everything goes dark, a distant blur as you recede into it...
Wait!!! I didn't even know your name!
"Where is Klaasje? She can explain this."
He's aiming for the eye-slot in Ruud's helmet. An extremely difficult shot...
"Who is that?" (Point to the man) "I didn't know you had a third guy."
"Listen! They didn't do it!"
'I feel it in my fingers... I feel it in my toes...'
No. We can do this. Drag it out a little. Get under his skin.
No, no. It's okay. Soften him up and trust the others to attack if it comes to that. Make him talk! Present an argument!
"Go ahead. Give it another try." The man doesn't even move. He’s smiling.
"Go ahead. Give it another try." The man doesn't even move. He’s smiling.
Touch your lower body...
"No one wants to *do* anything with me... no one wants to party with me."
He just shakes his head, still crouched over you. You hear a distant gunshot. Velvety smooth -- a red circle has appeared on the lieutenant's jacket. It's growing fast.
He just shakes his head, still crouched over you. You hear a distant gunshot. Velvety smooth -- a red circle has appeared on the lieutenant's jacket. It's growing fast.
Nothing. A persisting darkness. Dancing lights of pain. Distant shadows cast by them, like a hellish play...
Even if it comes to a fight it's *always* a good idea to drag it out first. Get under his skin.
No. We can do this. Drag it out a bit. Get under his skin.
The shot rings and you stumble. Something violently tugs at your shoulder, pushing you backwards with incredible force.
A full suit of armour can't be too agile. You can shift direction faster than he can.
If you waste time people will die.
The two little *white* figures in the end are from when they moved to Revachol. They're recent.
He has chewed his lips bloody.
These men served in Semenine... the native islanders...
"Good -- I *kill* killers." (Point to your chest.)
About *fifty* little stick figures -- all of them black. Plus two little white ones in the end.
There -- on the rim of Hoenkloewen's helmet -- you count little stick figures: 19, 20, 21...
(Point to yourself) "It was me."
(Point to the coast) "It was Ruby."
He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.
"Yeah? Who did then?"
That doesn't sound good. You need to change the topic *now*. Or there will be another shot.
He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.
He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.
"It was someone *else* -- someone who's not here now."
"Wait, I just need a little time to figure this out."
(Point to the roof) "It was Klaasje."
*"All* of them did it." He puts his hand on the gun. "All of them need to die."
(Point to Titus) "I think it was Titus."
"Go ahead." He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.
"You think this is *funny*?" There's a dangerous gleam in his eye. "What if I just shot one of your pals here for fun, huh?"
"You think you're funny?" There's a dangerous gleam in his eye. "What if I just shot one of your pals here right now, huh?"
"Is she?" He pulls the trigger. A plume of smoke erupts from the muzzle.
Yeah. So what. You should be drunk too. Or, like, *drunker*. You don't want to die sober do you?
Exactly. This is *so* horrible! People are gonna die whatever you do -- it will be all your fault. Only a drink will soothe this. Keep thinking about the drink!
"Interrupt me again and I will execute you on the spot, lance-corporal." The outburst is accompanied by yellowish saliva around his mouth.
I don't need a drink right now for god's sake. Look at this! I'm in a fight!
I don't need a drink right now, for god's sake, the gardener just got shot!
Shut up! Let him think, too much is on the line, he's *not* gonna fuck it up because of you. I won't let you.
Fucking horrible... A girl got shot?! Because of you?! Only warm alcohol will help soothe the guilt!
Yeah. So what? You should be drunk too. It's insane how long it's been since your last drink. Get one in you RIGHT NOW.
"All right." He wipes the sweat from his brow. "Let's do this. Smear your shit all over this fucking dung field..."
"Guys, I, uh..." The little guy breaks formation. "I'd just get in the way. I don't even have a gun."
"She's fucking GONE!" The shout echoes back from the Whirling windows. "She fucking sailed off! You're *alone*."
"She's gone, you stupid fuck." He points to the sea. "Sailed off five minutes ago. She doesn't give a shit about you silos. You're *alone*."
They're *afraid*. All of them. Trembling reeds in the wind. They'll run, scatter, soon. One by one.
"She's gone, you stupid fuck." He points to the sea. "Sailed off -- five minutes ago. She doesn't give a shit about you silos..."
The man stares at you with bloodshot eyes, a bull ready to charge -- he's not listening, but looking for an opening...
"What always happens when you get good at your job. That name meant night raids, fucking extra-judicial funkytime... burned villages. Shit that sounds bad on the radio."
So you just *stand* there!? This is bad, very bad, DO OR SAY SOMETHING NOW!
"Pops..." he says looking at your saggy sideburns -- they seem to calm him down for a second. "You have no idea about the rights Krenel extends to us."
"I am a Krenel major with over 15 years of live-combat experience. When my colonel gets hanged by clay-monkeys I lead the platoon on a *retaliation strike*."
"I am a Krenel major with over 15 years of live-combat experience. When my colonel gets hanged by clay-monkeys I lead the platoon on a *retaliation strike*."
"Oh yeah, he would have commanded this fuck-hell way better than I did. But that didn't happen, because Hayseed Bill and Kipty the Kipt here..." he points to Titus and Eugene.
"Oh yeah, he would have commanded this fuck-hell way better than I did. But that didn't happen, because Hayseed Bill and Kipty the Kipt here..." he points to Titus and Eugene.
Okay, yes. Immediate failure. Things are worse now. He's observing your every motion carefully...
Uhm... this might be a *very* bad moment to come up with this, but he's *Korty* right?
"They fucking put Lely in a leaf compactor and now these cunts finished the job..." He waves at the gang huddled by the doors.
Of course! Nothing bad will happen. Talk about his dead friend! He seems stable enough to take it.
"If Lely was here, he would spare the lot of you. Maybe shoot one for show. But me..." He points to himself. "I'm not a big fan of public affairs, clay-monkey. I'll gun every one of you down for what you did."
...and then he bellows: "For killing, maiming and humiliating our commanding officer -- you're all sentenced to death by lead!"
Okay, yes. Immediate failure. Things are worse now. He's observing your every motion carefully...
"She left!" The manager calls down from the balcony.