#if orla hadnt been Evacuated they would have been able to just fight their way out the front door | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weyrleaders · 3 months

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im having so much fun with these @vapolis thank you for my life

also orla couldnt be in this one because if she was things would have gone very differently and i wouldnt have been able to do what i set out to do

gets a bit violent lol but no more than this game gets i dont think

There’s a saying about best-laid plans.

Jax whips back behind cover, slamming against the doorframe, narrowly dodging another round of gunfire. When it stops, he reaches around the doorframe and takes a few shots of his own. There’s a shout. Jax hopes he hit something important.

Orla was meeting with the head of the Vipers to settle a territory deal. It was supposed to be quick and simple, and the Vipers were supposed to have top-notch security. Apparently their people weren’t as good as they thought, because the meeting was attacked halfway through by a group Jax has yet to identify.

Aster had been closer to Orla than Jax, and had just picked her up and took off. Not that Jax blames him. Especially since Orla isn’t going to appreciate being treated like a damsel in distress no matter how fueled by blind panic Aster was at the time.

Still, someone had to cover Orla’s escape. The idiots must be content with taking out one of Orla’s people if they can’t have her, because as soon as they realized she was gone and Jax wasn’t they were quick to switch targets.

That, or they just don’t know who they’re supposed to be after.

He hears something roll in the hallway, but isn’t stupid enough to risk peeking.

There’s an explosion and plenty of smoke down the hall, though, and he jerks his head up in time to see Aster sprinting toward him out of the smoke while their attackers are busy coughing their lungs out. He slides his mask down around his neck and tosses another smoke bomb for good measure before they both take off.

They aren’t running for long before Jax hears another few wild shots. Aster growls and answers with a few of his own.

After a few turns, Aster slows unexpectedly, and Jax nearly outpaces him. He stops short and turns to see Aster leaning against the wall, panting and pressing his hand against his shoulder. Blood wells between his fingers, barely visible against the black of his vest.

“Orla sent you back for me?” Jax asks.

“Probably,” Aster grits out.

“Probably?”

“I was already making for the door when she opened her mouth,” replies Aster as he pushes away from the wall.

He takes the lead as they round the next several turns, heading deeper into the complex. Jax had been leading the uninvited guests away from the direction Aster had taken Orla, so it wasn’t as if Aster could just lead them back out the way he came in. There’s no other halls connected to this one, just doors scattered throughout. There has to be an exit soon. Unless the complex’s architect refused to follow fire code. Jax knows they must be underground since he went down a flight of stairs early on, but apart from that he’s lost.

Aster is slowing down, though, breathing going ragged. Jax looks over his shoulder to check on him.

He’s ghostly pale, face drawn and teeth bared. He wipes sweat from his face, leaving behind a red smudge. Jax bravely resists picking on him for it.

They find a staircase. Jax glances at Aster, then eyes the stairs.

“I can make it,” mutters Aster, brushing past Jax. “Let’s go.”

And he does, even if he collapses against the wall at the top and slides down to the floor while Jax closes the door behind them.

Jax feels along the wall for a switch. There’s no point in trying to hide. Their pursuers know exactly where they are.

Jax flips the first switch he finds, and maybe half of the lights come on.

They’re in the auditorium of a church, of all places, judging by the Jesus posters. It doesn’t look like it’s been used in a good while, though the basketball floor looks well-maintained. There’s a huge stack of dusty folding chairs off in the corner and some flimsy tables, but nothing substantial enough that it could block the door they just came through. Jax can spot a bin of sports equipment across the room, but even if there’s something he could use to tie the door shut he doubts he could get there, find it, and get back before they’re caught.

There’s a side door off in the far end of the room, mostly hidden in a darkened corner. Jax would’ve missed it if not for the glowing exit sign.

“Come on,” he orders, hauling Aster to his feet by his uninjured arm.

It still hurts regardless, if Aster’s sharp inhale is any indication, but he doesn’t make any other noise. And he still follows Jax, surprisingly stable considering how much blood he’s lost. Continues to lose, blood dripping slowly from his fingers.

The door behind them bursts open when they’re still a few yards away. Jax grabs Aster and picks up speed, all but dragging him along.

Jax hears gunfire, but doesn’t bother turning to look. Bullets zip past them, narrowly missing.

The exit door suddenly swings open, crashing into the outside wall. Someone darts past them and into the building.

There’s a scream, then a wet crunch, followed by more gunfire.

Jax practically throws Aster outside and whips around.

There’s one man on the ground not that from the door, weakly dragging himself forward with one hand and clutching at the knife buried in his neck with the other. There’s a woman against the wall, blood staining the front of her shirt as she cradles a terribly-broken jaw. Her pistol is several feet away, entirely forgotten. Jax can see bare bone gleaming between her fingers.

He follows the trail of destruction until he reaches Ray, currently straddling someone’s chest as he slams his fists into their face. No, not his fists. Jax isn’t sure when Ray managed to get those spiked knuckles back from the last time he tried to sneak them into the club, but Jax knows how particular Ray is about his weapons. He wouldn’t just go buy a new set.

(Which means it’s time to move the stash again, notes Jax.)

Jax closes the door. He gets one last glimpse through the window of Ray rolling away from his current victim to escape a round of bullets before he turns to make sure Aster is on his feet.

“How did he get here so fast?” Jax wonders aloud, leading Aster across the parking lot. There’s a dumpster he can hide behind while Jax goes back to help Ray finish cleaning up.

“He was probably outside the whole time,” says Aster faintly.

“Orla didn’t ask him to be here.”

Aster rolls his eyes.

“That’s sixteen,” he replies.

There’s a box full of newspapers behind the dumpster, and Aster drops onto it without prompting.

“This is the sixteenth time I’ve tried to tell you and Orla this,” continues Aster. “and neither of you ever believes me.”

“About what?” Jax asks. “Ray?”

“Yes.”

Jax takes a moment to reload. He slips the old magazine into his coat. There’s still three bullets left, by his count, but he’d prefer to go in with a fresh one.

“He doesn’t like these missions. He thinks they’re boring, if he’s standing around inside,” Aster explains. “So he pretends he’s too mouthy for Orla to trust him with them.”

Jax peers around the dumpster. No one has followed them out.

“But he doesn’t like to be left out, so he sets up across the street and watches.”

“I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Jax mutters.

“I think you’re not giving him enough,” retorts Aster.

Jax ducks down and makes a run for it back toward the church. He’s nearly there when the door opens again, much less dramatically this time.

Ray steps out.

His face is flushed, chest still heaving from the fight. His hair is matted against his forehead with blood, left eye already purpling spectacularly. He could probably save the leather jacket, if he’s fast. Red drips from his spiked knuckles, and Jax notices a small tuft of hair, skin still attached, stuck to one deadly point.

Ray’s mouth is stained red, as is the front of his formerly-white crop top. Jax can just barely make out the “don’t forget to smile” decal through the mess. Kind of a shame. Jax knows it’s one of Ray’s favorites.

(Not that he probably won’t keep it anyway.)

He smiles, and his teeth are bloody. There’s a wild look in his eyes, and Jax has the inexplicable urge to kiss his busted lip. What took you so long and your place or mine and thank you dance on the tip of his tongue.

“Did you fucking bite someone?” Jax asks instead.

Ray laughs.

“Woof, woof.”

#rywd #some day i Will write orla but that day could not be today #if orla hadnt been Evacuated they would have been able to just fight their way out the front door #ray is keeping that shirt 100% and now loves it even more #someone asks where he got it and ray's like “i made it (:”

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