David Roberts // Westley (asuwish) wrote in ourtrueselves, @ 2010-04-03 15:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | david roberts |
Who: David Roberts (and NPC CORE member)
What: Karma catches up with him. Karma's a bitch.
When: Friday Night
Where: CORE HQ
Warning: Violence
To say David was unprepared for this was something of an understatement. He may have been the only one who knew his way around this building, but that didn't do much. Getting the first strike team in the door had been the easy part. The guards and receptionist weren't exactly the brightest, and Legrand may have been the only person David had ever met who lied better than he did. It was after that that everything became pure chaos.
Camelot started taking people down. CORE tried to stop the intruders. David started to think he should have worn some sort of sign identifying him as one team or the other. At any given moment, it was hard to say which one would have been better, but being a target for half the people had to beat being a target for all of them.
"I'm moving on to the third floor," he spoke into his comm unit as he raced up the stairwell. All he got in response was static. Typical. The white hats wanted to take out CORE's leadership, which meant David's (probably suicidal) mission was to find the people he knew were in charge of various things. The guards, the soldiers, the department leaders, and the mysterious Calamity. It was easier said than done though. He was spending less time hunting and directing, and more time dodging in and out of rooms, trying to avoid being in the direct line of fire.
He carried his sword, for all the good it would do. Beyond that, his headmate was as out of his depth as David was, whether or not he'd admit it.
'Storm the castle. Right. Shit, this is a mess.'
'It's not so bad. Just a matter of avoiding trouble until we find the trouble we're looking for.'
'You're not helping.'
There were a lot of sounds coming from below, but the third story was relatively calm. He tried to contact the rest of the strike team again. "Seriously, third floor. Any takers? Anyone? Bueller?" Hearing people coming down the hallway the other direction he quickly cut into a side office, mercifully dark and empty. "R&D is up here somewhere. But if no one wants to help, I'm holing up there with any weapons they've got, pretending I don't know what the fuck is going on, and you can find your way yourselves."
He didn't even get static in response, just the silence of a dead comm unit. He took out the ear piece and fiddled with it, but there was nothing. No sound, no little green light. "Son of a bitch."
He was distracted, he hadn't seen or heard the man in the doorway on the other side of the office. As soon as David turned, there was the hollow, lethal cough of a gunshot. A piercing incision in his upper chest and a bullet lodged somewhere near his left shoulderblade. In agony, David sprang forward, still gripping his sword and slashing at his would-be killer. There was no thought, he moved on instinct. The man seemed truly surprised, and David connected, drawing blood. His enemy lunged away as more shots were fired wildly.
Again there was the shocking, ice-like pain and David crumpled to the floor. Trying to fill his lungs with air, and trying to crawl towards the door, he waited for that last shot, the last thing he'd ever hear. It never came. Instead he heard the sound of racing footsteps, the killer moving on, or making his escape. David was alone. His vision blurred, even the simple shape of the closed door fuzzy and wavering.
Moments later, he blacked out.