A breeze passed through the area, whipping up around the two, and then fading away into the night. It was chilly, like all the other nights on the island. Aero was no astronomer, but wagered that a new day was beginning. He had already managed to survive two rough days, but was aware that the next few days would be the most difficult to fight through. It was something that he welcomed with outspread arms.
The injury that he had sustained was beginning to leave a soreness that travelled throughout his entire leg. He still had some Bourbon left, and used that to douse his thigh. It washed away the blood, revealing the meaty muscle that the bullets had entered. He cringed, like Celipa before him.Removing the bullets shot through his mind, but shotguns didn’t leave bullets, they left a multitude of pellets, which he would have to pick out individually. He decided to just let them be; he was still able to walk, and that was all that mattered at this point. He ripped off a piece of his jacket, wrapping it around his thigh and firmly tying it, concealing the wound. The piece of cloth absorbed the blood instantly, leaving small markings of crimson on its white exterior. He was uncertain of how it would affect him in the future of the competition, but there was no need to dwell on something he was incapable of controling. All that he could control was the way he moved to protect the injury.
Kirano simply watched. He was no doctor, so his opinion on wounds wouldn’t be valid. He wagered that he and his turquoise-haired counterpart had equal medical knowledge—the basics.
Aero spewed a stream of spittle; the wind carried it away. “So, what now?” He removed his ragged jacket (he had ruined it after ripping off large portions of it to use as makeshift bandages) and tossed it onto the grassy earth; his chest exposed.
“Not sure,” Kirano blandly replied, looking to the stars. “Just staying alive would be the best option.”
“Tch. That’s no fun,” Aero muttered, placing a fist against his hip. “Well, I thi—“
“Hello everybody!” the sky boomed. It was the monotonous, idiotic voice of Karl Jak. He refused to let everyone be, even if it was only for half a day, craving to have his voice heard, though aware of how exasperating it was. “It’s a brand new day and more lives have been claimed.” A few girlish giggles echoed across the island. They were high-pitched and just as annoying as his voice, if not more. “The game is drawing to a close and more lives have been claimed.“ The sky went awkwardly silent, but then a subtle “yay” was heard. He then proceeded to call the names of the victims.
Number nine, Celipa; number twenty-two, Uno; number twenty-eight, Bubb Rubb. Aero slurred gibberish as he heard the first two names called off of the list; he felt nothing for the last name called. Aero retrieved the map he had acquired from Vazko’s bag before dying and, since he didn’t have a writing utensil, scratched a faint rip through their names, except for Celipa’s. “You’re still here, to me at least.” He tucked the map back into his pocket, taking out the fork—Celipa’s idol—and gazing at it. It was still stained with Uno’s blood. “You’re right here.”
“We’re a strong group,” Kirano said, fiddling with his pistol. “We could probably survive most attacks at this point.” He paused. “Barring some of the elite fighters in this competition.”
“Like that saiyan dude and Seventeen?”
Kirano paused again. “Yes, like Seventeen.” He almost felt certain of the android’s demise as he said his name audibly. “Just like Seventeen.”
“Well—“ Aero pointed a thumb at the shotgun that hung across his back “—we should be in pretty good shape having this bugger.”
“Yeah,” Kirano agreed. “Plus I can feel the fatigue wearing off of me. I think I could probably muster up the strength for another brutal battle.”
“Hell yeah. I’m ready to get some revenge.” Aero revealed his cockiness, bouncing around like a boxer, throwing swift jabs into the breeze, fork grasped in his fist. “That’s for you, Seventeen,” he remarked, as he tried a haymaker. “Bastard leave a job undone, eh? I’ll teach you to finish what you started.”
“Okay, let’s move out,” Kirano remarked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking off. Aero followed beside him.
“Let’s get this party started.”
The injury that he had sustained was beginning to leave a soreness that travelled throughout his entire leg. He still had some Bourbon left, and used that to douse his thigh. It washed away the blood, revealing the meaty muscle that the bullets had entered. He cringed, like Celipa before him.Removing the bullets shot through his mind, but shotguns didn’t leave bullets, they left a multitude of pellets, which he would have to pick out individually. He decided to just let them be; he was still able to walk, and that was all that mattered at this point. He ripped off a piece of his jacket, wrapping it around his thigh and firmly tying it, concealing the wound. The piece of cloth absorbed the blood instantly, leaving small markings of crimson on its white exterior. He was uncertain of how it would affect him in the future of the competition, but there was no need to dwell on something he was incapable of controling. All that he could control was the way he moved to protect the injury.
Kirano simply watched. He was no doctor, so his opinion on wounds wouldn’t be valid. He wagered that he and his turquoise-haired counterpart had equal medical knowledge—the basics.
Aero spewed a stream of spittle; the wind carried it away. “So, what now?” He removed his ragged jacket (he had ruined it after ripping off large portions of it to use as makeshift bandages) and tossed it onto the grassy earth; his chest exposed.
“Not sure,” Kirano blandly replied, looking to the stars. “Just staying alive would be the best option.”
“Tch. That’s no fun,” Aero muttered, placing a fist against his hip. “Well, I thi—“
“Hello everybody!” the sky boomed. It was the monotonous, idiotic voice of Karl Jak. He refused to let everyone be, even if it was only for half a day, craving to have his voice heard, though aware of how exasperating it was. “It’s a brand new day and more lives have been claimed.” A few girlish giggles echoed across the island. They were high-pitched and just as annoying as his voice, if not more. “The game is drawing to a close and more lives have been claimed.“ The sky went awkwardly silent, but then a subtle “yay” was heard. He then proceeded to call the names of the victims.
Number nine, Celipa; number twenty-two, Uno; number twenty-eight, Bubb Rubb. Aero slurred gibberish as he heard the first two names called off of the list; he felt nothing for the last name called. Aero retrieved the map he had acquired from Vazko’s bag before dying and, since he didn’t have a writing utensil, scratched a faint rip through their names, except for Celipa’s. “You’re still here, to me at least.” He tucked the map back into his pocket, taking out the fork—Celipa’s idol—and gazing at it. It was still stained with Uno’s blood. “You’re right here.”
“We’re a strong group,” Kirano said, fiddling with his pistol. “We could probably survive most attacks at this point.” He paused. “Barring some of the elite fighters in this competition.”
“Like that saiyan dude and Seventeen?”
Kirano paused again. “Yes, like Seventeen.” He almost felt certain of the android’s demise as he said his name audibly. “Just like Seventeen.”
“Well—“ Aero pointed a thumb at the shotgun that hung across his back “—we should be in pretty good shape having this bugger.”
“Yeah,” Kirano agreed. “Plus I can feel the fatigue wearing off of me. I think I could probably muster up the strength for another brutal battle.”
“Hell yeah. I’m ready to get some revenge.” Aero revealed his cockiness, bouncing around like a boxer, throwing swift jabs into the breeze, fork grasped in his fist. “That’s for you, Seventeen,” he remarked, as he tried a haymaker. “Bastard leave a job undone, eh? I’ll teach you to finish what you started.”
“Okay, let’s move out,” Kirano remarked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking off. Aero followed beside him.
“Let’s get this party started.”
![[Image: 1stAerosig.png]](http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q218/Aerogfx/sigs/1stAerosig.png)
Placed 3rd in Dante's Abyss 08