08-12-2016, 02:30 AM
The forklift had proved to be a real pain in the ass to get free, as Gin soon came to learn. Many attempts to remove its fork from the crate ended in outright failure. From an elaborate mousetrap-like mechanism, to just plain brute force; the forklift remained firm in the monster's corpse and the supply crate behind it. Gin began to worry that he would have to leave his frankenlift here and find a new means of transportation. His newest plan of action was a simple one, put a long steel beam in between the two, and push down on it. "The simplest plans are usually the most effective," he thought.
Once the beam was in place, Gin began to press down on it. The forklift didn't move an inch. Gin began to press down on it harder, jumping up and down on top of the forklift's canopy in hopes that SOMETHING would give. Finally his wish was granted, but not in the way he had hoped; something had broken free, but that something was the beam. As the bottom tore through the flesh of the corpse and flew high into the air, his end of the beam came crashing downwards faster than he could react, and hit him in a place that will never be the same again.
The red haired boy yelped loudly, and fell off the canopy onto the ground curled up in a ball. The pain he experience was worse than anything he had felt up to that point on the island. This, he thought, was true pain. The type of pain one wishes to never feel again, the type of pain even masochists hate. As he lay on the ground in pain, something in the forklift caught his eye. As the pain began to subside, he crawled up into the seat to have a look. To his utter dismay, he realized he had forgotten to put the forklift in neutral before enacting his plans to dislodge it from the beast.
"Fuck today," He said, a little cracking in his voice.
He slumped to his side, intent on getting a little more rest before he tried anything again. However, his head just so happened to hit the flare bazooka he made earlier, which released the makeshift pin and shot his special flare rocket straight into the sky. He quickly jumped up and gazed into the sky, the shot seemed to be in the same direction as the town.
"Well, I hope that doesn't hit anyone I know," he said as he watched the homemade rocket fly off into the cloudy night.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Once the beam was in place, Gin began to press down on it. The forklift didn't move an inch. Gin began to press down on it harder, jumping up and down on top of the forklift's canopy in hopes that SOMETHING would give. Finally his wish was granted, but not in the way he had hoped; something had broken free, but that something was the beam. As the bottom tore through the flesh of the corpse and flew high into the air, his end of the beam came crashing downwards faster than he could react, and hit him in a place that will never be the same again.
The red haired boy yelped loudly, and fell off the canopy onto the ground curled up in a ball. The pain he experience was worse than anything he had felt up to that point on the island. This, he thought, was true pain. The type of pain one wishes to never feel again, the type of pain even masochists hate. As he lay on the ground in pain, something in the forklift caught his eye. As the pain began to subside, he crawled up into the seat to have a look. To his utter dismay, he realized he had forgotten to put the forklift in neutral before enacting his plans to dislodge it from the beast.
"Fuck today," He said, a little cracking in his voice.
He slumped to his side, intent on getting a little more rest before he tried anything again. However, his head just so happened to hit the flare bazooka he made earlier, which released the makeshift pin and shot his special flare rocket straight into the sky. He quickly jumped up and gazed into the sky, the shot seemed to be in the same direction as the town.
"Well, I hope that doesn't hit anyone I know," he said as he watched the homemade rocket fly off into the cloudy night.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
![[Image: 6qbi4j.png]](http://i62.tinypic.com/6qbi4j.png)