06-27-2017, 06:52 PM
Kilo Hutter had never been skydiving before. He wasn't entirely prepared for how exhilarating it would be at first. It was terrifying, to a point that he had almost forgotten he had a backpack on which held his parachute. His dreadlocks were frantically waving behind his head, fastened slightly by the tight band of his goggles around him. The rush of wind around him reminded him of what was going on: he wasn't out for a leisurely drop through the air. He was actually starting a crazy death game show by choosing exactly where he wanted to land on this "Survival Island." With that frame of focus in mind, he tilted his body downward to increase speed, knowing exactly what his target was: A town of empty houses known as Vakaville.
He hummed a beat in his head as he kept his eyes on the prize: the huge collection of homes underneath him and the rooftop he was aiming for. He recalled one of the lines from the rulebook he was given at the beginning of the journey, which stated 'The larger the town, the better the loot.' Since this was by far the biggest city, he knew the best chances of finding proper gear and weapons was right here. Of course, it meant others might attempt it too, but he felt that the town was large enough that he'd be able to lose people fast enough. After all, running fast was what he was good at.
Kilo wasn't his real name, but rather a nickname he got for the speed in which he could complete a 'kilometer.' To say he was the fastest to do it would be an understatement. It his original world, before the Omniverse had summoned him as a 'lesser' member of its population, he had the record for running the 'kilo' by well over twice as fast as second place. Getting away from enemies would not be a problem.
Even now, he was the closest to the ground. With this in mind, he pulled the string on his backpack, which he had been clutching tightly, setting off the parachute. The 'oomph' of the chute was much more powerful then he anticipated, feeling as if he was being yanked back on the sky. As the parachute settled, he began to aim himself towards a suitable rooftop. He took a moment to look up, to see how everyone else was doing. The sight was not good. "Oh, shit," he whispered to himself, eyes bulging behind his goggles.
The dark-skinned sprinter could clearly see several parachutes above him. They weren't just floating in the same direction he was, but rather seemed to be coordinated enough to stay a certain distance from each other too. It did not look good. He felt like was being stalked. Hunted.
He looked down at the ground with just enough time to prepare himself for landing. He brought his legs up and tensed his muscles, then landed perfectly on his feet before stepping forward several times to control his speed. Before he got to the end of the long rooftop, he was able to completely halt himself and come to a stop. Without thinking, he immediately yanked his backpack off of his back, letting the parachute settle behind him. He took a moment to watch as the other parachutes were heading towards their own rooftops, and then quickly ran to the side of the building. Fortunately, there was stairs leading down on a metal platform attached to the side, and he quickly utilized them, several steps at a time.
At the bottom of the stairs, Kilo ran across the street he found himself on and towards a single house. He could see one of the people landing on a rooftop nearby, so he didn't stop to wave at all. Instead, he slammed his way through the front door of the tiny home and then shut it behind him. He glanced out of the long window that ran alongside the length of the doorframe, trying to get an idea of where he was. The building he had landed on, right across the street, seemed to be a store. He cursed himself, thinking that would have been a better place to go into, but it was too late now. He wasn't going to run back over there right now. Now as everyone started to land.
He took a breath, realizing he had a moment. He realized that his legs were weak after that landing and run, not to mention the mental exhaustion of the game's start. Kilo settled onto a chair in the home's living room and reflected. He was here now. He was in the game. This is what he wanted. That excitement again. Being stuck as just another cog-in-the-wheel in Coruscant was not what he had signed up for. He had been summoned to the city to run, but they never actually let him. He just worked. But now he could do something real and have it matter. This was perfect.
After thinking about why he was there, Kilo realized quickly he was wasting time. He got off the comfy seat and took a look at the kitchen right behind him. Sure enough, just as advertised, were several useful supplies laid there for him to snag. He first grabbed a single metallic pistol that was sitting in the center of the floor, along with two 12-bullet magazines in a belt he could wrap around himself. He holstered the pistol in the belt, then pocketed some bandages and an energy drink into his coat pocket. He moved to step out of the kitchen through a different entry-way, intending to find a backpack, but was quickly distracted.
"Help! Help!" Came a screaming voice. His ears perked as he looked towards the door. His eyes bulged as he realized the voice was getting louder. "Heeeeellllpppp!" Suddenly, the front door bursted open and a lone man stumbled in, slamming the door behind him. He dropped his back against it, sighed, and then noticed Kilo in front of him. "Oh, just great!"
Kilo had his pistol up in front of him fast enough to impress himself. He gripped it around the handle and underneath the magazine. The man's eyes were big, hands waving in front of him to signal he was non-violent. "Get out." Kilo warned.
"I can't, they're right behind me!" The man hissed/pleaded.
"Then you're leading them to me, you idiot." Kilo clicked the safety off on his gun. "If they're coming in already, I can just leave you to 'em."
It looked like the stranger was about to answer, but was cut off as suddenly gunshots began to go off, very very close. Both Kilo and the man dropped to the floor as the window right next to the entrance blasted inwards, followed by bullet-holes appearing in the front door shortly after. Someone was firing something that wasn't automatic, like the very pistol Kilo was holding. "Is there a backdoor to this place?" The stranger asked, crawling forward towards Kilo.
Still distrusting but realizing the seriousness of the situation, Kilo nodded and stumbled back onto his feet, using the wall behind him as a crutch to raise up. "I still can't believe you freakin' walked them right up to me!" The jogger hissed out as he turned to the backdoor, at the end of the hallway.
"I didn't know you were in here!" The man shot back, clearly just as annoyed.
Once at the backdoor, Kilo moved out of the way and nudged the man towards the exit. "You first," he told him, gripping the pistol. They were in the same situation now, and shooting this fool would only give away the fact he had a weapon at all. He would have to at least get out of this house with this guy hopefully distracting whoever was chasing him, while Kilo got away.
The man seemed to take a moment to mentally prepare himself for the sprint. Kilo was sure he could outright this dude, who was about as generic a white guy they make 'em. The scared man ran forward, opened the backdoor as he want, and then sprinted into the backyard. Kilo moved behind him, out of the house and-
Thud.
Something hit Kilo in the back of the head so far that he briefly lost his sight. It didn't go completely black, but it went blurry so fast that he wasn't sure he was even still awake. Once his vision returned, he realized he was on the patio of the house, face down on the wooden floor. He blinked as he tried to raise up, but a metallic sensation touched the back of his head. A gun. He was set up.
Kilo Hutter looked up as much as the pressure on the back of his dreadlocked head would let him. Two figured appeared on either side of him, one male and one female. They both had hockey masks on, with different colors, one very dark and the other bright pink. He could see another man in the backyard, holding a long-barrelled shotgun over his shoulder. This one had a dark blue mask on his face. "Damn, Red, I know you said that you'd get him to come out, but I didn't think it'd be that quick."
That was when Kilo focused his eyes on the 'stranger.' He was facing away from him at first, but only because he was putting something that 'Blue' handed him up against his face. When he turned around, the man that had tricked him into leaving his own shelter was wearing a single red hockey mask. It might seem tacky to compare it, but blood was the only color pallet that Kilo could match it to. It was dark. Kilo didn't get to turn around to see, but he was sure whoever was holding him at gunpoint had a mask on too.
"You motherfucker." Kilo spat at the man in red, but really was speaking to the whole group. This was just unfair.
There was a very brief moment where the man in the crimson mask just stared coldly through his metallic face at the professional sprinter. There didn't seem to be any emotion anymore. No anger or fear. All Kilo could get from the man was that he was very, very clearly a professional at this.
"Shoot him," Red said.
There was a loud bang for a split second, and then nothing. All of the watches, including the one around Kilo's suddenly limp body, beeped and read '49 Alive.'
He hummed a beat in his head as he kept his eyes on the prize: the huge collection of homes underneath him and the rooftop he was aiming for. He recalled one of the lines from the rulebook he was given at the beginning of the journey, which stated 'The larger the town, the better the loot.' Since this was by far the biggest city, he knew the best chances of finding proper gear and weapons was right here. Of course, it meant others might attempt it too, but he felt that the town was large enough that he'd be able to lose people fast enough. After all, running fast was what he was good at.
Kilo wasn't his real name, but rather a nickname he got for the speed in which he could complete a 'kilometer.' To say he was the fastest to do it would be an understatement. It his original world, before the Omniverse had summoned him as a 'lesser' member of its population, he had the record for running the 'kilo' by well over twice as fast as second place. Getting away from enemies would not be a problem.
Even now, he was the closest to the ground. With this in mind, he pulled the string on his backpack, which he had been clutching tightly, setting off the parachute. The 'oomph' of the chute was much more powerful then he anticipated, feeling as if he was being yanked back on the sky. As the parachute settled, he began to aim himself towards a suitable rooftop. He took a moment to look up, to see how everyone else was doing. The sight was not good. "Oh, shit," he whispered to himself, eyes bulging behind his goggles.
The dark-skinned sprinter could clearly see several parachutes above him. They weren't just floating in the same direction he was, but rather seemed to be coordinated enough to stay a certain distance from each other too. It did not look good. He felt like was being stalked. Hunted.
He looked down at the ground with just enough time to prepare himself for landing. He brought his legs up and tensed his muscles, then landed perfectly on his feet before stepping forward several times to control his speed. Before he got to the end of the long rooftop, he was able to completely halt himself and come to a stop. Without thinking, he immediately yanked his backpack off of his back, letting the parachute settle behind him. He took a moment to watch as the other parachutes were heading towards their own rooftops, and then quickly ran to the side of the building. Fortunately, there was stairs leading down on a metal platform attached to the side, and he quickly utilized them, several steps at a time.
At the bottom of the stairs, Kilo ran across the street he found himself on and towards a single house. He could see one of the people landing on a rooftop nearby, so he didn't stop to wave at all. Instead, he slammed his way through the front door of the tiny home and then shut it behind him. He glanced out of the long window that ran alongside the length of the doorframe, trying to get an idea of where he was. The building he had landed on, right across the street, seemed to be a store. He cursed himself, thinking that would have been a better place to go into, but it was too late now. He wasn't going to run back over there right now. Now as everyone started to land.
He took a breath, realizing he had a moment. He realized that his legs were weak after that landing and run, not to mention the mental exhaustion of the game's start. Kilo settled onto a chair in the home's living room and reflected. He was here now. He was in the game. This is what he wanted. That excitement again. Being stuck as just another cog-in-the-wheel in Coruscant was not what he had signed up for. He had been summoned to the city to run, but they never actually let him. He just worked. But now he could do something real and have it matter. This was perfect.
After thinking about why he was there, Kilo realized quickly he was wasting time. He got off the comfy seat and took a look at the kitchen right behind him. Sure enough, just as advertised, were several useful supplies laid there for him to snag. He first grabbed a single metallic pistol that was sitting in the center of the floor, along with two 12-bullet magazines in a belt he could wrap around himself. He holstered the pistol in the belt, then pocketed some bandages and an energy drink into his coat pocket. He moved to step out of the kitchen through a different entry-way, intending to find a backpack, but was quickly distracted.
"Help! Help!" Came a screaming voice. His ears perked as he looked towards the door. His eyes bulged as he realized the voice was getting louder. "Heeeeellllpppp!" Suddenly, the front door bursted open and a lone man stumbled in, slamming the door behind him. He dropped his back against it, sighed, and then noticed Kilo in front of him. "Oh, just great!"
Kilo had his pistol up in front of him fast enough to impress himself. He gripped it around the handle and underneath the magazine. The man's eyes were big, hands waving in front of him to signal he was non-violent. "Get out." Kilo warned.
"I can't, they're right behind me!" The man hissed/pleaded.
"Then you're leading them to me, you idiot." Kilo clicked the safety off on his gun. "If they're coming in already, I can just leave you to 'em."
It looked like the stranger was about to answer, but was cut off as suddenly gunshots began to go off, very very close. Both Kilo and the man dropped to the floor as the window right next to the entrance blasted inwards, followed by bullet-holes appearing in the front door shortly after. Someone was firing something that wasn't automatic, like the very pistol Kilo was holding. "Is there a backdoor to this place?" The stranger asked, crawling forward towards Kilo.
Still distrusting but realizing the seriousness of the situation, Kilo nodded and stumbled back onto his feet, using the wall behind him as a crutch to raise up. "I still can't believe you freakin' walked them right up to me!" The jogger hissed out as he turned to the backdoor, at the end of the hallway.
"I didn't know you were in here!" The man shot back, clearly just as annoyed.
Once at the backdoor, Kilo moved out of the way and nudged the man towards the exit. "You first," he told him, gripping the pistol. They were in the same situation now, and shooting this fool would only give away the fact he had a weapon at all. He would have to at least get out of this house with this guy hopefully distracting whoever was chasing him, while Kilo got away.
The man seemed to take a moment to mentally prepare himself for the sprint. Kilo was sure he could outright this dude, who was about as generic a white guy they make 'em. The scared man ran forward, opened the backdoor as he want, and then sprinted into the backyard. Kilo moved behind him, out of the house and-
Thud.
Something hit Kilo in the back of the head so far that he briefly lost his sight. It didn't go completely black, but it went blurry so fast that he wasn't sure he was even still awake. Once his vision returned, he realized he was on the patio of the house, face down on the wooden floor. He blinked as he tried to raise up, but a metallic sensation touched the back of his head. A gun. He was set up.
Kilo Hutter looked up as much as the pressure on the back of his dreadlocked head would let him. Two figured appeared on either side of him, one male and one female. They both had hockey masks on, with different colors, one very dark and the other bright pink. He could see another man in the backyard, holding a long-barrelled shotgun over his shoulder. This one had a dark blue mask on his face. "Damn, Red, I know you said that you'd get him to come out, but I didn't think it'd be that quick."
That was when Kilo focused his eyes on the 'stranger.' He was facing away from him at first, but only because he was putting something that 'Blue' handed him up against his face. When he turned around, the man that had tricked him into leaving his own shelter was wearing a single red hockey mask. It might seem tacky to compare it, but blood was the only color pallet that Kilo could match it to. It was dark. Kilo didn't get to turn around to see, but he was sure whoever was holding him at gunpoint had a mask on too.
"You motherfucker." Kilo spat at the man in red, but really was speaking to the whole group. This was just unfair.
There was a very brief moment where the man in the crimson mask just stared coldly through his metallic face at the professional sprinter. There didn't seem to be any emotion anymore. No anger or fear. All Kilo could get from the man was that he was very, very clearly a professional at this.
"Shoot him," Red said.
There was a loud bang for a split second, and then nothing. All of the watches, including the one around Kilo's suddenly limp body, beeped and read '49 Alive.'
![[Image: blink2k15.png]](http://epiqz.com/omni/blink2k15.png)