Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-30700719-20170313134600/@comment-30700719-20170501214614

I keep running towards the portholes. I quickly realise my plan is a little stretched, and I improvise. I flick my wrist, and the gauntlet glows red instead of blue. I swing through a porthole and punch the wall. It creates a patch of red on the wall. "Positive." I look around for Claire. She must be in here somewhere. "Bombs away!" I chuck another drug grenade down a hallway, and fit a gas mask to my face. Soon, the non-lethal but incapacitating smoke is filling up the corridor. I throw a second one in the vents, and a third down another hallway. I walk through the smoke, with a black gas mask on and wearing a pilot's uniform, standard issue, with a fizzling brass gauntlet faintly glowing blue. It's a rather interesting sight, if anyone could see it. I clamber out through the porthole and walk across the deck, then sit down and tear off the gas mask. "Why are they heading inside the ship? I thought they had enough of the cold metal hallways. Besides, their target's not inside the ship. It's on top of the ship." I sit there, watching the smoke find it's way to the portholes, to be blown away by the breeze.

Unbeknownst to me, yet another figure joins the scenario. A Cupid floats in the air, hidden by a cloud. A shot of three hundred metres. If she fails, then her target would detect her. She had only one shot. Nocking a lead-tipped arrow to her pink bow, she pulls back the bowstring and fires.

I stare at the smoke, pluming out from the portholes. I watch the swirling mass of white, and imagine what those caught in it's area would be feeling. Hallucinations, sedation, generally, if they managed to overcome one of the drugs, the other would render them unable to fight. "I came up with that idea pretty recently. It doesn't hurt 'em, but they sure as hell can't fight." I stand up to look out over the ocean, and my back explodes with pain. I'm fairly used to pain, but this was new. I looked down at my chest and saw a black heart jutting out from my chest, right where my heart was. I looked up and saw a pink figure punch the air, then fly away. I look back to the arrow and grab it with two hands. It crumbles into dust, and my chest bursts with pain. It's like a frozen rod just got plunged into my chest, then ripped out. I crumple to the ground, clutching at my stomach. I manage to overcome the pain slightly, just enough to pull on the gas mask and limp over to the portholes. I pull myself through one and weakly crawl into the vents, heading roughly to the cargo hold from memory. "I...ah...oh god...this is bad..." The pain keeps up, though it feels like it...changed pitch. I manage to fall out of the vent and into a dark storage hold, filled with crates. I curl up into a ball, the pain welling up inside me.