Poll

period race

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Author Topic: ABS FIESTA REDUX  (Read 1956945 times)

"Kissinger, sit down before the Marine forgets up your face even more."
I start rubbing my jaw. I can almost feel the pain.

I'm surprised at myself for siding with the Marine. I didn't want to, but I also didn't want Kissinger to get even more forgeted up.
« Last Edit: April 12, 2015, 12:26:49 AM by blockguy™ »

Steele's ghost slaps Kißinger as well

i was planning on punching him in the face after this fracas is resolved
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3elwDp1tC0

Anyway, some people leave to go fetch a medic for Kissinger's busted face.
"How- pathetic," I enunciate.
I take a breath. It sounds much in the same way as breathing when under G forces.
I hack up another blood covered tooth fragment, and spit it onto the table.
"You- really ar- a pathetik- person-. Who- taught you- to punch- anwa-? You-r husband-?" I pronounce, holding my jaw.
I take another breath in G-straining fashion.
"I'l- die- for what I- believe here- and now- you worthliss- piesh of stuff-" I choke the words out.
I stand and tense up, ready for another outburst.
The Pilot continues talking down the marine.
: Hey, mate, ignore him. He's not worth it. So he said some dumb insensitive crap, it's not worth it.

: [This is it. These are the people standing between the Huits and home.]
: [We're all going to die. Or get enslaved.]
: [Yuck. Just kill me now.]

I sag back down onto the seat and put my head down. If he want's to fight, it'd be a cheap shot now, but I don't doubt that he would take it.

Not- evn- Aseth-ans care about- ther- own peopl-. I force up quietly.

I hear some boots. Are those MP's? I hope those are MP's. Maybe a medic too.




Is that pilot talking to me or the marine?
« Last Edit: April 12, 2015, 12:41:58 AM by Mr. Hurricane »

I sag back down onto the seat and put my head down. If he want's to fight, it'd be a cheap shot now, but I don't doubt that he would take it.

Not- evn- Aseth-ans care about- ther- own peopl-. I force up quietly.

I hear some boots. Are those MP's? I hope those are MP's. Maybe a medic too.



Is that pilot talking to me or the marine?
I'm on my phone atm so expect some lazy ass posts with 0 grammer
And he's talking to to the Marine.

"forget."


I shut my eyes tight as I think about what Steele would have done, tears want to form. I take a couple of strained breaths. A familiar voice speaks in a native tongue, is it nosebitch?

"Tak-a--michi? Ish- -hat -ou, you?"

My swollen jaw is making it harder and harder to speak coherently.

"Com- 'ere. Iv, ah, reqesch-" I enunciate. I'm starting to sound handicapped.

I turn my head to spit some blood, and then return back to having my head lying on the table.
« Last Edit: April 12, 2015, 12:44:19 AM by Mr. Hurricane »

: [Ark's exhaust, his brain must have been in those teeth.] What is it?

I shut my eyes tight as I think about what Steele would have done, tears want to form. I take a couple of strained breaths. A familiar voice speaks in a native tongue, is it nosebitch?

"Tak-a--michi? Ish- -hat -ou, you?"

My swollen jaw is making it harder and harder to speak coherently.

"Com- 'ere. Iv, ah, reqesch-" I enunciate. I'm starting to sound handicapped.

I turn my head to spit some blood, and then return back to having my head lying on the table.
"Quit talking. You're making your jaw worse."

I pick up the word "Ark", having heard the word enough to recognize it. I believe the second word to complete an expletive of sorts, but it doesn't matter.

"I orderch- ord-ered, a Jaeh-Ten figchter- can yo- you," I pause, and take another strained breath of pain. I hope I rattled off J-10 correctly.

"Can- you please- transch-late, the roosterpitch- con, controlsh, pleass?" I enunciate.

My cheek is thoroughly swollen. The crack in my jaw is on fire. The fragments of what were my teeth are searing hot and stinging. All she needs is four key words though, J-10, translate, roosterpit, and controls.
« Last Edit: April 12, 2015, 01:00:41 AM by Mr. Hurricane »

I pick up the word "Ark", essentially a cognate across all languages.

It isn't.

It isn't.

I'd think it would be. I'll fix my response though.

I pick up the word "Ark", essentially a cognate across all languages. I believe the second word to complete an expletive of sorts, but it doesn't matter.

"I orderch- ord-ered, a Jaeh-Ten figchter- can yo- you," I pause, and take another strained breath of pain. I hope I rattled off J-10 correctly.

"Can- you please- transch-late, the roosterpitch- con, controlsh, pleass?" I enunciate.

My cheek is thoroughly swollen. The crack in my jaw is on fire. The fragments of what were my teeth are searing hot and stinging. All she needs is four key words though, J-10, translate, roosterpit, and controls.
She closes her eyes and sighs.
: Sure. Whatever. Anything for a dying friend.

If you weren't currently so badly forgeted up you'd probably think she was being disingenuous or something.

"Where in the hell is that medic?"

"Where in the hell is that medic?"
Currently picking Kissinger up and carting him off to the infirmary.