--- Jericho King ---
(I must be out of my fucking mind…)
Jericho shook his head before inhaling.
(Deep breath… breathe… In and out… Stay calm… or else they’ll put a bullet where your face used to be…)
(Okay, that doesn’t help with the keeping calm… right…)
(You can do this.)
(Turn around the corner, shoot the guy in the head… try to ignore the fact you just killed a human being, while remembering he had friend who you need to shoot after murdering his friend in front of him, totally justifying his desire to off you…)
(Bleh, that’s going to leave a bad taste in the mouth…)
(But you want to live, right?)
He shook his head clear.
(Maybe the first guy hated the second guy and vice versa, you probably did them both a favor, before you… ended their lives…)
(Gah! Shut up brain, let our conscience deal with the moral quandaries later while we try to kill people without getting our shit wrecked…)
He took another breath, before shaking his head again.
(Right… need to stay focused, otherwise this ends in death, or jail time… with my luck I’ll drop the soap on the first day…)
A shudder tore through his system.
(Okay… let’s NOT go down that train of thought, ever again.)
(…We’re too pretty for prison…)
He placed the back of his hand against his forehead.
His hand ran through raven black hair.
(Right, with those two dead, there are three more guys, plus the boss, and however many hostages they’ve got…)
He bit his cheek.
(Wait, no. Killing hostages is bad. Very bad.)
(They were just minding their own business doing their jobs, when out of nowhere these a-holes broke in trying to rob the place…)
(Which was very rude… didn’t send a notice or something in advance, where’s the consideration, damn it!)
(Eh, I’ll chew their boss out before I shoot him, let him know why I’ve got to kill him.)
(Hold on, going off track again…)
He smacked his head a couple of times.
(Okay. Plan, plan…)
(Okay, with the two guys dead you sneak through the halls and stealth kill the third guy, after all with all the gunfire someone’s going to show up for back up, take a bit of cover and you can go all ninja on the guy who he gets too close…)
(Then two more guys… hopefully greed will beat, out survival instincts… eh, who am I kidding greed always wins that one! Meaning, they’ll keep loading money into the truck outside, probably thinking since the gunshots stopped their guys won.)
(Since I’m on the second floor I can try to do an aerial takedown, using one thug to break my fall as I shoot the other one, and hopefully don’t break my legs in the process.)
(After that just got to kill the boss, save the hostages and get away just like in the video games…)
He rubbed his palms against his eyes, before pinching the bridge of his nose.
(Wait… why am I doing this again)
“Now really isn’t the time to be asking myself that…” he chuckled weakly.
“Who the fuck, are you?!” a voice shouted from his left, where he found one of the guys robbing the bank pointing a gun at him.
“Oh, right… totally forgot I actually haven’t killed you or your friend yet…” he smirked at the guy, eyes locked on the thug’s trigger finger, rather than his gun.
(Maybe planning this out in the bank wasn’t my best idea…)
“What was that?” the thug asked with a glare.
“That was me talking about a plan in which I kill you and your friend over there, wait actually are the two of you friends? Because if you aren’t that would be a massive help as far as my personal moral dilemma goes.” He explained.
He didn’t bother waiting for a response before lunging forward as the thug pulled the gun’s trigger, and bullets ripped through the empty space his head had been a moment before.
Scrambled for his own gun, he clawed for the elusive piece of metal, before wrapping his hand around the firearm, raising it, and shooting the thug twice in the chest. With its ties to the mortal coil severed the newly made corpse to collapsed like a string cut puppet as it… fell on top of him.
(Heavy weight… can’t breathe…)
He shook his head clear, ignoring the unhelpful thoughts as he tried to focus on getting the dead body off of him.
“Damnit man,” he glared at the corpse, trying to ignore the fact that it was a corpse, “couldn’t you answer my question before trying to kill me?”
“And what question is that?” a voice asked, causing him to jump as he found the other thug, he’d forgotten about with his gun aimed at his head.
(Maybe Mom was right about the ADHD thing…)
“Um,” he blinked, suddenly realizing the situation he’d been found in, before shifting his gaze between the dead thug and the living thug, “Were the two of you friends?”
The thug glanced down at his deceased associate, “No, he was a dick.” He answered finger on the trigger.
“So, I guess I did you a favor, huh?” he laughed nervously, still pinned beneath the corpse.
“I guess you did.” The thug nodded, not lowering the gun.
“Enough of a favor to not shoot me?” he asked, just before a gunshot rang through the air.
“Okay, I’m going to be honest. The only reason I shot you, is because I totally would’ve shot someone who asked me that question, solely to be a smartass.” He admitted finally managing to roll the first body off of him.
“I know that’s like really bad of me, I shot someone because, I would’ve shot someone if I was in their position… what kind of logic is that? I mean it makes perfect sense to me, but that’s because it’s you know me.” He tried explaining to the guy, who proceeded to ignore him.
Which was fair since he did shoot the thug in the face.
“Right.” He nodded running a hand down his face, “That said, thank you for actually waiting to answer my question before dying, unlike some people.”
He glared at the other body for a moment before giving a nod to the non-dick thug's corpse, “You were right he really was a dick.”
“The hell happened here?!” someone suddenly shouts from behind him.
He jumped, turning around to find a third thug, “Would you believe these two got into a heated discussion over their poor friendship skills and how much of a dick this guy was, and said discussion escalated until they both shot their guns, before dying.”
“No… Not buying it?” he asked meekly.
The thug raised his gun, and he realized it was probably in his best interest to dive behind a nearby corner. Something proven correct as even more bullets tried to kill him, (the rude little things.)
He glanced down once the bullets finally stopped, the shooter taking a moment to reload if the clacking was anything to go by, before kicking the corpse of the first thug, “Okay, time for you to quit being a dick.”
With a few careful heaves, he managed to slowly drag the body closer. Until finally pulling it close enough, to slowly lift the dead weight to its feet, all while somehow managing to maintain a grip on it without either him, or it falling out of cover as he somehow managed to lift the corpse to its feet.
A quick glance around the edge of the corner, told him the remaining bank robber was waiting for him to make the next move, which was throwing the corpse out into the hallway.
Several bullets rapidly tore through the already dead body, sending blood into the air as it fell towards the ground.
While the shooter bothered with his already dead target, he went ahead and swung his own gun out before firing roughly at the spot he remembered the shooter, before pulling himself back behind the corner.
“Yo, non-dick he still alive?” he asked the closest corpse, “No? You sure?”
Peeking around the corner, “Yeah, he dead.” He agreed, giving the second corpse a thumb up, before nodding towards the first, “You sir are no longer a dick… and I’ve been talking to dead people for the last five minutes…”
(I wonder if I can talk to my therapist about this, or if he’ll just call the cops on me? I mean technically talking to corpses isn’t a danger to anyone…)
(Though… I did make them corpses…)
(Okay, I don’t think my issues fall under doctor patient confidentiality anymore…)
(Which is just… fucking wonderful…)
He ran a hand down his face.
(Just need the Cheshire to pop up and it’ll really be a crazy day.)
He couldn’t help but shake his head at the problems of a mentally unstable American, before picking himself up and making his way past the three people he just killed.
(Especially since it’s proving a lot easier to get over the fact, I just killed a bunch of people than I’m really comfortable with…)
(Blood… Pain… Knives… Death.)
A chill ran down his spine, as he shook his head clear.
(Inhale… 1… 2… 3… 4…)
(Exhale… 1… 2… 3… 4…)
(Yeah, just going to try not to think about that.)
He took in another deep breath, before steeling himself and continuing through the building. Until he eventually found himself on the second floor of the main lobby.
Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, he crouched close to the ground before crawling closer to the floor’s edge, hoping to get a better idea of what exactly was going on.
The floor below was largely empty save a few overturned chairs, and a thug carrying a bag of money out from behind the counters, and towards the front door below.
(Now where’s the other guy…)
He felt something next to his head, to be more specific he felt something cold, metallic, and fully capable of killing him, poking him in the side of his head. A something he was admittedly a little too familiar with having pressed to his head, especially given it was the (third fucking time) to happen today alone.
“There you are.” He commented as nonchalantly as possible.
A quick glance at the thug revealed he was indeed leveling a rifle with his head.
“You guys are much better at playing ninja than me,” Which was a sad tragedy all things considered, (especially since they’re just gang henchmen, not even ninjas, or assassins, I could handle them being better at stealth, but a henchman? What the fuck, man?!)
“So, we’ve got some lunatic playing hero, do we?” the thug chuckled, pressing the gun a little more firmly against his skull, an action that he couldn’t help but frown at.
(Well, that’s rude.)
“What no, no, no. No.” he told the armed man as, fell back and tried to scramble a few inches away from the gun.
“Me, play hero? I mean I’m crazy, but I’m not that crazy, and I’m way too selfish to be some good guy selflessly saving people… That said, I can’t actually argue the bit about being a lunatic, like I said I’m coo-coo for a chocolate cereal brand.” He idly rambled with a wave of his hands.
“What the…” What little he could see of the bank robber’s face through the black mask, scrunched up in confusion, letting him buy just enough space for what he had planned.
(This will either be badass or suicidal… I can surprisingly live with either.)
Now that he had enough room to move, he pushed the rifle to the side as he rolled into a crouch, before kicking off the ground and tackling the bank robber. A maneuver that swiftly carried them both into the second-floor ledge, where they scrambled to catch their balance on the ledge. Or rather the thug tried to catch his balance, and Jericho just tried to make sure he didn’t land on the bottom.
The Fall was short enough that the only hit either could manage on the other, was when he managed to smash his elbow into the bank robber’s head just as they hit the ground, resulting in a cracked skull for the thug, and a twitching funny bone for him.
(It feels so weird!)
Cradling his arm, he took a quick glance to check whether he killed the thug, or merely gave him a crippling level of brain damage.
(And… he’s not breathing, maybe that plan was a little suicidal…)
His arm twanged in another weird nerve sensation, as he let himself relax after the brief little scuffle.
(Actually, now that I think about it, I’d probably need like a four story drop if I really wanted to kill myself… or the other guy… yeah, probably better to kill him than me.)
His eyes shot open as a semi-important thought crossed his mind.
(Wasn’t there another guy in this room?)
He lunged at the dead body and threw it over himself, just barely managing to tuck himself into safety as bullets begin hitting the corpse. Bullets shot by the guy he’d completely forgotten about.
(Heavy weight… can’t breathe…)
(Inhale… 1… 2… 3… 4…)
(Exhale… 1… 2… 3… 4…)
Through an act of will he forcibly pushed his claustrophobic tendencies to the side and tried to distract himself from the weight.
(I can’t really blame him for being rude on this one…)
He idly mulled over the thought as waited for the opportune moment to launch a counter assault against the thus far only semi-non-rude bank robber.
(I am the one who so rudely forget about him, so I can’t really blame him for being as rude back to me… Besides, odds are I’d probably do the same after watching someone kill one of my friends.)
(Crying… Pain… *Bang*… Darkness.)
Another chill ran down his spine as he forcibly shook that memory away.
His ears perked up as he realized the bullets had quit firing more than a moment ago.
(Hope he hasn’t reloaded yet; this meat shield is about shot.)
A clacking sound cut through his thoughts.
He paused, before risking a peek over his cover.
(Bullets make more of a rat-a-tat-tat sound, so what’s makes a- OH SHIT! IS THAT GERNADE?!)
In shot of adrenaline, he did the only thing that made any sort of sense to his panicking mind:
(Punch the scary bad thing and hope it doesn’t kill you!!!)
The grenade bounced off his fist and skidded across the ground for a couple more meters before finally detonating in a small sphere of death. And while said explosion wasn’t close enough to actually hurt him, it was still close enough to leave a ringing in his ears.
(Shit, is that, is that tinnitus?)
He tried popping his ears.
(Did that jackass just give me tinnitus?)
His teeth ground together.
(I’m going to fucking murder that jackass!)
He shoved his meat shield away and proceeded to shoot said jackass.
And as the jackass fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Jericho proceeded to pick himself up, walk over to the now harmless and neutralized enemy, take a moment to reload his gun with a fresh clip, and then immediately empty said clip, into said harmless and neutralized enemy.
Half way through loading his second clip, he couldn’t help but pause as he noticed something relatively important.
(The ringing’s stopped.)
His eyes drifted down to the dead bank robber, and the dozen or so holes riddling his body… namely the five or so in the general area of the groin.
“Okay, I’ll be the first to admit… I may have overreacted.” He confessed to the man he just murdered.