Post by Cera on Sept 24, 2014 23:00:05 GMT -6
...Casualties...
In almost any conceivable set of operations in war, firepower is a weapon utilized to it's fullest capacity. Ammunition in place, the bigger and stronger the arms, the more casualties you're blessed with. Bodies hit the ground-- and it feels good to be a patriot. So a platoon graced with the beauty that is the gun is surely superior to those without... right?
Lesson 1: a weapon is only as capable as the person holding it.
Ever heard of 'recoil'? How about the basic functions of a gun? Some people don't even know how to turn off the safety. Hell, some don't even know where the safety is! Such a complicated piece of machinery... so let's 'downgrade' to a simpler weapon: the awe-inspiring blade. This is my shit, kids. The knife is a tool used for practically everything, from cooking... to making a spark to light a fire. But it can also slice through flesh. Cut into muscle tissue. Grind into bone.
Lesson 2: always bring a knife to a gunfight.
We're conditioned to believe that guns kill. Obviously, that's nonsense... since spoons don't make us fat, and toothbrushes don't stick themselves into our mouths. A weapon is only effective, if someone has their finger to the trigger.... or in my case, palm to the handle. It fulfills a specific function in the hands of it's owner. But effective... and efficient... are two different things. To achieve maximum productivity, you need to know what the fuck you're doing.
That's where Stacy Jones and Seifer Black falter. The blades they both wield, whether they be strength, wit, cunning, speed, tenacity or drive... are dull. They lack, at least in comparison to myself... and even my tag partner. That said, there does seem to be a fire lit within both of them. And a knife, no matter how sharp, cannot extinguish flames.
Lesson 3: where there's fire, someone's bound to get burned.
Pitting fire against fire was the VoW staff's first mistake. Their second? Creating these teams. Stacy and Seifer may be friends... but Carson and I? We're cut from similar cloths. A double edged blade. An unmistakable tension may hover between the two of us, as we butt heads... our egomania getting the best of us... but what some don't seem to understand? That right there... is what makes us stronger. It's what pushes us further. Because Brett Carson and Cera... a sexy and sadistic team as it were... are one step above their foes, with plain old arrogance as our blade.
"Boom. Headshot."
Standing inside the main building of the Paul Bunyan Logging Camp Museum (what a mouthful), I could feel the corners of my lips twitching upward. My infamous knife was now stuck into a nearby wooden statue, compliments of one of the Open Chainsaw Championship semi-finalists. I sauntered over, knowing that everyone was too busy admiring the statues outside to notice what I'd just done. And Jen could easily alter any footage. But it wasn't a simplistic need for destruction that made me do it.
Stepping up to the statue, I narrowed my eyes icily. The wood had been carved into an eagle going after a snake. As I jimmied my favorite blade from the bird's face, I shoved it back into the sheath at my side and shook my head in amusement. You'd think I'd compare myself to the majestic, powerful eagle. But there was something far too... honorable... when it came to that animal. Go back to biblical times... the snake has been a symbol of hatred... of corruption... for as long human civilization has been around; if not even before that. The literal definition of a snake? A treacherous or deceitful person.
I'd say I meet the criteria.
But that aside, while eagles can dig their talons into a snake's body... a snake can sink their fangs into the bird... spreading the venom. Poisoning it's foe. One bite... that's all it needs. But enough symbolism. You get the point. And that, kids, was Stacy Jones and myself. Brett Carson and Seifer Black? They were more like... if you relate it to these fucking hicks in this museum... bucks? Well, whatever. I'd had enough of this place already, and was ready to leave. As I turned away from the wooden sculpture, I suddenly froze.
A little girl?
No... not just any little girl. A little girl that looked... frighteningly familiar. With Jen watching me from nearby, I suddenly began following the kid. I knew it was nothing. I knew it was another fucking hallucination. But that wasn't what was bothering me. Because I'd seen this scene before. I'd seen the look on her face before. And it shook me to my very core. Pushing myself to continue following the young girl, I paused as she moved behind a wooden pillar in the room. Gazing over at it, I saw her peek around... and the pillar became a person. Closing my eyes tightly, I took in a shaky breath, then opened my eyes again as I heard Carson and his little tag-a-long Morgan's voices.
My tag partner of the week headed over to me, but slowed his rather pompous stroll when he saw me weakly staring at... nothing. Carson looked at Jen... looked back at me... looked at Morgan, and finally back to Jen... "The fuck happened to her?"
My manager simply giggled as she casually leaned against a statue nearby and waved her hand in the air. "Da magics."
"Shut up Jen." I growled, shaking my head and glancing over at Carson. "Have fun just fucking around?"
"You could say so... that time of the month again is it, Cera bear?" He mocked me, giving a quick glance to Jen when he mentioned my little 'nickname'.
"It's allllwaaaays that time a' the month for her!" Jen piped up, winking at Brett when he looked at her. I was far from amused, as I snapped out...
"Or maybe I'm sick of having to deal with senseless morons like you three?!" My voice was raising with every word, a slightly hysterical look in my pale eyes.
Carson's expression changed instantly, "What are you gonna do about it, then huh? What now, toots? You can beat all three of us until we're pulp? Pfft."
Doubtful, in your very... human... condition.
Shut up.
My tag partner scoffed, "Get your shit together, Cera...let's do what we have to do and then beat the ever living crap out of Black and Jones. Save the anger for them..."
He's right, you know... a war cannot be won if you argue with your own platoon. Silly girl.
Jen just eyeballed us back and forth, as she crept up behind Morgan. I, however, loosened up and exhaled, before slapping the side of my head. "I'm not angry... I just want them to shut up... I hate being mocked..."
"You're nuts... absolutely bonkers." Brett muttered, slightly raising his eyebrow at me, as I was obviously outwardly frustrated.
"I... am NOT... insane." I growled at Carson, taking a step toward him. But rather than do anything threatening, I instead puts a hand out. I'm not an idiot... things were going to change between us, or nothing would go either of our ways. "Though this might be. I apologize. As a team, we have to put our differences... or really, similarities... aside. That is, if we want the win. We aren't friends. We don't really like each other at all. But there's one thing that makes us the more capable team--- our egos. Pretty sure we want it more than those self-delusional imbeciles... thus, I call for a momentary truce."
Brett looked at my hand, before responding slowly... "I agree and I appreciate the apology. All differences aside we're the better team... Truce it is..."
He then grabbed said hand and shook it, a little smirk on his face, "That's the last thing Stacy and Seifer want.... two of the very best in VOW on the same page."
"Well of course." I turned around, only to be face to face with a statue of Paul Bunyan himself. After a moment of glancing over the plaque, my own smirk grew. "...poor things have to battle a giant lumberjack, after all."
Brett smirked, also looking at the statue of Paul Bunyan, "A giant lumberjack... I like that. A force that's mythical to most beings."
"Bunyan himself was and is a historical, albeit mythical, symbol of strength and vitality. Power and talent. Just a natural aptitude for all things involving strength and technique. Remind you of anyone?" I put my thumbs into my jean's pockets, resting my palms casually on her hips.
"Sounds to me like you're referring to the Baddest Bitch and The Next Level Athlete...A rather fitting comparison." The smirk transfered into a grin as Morgan seemed a little weirded out by what was transpiring in front of her. Jen continued hovering, watching our back-and-forth discussion curiously.
"I suppose that's what makes our dynamic more formidable. The fact that we have these characteristics that are... almost... unreal." I paused, then shrugged a shoulder and turned away from the statue, moving to walk past Brett. "That's what puts us ahead of the curb..."
"Well, we're a foot ahead of them, that's for sure..." Brett agreed, his eyes flashing wickedly, to which I smirked and led us out of the Museum. My tag partner of the week hurriedly moved forward to be in toe with me, if not even a few inches ahead. But I let it go, and offered a final reply as we made our exit...
"A foot ahead... and a step above them."
Are you on the front lines, or hiding in the trenches?
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~This has been a V rp, thanx for reading and have a great f*cking day!~