Post by Blake Abbot on Apr 11, 2009 19:15:31 GMT
Ordered for deployment in a suburb city known as Williamsburg. If only he knew while in the back of the armored SWAT vehicle, joking with his companions. A brisk stop, than a noise, than silence. "Teddy?" Blake asked, the others with puzzling looks plastered upon their faces. "What the hell..." Blake drew his desert eagle and kicked the back door of the SWAT car open. "SHI-" Was all Blake had time to say before dropping to the cement, figures airborne above him, straight into the back of the SWAT mobile. The fall to the cement had momentarily dazed Blake, and all he heard from the car was screams, no gun shots, just screams. Glancing inside he saw blood spewing, and slurping sounds, and he was gone.
His feet could not have taken off faster, he was running for nothing. Shelter. Cover. Safety. A building caught his limited vision. This one loomed, casting a hefty shadow over him and the most of the street. Moments passed, and he was too the door, with 'Portals' written upon it.
BAM
He threw a heavy shoulder into it, swinging his weight. A brief cracking noise and he was in. Turning quickly he brought his hands to the door and slammed it quickly, turning, than sitting. It took a good 3 minutes for him to restore his breathing. So many unanswered questions, and SWAT certainly didn't prepare him for this.
He always thought clearer with a cigarette. Pulling a partial pack of matches from his cigarette case, he brought flame to his Marlboro. Inhaling deeply, he tried to make out his surroundings. But the darkness seemed to come, and everything was indistinct. The only true image was the ember bobbing in unstable hands.
'What's next...?
Blake removed his helmet and ran a (now steadier) palm through his short-cut brown hair. He'd figure it out after he savored the fullness of his cig.
His feet could not have taken off faster, he was running for nothing. Shelter. Cover. Safety. A building caught his limited vision. This one loomed, casting a hefty shadow over him and the most of the street. Moments passed, and he was too the door, with 'Portals' written upon it.
BAM
He threw a heavy shoulder into it, swinging his weight. A brief cracking noise and he was in. Turning quickly he brought his hands to the door and slammed it quickly, turning, than sitting. It took a good 3 minutes for him to restore his breathing. So many unanswered questions, and SWAT certainly didn't prepare him for this.
He always thought clearer with a cigarette. Pulling a partial pack of matches from his cigarette case, he brought flame to his Marlboro. Inhaling deeply, he tried to make out his surroundings. But the darkness seemed to come, and everything was indistinct. The only true image was the ember bobbing in unstable hands.
'What's next...?
Blake removed his helmet and ran a (now steadier) palm through his short-cut brown hair. He'd figure it out after he savored the fullness of his cig.