Dream - 004
The sound of gunfire can be heard first of all, then voices shouting over them. Fall back, they're saying. The way is blocked, we'll have to find another way around. Approaching are soldiers in white and teal, well armed and coordinated - the Karma Society. The viewer will find themself hiding amongst a scrambling sea of camouflage and black ski masks - the Lokapala.
Leading the scattered resistance is a familiar figure, dark skin and hair, deep voice delivering sharp orders to fighters on either side of him. Greg motions for someone to follow him before dashing around behind a nearby corner, just out of the way of gunfire. Joining him is Roland and a handful of other Lokapala members.
"We've got about five minutes," Greg says. "There's a couple guys stationed up on the third floor of the next building over. At my signal they're going to draw fire in that direction. With them focused on both sides we should have just enough room to get through, but the opening will be short. Roland, you go first."
The light-haired man nods, but the hands holding his rifle are shaking. He's a novelist, not a soldier, and not even a very good novelist at that.
With a nod of his head, Greg leads the small group out onto the street. It quickly becomes apparent, however, that something was amiss. The gunfire they expected from the third floor never came. Instead, there was a cry as one of their own men was downed. Karma soldiers burst out of the building ahead of them. It's a small number, but it's larger than their own by quite a few. Their plan, it seems, had been discovered. The soldiers open fire and the Lokapala fall back.
"Dammit," Greg growls. "Looks like a last minute change of plans." Back behind the wall again, he reloads his gun. "We're going to have to make a run the other way. If you guys cover me, I should be able to enter the gate key." Chick chack, the gun is reloaded and he's ready to move again.
Roland can only shake his head. This wasn't going to work. They were all going to die.
They run out of their temporary shelter, firing back at the approaching soldiers and heading around the other side of the wall. They lose two more of their men along the way and Roland takes a bullet to the arm, leaving him to try and fire with his off-hand.
Fifty feet ahead is the security grid. Fifty feet behind them are Karma Soldiers still firing in their direction.
Twenty feet to the right is shelter, the door to an attached storehouse left ajar.
"I'm sorry, Greg."
"What's that, Roland? Come on, we're almost there. We gotta move. ...Roland?" The blond is already gone, though, running into the storehouse as bullets rake the side of the building. The leader of the Lokapala shouts his name one more time before his cries are cut off abruptly.
A choked sob echoes through the empty storehouse as the dream cuts out.
----------
((If a character has seen his first dream, they would have heard him make mention of this incident, apologizing to Greg's son.))
---
Roland is sitting up in bed, one hand clenching short hair, the other shaking against the mattress. Wordlessly, he stands and dresses quickly. His dreamberry is left ignored on his bed as he walks briskly toward the exit of the Embryon base, slamming the door on his way out.
[He won't be responding to anyone, but any member of the tribe is free to grab his phone and answer in his place. I'll be making an open log later where he can be found at the bar.]
Leading the scattered resistance is a familiar figure, dark skin and hair, deep voice delivering sharp orders to fighters on either side of him. Greg motions for someone to follow him before dashing around behind a nearby corner, just out of the way of gunfire. Joining him is Roland and a handful of other Lokapala members.
"We've got about five minutes," Greg says. "There's a couple guys stationed up on the third floor of the next building over. At my signal they're going to draw fire in that direction. With them focused on both sides we should have just enough room to get through, but the opening will be short. Roland, you go first."
The light-haired man nods, but the hands holding his rifle are shaking. He's a novelist, not a soldier, and not even a very good novelist at that.
With a nod of his head, Greg leads the small group out onto the street. It quickly becomes apparent, however, that something was amiss. The gunfire they expected from the third floor never came. Instead, there was a cry as one of their own men was downed. Karma soldiers burst out of the building ahead of them. It's a small number, but it's larger than their own by quite a few. Their plan, it seems, had been discovered. The soldiers open fire and the Lokapala fall back.
"Dammit," Greg growls. "Looks like a last minute change of plans." Back behind the wall again, he reloads his gun. "We're going to have to make a run the other way. If you guys cover me, I should be able to enter the gate key." Chick chack, the gun is reloaded and he's ready to move again.
Roland can only shake his head. This wasn't going to work. They were all going to die.
They run out of their temporary shelter, firing back at the approaching soldiers and heading around the other side of the wall. They lose two more of their men along the way and Roland takes a bullet to the arm, leaving him to try and fire with his off-hand.
Fifty feet ahead is the security grid. Fifty feet behind them are Karma Soldiers still firing in their direction.
Twenty feet to the right is shelter, the door to an attached storehouse left ajar.
"I'm sorry, Greg."
"What's that, Roland? Come on, we're almost there. We gotta move. ...Roland?" The blond is already gone, though, running into the storehouse as bullets rake the side of the building. The leader of the Lokapala shouts his name one more time before his cries are cut off abruptly.
A choked sob echoes through the empty storehouse as the dream cuts out.
----------
((If a character has seen his first dream, they would have heard him make mention of this incident, apologizing to Greg's son.))
---
Roland is sitting up in bed, one hand clenching short hair, the other shaking against the mattress. Wordlessly, he stands and dresses quickly. His dreamberry is left ignored on his bed as he walks briskly toward the exit of the Embryon base, slamming the door on his way out.
[He won't be responding to anyone, but any member of the tribe is free to grab his phone and answer in his place. I'll be making an open log later where he can be found at the bar.]