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Old March 25th, 2006, 09:56 PM  
Retro Tin Canz
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Join Date: February 25, 2006
Location: In a galaxy far, far away
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You guys are gonna have to get used to the cliffies from here on in.

At the sight of the oncoming bullets, I banked sharply to the left, Ham to the right. Thinking quickly (and I mean that quite literally) I imagined two guns, filled with ammo.
“Ham, catch!” I said, throwing one to him. He caught it, as I knew he would and without a moment’s hesitation, aimed and fired. As a result, one of the men fell stiffly to the ground. I brought my own gun up, aiming carefully. By this time, the men had reloaded and were ready to shoot again. And they did.
I managed to squeeze one round off before I had to stop. Suddenly, my right wing seared with pain. I flapped hard to gain altitude, but it hurt too much. Another searing pain flew through my left shoulder. I began to fall the fifty or so feet to the ground before I was caught, ten feet before my innards splattered all over the road. Ham had dived down and caught my good arm, trying to get me to safety.
“Hold on, Ro!” he called. Yeah, like I had other plans. I glanced behind me, at the men. They were getting ready to shoot for a third time…not good. I looked back into Ham’s eyes.
“Set me down, Ham, and then get away. You’re more experienced than I am. The Dumaniz would be hurt more if you were captured,” I reasoned. He shook his head.
“No one gets left behind,” he responded. The men shot again, and Ham descended the rest of the way to the ground. He lowered me down so I landed on my feet, my arm and wing hanging limply and dripping with blood, and stood in front of me, getting ready to fight.
I was terrified of what would happen if I used my power of imagination again, but I knew I had to. Would I nearly pass out again? Would the pain return? I was only just getting over my first headache, what if I pushed myself too far? Would it kill me? I put my right hand on my temple as though to enhance my thought, and replaced the soldiers’ guns with fake plastic cap guns. Confused, they dropped the toys and assaulted us mono y mono. Ok, more like 50 y 2, but what the hey, right?
They surrounded us in a tight circle. Without warning, one went for me, and one for Ham. Ham quickly fended his attacker off with a swift kick to the throat. The guy fell over, gasping for air. This resulted in three more coming after Ham.
I stared intently at my guy, smiling inwardly. 2.56 seconds later, a huge boulder fell on him, pinning him to the spot. I kinda felt sorry for him, as a pang of guilt flew into my stomach.
“Don’t stop, Ro! Do to them what you know they’d do to you!” Ham shouted, trying his best to fend off the now five men attacking him. I nodded, swallowing my fear and guilt, and rolled the boulder into more men. I suddenly realized that I could control whatever I had created. I hadn’t really noticed that before, but it sure as heck came in handy now.
In my mind, I created a staff, not wanting to take it too far by creating a metal sword. I took a swing at a guy’s face, and his fell over, blood just gushing from his nose. But me taking two guys out wasn’t going to help us. I started to make a wall, in my mind, made out of thick, heavy stone. I knew they’d get in it, but it would give Ham and me a moment to recollect…to think.
I eventually pushed the image from my mind with force, but had to pull back before it even materialized. A sharp pain flew through my head, and I fell to my knees. Seeing this as an opportunity, the men advanced on me. One of the men had what looked like razor out—like what my dad used to shave with. He held it to my neck and pressed a button. By this time, however, I realized what it was. It was like a phaser, one of those things that the cops use to electrocute people.
And it was being used on my. My back arched as the pain connected throughout my limbs and torso. My mind dazed, I glanced over to Ham. In my dim stupor, I could hear a single gunshot. Ham clutched his stomach and fell to his knees, blood seeping out from under his hands. He fell sideways, his side, shoulder, and then head hitting the ground, where he lay still.
That was the last thing before I passed out.

"Sing when the only microphone is your hairbrush...
Dance when the only audience is your mirror...
And act whenever you feel like it."
~Catherine Olivia

I have now realized that I could care less about what other people think of me, and thusforth, I am becoming an //individual// again.

Check out my blog!-- www.thegreatflames.blogspot.com
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