[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; height: 250px;][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; overflow: auto; width: 500px; height: 135px;][font=timesnewroman][size=24]cinder "ash" maxton
(( click his name ))
ah, taco day. truly the most grandeur day of the week. it was one of the things that cinder looked forward to. having his jaws rip into that crispy shell, the fake meat, lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, onions, and anything else he could think of piling on top of the steaming pile of beef that was encased in that cardboard shell. sure, many others thought it was nasty and disgusting, but he found tacos to be quite wonderful, despite the fact that every atom of jail tacos were completely fake and chemically made. mmm. tasty.
however, today started out differently. the twenty-nine-year-old was standing in role call, in the frigid morning air. the officers had yet to actually come outside, which was a big thing. no officers meant no security, and no security meant no doubt of escape. many people had run, but they were quickly brought down by the guard towards. the automatic turrets that fired when they saw an inmates clothing or face. many tried running, but they just ended up dead on the front lawn, the second they stepped outside the open gates.
a loud, mechanical beeping sound made everyone look up. the lights on the turrets to indicate them being on and active shut off. everyone began to make plans, but were immediately silence when guards manned the turrets themselves, giving every inmate a death glare. cinder—in jail for manslaughter, homicide, arson, and multiple other felons and murders—watched the guards at the towers carefully. k9 units were deployed, held on leashes by officers and policemen. everyone stood at attention, but cinder didn't. his shoulders were slouched and slightly hunched, giving him the appearance of being smaller than he actually was. a 6'5", 203 pound man who was capable of killing you with a plastic fork. his dark, onyx eyes scanned over everything, a sinking feeling in his empty stomach.
the screeching of metal grinding against metal, which was scraping against concrete, made the inmates cover their ears. the turrets faced them, pointing downwards at the men in bright orange jumpers. cinder immediately knew what was going to happen. the guards on the ground raised their guns. the men in uniform pushed the cowering inmates forwards, outside of the gate. the turrets followed their every movement. the dogs barked and howled, frothing at the mouth and snarling. cinder looked at the outside world. he hadn't seen it for himself in over ten years. the road was about fifty yards away. beyond the road was a forest. he could easily—
the sound of gunshots made cinder turn. one of the inmates who had tried running was gunned down immediately, the dogs running after him and chewing on the dead flesh. cinder blinked, listening to the officers commands to get down on the ground, to lie on their stomachs. every man immediately went down. well, except for cinder. he eyed the dead body, ignoring the shouts of the guards. they began counting to ten.
"one! two! three!"
run cinder. just do it. just run.
"six! seven!"
RUN CINDER. TRUST ME!
"nine! ten!"
cinder took off, his legs moving swifter than the guards could aim. the bullets from the turrets followed dangerously close to his heels, and the dogs snapped at him, but couldn't keep up. cinder was a fast runner. as he approached the road, a sleek, shiny, black jeep barreled down the road. one of the dogs latched onto cinder's arm, and the man growled in pain. he tore the dog off and sprinted towards the approaching car, one of the bullets landing in his chest as he twisted to throw the dog off. the murderer ignored this and jumped with a practiced grace, twisting his body sideways and smashing through the driver side's window, kicking the driver into the passenger seat. a woman screamed who was in the car.
the second cinder entered the seat, he immediately slammed his foot on the gas pedal, sending the driver into the backseat along with two other passengers. he snarled to himself and listened to the distant barking and shouting and gunshots. he looked in the rear-view mirror, ignoring the gushing blood from his left forearm, and his chest. he'd live. he yanked the steering wheel to the left, switching gears down and slamming his foot down on both the gas and brake pedals, drifting around a tight corner. he twisted and turned in random directions, successfully losing any sort of followers they had enticed.
after nearly ten minutes of driving, and constant drifting, the jeep's gears gave out. cinder tried slamming on the brakes, but the pedal was locked and refused to move. he swore loudly and twisted the steering wheel again, deciding to have some fun if he was going to crash. the jeep rolled off the side of the road, smashing into a tree with such a violence, that cinder black out, his head smashing into the wheel and his vision failing.
-
when he finally regained consciousness, the man coughed and rubbed his sore head. he kicked the door to the smoking jeep and crawled outside, laying on his stomach in the grass and panting lightly. he looked at the flaming jeep. he could see two bodies. there were three other people in the car with him. the felon stood up, searching for the third body, who may have been thrown from the car. maybe they had something useful on them?
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[fancypost bgcolor=0px; borderwidth=0px; width=300px; height=300px; text-shadow: 1px 1px White, 1px -1px white, -1px 1px white, -1px -1px white;][font=times new roman][size=36pt]TheKingIsDead
[size=8]fading parchment holds words of dying kings[/fancypost]
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[color=transparent] #abstractfp