Game Dead (The Pack)

||In the murderers hands||

Third person.
Mitch glances wearily in Jerome's direction. Preston glares back as Jerome yells with cries of the unbearable pain consuming his side, spreading like wildfire through his body.

He recognizing that Jerome was down with a wound caused by his inability to control his own virus, his eyes widen as his gaze falls to his doing that covered his hands. A large number of people were dead because of him, his friends injured, his closest friend badly wounded screaming in pain.

Cautiously Mitch takes a step forward, the smoke of tension in the air grew thicker, guilt suffocating him with its hands grasping his throat.  With a gulp, he forces his legs to take another step, then another, slowly making his approach to Jerome who's attention was occupied by Preston telling him it's going to be okay. Preston looks up at the sound of footsteps coming towards them. Fear captured every last nerve in Preston's body, unnerving each one until his body lost all color. His eyes widen, quickly twisting to furious anger.

"Get away!" He spits, taking Mitch back. "Your not the Mitch we know! You've done enough damage! Can't you see that already?!" He throws his arm to exaggerate his point. His other arm supporting Jerome to sit up slightly. Tears streaming down Jerome's cheeks as he clenches his jaw or let out pained yells with each uneven rising and falling of breaths.

Mitch reaches a hand forward, sticky blood drips down from his hand, draining the last of any color left in Preston's skin. Preston's eyes don't leave Mitch's body for even a second, darting side to side to watch every small movements he makes.
"It's me... Please, trust me" Mitch pleads, voice shaking with the brink of tears in his eyes, witnessing up close the pained expressions on Jerome's face. Watching blood soak into Jerome's clothes around his wound.

Disgust flashes across Preston's face before glancing down at Jerome. "I don't trust him" Preston growls in a low voice.

"L-let him near. I have nothing to lose, if he kills me, then it's okay, I'll be out of my misery. Either this wound or himself will be my death" Jerome wheezes out, clenching his eyes shut with some of the words requiring more air to speak. Deeper breathes stinging worse than normal breathing currently does. Preston looks into Jerome's eyes as Jerome meets his gaze through teary eyes.

"Are you crazy?!" Preston growls. They both glance at Mitch, watching his hand fall in defeat, hanging his head in shame. Preston sighs, hating to oblige to Jerome's ridiculous request "Are you sure thats the correct decision you want? I guess it will be your dying wish" he offers a ghost of a smile. Jerome nods before Preston steps back, "Mitch, you take over me" Preston demands, allowing Mitch to replace him while he goes and fights.

Cautiously Mitch watches Preston run into battle before he sits down, lifting Jerome's head onto his knee. Jerome trying to avoiding inhaling the sickening metallic blood on Mitch's hands as he caresses Jerome's cheek. Listening to Jeromes uneven and shallow breathing.

"I-I'm so sorry I-" tears fall from his eyes as he sees the dagger imbedded deep in Jerome's side. "Please... Don't leave me" Mitch strokes his cheek with a bloodied thumb. Jerome looks up at Mitch with a smile, tears not hesitating to fall one after the other.

"It's-" A breath hitched in Mitch's throat as Jerome began to wrench with liquid sounding coughs, his body convulsing with each rattling cough. Panic, all he could think to do was panic. He sits Jerome up, hitting the top of his back in attempt to assist anything that was trying to come up with the coughs. Eventually Jerome stops coughing, wheezing in pain. Mitch lowers him, seeing Jerome's eyes lost and distant. His head roles into Mitch's chest, Mitch placing a protective hand around the back of Jerome's head.

"All the bad things I did to you," Mitch whispers under his breath, getting Jerome's attention as he turns his head to look up at him, "all the things I could of prevented..." Jerome's expression saddens with the upset cracks in Mitch's voice "will end up being the reason I'm going to lose you." 

---
"We warned you what would happen!" Lachlan snarled with a dead serious expression plastered on his face, not changing it for a moment. Murdering the remains of the so called "Viper" guild which would make their leader an easier target with no protection left. Lachlan catches a glimpse of Vikk out the corner of my eye, witnessing the clenched jaw Vikk had with the amount of effort and energy he was using, but adrenaline wouldn't let him stop at this point.

"Stop admiring and fight!" Vikk snaps, noticing Lachlan staring.

"Right, sorry" Lachlan shakes his head out of it, instead a victorious smirk forms on Lachlan's face as he turns back to kill off players. Blood spraying all over their tattered clothes, exposing blood covered skin with cuts and grates. He gags on the smell of blood, but he knows he needs to push it aside, now wasn't the time to be sick.