Snippet #1963044

"Cheap piece of shit...." he mumbled before sitting up. The wounds hurt, but not enough to kill him and not enough to kick him out of the fight. Sure, he was downed, but his body took care of it. The bullets were slowed down (but not stopped) by his shitty Kevlar vest that he was wearing. Apparently, they gave him a weaker one meant for lower calibre weapons. This upset him and nearly cost him his life, had they been bigger rounds.

She placed his hand on the jacket and looked back up to Braego before looking back down at Zach. "Press," she said sternly before standing back up and shooting a few arrows into the enemies chests. She continued to do this, occasionally looking back down at Zach. But only occasionally. She didn't want to look like she cared or anything.

"I didn't know you cared so much..." he jested as he got up. "Though next time, I'm getting a vest that isn't designed for paintballs."

It felt like Thorson just hit him in the chest with his weapon. With a grunt, he took a stance and ignored the pain, recalling his weapons as well. Sheathing his sword, he took a protective stance with his shield and pulled out him M9. The god was dominating everything around him, and Zach didn't want to risk friendly fire, lest his chest be in more pain. A few shots were fired from his weapon, some hitting, some not. After a few minutes of the trio slaughtering anything in their path, the sounds of gunfire stopped. Nothing else remained.

He put his back against a nearby wall (that hadn't been destroyed) and slid down into a sit. "God damnit." he failed to realize the pun until after he spoke it. "Braego, I was supposed to steal your thunder, not the other way around..." he laughed before gripping his chest. "Oh well, I've got battle scars."