For the first victim...

This is the entry for Miss Snark's First Victim, Authoress. From my current WIP, DoJ:

The darkness was absolute.

He coughed, his ribs screamed in protest. He tasted blood in his mouth, moved his hand to wipe his chin and screamed out loud.

“Hello? Someone alive in there?”

“I’m here,” he mouthed the words. Bracing against the pain he breathed in, gathered his strength. “I’m here!”

“There’s a survivor!” a new voice said.

He heard metal scrapping against metal. Someone cursed. Light burst in, blinding his eyes.

“I’m alive.”

The light traveled down his wrecked body as the rescuers surveyed the damage .In the light he could see jagged hull fragments slicing into his side, making his lungs bleed. His legs were crushed under the control console. Both arms were pinned by debris. “Get me out. Take to the Felinium. I’ll survive.”

Another light joined the first. The man closest to him tugged at a long lock of dark hair as he chewed his lip. “See, the problem here is money.”

“I’ll pay you.”

Lip-Chewer shook his head slowly. “No, you see, we need salvage. Nothing personal, just business.”

His body burned, the light spun as cooling blood slid onto his neck. “It’s yours. Save me.”

“Can’t do it.” Lip-Chewer turned to his companion. “Official record of crash sight, pilot found dead under command console.”

“No!” Every breath was a war. “I’m alive!”

“Yea, for now,” Lip-Chewer agreed, “but you’ll always be worth more dead.”