((Maynard Hurst continued from Detritus))
It was difficult for Maynard to know what he was feeling anymore.
Lonely, sure. Terrified, naturally. Angry, obviously. But beyond that? Beyond that cycle of emotions that'd rampaged its way through him as he'd fled from the hotel and what he'd done? Nothing. Just numb. It was as though someone had thrown him into an icy lake and tethered him to the undergrowth without any chance of escape.
Just numb.
He was situated by the edge of the bridge, a fistful of pebbles and stones in one hand and what little remained of one of his last ration bars in the other, and his belonging seated carefully on either side of him; bag on his left and sword on his right. A warm breeze wafted lightly over him as he tossed another pebble into the air, landing with a delicate splash into the waters below. It seemed so calm here, almost as though the area was removed from the remainder of the island - the only reminders being the corpses that were littered about the town, barely recognisable after so many days of decay and the wide birth he'd given them as they came into view.
Every inch of his body ached with exhaustion, his legs shaking sporadically as though ready to collapse beneath him. He hadn't stopped running since he'd fled from what he'd done, pausing only when his chest felt ready to burst out of his chest and he felt nauseous to the point of retching over the bridge's weather-worn railing. Even then he wanted to keep going, wanted to keep his head clear of everything and try to regain some semblance of proper thought, wanted to be able to forget what he'd done to Adam.
But he couldn't.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep going. Instead he'd gathered a handful of gravel from the sidewalk and fetched a meal from his dufflebag - noting the need to stock up... somehow and somewhere - and begun idly tossing them into the river below. With every stone that he loosed, he tried to imagine it as something else - something that he'd lost, something he wanted to get off his mind and off his conscience, something he wanted to discard and forget.
It wasn't working very well.
He clenched his fist tightly around the remaining stones and wrenched it back before spinning forward, sending a rain of splintered rock and gravel cascading into the abyss below, teeth bared in anger and breath heavy in his chest as a sharp gasp burst from his mouth. Nothing he'd done seemed to work, nothing seemed good enough to relieve the weight of the emotions which balanced precariously on his shoulders. Everything had slipped away from him like sand through his fingers; his friends and allies and any optimism he might've once held - it was gone. And what little he'd garnered in this place - Natali and Adam - had been taken away from him just as quickly.
It was just him, now.
Miles Behind Us
Open!
((James Wade continued from Life's a Beach))
Unsurprisingly, James had gotten himself lost.
Having set off from the beach earlier, he'd wandered through the island in search of his missing ally until he came across what looked like a town of sorts. James had been wandering through the area for a while now, and began to wonder how many people were left alive. Dozens had died already in the week he'd been here and by now the survivors were probably getting desperate. He still had enough supplies for a couple of days if he rationed them, but it wouldn't be long before he'd have to resort to mugging people or looting corpses for supplies.
I doubt the dead would mind. The living on the other hand, might pose more of a threat.
On his little journey from the beach, James had been thinking his general strategy over; there wasn't much else to do. Nobody was going to come out of this looking like a good guy, but if he wanted to stay alive he'd have to do what was necessary to win. Nothing more. No running round looking for people to murder, no dancing around for the cameras wearing someone's intestines as a necklace. All he had to do was stay alive. By this point, James had already begun to tire from all the walking. His new shoes were already well-worn and his legs were aching a little. Not that there was much point in complaining about these things; there was no one around to listen to him.
Wait, scratch that.
As he walked out onto a bridge, James caught sight of someone just ahead. His first thought was to run off before he was seen, but he took a few more paces before stopping. Chances were that upon seeing him this guy would turn around, pull out a gun and blow James' head off. On the other hand, he might be willing to team up. James would take the risk. He sighed, and called out across the bridge.
"Hey, you okay?!"
Unsurprisingly, James had gotten himself lost.
Having set off from the beach earlier, he'd wandered through the island in search of his missing ally until he came across what looked like a town of sorts. James had been wandering through the area for a while now, and began to wonder how many people were left alive. Dozens had died already in the week he'd been here and by now the survivors were probably getting desperate. He still had enough supplies for a couple of days if he rationed them, but it wouldn't be long before he'd have to resort to mugging people or looting corpses for supplies.
I doubt the dead would mind. The living on the other hand, might pose more of a threat.
On his little journey from the beach, James had been thinking his general strategy over; there wasn't much else to do. Nobody was going to come out of this looking like a good guy, but if he wanted to stay alive he'd have to do what was necessary to win. Nothing more. No running round looking for people to murder, no dancing around for the cameras wearing someone's intestines as a necklace. All he had to do was stay alive. By this point, James had already begun to tire from all the walking. His new shoes were already well-worn and his legs were aching a little. Not that there was much point in complaining about these things; there was no one around to listen to him.
Wait, scratch that.
As he walked out onto a bridge, James caught sight of someone just ahead. His first thought was to run off before he was seen, but he took a few more paces before stopping. Chances were that upon seeing him this guy would turn around, pull out a gun and blow James' head off. On the other hand, he might be willing to team up. James would take the risk. He sighed, and called out across the bridge.
"Hey, you okay?!"
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
((Amaranta Montalvo continued from Exposure))
Mara headed carefully down the slope towards the place marked on the map as an overpass. It looked like a good place to haul up. A place where no one would be sneaking up on her during the upcoming night. She traveled in silence, alone, as she moved cautiously around the island.
She wished she had alcohol. Mara knew that it would ruin the alertness that was paramount to survival, but part of her didn't care. Her thoughts were a disease. She toyed with the idea of killing another person in some spectacular fashion if it would get her a bottle of Grey Goose from the terrorists. She made it a game with herself. How far was she willing to go to get some alcohol? For how much alcohol? For what kind? What sort of person? Would it be worth it to kill one violent asshole in self-defense for one bottle of vodka? How about for a glass of wine? A cocktail? What about one of the nerdy little girls who were cowering and begging? How much would have to be on the table for her to do that?
The only person she truly did want to find was Stacy. She would do her for free. She was the one who absorbed all of her anger.
As she reached the bottom she found two pretty pathetic looking boys already down there. She had the m4 carbine in hand and pointed it at the two.
"Have you seen Stacy Ramsey?" she said by way of introduction.
She stared at them a moment. It was the first time she'd seen people for hours. Her eyes wavered. Mara wanted to talk to a friend who knew her and understood how she felt, could sympathize with her. She wanted someone who she could talk to about the unending pain she felt every second of the day from the misery of still being alive in this horrible place. It was also the pain of having nothing. Everything she'd ever valued in life had been ripped away until she had nothing. Even the freedom of having the newfound choice to do whatever she liked was alien and crushing. If she just had someone that would listen and who she knew would honestly care. What she would do to have someone who cared.
But there was no one like that anymore. These two didn't know jack shit about her or what she was like. Everyone like that was dead now, which is why she had to find Stacy.
Mara headed carefully down the slope towards the place marked on the map as an overpass. It looked like a good place to haul up. A place where no one would be sneaking up on her during the upcoming night. She traveled in silence, alone, as she moved cautiously around the island.
She wished she had alcohol. Mara knew that it would ruin the alertness that was paramount to survival, but part of her didn't care. Her thoughts were a disease. She toyed with the idea of killing another person in some spectacular fashion if it would get her a bottle of Grey Goose from the terrorists. She made it a game with herself. How far was she willing to go to get some alcohol? For how much alcohol? For what kind? What sort of person? Would it be worth it to kill one violent asshole in self-defense for one bottle of vodka? How about for a glass of wine? A cocktail? What about one of the nerdy little girls who were cowering and begging? How much would have to be on the table for her to do that?
The only person she truly did want to find was Stacy. She would do her for free. She was the one who absorbed all of her anger.
As she reached the bottom she found two pretty pathetic looking boys already down there. She had the m4 carbine in hand and pointed it at the two.
"Have you seen Stacy Ramsey?" she said by way of introduction.
She stared at them a moment. It was the first time she'd seen people for hours. Her eyes wavered. Mara wanted to talk to a friend who knew her and understood how she felt, could sympathize with her. She wanted someone who she could talk to about the unending pain she felt every second of the day from the misery of still being alive in this horrible place. It was also the pain of having nothing. Everything she'd ever valued in life had been ripped away until she had nothing. Even the freedom of having the newfound choice to do whatever she liked was alien and crushing. If she just had someone that would listen and who she knew would honestly care. What she would do to have someone who cared.
But there was no one like that anymore. These two didn't know jack shit about her or what she was like. Everyone like that was dead now, which is why she had to find Stacy.
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BROseidon†
- Posts: 298
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:08 pm
((Virgil Jefferson-Davis continued from No Time Left))
Virgil figured that he'd be able to find people in town, and boy was he right.
Virgil saw two figures from the distance, with a third approach. He took up a light jog. He could talk to them, talk them down. Tell them not to kill anymore. Beat them into submission if they refused; make it so that they couldn't kill.
It wasn't until he got closer that he started to recognize the shapes. Maynard, but without Adam this time. It'd been barely two days since they'd seen each other last. Virgil felt a deep burning rise up inside him at the sight. Virgil's anger wasn't directed at Maynard, but it swelled up from within. It made him want to destroy another desk.
And then he saw Mara. Mara who had killed how many times? Twice, three times? Virgil couldn't remember. He just remembered that she had been a killer. Virgil glanced down at his Saiga and snorted. Hopefully she could be talked down. Not that it really mattered; there was no way that spoiled brat could keep pace with him, kill count notwithstanding.
Virgil approached the group. He barely made out Mara's question as he approached.
What the fuck did she want with Stacey?
Virgil figured that he'd be able to find people in town, and boy was he right.
Virgil saw two figures from the distance, with a third approach. He took up a light jog. He could talk to them, talk them down. Tell them not to kill anymore. Beat them into submission if they refused; make it so that they couldn't kill.
It wasn't until he got closer that he started to recognize the shapes. Maynard, but without Adam this time. It'd been barely two days since they'd seen each other last. Virgil felt a deep burning rise up inside him at the sight. Virgil's anger wasn't directed at Maynard, but it swelled up from within. It made him want to destroy another desk.
And then he saw Mara. Mara who had killed how many times? Twice, three times? Virgil couldn't remember. He just remembered that she had been a killer. Virgil glanced down at his Saiga and snorted. Hopefully she could be talked down. Not that it really mattered; there was no way that spoiled brat could keep pace with him, kill count notwithstanding.
Virgil approached the group. He barely made out Mara's question as he approached.
What the fuck did she want with Stacey?
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Any optimism he'd had concerning what'd happened to Adam was long gone, alongside any trace of finding Gwen or reuniting with his friends. He was a murderer, and the next morning everybody would know it. But for now, in the brief interim between fleeing the hotel and the next announcement it was something known only to himself and Sharon.
Part of him wished he'd stayed with Adam until the end, been there when his last breaths had leached into the air and the glimmer in his eyes was gone. It'd make everything so much more concrete, so much easier to handle; that way he'd be able to fully accept the situation and move onwards - but instead he felt so in between everything, like he was dangling precariously on the edge of sanity with no way of pulling himself up nor loosening his grip. If he had Gwen, or Adam, or anyone for that matter, anyone who could understand or help him then maybe he'd feel a little more secure and a little bit less like he was about to fall either way.
He pivoted around as a newcomer approached, offering a stuttered few words by way of greeting; James Wade. He wasn''t particularly good friends with him, but they were both fantasy fans and liked voracious readers, so that was a starting point. Instinctively, he knelt down to retrieve his bags as James slowed in his movements, holding them in a death-grip before following suit with his sword. Ordinarily he would've left his belongings languishing in the dust at his feet - James had always seemed harmless and more than a little nervous, but the preconceptions he'd established back at Aurora meant very little now. If Maynard from a week ago could''ve seen Maynard now, then he probably would've fainted at the sight, even without what he'd done factored in as well. For all he knew, James could''ve fallen right into insanity and was ready to gut him at a moment's notice.
But for now, he could hope otherwise.
""I''m fine, James,"" he said. That was the furtherest from the truth he could''ve possibly gotten, but saying anything otherwise wouldn''t have helped anyone. There wasn't't much opportunity for either of them to say anything else before another figure approached them; Amaranta Montalvo.
James had introduced himself with nervousness and trepidation. Mara, on the other hand, was something else altogether.
She was direct, greeting them with a question as opposed to the cliché pleasantries he suspected everybody here had been subjected to countless times. He didn''t really know all that much about her - they moved in very different circles and had scarcely interacted over the years; most of what he knew about her came from second hand accounts, and most of that could be summarised in one word: bitch.
But... maybe that wasn''t the case. Adam had always seemed aloof and intimidating at school, but when it came to this place he'd proven himself to be so much different. Maybe the reputation she'd garnered for herself back at Aurora was completely false; maybe she wasn't all that bad. He had no true way of knowing. Sure, she'd been listed as having taken the lives of three people on the announcements, but in the morning they'd all know him to be a killer. He'd been gifted a reprieve, a brief moment between taking Adam's life and everybody knowing about it, but with every second that trickled past that moment was drawing ever nearer. He hadn''t been friends with Mike or Ray or Summer, didn''t have any more anger over their deaths than he had over the multitude of barely recognisable names that'd been recited to them over the past week.
Mara was the first killer he'd encountered so far, the only other person he'd met on this island who'd taken another life, the only other person who could possibly know what he was feeling. Or understand him.
So, that's why, when she pointed her gun at him and James and questioned the whereabouts of Stacy - another member of the popular crowd; cheerleader, pretty, had maybe said all of ten sentences to him over the years and had taken out two other similar girls a few days before - he responded warmly and without anger.
""Hey Mara,"" he said, softly. " haven't seen her, though I can't say the same for James. I hope you're feeling okay.""
He was too distracted by James and Mara to properly notice Virgil's approach, the other boy little more than a blot on his peripheral vision as he met Mara's eyes and let the slightest of smiles cross over his features.
Part of him wished he'd stayed with Adam until the end, been there when his last breaths had leached into the air and the glimmer in his eyes was gone. It'd make everything so much more concrete, so much easier to handle; that way he'd be able to fully accept the situation and move onwards - but instead he felt so in between everything, like he was dangling precariously on the edge of sanity with no way of pulling himself up nor loosening his grip. If he had Gwen, or Adam, or anyone for that matter, anyone who could understand or help him then maybe he'd feel a little more secure and a little bit less like he was about to fall either way.
He pivoted around as a newcomer approached, offering a stuttered few words by way of greeting; James Wade. He wasn''t particularly good friends with him, but they were both fantasy fans and liked voracious readers, so that was a starting point. Instinctively, he knelt down to retrieve his bags as James slowed in his movements, holding them in a death-grip before following suit with his sword. Ordinarily he would've left his belongings languishing in the dust at his feet - James had always seemed harmless and more than a little nervous, but the preconceptions he'd established back at Aurora meant very little now. If Maynard from a week ago could''ve seen Maynard now, then he probably would've fainted at the sight, even without what he'd done factored in as well. For all he knew, James could''ve fallen right into insanity and was ready to gut him at a moment's notice.
But for now, he could hope otherwise.
""I''m fine, James,"" he said. That was the furtherest from the truth he could''ve possibly gotten, but saying anything otherwise wouldn''t have helped anyone. There wasn't't much opportunity for either of them to say anything else before another figure approached them; Amaranta Montalvo.
James had introduced himself with nervousness and trepidation. Mara, on the other hand, was something else altogether.
She was direct, greeting them with a question as opposed to the cliché pleasantries he suspected everybody here had been subjected to countless times. He didn''t really know all that much about her - they moved in very different circles and had scarcely interacted over the years; most of what he knew about her came from second hand accounts, and most of that could be summarised in one word: bitch.
But... maybe that wasn''t the case. Adam had always seemed aloof and intimidating at school, but when it came to this place he'd proven himself to be so much different. Maybe the reputation she'd garnered for herself back at Aurora was completely false; maybe she wasn't all that bad. He had no true way of knowing. Sure, she'd been listed as having taken the lives of three people on the announcements, but in the morning they'd all know him to be a killer. He'd been gifted a reprieve, a brief moment between taking Adam's life and everybody knowing about it, but with every second that trickled past that moment was drawing ever nearer. He hadn''t been friends with Mike or Ray or Summer, didn''t have any more anger over their deaths than he had over the multitude of barely recognisable names that'd been recited to them over the past week.
Mara was the first killer he'd encountered so far, the only other person he'd met on this island who'd taken another life, the only other person who could possibly know what he was feeling. Or understand him.
So, that's why, when she pointed her gun at him and James and questioned the whereabouts of Stacy - another member of the popular crowd; cheerleader, pretty, had maybe said all of ten sentences to him over the years and had taken out two other similar girls a few days before - he responded warmly and without anger.
""Hey Mara,"" he said, softly. " haven't seen her, though I can't say the same for James. I hope you're feeling okay.""
He was too distracted by James and Mara to properly notice Virgil's approach, the other boy little more than a blot on his peripheral vision as he met Mara's eyes and let the slightest of smiles cross over his features.
James froze at the sight of Mara's gun pointed at them. For a second he thought she was going to kill the pair of them right there, but it seemed that she just wanted to ask them where Stacy was. He was fully aware of his massive disadvantage in this situation and would have to keep calm; not the easiest task for someone like him, especially when faced with a presumably loaded weapon. He was already holding the Clue box to his chest as some kind of useless armour, and waited for Maynard to speak before answering Mara's question.
"Sorry, I haven't seen her either. Haven't seen many people these past few days."
There. Gave you your answer, so kindly don't murder both of us. With any luck, that would be enough to satisfy her. If not, then Mara could probably take them both down without much effort. He'd heard the announcements; she'd killed already. James started mentally weighing up his chances in a fight, and chances were that if he wasn't shot first he'd get a hit in. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. James had spent an entire week actively avoiding conflict with other people, but with the other students dropping like flies he couldn't just hole up somewhere and hope for the best. James caught some movement out of the corner of his eye, and spotted someone else approaching their group. Someone armed.
Things were about to get slightly better, or much, much worse.
"Sorry, I haven't seen her either. Haven't seen many people these past few days."
There. Gave you your answer, so kindly don't murder both of us. With any luck, that would be enough to satisfy her. If not, then Mara could probably take them both down without much effort. He'd heard the announcements; she'd killed already. James started mentally weighing up his chances in a fight, and chances were that if he wasn't shot first he'd get a hit in. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. James had spent an entire week actively avoiding conflict with other people, but with the other students dropping like flies he couldn't just hole up somewhere and hope for the best. James caught some movement out of the corner of his eye, and spotted someone else approaching their group. Someone armed.
Things were about to get slightly better, or much, much worse.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Mara was taken aback by Maynard's last statement. She gaped a moment and then thrusted the gun at him once she recovered.
"I...." she started. Her hands clutched the gun close like a teddy bear and her eyes were wide. "I'm just peachy," she growled.
Her pride reared up again. How dare someone like him pity her? She didn't need his pity. Maybe he thought this would buy him time. If he pretended to care about her maybe she wouldn't shoot him. Mara didn't want his pity; right now she only wanted his fear. That would make her feel like there was control. Maybe that would stop the empty, constant ache.
This was all of course broken up by the approach of some guy who was basically the size and shape of a refrigerator. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement and was greeted by some big guy from school.
Her eyes roamed down to the weapon in his hand. She turned and poked him in the chest with the tip of her gun.
"Drop it," she said, nodding at his gun.
"I...." she started. Her hands clutched the gun close like a teddy bear and her eyes were wide. "I'm just peachy," she growled.
Her pride reared up again. How dare someone like him pity her? She didn't need his pity. Maybe he thought this would buy him time. If he pretended to care about her maybe she wouldn't shoot him. Mara didn't want his pity; right now she only wanted his fear. That would make her feel like there was control. Maybe that would stop the empty, constant ache.
This was all of course broken up by the approach of some guy who was basically the size and shape of a refrigerator. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement and was greeted by some big guy from school.
Her eyes roamed down to the weapon in his hand. She turned and poked him in the chest with the tip of her gun.
"Drop it," she said, nodding at his gun.
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BROseidon†
- Posts: 298
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:08 pm
That went south quickly.
Virgil found himself with the tip of Mara's gun resting on his chest. The thing looked like some sort of assault rifle. Like, if she pulled the trigger, it would rip a bunch of holes in his chest.
Virgil slowed his breathing. Without that gun, this would be a simple enough matter. Drop, take out her legs, pin her to the ground. He had what, a hundred or so pounds on her? But that gun was there. He needed to stay calm. He couldn't panic and make a rash move and end up with a bullet through his chest.
He looked at Mara. He furrowed his brow.
"No. I just want to talk, Mara. You know I'm not gonna hurt you."
She may have killed, but she wasn't just a killer. After all, she hadn't shot him yet.
Virgil found himself with the tip of Mara's gun resting on his chest. The thing looked like some sort of assault rifle. Like, if she pulled the trigger, it would rip a bunch of holes in his chest.
Virgil slowed his breathing. Without that gun, this would be a simple enough matter. Drop, take out her legs, pin her to the ground. He had what, a hundred or so pounds on her? But that gun was there. He needed to stay calm. He couldn't panic and make a rash move and end up with a bullet through his chest.
He looked at Mara. He furrowed his brow.
"No. I just want to talk, Mara. You know I'm not gonna hurt you."
She may have killed, but she wasn't just a killer. After all, she hadn't shot him yet.
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Maynard's smile didn''t falter, even though Mara's reply to his query was less than friendly. He couldn''t blame her for it, really - if she'd been all sunshine and buttercups then it would''ve felt strange, creepy almost. They'd been on this island for a week, struggling to survive against the elements and their peers; anybody who was still able to maintain some level of genuine cheerfulness had to have lost their mind completely. Maynard wondered if he'd go crazy eventually, or if he already had. It was hard to tell; with everything that'd gone wrong left far behind him, it was too easy for him to pretend that it hadn''t occurred, that he hadn''t lost the one girl here who meant the most to him or taken away the life of his one constant companion. He hadn''t lost anybody too close to him back home; his grandma had been healthy, and any other relatives had either passed away when he was too young to remember or lived far off, but he suspected that if anybody he was close to in Seattle had died it would''ve caused his world to shatter to pieces. But at the same time, it would''ve kept on going on around him; he'd have to keep going to school, doing his chores, meeting with friends, continuing as if nothing had happened.
Here, though, deaths and killing were an expected occurrence, one that they were expected to deal with and move past whilst continuing to encounter them again and again and again. It wasn't something he'd been prepared for in the slightest - that nobody could've been prepared for - and now that it'd wholly reared its head at him and popped the fragile bubble he'd made for himself without any chance of returning to it, he had no way of coping, no path for him to follow. He had to make his own decisions, had to forge his own way in this place. There was nobody to instruct him, no bonds of his previous life to restrict him in a place where they'd all been gifted blank cheques.
That's why, when Virgil fully made himself visible to himself, James, and Mara, Maynard chose not to side with him, chose not to go to the boy whom he'd already allied himself with once before. Virgil reminded him of Adam quite a lot; the bulky physique and friendliness beneath the intimidating exterior. Seeing him cross over the bridge was just like how Adam had made his way towards him over the sands just after they'd woken up. It seemed like the world was on repeat, almost, and if that was truly happening then Maynard knew what the eventual outcome would be.
""Why?"" The words poured from his mouth before he could even process what he was saying, the shyness that he'd battled against daily gone the way of his friends and the life he'd left behind. ""She doesn''t need to talk to you if she doesn''t want to. Why should she do what you want if you won't do the same for her?"" He continued, gesturing with his free hand towards the gun Virgil carried with him before glancing back at Mara.
His voice was soft and held only the slightest hint of defiance. He didn''t want to snap at Virgil, didn''t want to risk angering him, but another part of him wanted to endear himself to Mara, wanted to help and make himself useful to her. She''d killed, just like he had. If there was anybody here who could help him figure out the muddle that his mind had become, then it had to be her. The alternative was to take a backseat, to let Virgil and Mara sort out their issues by themselves, but Maynard was tired of holding himself back, not doing things for himself. Not anymore.
Here, though, deaths and killing were an expected occurrence, one that they were expected to deal with and move past whilst continuing to encounter them again and again and again. It wasn't something he'd been prepared for in the slightest - that nobody could've been prepared for - and now that it'd wholly reared its head at him and popped the fragile bubble he'd made for himself without any chance of returning to it, he had no way of coping, no path for him to follow. He had to make his own decisions, had to forge his own way in this place. There was nobody to instruct him, no bonds of his previous life to restrict him in a place where they'd all been gifted blank cheques.
That's why, when Virgil fully made himself visible to himself, James, and Mara, Maynard chose not to side with him, chose not to go to the boy whom he'd already allied himself with once before. Virgil reminded him of Adam quite a lot; the bulky physique and friendliness beneath the intimidating exterior. Seeing him cross over the bridge was just like how Adam had made his way towards him over the sands just after they'd woken up. It seemed like the world was on repeat, almost, and if that was truly happening then Maynard knew what the eventual outcome would be.
""Why?"" The words poured from his mouth before he could even process what he was saying, the shyness that he'd battled against daily gone the way of his friends and the life he'd left behind. ""She doesn''t need to talk to you if she doesn''t want to. Why should she do what you want if you won't do the same for her?"" He continued, gesturing with his free hand towards the gun Virgil carried with him before glancing back at Mara.
His voice was soft and held only the slightest hint of defiance. He didn''t want to snap at Virgil, didn''t want to risk angering him, but another part of him wanted to endear himself to Mara, wanted to help and make himself useful to her. She''d killed, just like he had. If there was anybody here who could help him figure out the muddle that his mind had become, then it had to be her. The alternative was to take a backseat, to let Virgil and Mara sort out their issues by themselves, but Maynard was tired of holding himself back, not doing things for himself. Not anymore.
James took the tiniest of steps back, his face impassive. The situation had, as expected, gone from merely bad to downright shitty in seconds. With Mara and Virgil pointing guns at each other, he was eager to get out of the line of fire if things escalated. He clutched the Clue box to his chest, eyes darting between the pair.
Shit, shit, shit. Why the hell did I come up here?
He took a deep breath. James needed to keep calm here; now really wasn't the time to have another panic attack. With any luck the pair of them wouldn't pay too much attention to him, considering his absolutely useless weapon. Some part of him hoped that they'd just take each other down, giving him a chance to grab a gun for himself. Maynard seemed okay; someone he could team up with for a while until he found Veronica. Then he spoke up and James abandoned that idea.
Thanks, man. Question the big guy with the gun. Help out the murderer. Lovely.
James had set off from the beach earlier intent on taking down anyone who posed a threat to him. Naturally that decisive attitude had dissolved entirely the moment the guns came out, but he wouldn't be running away this time. Either out of determination of fear - probably the latter - James' legs wouldn't turn around and let him get the fuck off this bridge. He held the Clue box in one hand, while the other hung loosely by his sides, ready to curl into a fist. He honestly had no idea what he planned to do now other than be ready in case one of them so much as twitched towards him the wrong way. He took another deep breath, and spoke.
"Hey guys, can we uh, lower the guns? Please?"
It didn't come out as much more than a low mutter. James regretted it instantly. He gulped nervously, and hoped that they'd just ignore him and go back to their standoff.
Please just murder each other. Fuck it, kill Maynard too so I don't have to later. Just leave me alone.
Shit, shit, shit. Why the hell did I come up here?
He took a deep breath. James needed to keep calm here; now really wasn't the time to have another panic attack. With any luck the pair of them wouldn't pay too much attention to him, considering his absolutely useless weapon. Some part of him hoped that they'd just take each other down, giving him a chance to grab a gun for himself. Maynard seemed okay; someone he could team up with for a while until he found Veronica. Then he spoke up and James abandoned that idea.
Thanks, man. Question the big guy with the gun. Help out the murderer. Lovely.
James had set off from the beach earlier intent on taking down anyone who posed a threat to him. Naturally that decisive attitude had dissolved entirely the moment the guns came out, but he wouldn't be running away this time. Either out of determination of fear - probably the latter - James' legs wouldn't turn around and let him get the fuck off this bridge. He held the Clue box in one hand, while the other hung loosely by his sides, ready to curl into a fist. He honestly had no idea what he planned to do now other than be ready in case one of them so much as twitched towards him the wrong way. He took another deep breath, and spoke.
"Hey guys, can we uh, lower the guns? Please?"
It didn't come out as much more than a low mutter. James regretted it instantly. He gulped nervously, and hoped that they'd just ignore him and go back to their standoff.
Please just murder each other. Fuck it, kill Maynard too so I don't have to later. Just leave me alone.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
((Head bonk approved))
"Fuck you! You're not going to hurt me?"
Mara swung the gun up quickly and whacked Virgil in the side of the head.
"As long as I've got this, you won't. I'm not stupid. Drop it or I'll grab one of them," she said nodding towards the two boys.
One of them was taking her side on the matter. It was unusual over the last few days, for sure. Both her hands, wrapped in bandages with blood soaked through, held the gun close.
"I don't know why you're saying that," she said quietly. "I don't know if you actually are one of the few people in class with some brain cells or if you're just trying to curry favor with me in the hopes I help you later. I don't help anyone anymore. If I were going to kill you, I'd have done it already. That's to all of you. But just because I didn't kill you when I could have, doesn't mean I won't do it if you give me a reason," she ended, glaring at Virgil.
"I've taken down guys bigger than you in the last few days," she hissed. "Without the gun, even."
She staggered backwards and hit the side of the overpass. Her hands stayed on the gun, but she leaned her back against the wall and looked up at the overhang.
"I hate it here. Everyone who could have possibly understood me is gone and I'm alone now. I'll be alone for as long as we're here. I have to find Stacy so I can kill her because it's a goal that I set out for myself. I'll feel better. I'm not going to kill one of you ding bats and risk someone doing the same to me. After that, I don't know. I don't know what to do anymore, everything I did before this place is meaningless and now all that I am and all that I'm good at is staying alive. I have nothing. I am nothing," she said, her voice cracking.
"Fuck you! You're not going to hurt me?"
Mara swung the gun up quickly and whacked Virgil in the side of the head.
"As long as I've got this, you won't. I'm not stupid. Drop it or I'll grab one of them," she said nodding towards the two boys.
One of them was taking her side on the matter. It was unusual over the last few days, for sure. Both her hands, wrapped in bandages with blood soaked through, held the gun close.
"I don't know why you're saying that," she said quietly. "I don't know if you actually are one of the few people in class with some brain cells or if you're just trying to curry favor with me in the hopes I help you later. I don't help anyone anymore. If I were going to kill you, I'd have done it already. That's to all of you. But just because I didn't kill you when I could have, doesn't mean I won't do it if you give me a reason," she ended, glaring at Virgil.
"I've taken down guys bigger than you in the last few days," she hissed. "Without the gun, even."
She staggered backwards and hit the side of the overpass. Her hands stayed on the gun, but she leaned her back against the wall and looked up at the overhang.
"I hate it here. Everyone who could have possibly understood me is gone and I'm alone now. I'll be alone for as long as we're here. I have to find Stacy so I can kill her because it's a goal that I set out for myself. I'll feel better. I'm not going to kill one of you ding bats and risk someone doing the same to me. After that, I don't know. I don't know what to do anymore, everything I did before this place is meaningless and now all that I am and all that I'm good at is staying alive. I have nothing. I am nothing," she said, her voice cracking.
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BROseidon†
- Posts: 298
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 9:08 pm
Virgil staggered back at the blow to his head. He'd taken harder hits in rugby, had his share of concussions. This didn't feel like a concussion, and the fact that he was cogent enough to keep tabs on that meant he was probably fine.
Virgil paused when she threatened to take one other guys hostage. Maynard and James didn't deserve this; this wasn't even their fight. They just happened to be here. Wrong place, wrong time, and they were at risk of dying for it.
What if they hadn't stayed in the hospital that night? What if Michelle hadn't gone out alone?
Virgil got that her threat was pointed at him, and he didn't want to fight. He was going to talk her down, no shots fired from either of them. He had to. Michelle wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
But then Mara said she was going to kill Stacy. Stacy had killed, right? She definitely had, although Virgil couldn't say whom.
He'd already given Kammy a pass. Maybe he could just give Mara a pass, a warning, and then go on his way.
But was Stacy going to kill again?
Did he even know for sure that Eliza would keep killing?
Eliza had shot Michelle. She'd shot a girl in a sling with no weapon. That was cold-blooded murder.
Maybe Stacy had just made a mistake?
Just thinking of Eliza made Virgil flare up from within. He wanted to find that bitch and fill her up with holes until she was no longer recognizable. He hadn't even been that close with Michelle before all this.
What was Kammy feeling? What was Mara feeling?
"Mara, there's another way. I'm not gonna do anything to hurt you; I'm trying to get everyone to stop killing. Make them blow our collars."
Mara wasn't going to like this. She wasn't going to like him trying to cut through her emotions with reason.
"We're all dead anyways. Why not go down with your humanity left in tact?"
Virgil paused when she threatened to take one other guys hostage. Maynard and James didn't deserve this; this wasn't even their fight. They just happened to be here. Wrong place, wrong time, and they were at risk of dying for it.
What if they hadn't stayed in the hospital that night? What if Michelle hadn't gone out alone?
Virgil got that her threat was pointed at him, and he didn't want to fight. He was going to talk her down, no shots fired from either of them. He had to. Michelle wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
But then Mara said she was going to kill Stacy. Stacy had killed, right? She definitely had, although Virgil couldn't say whom.
He'd already given Kammy a pass. Maybe he could just give Mara a pass, a warning, and then go on his way.
But was Stacy going to kill again?
Did he even know for sure that Eliza would keep killing?
Eliza had shot Michelle. She'd shot a girl in a sling with no weapon. That was cold-blooded murder.
Maybe Stacy had just made a mistake?
Just thinking of Eliza made Virgil flare up from within. He wanted to find that bitch and fill her up with holes until she was no longer recognizable. He hadn't even been that close with Michelle before all this.
What was Kammy feeling? What was Mara feeling?
"Mara, there's another way. I'm not gonna do anything to hurt you; I'm trying to get everyone to stop killing. Make them blow our collars."
Mara wasn't going to like this. She wasn't going to like him trying to cut through her emotions with reason.
"We're all dead anyways. Why not go down with your humanity left in tact?"
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Maynard's cheek found its way between his teeth as Mara and Matt exchanged harsh words, his molars digging into the tender flesh as he attempted to keep alert and organise the ideas racing through his mind. Mara hadn''t taken too well to him defending her, questioning his motives before whirling back at Virgil and speaking of what'd happened to her and what she wanted to do. Maynard watched her speak with a level of apprehension, fearful of what she might do next, but as she continued he felt the racing of his heart begin to subside and his eyes widen as he took in every word she said. She understood. Everything she said, everything she described - it was the exact same thing he'd felt when he'd lost Gwen and taken Adam, the same emptiness and lack of purpose.
He needed something to do, needed some path to set himself on, and for the first time since he'd fled the hotel, he knew what it was.
Initially, Maynard'd thought Mara could help him; she'd taken down three of their classmates and was still alive - there had to be some way she'd coped with everything, some method of keeping herself in check, exactly like what he so desperately needed to find. Maybe she could help him find some purpose in this place, maybe she could help him organise the plethora of emotions raging through him, he wasn''t sure. But when he saw how distressed she was, how much she'd been through, he felt this underlying urge to help her as best he could. He didn''t what it was, merely that she was the only other killer he'd met in this place, the only other person who could know what he was feeling and could help him cope, and that he needed to help her against everything else. He could do what Adam had done for him, honour his memory in the only way he could.
""Please don't think like that, Mara,"" he began, his voice quiet and laced with timidity and nervousness. His eyes darted towards the ground, finding himself unable to hold eye contact with anybody as he spoke. ""Everything's not entirely lost, not yet. You can't give up. You''ve still got so much going for you - people care, I promise. You might'n't think they do, but I promise they do. You're still smart, you're still the same person you were back at Aurora. You're still beautiful.""
The word felt like acid in his mouth, in spite of the sincerity behind his delivery - Mara still was undeniably pretty, despite the damage she'd taken over the past week. But to describe someone as such when he'd lost the one person whom he was comfortable calling 'beautiful' felt as though he was spitting on Gwen's memory, besmirching the girl he loved so much.
He missed her.
But there was nothing he could do to bring her back. It was just him, now, and he had to deal with that fact as best he could, hard as it was.
He took a step backwards, glancing towards James as Virgil brought up Michelle's plan. He still wanted to go along with it, wanted everybody to lay their lives down as a way of robbing the terrorists of a victor, of some semblance of hope for the remaining kids. Maynard couldn''t see it working, not in the long run. Even if they managed to gather everybody together and get them all to agree, it wouldn''t destroy what their captors had set up; the game would come back, and more kids would die, and that was going to happen whether they all attempted mass suicide. So why not give one person the chance to live? Maynard didn''t know who it'd be, and frankly, he didn''t care - it wasn''t going to be him, there was no chance he'd make it to the end, and everybody he truly cared about was gone.
He kept all of this to himself, not wanting to risk adding fuel to the fire or getting himself or any of them hurt. He didn''t want any of them to come out of this worse off; James was just a bystander and Virgil was such a nice guy, and he couldn''t be sure that any else he added might worsen the situation. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to ready himself for what would happen next.
He needed something to do, needed some path to set himself on, and for the first time since he'd fled the hotel, he knew what it was.
Initially, Maynard'd thought Mara could help him; she'd taken down three of their classmates and was still alive - there had to be some way she'd coped with everything, some method of keeping herself in check, exactly like what he so desperately needed to find. Maybe she could help him find some purpose in this place, maybe she could help him organise the plethora of emotions raging through him, he wasn''t sure. But when he saw how distressed she was, how much she'd been through, he felt this underlying urge to help her as best he could. He didn''t what it was, merely that she was the only other killer he'd met in this place, the only other person who could know what he was feeling and could help him cope, and that he needed to help her against everything else. He could do what Adam had done for him, honour his memory in the only way he could.
""Please don't think like that, Mara,"" he began, his voice quiet and laced with timidity and nervousness. His eyes darted towards the ground, finding himself unable to hold eye contact with anybody as he spoke. ""Everything's not entirely lost, not yet. You can't give up. You''ve still got so much going for you - people care, I promise. You might'n't think they do, but I promise they do. You're still smart, you're still the same person you were back at Aurora. You're still beautiful.""
The word felt like acid in his mouth, in spite of the sincerity behind his delivery - Mara still was undeniably pretty, despite the damage she'd taken over the past week. But to describe someone as such when he'd lost the one person whom he was comfortable calling 'beautiful' felt as though he was spitting on Gwen's memory, besmirching the girl he loved so much.
He missed her.
But there was nothing he could do to bring her back. It was just him, now, and he had to deal with that fact as best he could, hard as it was.
He took a step backwards, glancing towards James as Virgil brought up Michelle's plan. He still wanted to go along with it, wanted everybody to lay their lives down as a way of robbing the terrorists of a victor, of some semblance of hope for the remaining kids. Maynard couldn''t see it working, not in the long run. Even if they managed to gather everybody together and get them all to agree, it wouldn''t destroy what their captors had set up; the game would come back, and more kids would die, and that was going to happen whether they all attempted mass suicide. So why not give one person the chance to live? Maynard didn''t know who it'd be, and frankly, he didn''t care - it wasn''t going to be him, there was no chance he'd make it to the end, and everybody he truly cared about was gone.
He kept all of this to himself, not wanting to risk adding fuel to the fire or getting himself or any of them hurt. He didn''t want any of them to come out of this worse off; James was just a bystander and Virgil was such a nice guy, and he couldn''t be sure that any else he added might worsen the situation. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to ready himself for what would happen next.
As he stood back and watched the exchange before him, James began to worry. It was one thing to get panicky at the very real possibility of someone shooting him, but seeing how the others were reacting he began to wonder if he was the only one still sane on this damn island. Ever since he'd woken up he hadn't really had any intentions of going around killing other people unless he was forced to in self-defence, nor had he shown aggression to his classmates. Now though, he wasn't so sure what he'd do. Mara's threat of taking he or Maynard hostage had set him on edge, and even though her words evoked small a pang of sympathy, James didn't want to comfort her.
She's killed three people, and threatened us. I wouldn't take my chances with her.
That said, he didn't have a gun, and was surprised when Virgil and Maynard seemed to try and reassure Mara. In his eyes the girl was cracking badly and needed to be put down, though he'd never suggest that openly in his current position. In his week on the island, perhaps James had become far too ruthless; he hadn't fought anyone, or watched someone die, so what right did he have to decide who lived and died? Nonetheless, he found it hard to feel too sorry for someone who'd killed three people. Standing back, he began to consider his options. Virgil's plan, noble though it sounded, was completely out of the question.
Sit around and let them blow our collars? Call me selfish but I don't want to die here.
Of course, that ruined James' plan of simply avoiding trouble for as long as he could and hoping that the competition would be whittled down enough for him to triumph. If a whole group of well-armed people ended up getting in on this thing then there was a chance that it would succeed. He and everyone else would die. James wouldn't have any of that. He wasn't a killer like Mara - not yet anyway - but he wanted to go home. The idea of suicide hadn't so much as crossed his mind. No way. Can't let it happen.
James sighed, and pushed some hair out of his eyes. He'd not spoken for a while, and had a feeling that staying quiet might make the others suspicious. Since the other two weren't going to kill Mara, he'd have to go along with trying to calm her down. James put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile before speaking.
"Come on Mara, we're trying to help you here. I know the situation's bad, but there's no point in losing hope now. It's all some of us have left."
He hoped that his lie sounded sincere enough; personally he felt that they'd be better off putting a bullet in her and moving on. With any luck the cheesy 'hope' crap would work as well. If not, then hopefully he'd have time to run when the shooting started. James would go along with the others for the time being as there wasn't much else he could do. While Virgil's idea seemed insane from his perspective, going along with him for now could have its benefits. He'd just have to wait for an opportunity to arise where he could gain the upper hand.
She's killed three people, and threatened us. I wouldn't take my chances with her.
That said, he didn't have a gun, and was surprised when Virgil and Maynard seemed to try and reassure Mara. In his eyes the girl was cracking badly and needed to be put down, though he'd never suggest that openly in his current position. In his week on the island, perhaps James had become far too ruthless; he hadn't fought anyone, or watched someone die, so what right did he have to decide who lived and died? Nonetheless, he found it hard to feel too sorry for someone who'd killed three people. Standing back, he began to consider his options. Virgil's plan, noble though it sounded, was completely out of the question.
Sit around and let them blow our collars? Call me selfish but I don't want to die here.
Of course, that ruined James' plan of simply avoiding trouble for as long as he could and hoping that the competition would be whittled down enough for him to triumph. If a whole group of well-armed people ended up getting in on this thing then there was a chance that it would succeed. He and everyone else would die. James wouldn't have any of that. He wasn't a killer like Mara - not yet anyway - but he wanted to go home. The idea of suicide hadn't so much as crossed his mind. No way. Can't let it happen.
James sighed, and pushed some hair out of his eyes. He'd not spoken for a while, and had a feeling that staying quiet might make the others suspicious. Since the other two weren't going to kill Mara, he'd have to go along with trying to calm her down. James put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile before speaking.
"Come on Mara, we're trying to help you here. I know the situation's bad, but there's no point in losing hope now. It's all some of us have left."
He hoped that his lie sounded sincere enough; personally he felt that they'd be better off putting a bullet in her and moving on. With any luck the cheesy 'hope' crap would work as well. If not, then hopefully he'd have time to run when the shooting started. James would go along with the others for the time being as there wasn't much else he could do. While Virgil's idea seemed insane from his perspective, going along with him for now could have its benefits. He'd just have to wait for an opportunity to arise where he could gain the upper hand.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
She stood leaning against the wall of the overpass, hands over the gun, but somewhat loose. Her straight black hair hung limply, framing her face. One of her hands fell to the side, hanging with a few bits of stray, stained bandage waving lazily in a light breeze.
"What do you know about anything?" she said in response to Maynard, though did not look at him. "You don't know anything about me or about the world, do you?"
Virgil made his plea to her and she finally shifted to look at one of them. Her left hand still on the weapon tightened. "Then you won't mind if I shoot you, will you?" she said, pointing the barrel at Virgil. "I mean, your goal is to die anyway, isn't it? What does it matter to you know you get there?"
She squared her stance and looked down the gun with one eye closed as if aiming, though at such a distance it would hardly be necessary.
"Simply saying: I don't care about anyone, but myself. There's no one left that I would stick my neck out for. Back home, I did everything for someone else. There's not one thing I did that was just for me. I said I don't have anything now and it's true," she said a bit quietly, sadly. "But I'm alive, I'll be damned if I give that up too. Staying alive is that very last inch and I intend to hold onto it if I have to kill everyone left."
Mara took a step suddenly and grabbed James by the collar, pointing the gun at him while holding his shirt. She looked at him a moment. Mara then grabbed his Clue board game and shoved the boy away, throwing the board game on the ground and releasing a spray of bullets into it.
"None of you have seen her so I'm leaving. Bye"
"What do you know about anything?" she said in response to Maynard, though did not look at him. "You don't know anything about me or about the world, do you?"
Virgil made his plea to her and she finally shifted to look at one of them. Her left hand still on the weapon tightened. "Then you won't mind if I shoot you, will you?" she said, pointing the barrel at Virgil. "I mean, your goal is to die anyway, isn't it? What does it matter to you know you get there?"
She squared her stance and looked down the gun with one eye closed as if aiming, though at such a distance it would hardly be necessary.
"Simply saying: I don't care about anyone, but myself. There's no one left that I would stick my neck out for. Back home, I did everything for someone else. There's not one thing I did that was just for me. I said I don't have anything now and it's true," she said a bit quietly, sadly. "But I'm alive, I'll be damned if I give that up too. Staying alive is that very last inch and I intend to hold onto it if I have to kill everyone left."
Mara took a step suddenly and grabbed James by the collar, pointing the gun at him while holding his shirt. She looked at him a moment. Mara then grabbed his Clue board game and shoved the boy away, throwing the board game on the ground and releasing a spray of bullets into it.
"None of you have seen her so I'm leaving. Bye"