((Mild GMing approved.))
Just by instinct, Joe did shut the fuck up the moment Travis said so. His mouth clammed up tight and he went slightly pale.
He glanced between Owen, with the aggressive stance and the table leg, and back to Travis. He looked down. Travis' hand was drifting towards his back pocket. Where he was keeping the scalpel.
Joe reached forward and grabbed the wrist, stopping Travis from doing so.
"We're leaving," he said, voice harsh as he stared at Travis. "Now."
Huddle
CLOSED, Day Seven (formerly Day Six)
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ViolentMedic
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- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
"I thought I told you to SHUT THE FUCK UP, Joe!"
The words echoed throughout the shopping center. Trav's eyes were fixed on Joe now. They stared at each other. Cold blue met warm brown. Joe was completely frozen. Travis was fuming.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, he yanked his hand free and left it in the pocket, ready to pull up the scalpel at any second. He'd considered going for the trimmer that was in the corner, but at this point he wasn't sure he had what it took to swing the bloody thing. The fact of the matter was that Travis Webster was exhausted and feverish. He could barely move two of his cut up fingers, and the crossbow wound ached more every day. He had no problem using it as an argument to stay here, but there was no chance in hell he'd let them know the extent of it.
He took a step forward, his head still pounding. Another one. He was almost next to Aileen now.
"Ooops. What's this? Oh god! Could it be? It looks like... Travis Webster is coming INSIDE the store!"
He faked shock and awe at this amazing feat.
"Even though you said he couldn't!"
He even threw in a theatrical gasp at the end. He smiled a joyless smile and looked at the two would-be defenders with a look of amused disbelief.
"And who the fuck is going to stop me from staying here, huh? The wounded girl or the terrified beanstalk with a stick in his hand?"
The words echoed throughout the shopping center. Trav's eyes were fixed on Joe now. They stared at each other. Cold blue met warm brown. Joe was completely frozen. Travis was fuming.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, he yanked his hand free and left it in the pocket, ready to pull up the scalpel at any second. He'd considered going for the trimmer that was in the corner, but at this point he wasn't sure he had what it took to swing the bloody thing. The fact of the matter was that Travis Webster was exhausted and feverish. He could barely move two of his cut up fingers, and the crossbow wound ached more every day. He had no problem using it as an argument to stay here, but there was no chance in hell he'd let them know the extent of it.
He took a step forward, his head still pounding. Another one. He was almost next to Aileen now.
"Ooops. What's this? Oh god! Could it be? It looks like... Travis Webster is coming INSIDE the store!"
He faked shock and awe at this amazing feat.
"Even though you said he couldn't!"
He even threw in a theatrical gasp at the end. He smiled a joyless smile and looked at the two would-be defenders with a look of amused disbelief.
"And who the fuck is going to stop me from staying here, huh? The wounded girl or the terrified beanstalk with a stick in his hand?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Delroy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Travis wasn't going to listen. Not to him, and not to Joe. Only to himself. Somehow, Owen had always known that was going to be the case. He had hoped that Joe would be able to convince him, given that the two had been travelling together, and from what Owen could remember, they had been friends at school. But no, Travis seemed to have his mind set on entering the shopping centre.
Owen held his breath as soon as he saw the other boy reach for his pocket. Even after Joe stopped him, Travis' hand remained just a second away from pulling out what would most likely be Owen's own scalpel. Owen had no doubt in his mind that he'd use it if needs be.
All the more reason not to let him in, then.
Owen couldn't think of any response to Travis. There wasn't anything really to say. If words couldn't persuade him, there was only one viable option. Owen lowered the table leg until he was holding it with both hands, one at either end. He took a step forwards. With the weight of the table leg to aid him, he shoved Travis in the chest, a single word leaving his lips.
"Out."
Owen wanted to stare straight at Travis, look at him with a complete absence of fear in his eyes. But the whole time, his gaze kept finding its way to Travis' pocket.
Owen held his breath as soon as he saw the other boy reach for his pocket. Even after Joe stopped him, Travis' hand remained just a second away from pulling out what would most likely be Owen's own scalpel. Owen had no doubt in his mind that he'd use it if needs be.
All the more reason not to let him in, then.
Owen couldn't think of any response to Travis. There wasn't anything really to say. If words couldn't persuade him, there was only one viable option. Owen lowered the table leg until he was holding it with both hands, one at either end. He took a step forwards. With the weight of the table leg to aid him, he shoved Travis in the chest, a single word leaving his lips.
"Out."
Owen wanted to stare straight at Travis, look at him with a complete absence of fear in his eyes. But the whole time, his gaze kept finding its way to Travis' pocket.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Travis was caught off balance, not having expected to get crosschecked straight in the chest. He fell backwards, but with a quick roll he was back on his feet. He massaged his aching chest with a pained grimace.
"Really, is that how you're playing this, shithead?"
He took a couple of deep breaths. His head was throbbing worse than ever, and he could feel a slight blush over his cheeks. He was now sure he was getting a fever. He realized he needed to end this quick, or he'd become too weak to carry on.
With a snarl he pulled out the scalpel.
"Big fucking mistake, man. Biiig fucking mistake."
Without saying another word, he charged.
"Really, is that how you're playing this, shithead?"
He took a couple of deep breaths. His head was throbbing worse than ever, and he could feel a slight blush over his cheeks. He was now sure he was getting a fever. He realized he needed to end this quick, or he'd become too weak to carry on.
With a snarl he pulled out the scalpel.
"Big fucking mistake, man. Biiig fucking mistake."
Without saying another word, he charged.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Delroy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
As Travis stumbled and fell backwards, Owen took his left hand off of the table leg, slowly lowering it so it pointed down at the floor. In hindsight, that was a dumb idea, leaving himself open after just one shove. But there was still some part of Owen's brain that hoped Travis would just leave as soon as he encountered any resistance. He wanted this over and done with quickly.
Even as Travis got to his feet and started speaking, Owen was slow to react. His grip on the table leg was as tight as ever, but it still pointed towards the floor. All Owen did was take another few steps towards Travis, trying to force him back out of the shopping centre.
It was only when Owen saw the scalpel that he realised the chances of that happening were pretty much zero. His arm moved to an offensive position, but Travis had already charged at him, was already upon him, trying and succeeding to knock his weapon-hand out of the way. Owen let out a sharp, involuntary gasp of pain as he felt a stinging sensation on his bare arm. The scalpel had caught him, and a quick glance down showed a red line against his pale skin.
Again Travis slashed the scalpel, and again Owen was too slow to react, nicking him again, slicing through his t-shirt. A few more moments and Travis might cause some real damage, aim for the face or the veins. Owen wrenched his right arm free, and brought it swinging back down again, aiming for Travis' ribs, just to get him away.
Even as Travis got to his feet and started speaking, Owen was slow to react. His grip on the table leg was as tight as ever, but it still pointed towards the floor. All Owen did was take another few steps towards Travis, trying to force him back out of the shopping centre.
It was only when Owen saw the scalpel that he realised the chances of that happening were pretty much zero. His arm moved to an offensive position, but Travis had already charged at him, was already upon him, trying and succeeding to knock his weapon-hand out of the way. Owen let out a sharp, involuntary gasp of pain as he felt a stinging sensation on his bare arm. The scalpel had caught him, and a quick glance down showed a red line against his pale skin.
Again Travis slashed the scalpel, and again Owen was too slow to react, nicking him again, slicing through his t-shirt. A few more moments and Travis might cause some real damage, aim for the face or the veins. Owen wrenched his right arm free, and brought it swinging back down again, aiming for Travis' ribs, just to get him away.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Aileen has lost quite a few things, but now she faced probably one of the greatest losses of them all. Control
Aggression, Tension, Violence. Results of those around her, not her own. She could see Owen approaching Travis, she could hear Joe's begging, she could feel Travis stepping closer to her. The situation came closing in on her, everything was about to seal her into a tiny place of powerlessnes, she stepped back.
...she stepped back?
Control quickly slid from her grasp and she stepped back. Defence, Evasion. When did she turn out to be like that? She used to attack all that may damage who she is, fueled by inane ire and inconsideration for her surroundings. Find the threat, eliminate the threat. Not the opposite - fear the threat, evade the threat.
Where did her power go? Did it leave with Hansel, with Naomi's death, with Survival of the Fittest?
A blade flashed.
Aileen resumed control.
---
It is said humans were the only animals aware of their mortality. Still, as Aileen knew, most couldn't grasp the demise of their own. The image of oneself dying was one to banish and to fear.
Now, a tiny edge severed Aileen's trachea and the image of her own death become clear. Yet, she didn't fear. Pain by the wound, and discomfort by the blood in both her mouth and lungs were present, but these sensations were drained out.
Her hand fixated Travis' wrist. The reason she didn't fear death was a simple one. She had a wish. A wish that was fulfilled by her very own actions. Aileen liked to believe that the one thing more important than one's life was one will. It didn't matter if you, one day, were sure to die, as long as you managed to shape your enviroment as you wish. She was glad she could hold into that belief to the bitter end.
If she could speak, Aileen's last words would be
I win.
G042, Aileen Aurora Abdallah - Suffocation
Aggression, Tension, Violence. Results of those around her, not her own. She could see Owen approaching Travis, she could hear Joe's begging, she could feel Travis stepping closer to her. The situation came closing in on her, everything was about to seal her into a tiny place of powerlessnes, she stepped back.
...she stepped back?
Control quickly slid from her grasp and she stepped back. Defence, Evasion. When did she turn out to be like that? She used to attack all that may damage who she is, fueled by inane ire and inconsideration for her surroundings. Find the threat, eliminate the threat. Not the opposite - fear the threat, evade the threat.
Where did her power go? Did it leave with Hansel, with Naomi's death, with Survival of the Fittest?
A blade flashed.
Aileen resumed control.
---
It is said humans were the only animals aware of their mortality. Still, as Aileen knew, most couldn't grasp the demise of their own. The image of oneself dying was one to banish and to fear.
Now, a tiny edge severed Aileen's trachea and the image of her own death become clear. Yet, she didn't fear. Pain by the wound, and discomfort by the blood in both her mouth and lungs were present, but these sensations were drained out.
Her hand fixated Travis' wrist. The reason she didn't fear death was a simple one. She had a wish. A wish that was fulfilled by her very own actions. Aileen liked to believe that the one thing more important than one's life was one will. It didn't matter if you, one day, were sure to die, as long as you managed to shape your enviroment as you wish. She was glad she could hold into that belief to the bitter end.
If she could speak, Aileen's last words would be
I win.
G042, Aileen Aurora Abdallah - Suffocation
Gervais Frans Lambotte 
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
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ViolentMedic
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Joe should have done something. He knew the moment that Travis yanked his arm away that there was going to be no backing off. He knew the moment the shoving happened that Travis wouldn't just go 'my mistake, I'll leave now.'
He knew that there was no stopping Travis peacefully. Maybe he'd always known. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to think of the alternative.
He should have done something. But last time he did something the wrong person died. He didn't really see the scalpel and charging properly. He just saw Jason and Finn struggling for the gun. Bleeding Jason. Dead Jason. He froze. Because of all the stupid, irrational things his brain could have come up with, all it said was 'what if you get it wrong again?'
And now it was too late to do anything. Because Aileen had jumped in, just like he should have. Except she'd done it wrong, too. The wrong person had died. Her.
Joe blinked slowly. Everything had gone blurry. He felt light-headed. Everything around him felt sluggish and not entirely real. Just one big blotch of red, with... with Travis and Owen and... and Aileen... right in the middle of it.
Travis. Travis was still standing.
One of the chairs from the barricade had found itself in his hands.
He didn't think. He just took shaky steps forward, dragging the wooden chair with him. Gripping it tight, lifting it slightly and getting ready to swing it.
Travis was still standing. Still armed. Still alive even though he'd killed two—three—
Travis had to be stopped.
He knew that there was no stopping Travis peacefully. Maybe he'd always known. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to think of the alternative.
He should have done something. But last time he did something the wrong person died. He didn't really see the scalpel and charging properly. He just saw Jason and Finn struggling for the gun. Bleeding Jason. Dead Jason. He froze. Because of all the stupid, irrational things his brain could have come up with, all it said was 'what if you get it wrong again?'
And now it was too late to do anything. Because Aileen had jumped in, just like he should have. Except she'd done it wrong, too. The wrong person had died. Her.
Joe blinked slowly. Everything had gone blurry. He felt light-headed. Everything around him felt sluggish and not entirely real. Just one big blotch of red, with... with Travis and Owen and... and Aileen... right in the middle of it.
Travis. Travis was still standing.
One of the chairs from the barricade had found itself in his hands.
He didn't think. He just took shaky steps forward, dragging the wooden chair with him. Gripping it tight, lifting it slightly and getting ready to swing it.
Travis was still standing. Still armed. Still alive even though he'd killed two—three—
Travis had to be stopped.
Quicker than his weakened body should have allowed, Travis was on his opponent before the boy had time to react. With an almost graceful ease he slashed once, tearing into Owen's bare arm. A second time, this time through the shirt. He wasn't showing any sign of stopping either. Like a shark, the second he'd smelled blood he'd become relentlessly focused on tearing into his prey. Owen tried to counter-attack, but Travis barely managed to dodge back out of reach. He was practically bouncing now, like a boxer almost, adrenaline making him completely forget his current physical state. He went in for another attack.
That was blocked by none other than Aileen.
Where the FUCK did she come from?!
He watched silently as the girl choked on her own blood in front of him. It wasn't quick. It wasn't pretty.
The entire room was frozen. Silent. Even Travis, who'd been completely set on killing a second ago, was shocked. He couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the poor girl who'd just died on the floor between them. He looked up at Owen. He realized he had to make the first move. He HAD to kill Owen before he could regain composure, or Travis would quickly be next. As long as he killed Owen quickly, him and Joe coul-...
---
Everything became a blur. He took a few stumbling steps to the side. His head hurt again, but this time it was... a different kind of pain. He touched the back of his skull and felt the wet sticky sensation that he'd grown far too accustomed to these past couple of days...
Blood?
That was blocked by none other than Aileen.
Where the FUCK did she come from?!
He watched silently as the girl choked on her own blood in front of him. It wasn't quick. It wasn't pretty.
The entire room was frozen. Silent. Even Travis, who'd been completely set on killing a second ago, was shocked. He couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the poor girl who'd just died on the floor between them. He looked up at Owen. He realized he had to make the first move. He HAD to kill Owen before he could regain composure, or Travis would quickly be next. As long as he killed Owen quickly, him and Joe coul-...
---
Everything became a blur. He took a few stumbling steps to the side. His head hurt again, but this time it was... a different kind of pain. He touched the back of his skull and felt the wet sticky sensation that he'd grown far too accustomed to these past couple of days...
Blood?
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There was nothing Owen could do. None of his attempts to get Travis out of the shopping centre had worked. The table leg was practically useless; Travis didn't even seem to feel it. His body ached and stung where Travis had caught him with the scalpel. He couldn't do anything. His body froze in fear as he realised that Travis wasn't going to stop. The boy lunged forwards again with the scalpel. Owen was dead, killed in the place he had thought was the first area of safety he'd found in a week.
Footsteps. Movement. Somebody between Owen and Travis. Aileen. Owen wasn't dead. Somehow, Travis hadn't connected with the scalpel. There was still a chance this could all turn out alright.
The penny dropped. Owen still stood, frozen, feeling like he was encased in stone, unable to do anything. One moment Aileen was standing there. The next she had crumpled to the floor, scalpel lodged in her throat. Travis and Joe might as well not have been there anymore. All Owen could see was Aileen on the ground. Even as Travis prepared to attack again, even as Joe grabbed the chair from the barricade, Owen remained frozen in place.
Even with everything he had seen on the island, everything that had happened, the scene in front of him seemed unreal. Aileen had been the first person he'd met. She had stopped Owen from simply sinking into despair on the first day, stayed with him the whole time, hell, kept him sane.
If she hadn't been there, Owen could have turned into someone like Travis. And now she was lying on the floor of the shopping centre, simple as that. No ceremony, no grand climax. Just one simple action and she was dead.
It felt like a very long time until Owen moved again. He felt numb all over, like he wasn't in control of his body. He was vaguely aware of the pain in his arm, but aside from that, there was nothing. Finally, Owen spoke to nobody in particular, voice shaky and weak.
"I-I... should go... n-need to find... something..."
Aimlessly, Owen began walking into the depths of the store.
Footsteps. Movement. Somebody between Owen and Travis. Aileen. Owen wasn't dead. Somehow, Travis hadn't connected with the scalpel. There was still a chance this could all turn out alright.
The penny dropped. Owen still stood, frozen, feeling like he was encased in stone, unable to do anything. One moment Aileen was standing there. The next she had crumpled to the floor, scalpel lodged in her throat. Travis and Joe might as well not have been there anymore. All Owen could see was Aileen on the ground. Even as Travis prepared to attack again, even as Joe grabbed the chair from the barricade, Owen remained frozen in place.
Even with everything he had seen on the island, everything that had happened, the scene in front of him seemed unreal. Aileen had been the first person he'd met. She had stopped Owen from simply sinking into despair on the first day, stayed with him the whole time, hell, kept him sane.
If she hadn't been there, Owen could have turned into someone like Travis. And now she was lying on the floor of the shopping centre, simple as that. No ceremony, no grand climax. Just one simple action and she was dead.
It felt like a very long time until Owen moved again. He felt numb all over, like he wasn't in control of his body. He was vaguely aware of the pain in his arm, but aside from that, there was nothing. Finally, Owen spoke to nobody in particular, voice shaky and weak.
"I-I... should go... n-need to find... something..."
Aimlessly, Owen began walking into the depths of the store.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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ViolentMedic
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Joe faltered for a moment after the chair hit Travis. Blood, not much compared to what Aileen had left all over the ground. Not much at all, but still too much. Joe kept the chair raised, eyes wide as his brain shrieked for him to stop. 'Stop, stop, that's your best friend, stop!' An image of the clip they'd been shown before the game began... the two girls who were best friends... the clip where a girl had smothered her best friend...
Joe had thought he could never do that. No matter what. And part of him still shouted it.
Joe shut that voice down.
Owen had just wandered off. Maybe shock. Maybe he couldn't deal with it. Didn't matter. What mattered was that Travis didn't follow him, or... or Aileen... she would have died for nothing.
Joe circled Travis, keeping his eyes on him. Not looking at Aileen, because he just... just couldn't think about her right now. He put himself between Travis and Owen, even as Owen wandered deeper into the store. Travis would not follow.
You can't kill. You'll be as bad as him.
Joe raised the chair just a little more, ready to swing.
You can't.
Joe moved forward.
But if you don't stop him, who will?
Joe had thought he could never do that. No matter what. And part of him still shouted it.
Joe shut that voice down.
Owen had just wandered off. Maybe shock. Maybe he couldn't deal with it. Didn't matter. What mattered was that Travis didn't follow him, or... or Aileen... she would have died for nothing.
Joe circled Travis, keeping his eyes on him. Not looking at Aileen, because he just... just couldn't think about her right now. He put himself between Travis and Owen, even as Owen wandered deeper into the store. Travis would not follow.
You can't kill. You'll be as bad as him.
Joe raised the chair just a little more, ready to swing.
You can't.
Joe moved forward.
But if you don't stop him, who will?
"I... Wha-..."
He was confused. What happened? Had an enemy snuck into the shopping center while he'd been busy fighting? He turned around.
"Joe... What the fuck... Why did...?"
Joe didn't speak. Joe merely circled around him, keeping his eyes focused on his (former?) best friend and blocking off the way after Owen, who'd turned and fled. It didn't make sense. Why would Joe choose Owen over him? Sure, they didn't see eye to eye on how to play the game, but it had never actually dawned on him that Joe would betray him. And for what? A loudmouth bitch who'd just bled out on the floor and a lanky British guy who'd left Joe behind. Some allies they were.
Joe approached him again, raising the chair for another swing.
"J-Joe, wait, man! Stop!"
He began backing towards the exit.
"We can talk about this, dude, c'mon..."
The chair hit in square in the torso. He stumbled backwards and stumbled over one of the backpacks. He hit the ground with a loud thud and looked up at Joe. Tears filled his eyes. He was so angry, so hurt, so weak. And he didn't want to kill his best friend, despite everything that had just transpired.
Left with no other option, he grabbed the bag he'd stumbled on... and ran.
(( Travis Webster continued in A Long Time Ago, I Thought We Were Friends... ))
He was confused. What happened? Had an enemy snuck into the shopping center while he'd been busy fighting? He turned around.
"Joe... What the fuck... Why did...?"
Joe didn't speak. Joe merely circled around him, keeping his eyes focused on his (former?) best friend and blocking off the way after Owen, who'd turned and fled. It didn't make sense. Why would Joe choose Owen over him? Sure, they didn't see eye to eye on how to play the game, but it had never actually dawned on him that Joe would betray him. And for what? A loudmouth bitch who'd just bled out on the floor and a lanky British guy who'd left Joe behind. Some allies they were.
Joe approached him again, raising the chair for another swing.
"J-Joe, wait, man! Stop!"
He began backing towards the exit.
"We can talk about this, dude, c'mon..."
The chair hit in square in the torso. He stumbled backwards and stumbled over one of the backpacks. He hit the ground with a loud thud and looked up at Joe. Tears filled his eyes. He was so angry, so hurt, so weak. And he didn't want to kill his best friend, despite everything that had just transpired.
Left with no other option, he grabbed the bag he'd stumbled on... and ran.
(( Travis Webster continued in A Long Time Ago, I Thought We Were Friends... ))
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ViolentMedic
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Travis pleading for him to stop just made him more furious. Oh, now you want to talk? Now that you've stabbed someone in the throat, you want to talk? Let's be reasonable about this now that you're the one getting attacked?
Joe knocked Travis over the second time. He swung the chair up again, but stopped. Travis wasn't fighting back. Which should have been good, meant this would be faster, but... shit, he was actually crying.
That doesn't make everything better. Who cares?
Joe didn't swing the chair down. He waited a few moments too long, and Travis ran. Joe would have run after him... but... but Aileen was still... and Owen was still somewhere in the store. Just getting up and abandoning them... after bringing Travis to them...
Joe put the chair down, leaning on the back of it with his eyes shut. He didn't look at Aileen. He didn't try looking for Owen. He tried not to think about how he'd just tried to bludgeon his best friend to death with a chair.
He just needed a minute. A minute of nothing.
Joe knocked Travis over the second time. He swung the chair up again, but stopped. Travis wasn't fighting back. Which should have been good, meant this would be faster, but... shit, he was actually crying.
That doesn't make everything better. Who cares?
Joe didn't swing the chair down. He waited a few moments too long, and Travis ran. Joe would have run after him... but... but Aileen was still... and Owen was still somewhere in the store. Just getting up and abandoning them... after bringing Travis to them...
Joe put the chair down, leaning on the back of it with his eyes shut. He didn't look at Aileen. He didn't try looking for Owen. He tried not to think about how he'd just tried to bludgeon his best friend to death with a chair.
He just needed a minute. A minute of nothing.
((Benjamin Ward continued from Siblings Of War))
Ben didn't want to look at himself as he glanced past the windows. He didn't need reconfirmation of how shitty he must of looked. If internally he felt like crap, he'd only imagine what he looked like on the outside. His eyes were red, yet glassy. Ben had embarrassingly cried. He fucking bawled like a baby, and now his eyes, through constructed behind a menacing glare, betrayed every little emotion Ben had bottled up. But Ben looked anyway.
"She needed to die. She . . . she. . ." Ben struggled to find the words to rationalize what he'd done. Janie needed to die, Ben had decided. When they did get rescued, what was going to be left of Janie? She was always weak. This whole experience would have broken her forever. Ben would return home, uninjured, but importantly, alive. He'd go on to run a huge successful business and be ruthless in the corporate world. But Janie? She'd waste away in some loony bin, along with the majority of the kids that got out of here with Ben.
Janie didn't deserve that.
Ben locked his eyes with his reflection. Who was he convincing? Janie's parents? His own parents? Himself? Probably himself.
Using the remaining bottles from Janie's bag, he began to wring out the bloodied pajamas. His bathrobe was hopelessly soaked to the core with blood. Stabbing someone in the throat made a fucking mess; it seemed like a "no shit" realization, but apparently Ben hadn't gotten the memo after Oscar had died. Unfortunately, that meant Ben was now walking around in soaked pajama pants, and no protection from the wind.
Ben's teeth chattered the entire walk back to the shopping center. He chomped down on his lower lip intermittently while attempting to cram crackers into his mouth. "F-f-fuck-k." He muttered. When he got back, he'd rinse off the crumbs that clung to his face like a saltine beard.
Looks like we hit the jackpot guys. Anyone opposed to making this our base?
Yeah, it's perfect. Look, I'm gonna go change because it's freezing and my clothes are soaked.
Yeah, it looks good here.
Ben couldn't believe it had just been one day. 24 hours was such an insignificant time. If Ben was really committed, he could waste away an entire 24 hours on a summer day, through a combination of sleep, backyard football with the neighborhood guys, more sleep, jacking off, dinner, then repeating the whole process the next day. Time meant something so different here.
They called this a game, and frankly, they were right. Everything could change within a minute. Hell, everything could change within a second. Ben knew that all too well already.
Ben barreled through the western side entrance. He'd told beanpole and his friend to deal with the front, the east, and northeaster entrances. This door, by the bottom of a cold, gray stairwell, was his little ace in the hole. He'd exited unannounced, and now he'd returned unannounced. With a hand on the doorknob, Ben made one last check for blood. Nada. It'd be like Ben had never seen Janie in her final moments, much less caused them. He still slugged around his scythe and box cutter, as he turned the handle.
The door craned open with a notable protest. Ben stepped in through the light. Nothing seemed to be out of place. . . and then a stranger had made himself at home in Ben's base. Whatsmore, there seemed to be a matching decoration in the front. Aileen was dead, and this guy looked like the cat that swallowed the fucking canary. Get the fuck out of here. Ben's face recoiled. This was Ben's base, not a fucking Holiday Inn. Ben had found it. Ben had fortified it. Hell if Ben wasn't ready to defend it.
"Who the fuck are you? Owen let you in?" Hopefully not. Because if Owen let this murderer in, he was an even bigger dumbass that Ben'd given him credit for. Weren't nerds supposed to be smart?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shangela. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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ViolentMedic
- Posts: 813
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
Joe apparently wasn't allowed that minute of nothing.
There was a noise. A door opening. Joe opened his eyes to another guy standing in the room. Joe knew him... his brain was sluggish, but he'd know Benjamin Ward anywhere. Benjamin wasn't a nice guy. Joe had usually been smart enough to stay out of his way, but that didn't mean he never saw him picking on other kids.
Warning bells went off in Joe's head, but he wasn't sure why... was it just leftover paranoia or...
Joe blinked before looking down again. His eyes darted towards Aileen before looking away from her again.
"She let us in." Joe's voice was barely audible. He didn't bother to say that he didn't kill her. He brought Travis here, and didn't move to stop him when he could have. He might as well have—
"Oscar Trig made quite the pool on the floor of the mall after he was stabbed by Benjamin Ward."
That's right. He'd been on the announcements that morning... Joe hadn't really taken note of it at the time, he'd been... thinking about other things, other people... and hadn't the announcements said he'd killed an ally?
Yeah, they'd said that about Joe, too... and it had been only a half-truth... but it was impossible to stab someone by accident.
Joe stared straight at Ben. Killer. Killer like Travis. Would probably kill again. Joe's hands tightened on the chair, but he didn't move. He tried to speak, to ask if Benjamin had a reason, but his throat felt blocked.
What reason could there be to justify stabbing a friend? Not every killer could be like Rosemary, just trying to help a friend and messing it up.
Did he give Benjamin a chance?
Joe's eyes darted back to Aileen, before fixing back on Benjamin.
Like he'd given Travis a chance?
There was a noise. A door opening. Joe opened his eyes to another guy standing in the room. Joe knew him... his brain was sluggish, but he'd know Benjamin Ward anywhere. Benjamin wasn't a nice guy. Joe had usually been smart enough to stay out of his way, but that didn't mean he never saw him picking on other kids.
Warning bells went off in Joe's head, but he wasn't sure why... was it just leftover paranoia or...
Joe blinked before looking down again. His eyes darted towards Aileen before looking away from her again.
"She let us in." Joe's voice was barely audible. He didn't bother to say that he didn't kill her. He brought Travis here, and didn't move to stop him when he could have. He might as well have—
"Oscar Trig made quite the pool on the floor of the mall after he was stabbed by Benjamin Ward."
That's right. He'd been on the announcements that morning... Joe hadn't really taken note of it at the time, he'd been... thinking about other things, other people... and hadn't the announcements said he'd killed an ally?
Yeah, they'd said that about Joe, too... and it had been only a half-truth... but it was impossible to stab someone by accident.
Joe stared straight at Ben. Killer. Killer like Travis. Would probably kill again. Joe's hands tightened on the chair, but he didn't move. He tried to speak, to ask if Benjamin had a reason, but his throat felt blocked.
What reason could there be to justify stabbing a friend? Not every killer could be like Rosemary, just trying to help a friend and messing it up.
Did he give Benjamin a chance?
Joe's eyes darted back to Aileen, before fixing back on Benjamin.
Like he'd given Travis a chance?
Ben's eyes barely flicked open as Joe spoke. Goddamn. Ben should have cared more. The first body, Mark Little's, that was alarming. After a while, it all just became routine.
"Some good that did her. I told them not to let people in. Guess she learned that lesson." Before all of this, Ben had said maybe three words to the girl. Now she was dead. She was dead, and Ben couldn't give a shit. After Janie, he'd run out of fucks to give for anybody else. Everyone important was either dead, or in the process of leading others to their death.
"Where's beanpo---Owen? Did you get him too?" Ben didn't ask out of concern. Ben couldn't care anymore. He'd opened himself up to Oscar and Janie. Figures, the one time he thought to be a good guy, he'd torn himself apart in the process. Owen and Aileen weren't replacements. He couldn't feel a damn toward them.
It'd actually be a relief if this scrawny, seemingly unarmed took down the two threats to Ben's safety. They would have to get out of here eventually, that's what the rules were. Ben let them stay a night, and then they'd be out. Looks like Joe made that agreement all too literal.
"Listen, buddy. I'm gonna reason with you. I'm not in the mood for killing. I think you've done your fair share for today, too." Ben cradled the scythe in his palm, angling it in a compromise between non-aggression, yet at the same time, acknowledging it's existence. The ace in the hole was always the box cutter, loosely confined in his pajama pants pocket. The ridged plastic, brushing against his thigh, reminded him of his element of surprise.
"But this is my base. I built the barricades; I did everything here to keep people out." Ben motioned towards the shopping center with his spare hand, not shifting his eyes from Joe's at any split second. "Take whatever you want from there. There's food; supplies, you can even find some kindle in there for a fire."
Ben was reasonable. Rescue would come any day now. He didn't need weeks worth of food. Just enough to last until rescue finally came. If Joe would just take the fucking hint, leave with the fresh kill and the satisfaction that he was one step closer to not being rescued, then so be it.
"Take what you need, then please get the fuck out. I'll give you a couple minutes." But one way or another. You're getting out of here and leaving me the fuck alone.
"Some good that did her. I told them not to let people in. Guess she learned that lesson." Before all of this, Ben had said maybe three words to the girl. Now she was dead. She was dead, and Ben couldn't give a shit. After Janie, he'd run out of fucks to give for anybody else. Everyone important was either dead, or in the process of leading others to their death.
"Where's beanpo---Owen? Did you get him too?" Ben didn't ask out of concern. Ben couldn't care anymore. He'd opened himself up to Oscar and Janie. Figures, the one time he thought to be a good guy, he'd torn himself apart in the process. Owen and Aileen weren't replacements. He couldn't feel a damn toward them.
It'd actually be a relief if this scrawny, seemingly unarmed took down the two threats to Ben's safety. They would have to get out of here eventually, that's what the rules were. Ben let them stay a night, and then they'd be out. Looks like Joe made that agreement all too literal.
"Listen, buddy. I'm gonna reason with you. I'm not in the mood for killing. I think you've done your fair share for today, too." Ben cradled the scythe in his palm, angling it in a compromise between non-aggression, yet at the same time, acknowledging it's existence. The ace in the hole was always the box cutter, loosely confined in his pajama pants pocket. The ridged plastic, brushing against his thigh, reminded him of his element of surprise.
"But this is my base. I built the barricades; I did everything here to keep people out." Ben motioned towards the shopping center with his spare hand, not shifting his eyes from Joe's at any split second. "Take whatever you want from there. There's food; supplies, you can even find some kindle in there for a fire."
Ben was reasonable. Rescue would come any day now. He didn't need weeks worth of food. Just enough to last until rescue finally came. If Joe would just take the fucking hint, leave with the fresh kill and the satisfaction that he was one step closer to not being rescued, then so be it.
"Take what you need, then please get the fuck out. I'll give you a couple minutes." But one way or another. You're getting out of here and leaving me the fuck alone.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shangela. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.