Hannah Kendrickstone was going to die.
((G061: Hannah Kendrickstone Start))
Mr. Graham had had his head blown out and she would be following him. She wasn't stupid; she knew that a girl like her had no chance in SOTF. She wasn't the strongest, the fastest, the cleverest, the one with the most stamina, the most resistant to change...
She was a wannabe actor who just wanted to read and perform. What had she done that was so wrong to deserve this punishment? Why had Cochise, a backwater college in a state that nobody cared about targeted?
She was never going to see her mother or father again. Never going to pick up Marcus and swing him around like he loved, never going to see her cat, Archie, never going to have a girlfriend, never going to... Never going to do anything more with her life than what she'd done.
There was nothing that she could do to prevent her imminent demise. She hadn't even gotten a good weapon, just a towel wrapped around a plank of wood to stop her hand from getting splinters. If she had gotten a gun, then maybe she could've done something, but she was destined to become another victim. Another candle at a vigil.
She was sitting down inside one of the dinghies, sodden wood making the bottom of her jeans wet, but right now, it was the least of her concerns. She picked up the end of her scarf not wrapped around her face, and used it to dab away the tears that had been falling for god knows how long.
Her hoodie had shifted, revealing the stupid temporary tattoo that she had put on there a few days ago. She and Irene had been joking around, and her brother had had some tucked away in a drawer, so she had ended up with a snake wrapped around her wrist.
As she thought about this, another wave of tears hit her, and she buried her head in her hands. It wasn't just her, was it? All her friends, casual buddies, fellow furries, all of them who had come on the trip would be here as well, wouldn't they? Everyone who had come on this stupid trip would be stuck here with a command to kill and a collar, wouldn't they?
Her nails, bitten short, hadn't even scratched the paint on the horrible thing. The weight and the size left her in no doubt that it would easily blow her neck to peices, perhaps even destroy her chin whilst it was at it.
She stood up and picked up her 'weapon,' She had gone through her bag, the board that was to be her weapon on the boat where she had just sat. Screaming, she brought the weapon down onto the boat, sending splinters flying out. Bringing it up, she slammed it down again, and again and again until she had tired herself out; and then some, until her breathing was ragged and her arm muscles already exhausted.
"I didn't even like science..."
Until all our yesterdays are lighted fools...
Welcome Hannah Kendrickstone everyone! Open.
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Dannyrulx†
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- Joined: Fri Sep 28, 2018 5:42 am
Until all our yesterdays are lighted fools...
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((Olivia Fischer continues from Sæglópur))
The few poems Olivia had tried to make since middle school had no beginnings and ends. They had middles, sure. Choice lines, dabbles, fragments taken from the thick of it, of anthologies that only existed in her head. Olivia loved getting straight to the point, to the meat, the soul of her message. But, she could never quite figure out how to introduce her poems. Or how to conclude them.
Fitting, really. It was one of the things she struggled with her entire life. Even this renewed, revamped version of herself that she had molded for middle and high school still had the bugs of little her, these flaws that always caused other people to scrunch their eyebrows at her. She would end conversations five seconds too late, letting the silences become awkward before saying her goodbyes. But at least she ended them herself. Beginnings, she simply left to other people, people better at introducing and talking and socially functioning.
It was why Olivia never liked meeting with strangers, because your first words with them were the most important of beginnings. Your first impressions, the images people constructed in their heads, judged and examined and used as guidelines to see if you were worth it, worth their time. High school didn't have these problems after a while, after freshman year. You simply talked with people you've known for years, people you have images of, and they talk with you, using the images they have of you.
So, what was she to think of her first day on the island, of this new beginning, perhaps, this final beginning?
One of the first goals Olivia had set in mind was to find friends. Familiar faces at least, well-constructed images. No beginnings needed there. The rest, she could think up, deal with later. In a way, she had accomplished this goal almost immediately. A few meters from her was Hannah Kendrickstone. Not some unknown variable. She was an actress. Lesbian. She did yoga. One of the nicer people in Kingman, really.
She noted that there was a camera attached to some nearby rock, also a few meters from herself. It pointed away from Olivia, and at first, she was thankful for that, but why? Why did it not follow her, pester her, invade her like that first camera had?
Now, Hannah was just hyperventilating, panting, but a few seconds earlier, she had been smashing a boat with a plank of wood. Slamming into it, relentlessly. This is who the camera pointed at. The sight was shocking. Chilling. Or was that just her wet skin raising goosebumps in the wind?
In a way, she had immediately achieved her first goal. She found a familiar face. But what was she to do if this familiar face was worn by an unfamiliar being? This being that didn't seem anything like the Hannah she knew, this being already being shaped and tortured by this final beginning, like Olivia, like everyone else on the island. How was she supposed to react?
Well, essentially, this was a new person. A stranger. It's not like Hannah and Olivia were very close, anyways, even back in Cochise. So, here it was. Another beginning.
And Olivia did what she would back in Cochise. She stood there, waiting for Hannah to notice her and begin for her.
The few poems Olivia had tried to make since middle school had no beginnings and ends. They had middles, sure. Choice lines, dabbles, fragments taken from the thick of it, of anthologies that only existed in her head. Olivia loved getting straight to the point, to the meat, the soul of her message. But, she could never quite figure out how to introduce her poems. Or how to conclude them.
Fitting, really. It was one of the things she struggled with her entire life. Even this renewed, revamped version of herself that she had molded for middle and high school still had the bugs of little her, these flaws that always caused other people to scrunch their eyebrows at her. She would end conversations five seconds too late, letting the silences become awkward before saying her goodbyes. But at least she ended them herself. Beginnings, she simply left to other people, people better at introducing and talking and socially functioning.
It was why Olivia never liked meeting with strangers, because your first words with them were the most important of beginnings. Your first impressions, the images people constructed in their heads, judged and examined and used as guidelines to see if you were worth it, worth their time. High school didn't have these problems after a while, after freshman year. You simply talked with people you've known for years, people you have images of, and they talk with you, using the images they have of you.
So, what was she to think of her first day on the island, of this new beginning, perhaps, this final beginning?
One of the first goals Olivia had set in mind was to find friends. Familiar faces at least, well-constructed images. No beginnings needed there. The rest, she could think up, deal with later. In a way, she had accomplished this goal almost immediately. A few meters from her was Hannah Kendrickstone. Not some unknown variable. She was an actress. Lesbian. She did yoga. One of the nicer people in Kingman, really.
She noted that there was a camera attached to some nearby rock, also a few meters from herself. It pointed away from Olivia, and at first, she was thankful for that, but why? Why did it not follow her, pester her, invade her like that first camera had?
Now, Hannah was just hyperventilating, panting, but a few seconds earlier, she had been smashing a boat with a plank of wood. Slamming into it, relentlessly. This is who the camera pointed at. The sight was shocking. Chilling. Or was that just her wet skin raising goosebumps in the wind?
In a way, she had immediately achieved her first goal. She found a familiar face. But what was she to do if this familiar face was worn by an unfamiliar being? This being that didn't seem anything like the Hannah she knew, this being already being shaped and tortured by this final beginning, like Olivia, like everyone else on the island. How was she supposed to react?
Well, essentially, this was a new person. A stranger. It's not like Hannah and Olivia were very close, anyways, even back in Cochise. So, here it was. Another beginning.
And Olivia did what she would back in Cochise. She stood there, waiting for Hannah to notice her and begin for her.
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Dannyrulx†
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Hannah was breathing heavily, clutching the plank of wood like a massive club, both hands wrapped around the fabric handle. In-between her labored breaths, she heard another set of lungs breathing, and froze. There was somebody behind her, and she was largely helpless should they have anything better than a stick. Or, you know, have the muscle mass of a twelve-year-old. She whirled around and started into the eyes of whoever was behind her.
And breathed a sigh of relief. No weapons in their hands, and besides, she knew the girl. Not well, but she made a point to know everyone a little bit, so she knew that Olivia Fischer really wanted to be a watchmaker, was a big anime fan, and was also into robotics. She also had very brightly colored fingernails, which always made Hannah envious of her sloppily-painted rushjobs of fingernails that she barley did anyway because varnish tasted terrible when you bit your nails. Olivia was also a local to the area, although Hannah was pretty sure that her family of watchmakers had puttered around the Mojave long before the bright lights of Vegas had drawn in the Kendrickstones.
She sniffed and sat down again, placing the plant in-between her knees and looking up at the girl, a feat unto itself as Hannah was about six inches taller than Fischer. "We're fucked, you know that right? You, me, Wade, Irene, whoever you call friends..." She waved her hand feebly as if to offer an apology, before continuing. "All the kids who would be fine in the real world. Not too rich, but not going to be poor. We're the cannon fodder for this FUCKING GAME!" She screamed the last two words, trying to convey immeasurable anger in them. It was pretty impressive if she said so herself, but she continued.
"The poor kids who have had to claw their way to where we are, they're used to fighting. Maybe not with axes and guns and spears, but they've been fighting for a long time. The rich kids are just that. Rich. They get through this because they're above all this shit.. They could be the perfect snipers, like '*pew,* another oik gone!'"
"So that's fucking it. we're dead and done for. Fucked completely and utterly by being thrown in an environment that we were never supposed to survive in..." She tapped the plank against the floor, creating steady percussion that echoed throughout the entire cave, bouncing off of the walls and reflecting and bouncing again and reflecting until the sound was absorbed by the dark, mossy rock.
And breathed a sigh of relief. No weapons in their hands, and besides, she knew the girl. Not well, but she made a point to know everyone a little bit, so she knew that Olivia Fischer really wanted to be a watchmaker, was a big anime fan, and was also into robotics. She also had very brightly colored fingernails, which always made Hannah envious of her sloppily-painted rushjobs of fingernails that she barley did anyway because varnish tasted terrible when you bit your nails. Olivia was also a local to the area, although Hannah was pretty sure that her family of watchmakers had puttered around the Mojave long before the bright lights of Vegas had drawn in the Kendrickstones.
She sniffed and sat down again, placing the plant in-between her knees and looking up at the girl, a feat unto itself as Hannah was about six inches taller than Fischer. "We're fucked, you know that right? You, me, Wade, Irene, whoever you call friends..." She waved her hand feebly as if to offer an apology, before continuing. "All the kids who would be fine in the real world. Not too rich, but not going to be poor. We're the cannon fodder for this FUCKING GAME!" She screamed the last two words, trying to convey immeasurable anger in them. It was pretty impressive if she said so herself, but she continued.
"The poor kids who have had to claw their way to where we are, they're used to fighting. Maybe not with axes and guns and spears, but they've been fighting for a long time. The rich kids are just that. Rich. They get through this because they're above all this shit.. They could be the perfect snipers, like '*pew,* another oik gone!'"
"So that's fucking it. we're dead and done for. Fucked completely and utterly by being thrown in an environment that we were never supposed to survive in..." She tapped the plank against the floor, creating steady percussion that echoed throughout the entire cave, bouncing off of the walls and reflecting and bouncing again and reflecting until the sound was absorbed by the dark, mossy rock.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dannyrulx. 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.
It wasn't that Olivia disagreed with the sentiment. Waking up on SOTF did not leave one hopeful, yes. She watched the news, she knew what their odds were. She just wanted to ignore it for a moment longer, and Hannah wouldn't let her do that. It's just that Olivia, at that moment, suddenly wanted to step back in that cave, even if the tide came in and swallowed her up, because at least there, no one else in the game would find her first. It's just that her life had been bifurcated very suddenly, between her normal life, and what would likely be the very, very short second act known as SOTF. It's just that she looked at Hannah slamming down wood into wood, performing this primal act, and then going off on her about poor kids and rich kids, drawing lines in the sand even though the Hannah she'd known wouldn't even hurt a fly, Olivia looked at that and realized how much her life had changed, that this would be her life from now on.
Except back in the cave, she could ignore that and go back to sleep, and go back to her normal life because she already had an acceptance letter from Oklahoma State University, and whether her mother liked it or not, she would go there, and that would be her big issue, that would be what she'd lose nights of sleep over, not if she had one hour or one day to live, not if she even had any nights of sleep to lose.
It wasn't that Olivia wanted to make enemies, or get angry. It was just that she could be back in the cave, covering her ears. It was just that she only realized then that she didn't have to talk to anyone, that she'd dealt with isolation for four years of her life back when she was a child, and she could deal with it for four more days as a teenager. Beginnings were hard enough in high school, but this final beginning was near-impossible to deal with, and part of her could not accept that she had no long-term future to think about, no long-term plans, no, not part of her, all of her, she wanted to go back into that cave and Hannah wouldn't let her. It was just that Olivia had only prepared herself to face a camera and walk outside a cave, that she only had the semblance of calmness on her face, only the semblance of a plan in her mind, she had not prepared herself for the island, and Hannah was shoving the island and all its realities in her face.
So, even though Hannah had already finished speaking and was now just tapping wood instead of slamming it, it still felt like she was shouting, prophesying about their deaths, and Olivia was just overwhelmed, and
"Shut the fuck up, please."
and those words had just spilled out of her mouth before she realized it, and she had actually never cursed before. She saw that unfamiliar being that inhabited Hannah in herself too, now. And Olivia's eyes widened at what she said, so she closed her eyes, swallowed, held up her hand as if trying to swallow back her panic, and said, "Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just..." but she wasn't sure if that would be enough now.
Except back in the cave, she could ignore that and go back to sleep, and go back to her normal life because she already had an acceptance letter from Oklahoma State University, and whether her mother liked it or not, she would go there, and that would be her big issue, that would be what she'd lose nights of sleep over, not if she had one hour or one day to live, not if she even had any nights of sleep to lose.
It wasn't that Olivia wanted to make enemies, or get angry. It was just that she could be back in the cave, covering her ears. It was just that she only realized then that she didn't have to talk to anyone, that she'd dealt with isolation for four years of her life back when she was a child, and she could deal with it for four more days as a teenager. Beginnings were hard enough in high school, but this final beginning was near-impossible to deal with, and part of her could not accept that she had no long-term future to think about, no long-term plans, no, not part of her, all of her, she wanted to go back into that cave and Hannah wouldn't let her. It was just that Olivia had only prepared herself to face a camera and walk outside a cave, that she only had the semblance of calmness on her face, only the semblance of a plan in her mind, she had not prepared herself for the island, and Hannah was shoving the island and all its realities in her face.
So, even though Hannah had already finished speaking and was now just tapping wood instead of slamming it, it still felt like she was shouting, prophesying about their deaths, and Olivia was just overwhelmed, and
"Shut the fuck up, please."
and those words had just spilled out of her mouth before she realized it, and she had actually never cursed before. She saw that unfamiliar being that inhabited Hannah in herself too, now. And Olivia's eyes widened at what she said, so she closed her eyes, swallowed, held up her hand as if trying to swallow back her panic, and said, "Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I just..." but she wasn't sure if that would be enough now.
((Irene Djezari continued from I Say You Kill Your Heroes And Fly, Fly, Baby Don't Cry))
This was refreshing.
Irene's legs had enough pump action to put her shotgun to shame. Like, she was moving so fast she could have run whole gym laps around anyone who'd tried to follow her. At least those hapless souls would get a consolation prize. Call that her dust.
She'd roamed around the edge of that huge fancy building uptop the hill. Curiosity hadn't quite thoroughly grabbed at her when she'd been passing the doors. Or the other doors, or the other other doors. Sure she'd almost been dragged by her own will, but you know what? Inertia was a property of matter, and Irene sure as hell mattered. The morbidly alien charm of those bolted, glaze-frosted windows tempted for sure. But, as with the equally alien charm of Cochise boys Irene opted for awkwardly shuffling away to show her deference.
The sky continued to froth and foam with the promise of rain. Still didn't seem quite right, the way the breeze shoved something that smelled like the beach she'd never visited in her life into her face. Okay, besides the beach she'd just come from. That beach didn't count. This air was the wrong thing, the absolute wrong thing to greet Irene a new day. She decided she didn't particularly care for this weather. Give her a tumbleweed and a flesh-melting sun-kissed sear that left both sides crispy when she walked. Give her a rare cold Kingman day with a skateboard and a friend. And...
Maybe take away the gun and the bag? But no, both those things continued to stubbornly exist, jostling for position on her hip. A thirty-two declared itself in bold white, a touch too boldly for Irene's comfort or sensibilities. She was hardly a fashion demagogue, but even she knew the Kors-esque branding was a hackneyed. Sure she was the pot calling the midnight dress black, but she had right to complain even though she was also probably at fault somehow.
This was confusing.
Irene's geodesic warped. Seagulls cast away, some sort of song lit the island with a Saturday morning's cartoon harmonies. She looked to the bell tower looming over her third circuit around the asylum's breadth.
It was suddenly an odd feeling. Being here, where eyes could be hidden neatly behind the hundreds of windows poised stoically overhead. She didn't like it. What she did like, how her thoughts dissolved into the body rattling, flesh rending strikes of foot against ground. She didn't know where she was going, that hadn't changed since her conception in some Vegas showroom. But wherever she was going, she was going there fast. She barrelled until she couldn't barrel anymore and all her excess gun barrel was half shoved down her own asscrack so wild and free her free-for-all sprint carried her.
In the form of too long didn't read:
Go go go gogogogo. Fly little birdie, fly until you wait where the fuck was this metaphor going. Towards the bell tower.
Towards the bell tower.
Towards the bell tower.
Towards the-
Anyways, this beach looked familiar. She swore she could see herself in the distance, awakening to the tender touch of a carefree ocean's surf, dancing the ever despised sand from her various orifices. It all looked different, somehow. Like someone had removed the shitty Instagram filter casting bleached pastels over the contour of the terrain. How long had there been boats? How long had there been a cave? How long had there been Olivia and Hannah?
Two girls her senior made for quite the sight, cast in relief against the rocks. She observed faces. Pale and smooth and pale and smooth and pale and green and pale and pink. So much for 'no Instagram filter'. It was an odd feeling that welled up into a lump in Irene's throat, one she couldn't swallow down no matter how aggressively compulsive her gulps. Every step closer she took tracked dirt over sand, ground unfamiliar territory into the crevasses of her sneaks.
Irene winced. Did Hannah have to be so loud? She was still too far to be too close. It wasn't the appropriate time to play Taps, even if the cave absorbed the sound all nice. At least her actual voice lingered pleasant on the ear. Made Irene lose The Game though. She whispered the necessary 'lost' clause to herself with a theatric 'drat!' and a 'I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling kids!' on her lips. And her mouth stayed open, because she had more to say or however it was that actually meaningful and relevant speech was supposed to work:
"That's pretty out of character, Olive. Aaaannnd, pretty badass, t-b-h." Irene smiled and giggled the rest of her unsaid greeting as she continued to trudge the rest of the way. Her eyes glimmered with an approximate bit of joy. The sort that had probably looked better on her back home. Something in the air, and all. As for Hannah, Irene wasn't so sure how she was supposed to respond to that? There was a line, or something. 'What's past is prologue'. But Irene wasn't the Shakespeare buff, so blurting out old dead white guy quotes wasn't her place. Her place was right... here. About arms length from each girl, where a hug could be delivered when she stopped feeling so tentative about doing that for whatever reason.
This was awkward.
This was refreshing.
Irene's legs had enough pump action to put her shotgun to shame. Like, she was moving so fast she could have run whole gym laps around anyone who'd tried to follow her. At least those hapless souls would get a consolation prize. Call that her dust.
She'd roamed around the edge of that huge fancy building uptop the hill. Curiosity hadn't quite thoroughly grabbed at her when she'd been passing the doors. Or the other doors, or the other other doors. Sure she'd almost been dragged by her own will, but you know what? Inertia was a property of matter, and Irene sure as hell mattered. The morbidly alien charm of those bolted, glaze-frosted windows tempted for sure. But, as with the equally alien charm of Cochise boys Irene opted for awkwardly shuffling away to show her deference.
The sky continued to froth and foam with the promise of rain. Still didn't seem quite right, the way the breeze shoved something that smelled like the beach she'd never visited in her life into her face. Okay, besides the beach she'd just come from. That beach didn't count. This air was the wrong thing, the absolute wrong thing to greet Irene a new day. She decided she didn't particularly care for this weather. Give her a tumbleweed and a flesh-melting sun-kissed sear that left both sides crispy when she walked. Give her a rare cold Kingman day with a skateboard and a friend. And...
Maybe take away the gun and the bag? But no, both those things continued to stubbornly exist, jostling for position on her hip. A thirty-two declared itself in bold white, a touch too boldly for Irene's comfort or sensibilities. She was hardly a fashion demagogue, but even she knew the Kors-esque branding was a hackneyed. Sure she was the pot calling the midnight dress black, but she had right to complain even though she was also probably at fault somehow.
This was confusing.
Irene's geodesic warped. Seagulls cast away, some sort of song lit the island with a Saturday morning's cartoon harmonies. She looked to the bell tower looming over her third circuit around the asylum's breadth.
It was suddenly an odd feeling. Being here, where eyes could be hidden neatly behind the hundreds of windows poised stoically overhead. She didn't like it. What she did like, how her thoughts dissolved into the body rattling, flesh rending strikes of foot against ground. She didn't know where she was going, that hadn't changed since her conception in some Vegas showroom. But wherever she was going, she was going there fast. She barrelled until she couldn't barrel anymore and all her excess gun barrel was half shoved down her own asscrack so wild and free her free-for-all sprint carried her.
In the form of too long didn't read:
Go go go gogogogo. Fly little birdie, fly until you wait where the fuck was this metaphor going. Towards the bell tower.
Towards the bell tower.
Towards the bell tower.
Towards the-
Anyways, this beach looked familiar. She swore she could see herself in the distance, awakening to the tender touch of a carefree ocean's surf, dancing the ever despised sand from her various orifices. It all looked different, somehow. Like someone had removed the shitty Instagram filter casting bleached pastels over the contour of the terrain. How long had there been boats? How long had there been a cave? How long had there been Olivia and Hannah?
Two girls her senior made for quite the sight, cast in relief against the rocks. She observed faces. Pale and smooth and pale and smooth and pale and green and pale and pink. So much for 'no Instagram filter'. It was an odd feeling that welled up into a lump in Irene's throat, one she couldn't swallow down no matter how aggressively compulsive her gulps. Every step closer she took tracked dirt over sand, ground unfamiliar territory into the crevasses of her sneaks.
Irene winced. Did Hannah have to be so loud? She was still too far to be too close. It wasn't the appropriate time to play Taps, even if the cave absorbed the sound all nice. At least her actual voice lingered pleasant on the ear. Made Irene lose The Game though. She whispered the necessary 'lost' clause to herself with a theatric 'drat!' and a 'I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling kids!' on her lips. And her mouth stayed open, because she had more to say or however it was that actually meaningful and relevant speech was supposed to work:
"That's pretty out of character, Olive. Aaaannnd, pretty badass, t-b-h." Irene smiled and giggled the rest of her unsaid greeting as she continued to trudge the rest of the way. Her eyes glimmered with an approximate bit of joy. The sort that had probably looked better on her back home. Something in the air, and all. As for Hannah, Irene wasn't so sure how she was supposed to respond to that? There was a line, or something. 'What's past is prologue'. But Irene wasn't the Shakespeare buff, so blurting out old dead white guy quotes wasn't her place. Her place was right... here. About arms length from each girl, where a hug could be delivered when she stopped feeling so tentative about doing that for whatever reason.
This was awkward.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
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Dannyrulx†
- Posts: 103
- Joined: Fri Sep 28, 2018 5:42 am
Irene was here. Irene, her crazy, over-the-top quite possibly undiagnosed ADD sporty-gamer friend with more quirks than... a very quirky thing was here, and suddenly Hannah didn't quite care enough about Olivia telling her to shut up to actually retort. She grinned from ear-to-ear and stepped in for a hug, only realisng her shotgun when she pressed up against it. "Oh shit, since when did you get that Johnny Three?" She giggled a bit, then pulled her in for a hug proper, glad to see a friend.
Irene was possibly one of Hannah's oldest friends. No scratch that, was her oldest friend. The two had met when Irene's father had invited a fellow floor manager in a casino to dinner, and not being able to secure a babysitter, Hannah had been taken along. It hadn't taken long for Irene to poke her head into the meeting, and the two had started a lifelong friendship there. When her parents had mooved to Kingsman, it was Irene's circle of friends that had been the most accepting people of her in the otherwise unknown city, and Irene had defended her after she had come out as openly Lesbian.
So, although Irene had been standing in the designated akwardness area^TM, fuck that noise and give me a hug sister, thought Hannah, because we sure as hell ain't gonna get many chances like this thanks to the bullshit we've found herself in. "I geuss it's slightly too late to get that hair dyed now?"
Irene was possibly one of Hannah's oldest friends. No scratch that, was her oldest friend. The two had met when Irene's father had invited a fellow floor manager in a casino to dinner, and not being able to secure a babysitter, Hannah had been taken along. It hadn't taken long for Irene to poke her head into the meeting, and the two had started a lifelong friendship there. When her parents had mooved to Kingsman, it was Irene's circle of friends that had been the most accepting people of her in the otherwise unknown city, and Irene had defended her after she had come out as openly Lesbian.
So, although Irene had been standing in the designated akwardness area^TM, fuck that noise and give me a hug sister, thought Hannah, because we sure as hell ain't gonna get many chances like this thanks to the bullshit we've found herself in. "I geuss it's slightly too late to get that hair dyed now?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dannyrulx. 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.
And it wasn't that Olivia wanted to stay angry, it was just that one second Hannah was shouting and Olivia was shouting, and the next second, Irene comes in and compliments her cursing, and all of a sudden, everything feels better. And now she can pretend that there's no cameras to watch them eat and swear and kill, now she can pretend that she's back in high school and Irene, this person that was no awkward beginning, no unknown variable, just Irene, she's just coming back from skateboarding or jogging or whatever, it sure looked like it from the sweat on her face, but she had just shouted at Hannah and she was still coming off that anger high, that catharsis she would regret in about a minute, but Irene was here, and she was still Irene, and maybe Hannah was just panicking for a bit, but now she was back to normal Hannah, like that, like a switch flipped, and maybe Olivia could manage that too.
And maybe she could calm down. Maybe she could calm down, because everything would be alright. For a second or a minute or an hour, everything would be just fine.
So, she inhaled. Smiled a bright smile, a symmetrical uneven smile. Took in this moment, this happy moment, this normal moment. Did this all in less than a second so people wouldn't ask her if she's still there. And then she said, "Irene!" Awkward giggle, scratched the back of her head. Face blushed. "Thanks, I guess? Sorry, I just, I was just panicking."
And right, she just cursed at Hannah, told her to shut up. She should probably get to that. Didn't look good. Mother always reminded her of manners. And she didn't need enemies, didn't want enemies, didn't want any bad blood. Couldn't stand it. So, she looked at Hannah. "Look, I'm really sorry about that. I just woke up and I, I was stressed, I'm sure 90% of the island is. It was uncalled for." And then she hoped for the best.
And maybe she could calm down. Maybe she could calm down, because everything would be alright. For a second or a minute or an hour, everything would be just fine.
So, she inhaled. Smiled a bright smile, a symmetrical uneven smile. Took in this moment, this happy moment, this normal moment. Did this all in less than a second so people wouldn't ask her if she's still there. And then she said, "Irene!" Awkward giggle, scratched the back of her head. Face blushed. "Thanks, I guess? Sorry, I just, I was just panicking."
And right, she just cursed at Hannah, told her to shut up. She should probably get to that. Didn't look good. Mother always reminded her of manners. And she didn't need enemies, didn't want enemies, didn't want any bad blood. Couldn't stand it. So, she looked at Hannah. "Look, I'm really sorry about that. I just woke up and I, I was stressed, I'm sure 90% of the island is. It was uncalled for." And then she hoped for the best.
This felt soft.
Irene liked it a bit too much. It reminded her of awkward tween years and 240 pixelworths of replays on YouTube. Before Irene's little disaster Sumac-side she'd built a shrine to Hannah in her heart. Maybe a bit in real life too. Just a tad, like, two to three pictures zoomed and cropped by a butcher's hand at most. "We totally could've. I woulda rocked Rainancy blue." Yes, Irene knew they were different shades or hues or however that worked but honestly? Blue was blue was blue. No other way to put it. Her hands found holds in the topology of Hannah's shoulders, at least briefly before crumbling away. Irene trembled like a reed whistling in breeze. Trembled in her friend's warm embrace, all the while not sure why. Height difference put Irene's eyes a bit off center, where she could glance over and see if Olivia was going to pile into the concentrated solution of awkward. Expand molarity.
"... I was stressed, I'm sure 90% of the island is. It was uncalled for." Nope. Olivia was just staying over there, barely close enough to look out of place. Looked picturesquely cute standing her ground, and that made Irene feel all happy in a disconcerting way again. Honesty was, apparently, a lonely word. 'Twas an honest shame.
"Danny definitely seemed stressed when I saw him, so we can add him to the stats. Laughing about stuff that wasn't funny." Irene felt the giggle bubble up the flesh of her esophagus like a burp. It popped out her teeth before she could stop it. "Weirdly enough, my gun's pretty real I think." All too real. Johnny Three would have had Hannah's entrails on stark display if it went off here and now. It squirmed inorganically between their bodies. "I don't really know what to do with it but for now I guess I roll with it, right?" Ah, yes. They would see her rolling. They would be hating.
Not these two, though. Irene didn't want these two to be hating. They weren't supposed to hate, they were definitely completely too nice and awesome and cute for that. "Oi Olive, get in here before the hug ends five-ever." There would be more to come, surely, but this one was somehow unique. A once-in-a-lifetime experience, along the lines of a Rainancy blue moon or Darius not being a dumbass.
Irene liked it a bit too much. It reminded her of awkward tween years and 240 pixelworths of replays on YouTube. Before Irene's little disaster Sumac-side she'd built a shrine to Hannah in her heart. Maybe a bit in real life too. Just a tad, like, two to three pictures zoomed and cropped by a butcher's hand at most. "We totally could've. I woulda rocked Rainancy blue." Yes, Irene knew they were different shades or hues or however that worked but honestly? Blue was blue was blue. No other way to put it. Her hands found holds in the topology of Hannah's shoulders, at least briefly before crumbling away. Irene trembled like a reed whistling in breeze. Trembled in her friend's warm embrace, all the while not sure why. Height difference put Irene's eyes a bit off center, where she could glance over and see if Olivia was going to pile into the concentrated solution of awkward. Expand molarity.
"... I was stressed, I'm sure 90% of the island is. It was uncalled for." Nope. Olivia was just staying over there, barely close enough to look out of place. Looked picturesquely cute standing her ground, and that made Irene feel all happy in a disconcerting way again. Honesty was, apparently, a lonely word. 'Twas an honest shame.
"Danny definitely seemed stressed when I saw him, so we can add him to the stats. Laughing about stuff that wasn't funny." Irene felt the giggle bubble up the flesh of her esophagus like a burp. It popped out her teeth before she could stop it. "Weirdly enough, my gun's pretty real I think." All too real. Johnny Three would have had Hannah's entrails on stark display if it went off here and now. It squirmed inorganically between their bodies. "I don't really know what to do with it but for now I guess I roll with it, right?" Ah, yes. They would see her rolling. They would be hating.
Not these two, though. Irene didn't want these two to be hating. They weren't supposed to hate, they were definitely completely too nice and awesome and cute for that. "Oi Olive, get in here before the hug ends five-ever." There would be more to come, surely, but this one was somehow unique. A once-in-a-lifetime experience, along the lines of a Rainancy blue moon or Darius not being a dumbass.
V8 Vibes:
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Dannyrulx†
- Posts: 103
- Joined: Fri Sep 28, 2018 5:42 am
"Livvie," she paused, "You don't mind me calling you that, right? Anyway, you're apologising for snapping to the girl that just beat the splinters out of a boat because of the exact same reason. Me judging you for that would be insane. We're all stressed out, and although I stand by my points, we all need to cool off and sit back for a little bit." She broke off the hug with Irene, nice a hug as it was, and sat back down on a boat that wasn't more splinter than plank.
She appreciated the HU jokes. Made this all feel less serious and... distant, but she didn't need that. Always had lived in the moment, bouncing around, trying new things, meeting new people, the works. "Wait, so the gun is now called Johnny Three?" She let out a mock fangirl squeal, before continuing "I never knew you would do such a thing!" She giggled as well, before calming down a bit and continuing.
"We should stick together, yeah? Keep an eye out and watch each-other's backs. It'll just be us three, maybe a few more if we can find them. What do you girls think?" Groups were risky. She knew that, both of the girls knew that, everyone knew that. But she was going to die soon, there was no way she was winning this game, so spending her last days with friends seemed much better than spending them looking everywhere, paranoid that a shot could come and end you at any time.
She appreciated the HU jokes. Made this all feel less serious and... distant, but she didn't need that. Always had lived in the moment, bouncing around, trying new things, meeting new people, the works. "Wait, so the gun is now called Johnny Three?" She let out a mock fangirl squeal, before continuing "I never knew you would do such a thing!" She giggled as well, before calming down a bit and continuing.
"We should stick together, yeah? Keep an eye out and watch each-other's backs. It'll just be us three, maybe a few more if we can find them. What do you girls think?" Groups were risky. She knew that, both of the girls knew that, everyone knew that. But she was going to die soon, there was no way she was winning this game, so spending her last days with friends seemed much better than spending them looking everywhere, paranoid that a shot could come and end you at any time.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dannyrulx. 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.
Olivia went up to Irene to try to join in on the friendship hug, but before she could do so, Hannah had already let go, and Olivia found herself in that strange awkward spot where she wasn't quite sure who to go near, her arms spread half-open like she was reaching out for something. For a second or two, her arms were suspended like that, but then she went for the person who asked for the hug in the first place, Irene, and turned towards her. This was another bug from little her, some crick that she'd never learned to fix, some mistake, some screw-up, and this was supposed to be a happy place, a normal moment, an eternal moment. So, she hugged Irene, took in her warmth. And it was made all the better by Hannah accepting her apology, pardoning her. She took it in, sighed in relief.
And then all of a sudden, it felt very cold, very sharp on the side of her stomach. Hard. And after Hannah forgave her, she mentioned that Johnny Three was a gun. She had assumed it was some obscure reference, some inside joke, not, not this.
And all of a sudden, she took back her sigh of relief. Her eyes widen, her breath shook, although neither could see nor probably hear. All of a sudden, she felt the island facing her straight on, all its realities, with her best friends nonchalantly talking about a gun as if it were a Barbie doll, a new skateboard, this normal moment suddenly tainted with this rather unusual remark, and she found the island literally facing her, with the camera that had taken in Hannah's breakdown now taking in every detail of her face, filming her, sketching her, providing everyone with pre-made beginnings to judge her from, and there was Hannah, drawing lines again, and although Olivia liked this talk of grouping up, belonging, she said it'd only be the three of them, maybe a few more, and it couldn't only be the three of them because there was Georgia Lee and Lily and the other Lili and so many other people that couldn't wouldn't fall into the game even though everyone else had every time and she couldn't face this couldn't deal with this couldn't couldn't
Deep breaths, Olivia, quick, deep breaths. Irene would hear them, yes, feel the sharp puffs enter her ear, but deep breaths. Close your eyes.
Help me God.
Please.
She opened her eyes, felt her arms a little too tightly wound around Irene's ribs. She'd probably been there for five seconds, maybe. A bit too long. An awkward bit too long. Remembered again that this was a happy moment. A normal moment. She couldn't screw this up.
Where was she again? Right, groups. She belonged. She let go of Irene, and turned to Hannah with a slight smile, and said, "Yeah, that sounds nice." Nice thoughts, happy thoughts.
And then all of a sudden, it felt very cold, very sharp on the side of her stomach. Hard. And after Hannah forgave her, she mentioned that Johnny Three was a gun. She had assumed it was some obscure reference, some inside joke, not, not this.
And all of a sudden, she took back her sigh of relief. Her eyes widen, her breath shook, although neither could see nor probably hear. All of a sudden, she felt the island facing her straight on, all its realities, with her best friends nonchalantly talking about a gun as if it were a Barbie doll, a new skateboard, this normal moment suddenly tainted with this rather unusual remark, and she found the island literally facing her, with the camera that had taken in Hannah's breakdown now taking in every detail of her face, filming her, sketching her, providing everyone with pre-made beginnings to judge her from, and there was Hannah, drawing lines again, and although Olivia liked this talk of grouping up, belonging, she said it'd only be the three of them, maybe a few more, and it couldn't only be the three of them because there was Georgia Lee and Lily and the other Lili and so many other people that couldn't wouldn't fall into the game even though everyone else had every time and she couldn't face this couldn't deal with this couldn't couldn't
Deep breaths, Olivia, quick, deep breaths. Irene would hear them, yes, feel the sharp puffs enter her ear, but deep breaths. Close your eyes.
Help me God.
Please.
She opened her eyes, felt her arms a little too tightly wound around Irene's ribs. She'd probably been there for five seconds, maybe. A bit too long. An awkward bit too long. Remembered again that this was a happy moment. A normal moment. She couldn't screw this up.
Where was she again? Right, groups. She belonged. She let go of Irene, and turned to Hannah with a slight smile, and said, "Yeah, that sounds nice." Nice thoughts, happy thoughts.
Hannah was there, but then she wasn't, but then Olivia was. Olive was so short she was all teddy bear-like in Irene's ever spastic arms. Stole her body heat too. Kinda chilly with the ocean breeze shaking an angry fist at Irene's exposed arms, but at some point everything evened out into thermodynamic equilibrium. A cold one, just above shiver point.
"Gun's called Johnny Three? News to me." Hannah still rocking the decibels. Irene couldn't especially tell why, but Hannah's mood seemed to be one well worn. Well worn as that Queen on her chest. Something or another and a Fanta Sea. "We should..." Priorities? Free self of Olive, for one. She seemed half determined to throttle the life out of Irene, break every spare rib Irene didn't have to spare. Way too much violence for a place this pretty. Olive was breathing heavy too, a howling gale of storm surge right on the ticklish lobe of her ear. Another fit of the giggles violently stole the air from Irene's lungs, she briefly quaked against Olivia's embrace.
Irene's brain was also feeling the pressure, though there were no arms around it. Aaaaaaaa. Brain needed oxygen. Wait. She had one (1) diaphragm. Right there, where her ribs ended and Olive's arms began. Flex. Tense. Relaaax. Okay. She'd stopped laughing, and Olivia'd stopped hugging. Thus, Irene was free. No prognosis on her revived ability to think.
"We could definitely form some kinda group." Irene began to pace standing still, spinning her skirt into a lazy pirouette with gun and bag struggling to keep tempo. "Gather the entire damn squad. Like Abby. And Crisanto. And, uh..." People. Faces flashed bright through Irene's thoughts, like camera bulbs or rays of sunlight through dim and dank Cochise windows.
"Georgia, Wade, Junko. Penelope, Brendan Harte. Jerry, other Jerry, Jon, Micheal, Darius, Asuka Langley Soryu... Fiyori, Aiden, Alicia, Clarice, Kimiko-..."
"Gun's called Johnny Three? News to me." Hannah still rocking the decibels. Irene couldn't especially tell why, but Hannah's mood seemed to be one well worn. Well worn as that Queen on her chest. Something or another and a Fanta Sea. "We should..." Priorities? Free self of Olive, for one. She seemed half determined to throttle the life out of Irene, break every spare rib Irene didn't have to spare. Way too much violence for a place this pretty. Olive was breathing heavy too, a howling gale of storm surge right on the ticklish lobe of her ear. Another fit of the giggles violently stole the air from Irene's lungs, she briefly quaked against Olivia's embrace.
Irene's brain was also feeling the pressure, though there were no arms around it. Aaaaaaaa. Brain needed oxygen. Wait. She had one (1) diaphragm. Right there, where her ribs ended and Olive's arms began. Flex. Tense. Relaaax. Okay. She'd stopped laughing, and Olivia'd stopped hugging. Thus, Irene was free. No prognosis on her revived ability to think.
"We could definitely form some kinda group." Irene began to pace standing still, spinning her skirt into a lazy pirouette with gun and bag struggling to keep tempo. "Gather the entire damn squad. Like Abby. And Crisanto. And, uh..." People. Faces flashed bright through Irene's thoughts, like camera bulbs or rays of sunlight through dim and dank Cochise windows.
"Georgia, Wade, Junko. Penelope, Brendan Harte. Jerry, other Jerry, Jon, Micheal, Darius, Asuka Langley Soryu... Fiyori, Aiden, Alicia, Clarice, Kimiko-..."
V8 Vibes:
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Dannyrulx†
- Posts: 103
- Joined: Fri Sep 28, 2018 5:42 am
"Err, that's everyone in the entire year you're listing." She waited a second, before she followed up with "she didn't even come on the trip!" She shifted her scarf to better cover her lower face, then muttered "she was cute though..."
Deciding to leave Irene to her listing of quite possibly everyone she had ever met, ever, she sat back down on the wooden planks that made up the rowboat that wasn't half splinters, her feet sticking through a hole in the bottom where no doubt a rock had destroyed their chances of getting of the island the easy way. Or maybe it had been sabotaged deliberately by the terrorists, who actually knew?
Although, maybe someone knew basic carpentry? There had to be someone on the island who was good at shop, right? Maybe somebody had gotten an axe for their assigned weapon as well...
Of course, there would be the issue of waterproofing it and getting out of the range of bomb collars, and the fact that they had no clue where they were in relation to the rest of the world, and...
Ok, it was a dumb idea.
Deciding to leave Irene to her listing of quite possibly everyone she had ever met, ever, she sat back down on the wooden planks that made up the rowboat that wasn't half splinters, her feet sticking through a hole in the bottom where no doubt a rock had destroyed their chances of getting of the island the easy way. Or maybe it had been sabotaged deliberately by the terrorists, who actually knew?
Although, maybe someone knew basic carpentry? There had to be someone on the island who was good at shop, right? Maybe somebody had gotten an axe for their assigned weapon as well...
Of course, there would be the issue of waterproofing it and getting out of the range of bomb collars, and the fact that they had no clue where they were in relation to the rest of the world, and...
Ok, it was a dumb idea.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dannyrulx. 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.
Before then, Olivia hadn't known it was possible to feel both envy and pity for one person at the same time, but somehow, Irene had managed to elicit these feelings.
Of course, now, Olivia had amassed a large enough list of friends, a list of all the people she wanted to live with, all the people whose faces she just wanted to see one more time, whose words she wanted to hear, whose presences she wanted to be in, she had that, a long enough list of that. But the fact of the matter was that Irene's list, bucket list of people, it stretched on and on and on, and was still being enumerated as of now, in fact, and it was and always would be much longer than Olivia's. It was something she could never quite get over, how easily Irene had friends, how her quirks attracted rather than repelled people, how it all came to her so naturally while Olivia had to learn it, earn it bit by bit. It was an envy that was more of a light 'how-to-be-you' style though, not the deadly, sinful version of it.
But that envy, it mixed with but didn't cancel out the pity, or maybe it was sympathy she was thinking of, that she felt for Irene, who was expressing perfectly everything Olivia had just felt a few moments ago. And then Olivia felt another wave of that panic oncoming as the names kept on coming, as she realized that every single one of these people was here on this island, because to form a group on this island, you needed all those people to be physically present, and most, if not all, were present, were here, trapped on this island. She felt herself to be in this stormy sea, really, one much more turbulent than the one they were facing. with wave after wave coming, and she thought she'd weathered it out back in the cave she woke up in, but there were still more coming, but all Olivia had to do to temper the storm was breathe, breathe.
And then Irene was still speaking, and part of Olivia wondered if she was still physically present on the island, or if she was just reciting the class roster at this point. She considered going up to Irene, putting a hand on her shoulder, and telling her that they couldn't make a group that big, couldn't save all those people, but she didn't like to be the bearer of bad news. Also, while most warned against doing this, sometimes, people still ended up shooting the messenger. So, Olivia just looked at Irene, and waited for her to exhaust her list.
Of course, now, Olivia had amassed a large enough list of friends, a list of all the people she wanted to live with, all the people whose faces she just wanted to see one more time, whose words she wanted to hear, whose presences she wanted to be in, she had that, a long enough list of that. But the fact of the matter was that Irene's list, bucket list of people, it stretched on and on and on, and was still being enumerated as of now, in fact, and it was and always would be much longer than Olivia's. It was something she could never quite get over, how easily Irene had friends, how her quirks attracted rather than repelled people, how it all came to her so naturally while Olivia had to learn it, earn it bit by bit. It was an envy that was more of a light 'how-to-be-you' style though, not the deadly, sinful version of it.
But that envy, it mixed with but didn't cancel out the pity, or maybe it was sympathy she was thinking of, that she felt for Irene, who was expressing perfectly everything Olivia had just felt a few moments ago. And then Olivia felt another wave of that panic oncoming as the names kept on coming, as she realized that every single one of these people was here on this island, because to form a group on this island, you needed all those people to be physically present, and most, if not all, were present, were here, trapped on this island. She felt herself to be in this stormy sea, really, one much more turbulent than the one they were facing. with wave after wave coming, and she thought she'd weathered it out back in the cave she woke up in, but there were still more coming, but all Olivia had to do to temper the storm was breathe, breathe.
And then Irene was still speaking, and part of Olivia wondered if she was still physically present on the island, or if she was just reciting the class roster at this point. She considered going up to Irene, putting a hand on her shoulder, and telling her that they couldn't make a group that big, couldn't save all those people, but she didn't like to be the bearer of bad news. Also, while most warned against doing this, sometimes, people still ended up shooting the messenger. So, Olivia just looked at Irene, and waited for her to exhaust her list.
"... Barbara G-zus..."
"She didn't even come on the trip!"
Shit, true.
"She was cute though..."
Shit, also true. Irene continued to rattle off names like a saber, and at some point she wasn't particularly sure herself where the names were coming from. Somewhere in her brain, surely. Somewhere where memories, mostly awkward, of words and greetings exchanged and hot summer days and hot winter days because global warming. Of names and phone numbers at least sort of memorized, of hopes and dreams, of sheaves of papers with math equations and group partner names. Of affections nursed tender under breastbone. Also mostly awkward, those.
They all just kind of sat there, those names and faces, weighty in her brain. It felt heavy on her lobes and eyelids. Tiring, exhausting.
"... Maxim, Danny, Jacob. Uh, that one bitch everyone hates... And, uh, Alvavo or however you pronounce his name. You know, the one with the cafe and all...?" Irene's voice trailed, puttered out. She took a breath. Olivia was looking at her, breathing. Hi Olivia! Irene felt another round of the old giggles knocking on her collarbone, demanding freedom. She let them go, but they came out all mopey and tired and sad. A halfhearted sort of chuckle, the sort that deflates like a balloon. Sudden deflation, as if shot and popped.
Irene met Olivia's stare, silent for a good moment too many.
"What are you doing, Hannananah? What do you both think we should do now?"
"She didn't even come on the trip!"
Shit, true.
"She was cute though..."
Shit, also true. Irene continued to rattle off names like a saber, and at some point she wasn't particularly sure herself where the names were coming from. Somewhere in her brain, surely. Somewhere where memories, mostly awkward, of words and greetings exchanged and hot summer days and hot winter days because global warming. Of names and phone numbers at least sort of memorized, of hopes and dreams, of sheaves of papers with math equations and group partner names. Of affections nursed tender under breastbone. Also mostly awkward, those.
They all just kind of sat there, those names and faces, weighty in her brain. It felt heavy on her lobes and eyelids. Tiring, exhausting.
"... Maxim, Danny, Jacob. Uh, that one bitch everyone hates... And, uh, Alvavo or however you pronounce his name. You know, the one with the cafe and all...?" Irene's voice trailed, puttered out. She took a breath. Olivia was looking at her, breathing. Hi Olivia! Irene felt another round of the old giggles knocking on her collarbone, demanding freedom. She let them go, but they came out all mopey and tired and sad. A halfhearted sort of chuckle, the sort that deflates like a balloon. Sudden deflation, as if shot and popped.
Irene met Olivia's stare, silent for a good moment too many.
"What are you doing, Hannananah? What do you both think we should do now?"
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
((Alan Banks and Kaitlyn Greene continued from Never Known Questions))
So. Bell tower. Let it never be said that Alan couldn't focus on a goal. He was focused. Hyper-laser focused on everything at once. Fuck, he isn't going to ignore this group of peaceful kids out of tunnel vision, was he?
So when Alan actually takes a second to look over his plan for taking down the like I mean I guess they're terrorists this is pretty much the textbook definition of terrorism but it'd still be real good if he didn't perpetrate the casual use of that word, y'know? But, to stay on track, he was taking down the...terrorists. Yeah. That. It's like about time to get the fuck out of being in denial and admit he had no idea what he was doing, right? This was their little game, their little experiment, with all the neat little variables in their hands and there wasn't a fucking thing a lab mouse can do to the human experimenting on it.
But, well, fuck, it wasn't like he had any ideas for something else to do. Something that'll work, he means, because maybe he can start playing, maybe he can just sit there and die, maybe. They were all, um, let's use the word possibilities. Yes. Definitely possibilities. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Does that give you the clue? No? Well, how about the imaginary giant double-barreled middle finger he's flipping off at you in his head that says FUCK no, those ideas were fucking fucktarded.
Whoa watch your language there, Alan. No losing control or anything.
Control. Yeah. That's what this was about. Was Alan gonna pull a big Dostoevsky thing just to show those bastards they had no control over him? Like, radical fucking freedom, bitches.
No. Nonononono, that idea didn't have the least bit of appeal to him. At all. Zip. Nada.
Promise? Cross your heart? Well, um, y'see, you have to keep your options open, and that means sometimes you can't make any strong commitments and the like but you see what he can promise is that he'll think things through, he'd be careful, he'd
"That's fucking easy. We set out to fuck the system, but we do it incompetently so the terrorists are too busy laughing at us to blow our collars. Until it's too late."
He hadn't even checked their faces.
Well, he'd carefully thought out his decision to not think this bit through, hadn't he? Yeah, he definitely had, and he really hoped he didn't die for this, he really did, but if they pulled out a gun and blew his brains out that was just too fucking bad, cuz Alan's gonna do this his way or not at all. You should've checked the records and realized he wasn't a sellout. So deal. Deal with it.
You too, Kaitlyn. But you can have a say in it, she was supposed to have a say in it, he wasn't like a fucking leader, right? Like, being a leader of a two-person group, I don't know how you'd do that. So. Um. My bad, I done fucked up, there's gonna be some fallout possibl maybe probably not but you can cut and run if you have to.
She stayed. Good.
"I mean, that's what we're doing, anyways, and I wouldn't mind joining forces here."
Now let's hope his lack of a plan doesn't fuck us all over, shall we?
So. Bell tower. Let it never be said that Alan couldn't focus on a goal. He was focused. Hyper-laser focused on everything at once. Fuck, he isn't going to ignore this group of peaceful kids out of tunnel vision, was he?
So when Alan actually takes a second to look over his plan for taking down the like I mean I guess they're terrorists this is pretty much the textbook definition of terrorism but it'd still be real good if he didn't perpetrate the casual use of that word, y'know? But, to stay on track, he was taking down the...terrorists. Yeah. That. It's like about time to get the fuck out of being in denial and admit he had no idea what he was doing, right? This was their little game, their little experiment, with all the neat little variables in their hands and there wasn't a fucking thing a lab mouse can do to the human experimenting on it.
But, well, fuck, it wasn't like he had any ideas for something else to do. Something that'll work, he means, because maybe he can start playing, maybe he can just sit there and die, maybe. They were all, um, let's use the word possibilities. Yes. Definitely possibilities. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Does that give you the clue? No? Well, how about the imaginary giant double-barreled middle finger he's flipping off at you in his head that says FUCK no, those ideas were fucking fucktarded.
Whoa watch your language there, Alan. No losing control or anything.
Control. Yeah. That's what this was about. Was Alan gonna pull a big Dostoevsky thing just to show those bastards they had no control over him? Like, radical fucking freedom, bitches.
No. Nonononono, that idea didn't have the least bit of appeal to him. At all. Zip. Nada.
Promise? Cross your heart? Well, um, y'see, you have to keep your options open, and that means sometimes you can't make any strong commitments and the like but you see what he can promise is that he'll think things through, he'd be careful, he'd
"That's fucking easy. We set out to fuck the system, but we do it incompetently so the terrorists are too busy laughing at us to blow our collars. Until it's too late."
He hadn't even checked their faces.
Well, he'd carefully thought out his decision to not think this bit through, hadn't he? Yeah, he definitely had, and he really hoped he didn't die for this, he really did, but if they pulled out a gun and blew his brains out that was just too fucking bad, cuz Alan's gonna do this his way or not at all. You should've checked the records and realized he wasn't a sellout. So deal. Deal with it.
You too, Kaitlyn. But you can have a say in it, she was supposed to have a say in it, he wasn't like a fucking leader, right? Like, being a leader of a two-person group, I don't know how you'd do that. So. Um. My bad, I done fucked up, there's gonna be some fallout possibl maybe probably not but you can cut and run if you have to.
She stayed. Good.
"I mean, that's what we're doing, anyways, and I wouldn't mind joining forces here."
Now let's hope his lack of a plan doesn't fuck us all over, shall we?