((Kimberly Nguyen continued from Everybody Knows))
Upon reaching the town, Kimberly chose to stick to the comforting and familiar, making her way towards the flowers and the statue in the center of everything. She was pretty sure the announcements had specifically noted that there would not be a weapon to find there. That was tantamount to telling everyone left alive not to waste their time. It suited Kimberly just fine. She didn't want to fight anyone, didn't want to get into yet another petty squabble over something unimportant.
There were twelve people left alive, maybe less by now. It was nearly unreal. She'd never imagined that she would still be breathing at this point. When Kris had shot her, Kimberly had assumed that the remainder of her life could be counted in minutes, maybe hours if she got unlucky and it took a while to bleed out. Sarah had patched her back together, but that had seemed such a temporary measure, such a fleeting hope. The island had never stopped reminding her that she wasn't in a good position. Jeremy Franco had been the first of many people to get the upper hand while dealing with Kimberly. He'd told her, way back whenever—could it have been only a week ago?—that she couldn't maintain on her own, that she couldn't afford to keep acting like she knew what she was doing when she so clearly didn't, that she couldn't spit in the face of charity and expect it to work out.
And yet, here she was, one of the final twelve living people on the island and still fit to do no more than pretend to be a badass, with her fake gun and her volatile chemicals and her cheap plastic lighter and her complete lack of any ideas as to what she should do next.
On her way to the town, once she had cleared the danger zone and her collar had stopped beeping at her, Kimberly had finally unwound the spare rope she'd been carrying for most of the game. She'd undone the knot she had made way back in the south-eastern woods, had eventually separated the hook from the rope entirely. She still kept the metal part tucked in her belt. It didn't seem like a good weapon, certainly not the equal of the knife she had left lying in the dirt next to Kris' body, but it didn't have to be. All she needed was something to maybe divert an attack with, something to make people think twice if she lost the fake gun and wasn't able to back someone down with the explosives. Besides, it was easier to travel light. Her pack had nothing in it now, except that one Molotov cocktail. The one stuffed into her sweater's hand-warmer, where the lighter clinked against it every couple steps, formed the other part of her actual armament.
All of this was a little bit silly. It didn't matter at all. She didn't give a fuck if she could back off the dangerous psychopaths. Kris was gone, and nobody else was quite that scary. What Kimberly wanted wasn't even to scare everyone away. What she wanted was someone to talk to again, someone to help her maybe figure the remainder of her life out. Erik had been different. He'd made the world real again, in some little way. He'd let her laugh at stupid jokes instead of pain. He'd let her talk about being crazy and feel more sane than she had since back home. He'd bandaged her wounds and she'd tried to fix his.
He'd died a pointless, arbitrary death.
That brought it all home again. That was what Kimberly was afraid of, why she needed a way to control any encounter she found herself in. She didn't want to bleed out in some near-stranger's lap. She didn't want to listen as someone futilely tried to patch her together again, as they lied to her and told her she'd be fine, as if that would make it any better. She didn't want to be prey for some newly-deranged lunatic howling for blood. She'd never let that happen, never again.
Really, she wished she'd been involved in whatever had happened a few days ago. It would have been a better way to go, if they were dead, and if they weren't, as Kimberly suspected, well, anything was better than this. She'd said her piece to Sarah and Bridget, but there had been others who had left whom she'd owed some words. Jeremy Franco, for one.
What are you doing now, Jeremy? Are you enjoying yourself? I hope you are.
I don't think I ever hated you.
And now Kimberly was back in her place, sitting on the rim of the fountain, surrounded by the flowers. Nothing much had changed from last time she was here, before Kris, before Erik. The flowers were a little more withered. The bodies were a little more rotten. She wasn't looking too closely. She didn't want to know if any bones were visible yet. There was a very good reason Kimberly stuck to the psychological end of the horror spectrum.
Idly, she realized that, before experiencing this herself, she probably would have found this corpse-covered island a wonderful setting for a story.
We Can Live with the Sadness
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MurderWeasel
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((Reiko Ishida continued from Camping Out))
It didn't take very long for Reiko to make her way to the town center from her last location. The center didn't look all that different from the rest of the small town, save for the centerpiece in the middle. From a distance the statue looked nice enough, though upon closer inspection the graffiti and faults in the stone were more apparent. Who knew just how long this statue had been out there, exposed to the elements. There were more houses surrounding the center, but Reiko wasn't planning on going into one of them just yet.
There were, of course, bodies laying around. This wasn't exactly news to Reiko. She was barely even bothered by the smell of rotting corpses by this point, and the sight of them made her indifferent at best. Not like she had much reason to complain about them, having contributed so many to the number herself.
The girl began to move around the centerpiece, keeping an eye on her surroundings as she did so. The last thing she needed at this point was to get shot in the back while admiring a statue of a naked woman. It seemed like she was looking at a lot of those lately. In any case her attention was caught by the fact there was another person sitting in the flowerbed in front of what she was looking at. Reiko made no move towards her weapons, though she knew where they were if she needed them.
"Hi." she said to the other girl, seeing what kind of response she would get.
It didn't take very long for Reiko to make her way to the town center from her last location. The center didn't look all that different from the rest of the small town, save for the centerpiece in the middle. From a distance the statue looked nice enough, though upon closer inspection the graffiti and faults in the stone were more apparent. Who knew just how long this statue had been out there, exposed to the elements. There were more houses surrounding the center, but Reiko wasn't planning on going into one of them just yet.
There were, of course, bodies laying around. This wasn't exactly news to Reiko. She was barely even bothered by the smell of rotting corpses by this point, and the sight of them made her indifferent at best. Not like she had much reason to complain about them, having contributed so many to the number herself.
The girl began to move around the centerpiece, keeping an eye on her surroundings as she did so. The last thing she needed at this point was to get shot in the back while admiring a statue of a naked woman. It seemed like she was looking at a lot of those lately. In any case her attention was caught by the fact there was another person sitting in the flowerbed in front of what she was looking at. Reiko made no move towards her weapons, though she knew where they were if she needed them.
"Hi." she said to the other girl, seeing what kind of response she would get.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
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MurderWeasel
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Kimberly was aware of the person nearby. She could hear the soft footsteps. The air felt charged. She willed herself to calm down. She wasn't going to freak out just because there was somebody there. The odds were pretty good it was a player. Most of the people left were probably playing. It was pretty fucking hard not to start thinking about the odds and crunching the numbers when you heard there were only a dozen people left. Kimberly had been trying, trying as hard as she could. She didn't need unrealistic dreams fucking up her attainable goals.
She still yanked the fake gun from her pocket. She left it in her hand, limp by her side, and waited a couple seconds until the voice came, then turned to face the speaker.
Whatever she had been expecting, she was still shocked. With her glasses gone, the entire world was still a little bit blurry, but Kimberly could recognize the figure before her from the general outline, from the voice and height and coloration. The facial features were identical. There was blood on the girl, but no one was in perfect health anymore. Kimberly suspected that, apart from the injuries she herself had sustained, she was also seriously malnourished. Her jeans didn't fit quite as snugly as they had a couple days ago. If there wasn't so much other awful shit going on, it would have been a big concern.
That wasn't really important. What mattered was that, for just a second, Kimberly was sure she was looking at Reika Ishida again. She was wondering whether, through some strange miracle, she'd been correct in her assumptions back on the first day, whether she'd hit her head and imagined everything since, whether their class really had refused to play, whether there had been some mix up with Kris' bags and she'd never shot her gun. Maybe Kimberly was just now regaining her consciousness to realize that it was all okay.
It only lasted a second.
"Reiko," Kimberly said with a bit of a smile. "I don't want trouble. Have a seat?"
She knew Reiko was probably bad news. She knew the girl had killed a lot of people, more than Kris, maybe. Kimberly had no personal stake in Reiko's actions, though. If anything, she was slightly curious about this girl, who it seemed she had been circling around even since before the trip, flitting at the edges of her life but never making an actual appearance. This would, in all likelihood, be her only chance to indulge her interest. No reason not to take advantage of it, except the danger, and there was danger everywhere.
Besides, she had a few tricks she'd figured out in case anything went wrong.
She still yanked the fake gun from her pocket. She left it in her hand, limp by her side, and waited a couple seconds until the voice came, then turned to face the speaker.
Whatever she had been expecting, she was still shocked. With her glasses gone, the entire world was still a little bit blurry, but Kimberly could recognize the figure before her from the general outline, from the voice and height and coloration. The facial features were identical. There was blood on the girl, but no one was in perfect health anymore. Kimberly suspected that, apart from the injuries she herself had sustained, she was also seriously malnourished. Her jeans didn't fit quite as snugly as they had a couple days ago. If there wasn't so much other awful shit going on, it would have been a big concern.
That wasn't really important. What mattered was that, for just a second, Kimberly was sure she was looking at Reika Ishida again. She was wondering whether, through some strange miracle, she'd been correct in her assumptions back on the first day, whether she'd hit her head and imagined everything since, whether their class really had refused to play, whether there had been some mix up with Kris' bags and she'd never shot her gun. Maybe Kimberly was just now regaining her consciousness to realize that it was all okay.
It only lasted a second.
"Reiko," Kimberly said with a bit of a smile. "I don't want trouble. Have a seat?"
She knew Reiko was probably bad news. She knew the girl had killed a lot of people, more than Kris, maybe. Kimberly had no personal stake in Reiko's actions, though. If anything, she was slightly curious about this girl, who it seemed she had been circling around even since before the trip, flitting at the edges of her life but never making an actual appearance. This would, in all likelihood, be her only chance to indulge her interest. No reason not to take advantage of it, except the danger, and there was danger everywhere.
Besides, she had a few tricks she'd figured out in case anything went wrong.
[Used to be a sweet girl... --> Ema Ryan]
So. She was up. That was progress. Progress is always good, right? Walking was shaky at first, an outright terrifying prospect for the first few steps, but Ema managed to correct for the lack of depth perception eventually. It was the same as always, right? Just, harder to do the foot-eye-coordination thing for when you see an obstacle and you need to avoid it without breaking your stride.
Breaking stride was something Ema did pretty often that morning. Sometimes her left leg would just decide to give up, and it was plain to see, even with one leg of her jeans rolled up all the way above her knee and obscuring her already limited sight, that the bandage wrapped around the hole in her shin was already turning a nauseating shade of red-brown. Sometimes she just didn't have the energy to even think about where she was going, and sometimes one wrong step would send lightning bolts of pain shooting through her veins. But she just got up, reminded herself how far she'd already come, how lucky she was to still be alive and mobile, and somehow, somewhere, found the will to keep moving.
And yet... the girl had no idea where or why.
She'd missed the morning announcements, all she really needed to know was that she was now likely public enemy number one. Seven kills now, right? Or had the Japanese boy died too? She had shot him, he'd shot back, but she hadn't looked back to see if she'd actually killed him. Seven or eight then. Yo homes, smell ya later... Christ on a bicycle I am the worst human. Point was, she didn't need the calmly disinterested voice of Greynolds to confirm she was probably tied for the lead if she didn't have it outright. Who else could claim to have killed possibly five people in a single day? Not even Lombardi. Nobody. Just Ema Ryan. It's always the top killers that win. Dodd, Calvert, Rizzolo, they were all number ones. Maybe I won't catch up to the British prick but I've got the record-holding down in another way, it'll do.
How can I not win this now? I can say "I'm Ema Ryan" and it means something here. I am Ema Ryan and my infamy demands that I don't lose.
...probably demanded the same of Maxwell, too.
No, no, he was asking for it. Too much too fast. Trying too hard. Loser gameplay. The winner takes it carefully.
...yeah, getting my face chopped in half is careful.
Thoughts like these roamed freely in Ema's head for what felt like hours. In truth, maybe one had passed since she woke up, whenever that had been. Probably less than one. The slow pace on a mangled leg, guided by a maimed eye, made everything seem to pass more sluggishly, and the obstinate crawl at which the sun sailed through the morning sky felt almost like a personalised attempt to aggravate her. It was when the girl lowered her eyes Eye. Singular. Remember that one when you're narrating yourself, hon. that she noticed where she'd arrived.
Strength had more or less returned to her body by now. Well, almost. She had the physical capacity to walk, as long as she was careful to be gentle on the wounded leg. The bandage would need changing, and that would be gross and messy, but she'd probably survive. As long as she got to a hospital quickly enough to make sure it wasn't infected. And that'd be fine, since she was going to win, right? Couldn't be more than a day left in the game anyway, probably about ten people left alive. What, no, she wasn't focusing. She'd arrived in the centre of the town, big fountain, lovely fragrant flowers, smell those later. Focus on the two girls sharing the locale with her for the time being.
Reiko Ishida. That was a face Ema recognised, and a name she knew. She was well known for... some reason or other. Ice hockey? No, something similar though. Ice dancing? Figure skating? Weren't those the same thing? She didn't know. Point was Reiko had been a pretty big name around Bayview, even Captain Outsider had heard of her. And possibly been a little attracted to her, if she was being perfectly honest. More importantly, it was a name she'd heard far more than once over the announcements. Probably her closest competitor.
The other girl? Didn't have a clue. She did look familiar, perhaps they'd had classes together but not talked socially. Wouldn't be surprising. Ema's past was littered with cool-seeming people that she'd done assignments with and gotten along with well enough in class, then never spoken to again. Could easily be one of them. And she did look horribly familiar.
Most importantly, the two didn't look hostile. Hell, they looked pretty civil. Speaking to each other and everything, like real humans. Ema didn't even recall saying a single word the previous night, nary a witty one-liner nor a badass boast, just, mostly-silent killing spree. What did that say about her? A shrink would probably have fun with it, at least. But no, no, she wasn't destined for loneliness, even if she was a pirate now with her one eye and her gimpy leg. She could talk to other people, that was a thing she was capable of. She just had to open her mouth and say... something.
"Um..."
Not the best start.
"...private party?"
It occurred to Ema then, that she couldn't remember at all where any of her weapons were. Two of them were empty, at least. The revolver and Vera, they weren't, but where were they? In the bag, in her pockets? Fuck. No time to check, no future in looking as though she was actually going to pull it out. Just... fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fagballs shitbollocks this isn't good.
So. She was up. That was progress. Progress is always good, right? Walking was shaky at first, an outright terrifying prospect for the first few steps, but Ema managed to correct for the lack of depth perception eventually. It was the same as always, right? Just, harder to do the foot-eye-coordination thing for when you see an obstacle and you need to avoid it without breaking your stride.
Breaking stride was something Ema did pretty often that morning. Sometimes her left leg would just decide to give up, and it was plain to see, even with one leg of her jeans rolled up all the way above her knee and obscuring her already limited sight, that the bandage wrapped around the hole in her shin was already turning a nauseating shade of red-brown. Sometimes she just didn't have the energy to even think about where she was going, and sometimes one wrong step would send lightning bolts of pain shooting through her veins. But she just got up, reminded herself how far she'd already come, how lucky she was to still be alive and mobile, and somehow, somewhere, found the will to keep moving.
And yet... the girl had no idea where or why.
She'd missed the morning announcements, all she really needed to know was that she was now likely public enemy number one. Seven kills now, right? Or had the Japanese boy died too? She had shot him, he'd shot back, but she hadn't looked back to see if she'd actually killed him. Seven or eight then. Yo homes, smell ya later... Christ on a bicycle I am the worst human. Point was, she didn't need the calmly disinterested voice of Greynolds to confirm she was probably tied for the lead if she didn't have it outright. Who else could claim to have killed possibly five people in a single day? Not even Lombardi. Nobody. Just Ema Ryan. It's always the top killers that win. Dodd, Calvert, Rizzolo, they were all number ones. Maybe I won't catch up to the British prick but I've got the record-holding down in another way, it'll do.
How can I not win this now? I can say "I'm Ema Ryan" and it means something here. I am Ema Ryan and my infamy demands that I don't lose.
...probably demanded the same of Maxwell, too.
No, no, he was asking for it. Too much too fast. Trying too hard. Loser gameplay. The winner takes it carefully.
...yeah, getting my face chopped in half is careful.
Thoughts like these roamed freely in Ema's head for what felt like hours. In truth, maybe one had passed since she woke up, whenever that had been. Probably less than one. The slow pace on a mangled leg, guided by a maimed eye, made everything seem to pass more sluggishly, and the obstinate crawl at which the sun sailed through the morning sky felt almost like a personalised attempt to aggravate her. It was when the girl lowered her eyes Eye. Singular. Remember that one when you're narrating yourself, hon. that she noticed where she'd arrived.
Strength had more or less returned to her body by now. Well, almost. She had the physical capacity to walk, as long as she was careful to be gentle on the wounded leg. The bandage would need changing, and that would be gross and messy, but she'd probably survive. As long as she got to a hospital quickly enough to make sure it wasn't infected. And that'd be fine, since she was going to win, right? Couldn't be more than a day left in the game anyway, probably about ten people left alive. What, no, she wasn't focusing. She'd arrived in the centre of the town, big fountain, lovely fragrant flowers, smell those later. Focus on the two girls sharing the locale with her for the time being.
Reiko Ishida. That was a face Ema recognised, and a name she knew. She was well known for... some reason or other. Ice hockey? No, something similar though. Ice dancing? Figure skating? Weren't those the same thing? She didn't know. Point was Reiko had been a pretty big name around Bayview, even Captain Outsider had heard of her. And possibly been a little attracted to her, if she was being perfectly honest. More importantly, it was a name she'd heard far more than once over the announcements. Probably her closest competitor.
The other girl? Didn't have a clue. She did look familiar, perhaps they'd had classes together but not talked socially. Wouldn't be surprising. Ema's past was littered with cool-seeming people that she'd done assignments with and gotten along with well enough in class, then never spoken to again. Could easily be one of them. And she did look horribly familiar.
Most importantly, the two didn't look hostile. Hell, they looked pretty civil. Speaking to each other and everything, like real humans. Ema didn't even recall saying a single word the previous night, nary a witty one-liner nor a badass boast, just, mostly-silent killing spree. What did that say about her? A shrink would probably have fun with it, at least. But no, no, she wasn't destined for loneliness, even if she was a pirate now with her one eye and her gimpy leg. She could talk to other people, that was a thing she was capable of. She just had to open her mouth and say... something.
"Um..."
Not the best start.
"...private party?"
It occurred to Ema then, that she couldn't remember at all where any of her weapons were. Two of them were empty, at least. The revolver and Vera, they weren't, but where were they? In the bag, in her pockets? Fuck. No time to check, no future in looking as though she was actually going to pull it out. Just... fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fagballs shitbollocks this isn't good.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.
((OOC: for the sake of timeline, I'm not going to be acknowledging Ema in this post)
Reiko stood in place for a moment after the other girl's offer, before nodding her head and taking a seat beside her. It was nice to find someone who wasn't immediately aggressive, especially so late into the game. There couldn't have been more than a dozen of them left, possibly even less by this point. In any case she was there, sitting with someone who for all she knew was planning on killing her later.
She glanced at the other girl, trying to place her name. She had seen her around before, quite often in fact. Reiko felt like she should know her name, but just couldn't quite place it. The girl was almost certain she should know it, it just wasn't coming to her. Oh well, it was certain to come up in conversation eventually. Or not.
After a moment, Reiko reached into her bag, pulling out the chocolate from Sarah she had been eating for the last few days. Despite the heat, it was still mostly intact, though it had begun to melt around the edges. She broke off another bit, popping it into her mouth. "Chocolate?" she said to the other girl, offering her the package.
Reiko stood in place for a moment after the other girl's offer, before nodding her head and taking a seat beside her. It was nice to find someone who wasn't immediately aggressive, especially so late into the game. There couldn't have been more than a dozen of them left, possibly even less by this point. In any case she was there, sitting with someone who for all she knew was planning on killing her later.
She glanced at the other girl, trying to place her name. She had seen her around before, quite often in fact. Reiko felt like she should know her name, but just couldn't quite place it. The girl was almost certain she should know it, it just wasn't coming to her. Oh well, it was certain to come up in conversation eventually. Or not.
After a moment, Reiko reached into her bag, pulling out the chocolate from Sarah she had been eating for the last few days. Despite the heat, it was still mostly intact, though it had begun to melt around the edges. She broke off another bit, popping it into her mouth. "Chocolate?" she said to the other girl, offering her the package.
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MurderWeasel
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This was surprisingly peaceful. It seemed like Reiko wasn't going to flip out and gun her down. This had actually been a decent enough idea. Kimberly was pleasantly surprised by this. Of course, there was a chance everything was going to go completely to pieces at any moment, but that had been true of every moment on the island. By now, Kimberly didn't give a fuck. If things got bad, she'd cope. Reiko was beat up. She probably wasn't in good enough shape to do much chasing. First plan of defense: run.
And then, things got even weirder. Reiko took some chocolate out, ate a piece, then offered to share. Kimberly actually grinned at that. It seemed the other girl was fairly clever. It was to be expected, in a way. Reika had been intelligent too. Here, what Reiko had done was prove her sincerity by eating first. That meant Kimberly could be assured she wasn't about to be poisoned. She wasn't a huge fan of chocolate, but at this point she'd have eaten pretty much anything. She was down to her last bottle of water, and was suffering from a dry mouth and occasional stomach cramps. Chocolate sounded pretty damn divine.
"Sure," she said. She had to turn and reach across a little awkwardly. Her left arm wasn't hurting so much anymore, as long as she was gentle on it. She could almost clench her fist without it hurting, could nearly bend her elbow a little bit. She didn't much. She didn't want to fuck things up again, not now that they were almost a little better. She didn't want to damage her wound again. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but she knew from when Erik had treated it that it was by no means fully healed, either. She was also worried about the fact that there was probably still a bullet in her arm. The last thing she needed was to jar it and force it into an important blood vessel. Her other injuries, the bruising to her head especially, were not cause for much concern. They only impacted her if she scratched her face. They probably made her look hideous, too, but that was totally unimportant. Nothing in her skull had been broken, and she wasn't concussed, so she wasn't in any real danger from them. But now wasn't the time to worry. Now she was getting a chance at something approximating a tasty last meal.
And then, before she could grab a piece of chocolate, there was someone else there, looking at them, asking if they were having a private party. This girl, she was fucked up. All it took to tell was a glance. She was probably missing an eye. The wound still looked pretty fresh, given the bloodstained bandage. It would likely kill her, Kimberly realized. That was how things went here. This late in the game, none of the other people were going to risk their lives helping some girl who'd gotten her face slashed, especially not when they'd just have to kill her within a day to survive anyways. The girl had to know that. Approaching in a friendly fashion meant she wanted something, then.
Moreover, she was being painfully nonchalant about the whole thing. That meant she was insane. Kimberly was perfectly familiar with insanity as a defense mechanism. She knew all about trying to walk off wounds. She also knew that she didn't trust this girl in the slightest. She could recognize her, could tell she was someone from around school, but she was one of the loners. There was a name floating around, but it was hard to grasp it fully. Kimberly could remember the last announcement, though. There had been three or four girls mentioned as killers. She wasn't one herself. Reiko wasn't one. Kimberly couldn't believe the gender gap was that great at this point. That meant this girl was almost certainly a murderer. She had probably picked up her wound—no, wounds, her leg was bandaged too—in a fight. That she'd walked away meant she'd won. That meant she was a dangerous psychopath with nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain by murdering everyone else before she keeled over. Her only chance was to kill everyone before the wound killed her, then count on the goodwill of the terrorists and hope they patched her back together instead of throwing her corpse into the sea. Given that people had been rescued, that was probably a fairly safe assumption. They'd need someone alive to convince people next year that playing was worth it. That meant this girl was probably going to be playing for keeps.
This was exactly the sort of shit Kimberly didn't want to deal with. Reiko was a curiosity, a temporarily-benign one. This girl was a pain in the ass.
So Kimberly just said the first thing that came to mind.
"Yep. Fuck off."
And then, things got even weirder. Reiko took some chocolate out, ate a piece, then offered to share. Kimberly actually grinned at that. It seemed the other girl was fairly clever. It was to be expected, in a way. Reika had been intelligent too. Here, what Reiko had done was prove her sincerity by eating first. That meant Kimberly could be assured she wasn't about to be poisoned. She wasn't a huge fan of chocolate, but at this point she'd have eaten pretty much anything. She was down to her last bottle of water, and was suffering from a dry mouth and occasional stomach cramps. Chocolate sounded pretty damn divine.
"Sure," she said. She had to turn and reach across a little awkwardly. Her left arm wasn't hurting so much anymore, as long as she was gentle on it. She could almost clench her fist without it hurting, could nearly bend her elbow a little bit. She didn't much. She didn't want to fuck things up again, not now that they were almost a little better. She didn't want to damage her wound again. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but she knew from when Erik had treated it that it was by no means fully healed, either. She was also worried about the fact that there was probably still a bullet in her arm. The last thing she needed was to jar it and force it into an important blood vessel. Her other injuries, the bruising to her head especially, were not cause for much concern. They only impacted her if she scratched her face. They probably made her look hideous, too, but that was totally unimportant. Nothing in her skull had been broken, and she wasn't concussed, so she wasn't in any real danger from them. But now wasn't the time to worry. Now she was getting a chance at something approximating a tasty last meal.
And then, before she could grab a piece of chocolate, there was someone else there, looking at them, asking if they were having a private party. This girl, she was fucked up. All it took to tell was a glance. She was probably missing an eye. The wound still looked pretty fresh, given the bloodstained bandage. It would likely kill her, Kimberly realized. That was how things went here. This late in the game, none of the other people were going to risk their lives helping some girl who'd gotten her face slashed, especially not when they'd just have to kill her within a day to survive anyways. The girl had to know that. Approaching in a friendly fashion meant she wanted something, then.
Moreover, she was being painfully nonchalant about the whole thing. That meant she was insane. Kimberly was perfectly familiar with insanity as a defense mechanism. She knew all about trying to walk off wounds. She also knew that she didn't trust this girl in the slightest. She could recognize her, could tell she was someone from around school, but she was one of the loners. There was a name floating around, but it was hard to grasp it fully. Kimberly could remember the last announcement, though. There had been three or four girls mentioned as killers. She wasn't one herself. Reiko wasn't one. Kimberly couldn't believe the gender gap was that great at this point. That meant this girl was almost certainly a murderer. She had probably picked up her wound—no, wounds, her leg was bandaged too—in a fight. That she'd walked away meant she'd won. That meant she was a dangerous psychopath with nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain by murdering everyone else before she keeled over. Her only chance was to kill everyone before the wound killed her, then count on the goodwill of the terrorists and hope they patched her back together instead of throwing her corpse into the sea. Given that people had been rescued, that was probably a fairly safe assumption. They'd need someone alive to convince people next year that playing was worth it. That meant this girl was probably going to be playing for keeps.
This was exactly the sort of shit Kimberly didn't want to deal with. Reiko was a curiosity, a temporarily-benign one. This girl was a pain in the ass.
So Kimberly just said the first thing that came to mind.
"Yep. Fuck off."
"Yep. Fuck off."
Well. That was an answer. It was an incredibly blunt answer. But Ema could respect that, right? Must be into the top ten now, by all rights all three of them ought to be killing each other on sight. Just telling her to leave was pretty polite by comparison. Except it wasn't polite. It was insulting. As if the empty courtesy of asking if the other girls minded company actually implied that it was for either of them to tell her what she could or couldn't do. She, of all people, had surely earned the right not to have to do what anybody else told her. Fuck. Neither of them even has a gun out. And... that bloody rifle's been on my back this whole time. They don't need to know it only shoots darts. Even if they do, asleep isn't a thing you want to be in a crazed killer's presence. Heh. Crazed. Yeah they probably do think you're I'm crazy. Please. They're crazy. Silly silly crazy girls not running away from you me and stop making this third person Ema.... I mean me... I mean, fuck I'm not talking to myself I'm just thinking, okay!?
Digression over, the important realisation was, as dangerous as a tranquilliser rifle was capable of being, Kimberly and Reiko were two targets, and Ema didn't have a bloody clue how to reload it. Or even if it had a dart in it. Probably didn't. Her revolver should still have at least five bullets in it, and Vera was probably about half full too. But they were in her daypack, going for either of them was an overt act of aggression. Or at least of dangerous paranoia. Delicate situation all around, really. And Christ did her leg hurt right now. Her face had mostly become numb somehow, but even with most of her weight on the right foot, Ema's shin was figuratively killing her.
All in all? Best to do as they say. Hadn't she been regretting running into the other girls at all, just earlier? Yeah, probably had. Don't be insulted too much by an opportunity to survive, silly girl. Wasn't there meant to be a clinic south of here? You could g-- I could go there, maybe the painkillers won't have been completely looted yet. Fat chance. But empty hope's better than no hope.
"Okay."
So Ema turned away. No, why would she do that? That was suicide. She took a few nervous steps, both tentative to lay down her left foot and terrified she'd turned her back on her killer(s), before turning back around in what she hoped was a vaguely nonchalant manner. She wasn't even wholly sure what nonchalant meant, or how to spell it. Something similar to casual, probably, but extra pretentiously casual because it was French. Or sounded French. Get your shit together Ema this stupid daydreaming is the enemy.
"Hey, one thing."
Pause. Entirely unwarranted awkwardness, a remembered behaviour from her days as a normal, socially inept kind of person. Not the behaviour of someone who had somehow managed to not only kill eight people, but also convince herself she was only failing to feel remorse because she needed the killer instinct to stay alive, and guilt could wait until she was safe. It was an odd picture, and after a second, even Ema appreciated how strange the situation was.
"I was pretty out of it this morning, you can guess why. Missed the announcement. Anything I should know?"
Well. That was an answer. It was an incredibly blunt answer. But Ema could respect that, right? Must be into the top ten now, by all rights all three of them ought to be killing each other on sight. Just telling her to leave was pretty polite by comparison. Except it wasn't polite. It was insulting. As if the empty courtesy of asking if the other girls minded company actually implied that it was for either of them to tell her what she could or couldn't do. She, of all people, had surely earned the right not to have to do what anybody else told her. Fuck. Neither of them even has a gun out. And... that bloody rifle's been on my back this whole time. They don't need to know it only shoots darts. Even if they do, asleep isn't a thing you want to be in a crazed killer's presence. Heh. Crazed. Yeah they probably do think you're I'm crazy. Please. They're crazy. Silly silly crazy girls not running away from you me and stop making this third person Ema.... I mean me... I mean, fuck I'm not talking to myself I'm just thinking, okay!?
Digression over, the important realisation was, as dangerous as a tranquilliser rifle was capable of being, Kimberly and Reiko were two targets, and Ema didn't have a bloody clue how to reload it. Or even if it had a dart in it. Probably didn't. Her revolver should still have at least five bullets in it, and Vera was probably about half full too. But they were in her daypack, going for either of them was an overt act of aggression. Or at least of dangerous paranoia. Delicate situation all around, really. And Christ did her leg hurt right now. Her face had mostly become numb somehow, but even with most of her weight on the right foot, Ema's shin was figuratively killing her.
All in all? Best to do as they say. Hadn't she been regretting running into the other girls at all, just earlier? Yeah, probably had. Don't be insulted too much by an opportunity to survive, silly girl. Wasn't there meant to be a clinic south of here? You could g-- I could go there, maybe the painkillers won't have been completely looted yet. Fat chance. But empty hope's better than no hope.
"Okay."
So Ema turned away. No, why would she do that? That was suicide. She took a few nervous steps, both tentative to lay down her left foot and terrified she'd turned her back on her killer(s), before turning back around in what she hoped was a vaguely nonchalant manner. She wasn't even wholly sure what nonchalant meant, or how to spell it. Something similar to casual, probably, but extra pretentiously casual because it was French. Or sounded French. Get your shit together Ema this stupid daydreaming is the enemy.
"Hey, one thing."
Pause. Entirely unwarranted awkwardness, a remembered behaviour from her days as a normal, socially inept kind of person. Not the behaviour of someone who had somehow managed to not only kill eight people, but also convince herself she was only failing to feel remorse because she needed the killer instinct to stay alive, and guilt could wait until she was safe. It was an odd picture, and after a second, even Ema appreciated how strange the situation was.
"I was pretty out of it this morning, you can guess why. Missed the announcement. Anything I should know?"
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Reiko's first instinct upon hearing the voice of yet another person was to reach for the pistol tucked into her belt. She managed to stop herself once she saw what a sorry state the newcomer was in. Besides, with it's location, it was hidden from view and still easily accessible in case this girl ended up being dangerous. Even if she was, she was hardly in shape to fight.
Her companion was the first to speak up, and this was perfectly fine with Reiko. She wasn't exactly the talking type, so having someone else to talk instead of her was a nice change. The girl seemed to get the message, and began to walk away. If you could even call it walking. With those injuries Reiko would be surprised if she lasted to the end of the day.
The she turned around, asking about the announcements, if anything of importance was said. There were a few things worth mentioning, namely about the girl who had apparently killed a bunch of people. Reiko had her doubts that whoever committed those was going to be in any decent shape to fight. You don't kill that many in a day without taking some serious damage....
Reiko's face tensed slightly, but she didn't move very much. Her hand shifted ever so slightly towards her back, not enough to be noticeable. If she had put two and two together properly, then the two of them could be in serious trouble right now. At least, as much trouble as a one-eyed one-legged girl could give them.
Her companion was the first to speak up, and this was perfectly fine with Reiko. She wasn't exactly the talking type, so having someone else to talk instead of her was a nice change. The girl seemed to get the message, and began to walk away. If you could even call it walking. With those injuries Reiko would be surprised if she lasted to the end of the day.
The she turned around, asking about the announcements, if anything of importance was said. There were a few things worth mentioning, namely about the girl who had apparently killed a bunch of people. Reiko had her doubts that whoever committed those was going to be in any decent shape to fight. You don't kill that many in a day without taking some serious damage....
Reiko's face tensed slightly, but she didn't move very much. Her hand shifted ever so slightly towards her back, not enough to be noticeable. If she had put two and two together properly, then the two of them could be in serious trouble right now. At least, as much trouble as a one-eyed one-legged girl could give them.
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MurderWeasel
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The fucked up girl was taking Kimberly seriously. She didn't even have to pick up the gun lying by her leg. It was a pleasant change. Maybe being around at this point brought some automatic respect. In a way, the dozen people left were like an exclusive little club. Maybe that was why they were so willing to talk.
Kimberly fucking hated that thought. She had nothing in common with the others. She was interested in Reiko in part because of their shared pool of acquaintances, in part because of the change in the other girl's behavior, as revealed by the announcements. It was a mystery to unravel, one Kimberly almost cared about, unlike this other girl's identity. She'd figure it out next time the announcements came on, most likely. A missing eye seemed too good to pass up for a twisted joke, even though the new guy didn't seem to fool around as much as Danya had. Still, he wasn't too different. He knew how to pronounce "Nguyen," at least.
And then the girl stopped, and she turned back, and she tossed back a little comment, all calm and causal, like she'd really just forgotten, like she'd missed the announcements and figured these charming people who clearly wanted jack shit to do with her were going to suddenly feel really social and altruistic. Bullshit. She wanted something. Kimberly didn't know what, didn't care. She was, for the most part, over hurting people for kicks. Deflating them, well, that was a whole other fucking ball game.
"Yeah," she said. "Some pretty big shit. There are only twelve people left, so they decided to do something a bit different. They said it's gotten boring, so instead of a fight to the death, they're gonna do it American Idol style. Shittiest singer every hour gets their collar popped. Me and Reiko,"—name dropping the other girl seemed like a nice, subtle way to underscore that one-eye should be fucking off—"are working on a duet. Figure it can keep us going a bit, if we can get the synchronization down."
She didn't even pause before launching off on a new tangent.
"No. There's nothing you should know. Twelve people left, lots of people dead. Same shit, different day. Goodbye."
Kimberly wasn't really feeling it, wasn't really in the right mood to be sparring with this girl, to be cutting her down for being a moron. She was probably lying anyways, unless she'd been wounded here in one of the houses. Most of the rest of the island had been turned into danger zones, yet here this girl was, one eye fucked up but neck nice and whole. Kimberly couldn't even really explain what it was that was firing her temper again. Maybe it was just the sheer nonchalance, like none of the horrible shit the past few days mattered. Yeah, she was doing the same fucking thing herself, but the difference was, this girl seemed to mean it. Kimberly didn't want to deal with a psychopath. She didn't do psychopaths. They didn't react right, didn't get riled, didn't make stupid choices. Will, he'd probably been a psychopath, on reflection. That was why everything at the docks had gotten so ugly. That was what had led to her one mistake. Brook, he'd been a psychopath too, and look what had happened to Dutchy. There wouldn't be any more of that shit. Not again.
So, come on, psycho girl. Fuck off or tip your hand. I'm starting to get bored of waiting.
Kimberly fucking hated that thought. She had nothing in common with the others. She was interested in Reiko in part because of their shared pool of acquaintances, in part because of the change in the other girl's behavior, as revealed by the announcements. It was a mystery to unravel, one Kimberly almost cared about, unlike this other girl's identity. She'd figure it out next time the announcements came on, most likely. A missing eye seemed too good to pass up for a twisted joke, even though the new guy didn't seem to fool around as much as Danya had. Still, he wasn't too different. He knew how to pronounce "Nguyen," at least.
And then the girl stopped, and she turned back, and she tossed back a little comment, all calm and causal, like she'd really just forgotten, like she'd missed the announcements and figured these charming people who clearly wanted jack shit to do with her were going to suddenly feel really social and altruistic. Bullshit. She wanted something. Kimberly didn't know what, didn't care. She was, for the most part, over hurting people for kicks. Deflating them, well, that was a whole other fucking ball game.
"Yeah," she said. "Some pretty big shit. There are only twelve people left, so they decided to do something a bit different. They said it's gotten boring, so instead of a fight to the death, they're gonna do it American Idol style. Shittiest singer every hour gets their collar popped. Me and Reiko,"—name dropping the other girl seemed like a nice, subtle way to underscore that one-eye should be fucking off—"are working on a duet. Figure it can keep us going a bit, if we can get the synchronization down."
She didn't even pause before launching off on a new tangent.
"No. There's nothing you should know. Twelve people left, lots of people dead. Same shit, different day. Goodbye."
Kimberly wasn't really feeling it, wasn't really in the right mood to be sparring with this girl, to be cutting her down for being a moron. She was probably lying anyways, unless she'd been wounded here in one of the houses. Most of the rest of the island had been turned into danger zones, yet here this girl was, one eye fucked up but neck nice and whole. Kimberly couldn't even really explain what it was that was firing her temper again. Maybe it was just the sheer nonchalance, like none of the horrible shit the past few days mattered. Yeah, she was doing the same fucking thing herself, but the difference was, this girl seemed to mean it. Kimberly didn't want to deal with a psychopath. She didn't do psychopaths. They didn't react right, didn't get riled, didn't make stupid choices. Will, he'd probably been a psychopath, on reflection. That was why everything at the docks had gotten so ugly. That was what had led to her one mistake. Brook, he'd been a psychopath too, and look what had happened to Dutchy. There wouldn't be any more of that shit. Not again.
So, come on, psycho girl. Fuck off or tip your hand. I'm starting to get bored of waiting.
For a while, Ema was actually listening intently. Until Kimberly mentioned the words "American Idol", then it became horribly obvious that she was joking. What was it she'd been thinking about them being crazy? Well, making jokes at a time like this, that was classic unhinged behaviour. And... American Idol, really? It could at least have been a good show. Still, the girl didn't seem to miss a beat before skipping right ahead to the serious point.
"No. There's nothing you should know. Twelve people left, lots of people dead. Same shit, different day. Goodbye."
Reiko, on the other hand, didn't seem to have anything to say at all. Pretty ballsy for someone hardly any different to Ema; that is, irrevocably defined as a killer. The only thing that made either of them any different to people like Lombardi or Brooks was that they were alive. Hell, all that set them apart from someone like Rizzolo was that neither had actually won yet. One of the two seemed most likely to, mind. And Ema wasn't exactly going to give that title up to Reiko without a fight.
...that said, a fight wasn't something Ema had in her at that precise moment. The umpteenth glance down at her leg that hour confirmed that the bandage around it was just as saturated with red as it had been before, and that that wasn't a good sign at all. Her head was feeling lighter by the minute, a sensation she was quite certain was pretty well correlated with blood loss, and if she wasn't just hallucinating - which, in fairness, would probably be worse - her fingers and toes were beginning to feel horribly cold despite the warm sunshine.
No, Ema Ryan was in no state to fight, none whatsoever. Frankly, all she wanted to do for the rest of the day was collapse in a nearby bed and pass out until such times as she could actually walk again. And she was being offered a very lovely opportunity to just leave without a fight. She'd have to be mad, no, worse than mad, utterly stupid, not to take it.
And so she did. With a rather spontaneous mock salute, which later she'd wonder after the meaning of, Ema turned, and she walked away. Or, more accurately, she limped away, dragging her gradually less and less mobile left leg behind her.
[Ema Ryan --> Maladjusted]
"No. There's nothing you should know. Twelve people left, lots of people dead. Same shit, different day. Goodbye."
Reiko, on the other hand, didn't seem to have anything to say at all. Pretty ballsy for someone hardly any different to Ema; that is, irrevocably defined as a killer. The only thing that made either of them any different to people like Lombardi or Brooks was that they were alive. Hell, all that set them apart from someone like Rizzolo was that neither had actually won yet. One of the two seemed most likely to, mind. And Ema wasn't exactly going to give that title up to Reiko without a fight.
...that said, a fight wasn't something Ema had in her at that precise moment. The umpteenth glance down at her leg that hour confirmed that the bandage around it was just as saturated with red as it had been before, and that that wasn't a good sign at all. Her head was feeling lighter by the minute, a sensation she was quite certain was pretty well correlated with blood loss, and if she wasn't just hallucinating - which, in fairness, would probably be worse - her fingers and toes were beginning to feel horribly cold despite the warm sunshine.
No, Ema Ryan was in no state to fight, none whatsoever. Frankly, all she wanted to do for the rest of the day was collapse in a nearby bed and pass out until such times as she could actually walk again. And she was being offered a very lovely opportunity to just leave without a fight. She'd have to be mad, no, worse than mad, utterly stupid, not to take it.
And so she did. With a rather spontaneous mock salute, which later she'd wonder after the meaning of, Ema turned, and she walked away. Or, more accurately, she limped away, dragging her gradually less and less mobile left leg behind her.
[Ema Ryan --> Maladjusted]
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The girl finished fucking off, with a glance at the leg that was probably going to kill her and a sarcastic little salute. Kimberly didn't bother returning it. She was pissed enough about the interruption and about having to deal with yet another psychopath. They seemed to be a dime a dozen this late in the game. It was almost like all the decent people had been killed by now. Come to think of it, that was probably pretty fucking close to the mark. While playing things like Lombardi had was totally suicidal, getting this far implied a certain willingness to get one's hands dirty. Anyone who couldn't stand the thought of taking a life was pretty well out of luck.
It left Kimberly wondering what exactly she was doing still being alive. She certainly wasn't one of the big names on the announcements. Oh, it wasn't like she was standing on any moral high ground, not after what she'd done to Aislyn. Looking back, she couldn't even remember what the reason for her actions had been. She couldn't say why she hadn't dropped the knife. Aislyn was unarmed. Will would probably have attacked them all, but he wouldn't have killed them, not all of them. Will hadn't been a threat at all. He and Steven had gotten themselves killed quickly enough, had joined the endless list of names.
Kimberly wondered if she'd rate a joke. Probably not. It was getting too late in the game, and she doubted they'd put on a comedy show for the final survivor. Besides, Nguyen was a bitch to rhyme.
"By the way," she said, turning to Reiko, "I'm Kimberly."
She hadn't introduced herself earlier, not because she wanted to watch Reiko squirm, but because she wasn't sure what the reaction would be. It seemed stupid to get shot in the middle of saying her own name. Afterwards, she hadn't wanted to identify herself to the third girl, for no particular reason at all. Now that the psycho had gone, things could go back to where they had been going. Kimberly could learn a little about Reiko, maybe figure out what it was that turned someone into one of the island's most known names and then turned them away from killing for almost a week.
More than that, maybe she could learn a little more about Reika and her death. After all, she had been something close enough to a friend to Kimberly, and her murder had been the spark that set in motion all the events that had led Kimberly here.
It had been such a silly thing. There were many different bag designs being used. Reika had just happened to pull one with a name on it. Had it not been for that simple, stupid little fact, Kimberly would have never walked up to Kris. She wouldn't have a chunk of metal in her arm right now.
She might well have died days ago.
Somewhere, maybe from the town, maybe from the docks, maybe from both, some gunshots faintly rang out. Kimberly didn't even acknowledge them. She was used to it by now.
She frowned for a moment, still thinking of Reika and Kris, then brightened and added, "I'm glad we got rid of her. Now, you were giving me a piece of chocolate?"
It left Kimberly wondering what exactly she was doing still being alive. She certainly wasn't one of the big names on the announcements. Oh, it wasn't like she was standing on any moral high ground, not after what she'd done to Aislyn. Looking back, she couldn't even remember what the reason for her actions had been. She couldn't say why she hadn't dropped the knife. Aislyn was unarmed. Will would probably have attacked them all, but he wouldn't have killed them, not all of them. Will hadn't been a threat at all. He and Steven had gotten themselves killed quickly enough, had joined the endless list of names.
Kimberly wondered if she'd rate a joke. Probably not. It was getting too late in the game, and she doubted they'd put on a comedy show for the final survivor. Besides, Nguyen was a bitch to rhyme.
"By the way," she said, turning to Reiko, "I'm Kimberly."
She hadn't introduced herself earlier, not because she wanted to watch Reiko squirm, but because she wasn't sure what the reaction would be. It seemed stupid to get shot in the middle of saying her own name. Afterwards, she hadn't wanted to identify herself to the third girl, for no particular reason at all. Now that the psycho had gone, things could go back to where they had been going. Kimberly could learn a little about Reiko, maybe figure out what it was that turned someone into one of the island's most known names and then turned them away from killing for almost a week.
More than that, maybe she could learn a little more about Reika and her death. After all, she had been something close enough to a friend to Kimberly, and her murder had been the spark that set in motion all the events that had led Kimberly here.
It had been such a silly thing. There were many different bag designs being used. Reika had just happened to pull one with a name on it. Had it not been for that simple, stupid little fact, Kimberly would have never walked up to Kris. She wouldn't have a chunk of metal in her arm right now.
She might well have died days ago.
Somewhere, maybe from the town, maybe from the docks, maybe from both, some gunshots faintly rang out. Kimberly didn't even acknowledge them. She was used to it by now.
She frowned for a moment, still thinking of Reika and Kris, then brightened and added, "I'm glad we got rid of her. Now, you were giving me a piece of chocolate?"
Reiko's eyes didn't move from the girl until she was out of sight, and even then she made sure to keep a look out in case they decided to come back and kill them while they weren't looking. In the end she didn't have anything to worry about though, and the two of them were alone again. She moved her hand back away from her gun, placing it back on her lap and saying nothing.
The silence was broken by her companion, who introduced herself. This was good for Reiko, since she didn't have to ask and make herself look like a fool. Reiko nodded a few times, committing the name to memory. Kimberly then continued the conversation, mentioning the chocolate.
"Oh yeah, here you go." Reiko said, holding the chocolate out for the other girl. There was about a quarter of the bar remaining, but she had another one in her bag. "You can have the rest of this one if you'd like."
The silence was broken by her companion, who introduced herself. This was good for Reiko, since she didn't have to ask and make herself look like a fool. Reiko nodded a few times, committing the name to memory. Kimberly then continued the conversation, mentioning the chocolate.
"Oh yeah, here you go." Reiko said, holding the chocolate out for the other girl. There was about a quarter of the bar remaining, but she had another one in her bag. "You can have the rest of this one if you'd like."
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MurderWeasel
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"Thanks," Kimberly said. Being polite felt a little bit unnatural. She'd never been particularly courteous, even when it had mattered. It felt strange to start now. On the other hand, she wasn't looking to offend Reiko into a fight or anything of the sort. Besides, the girl was actually being nice. It was pleasant enough, even if Reiko was no Erik when it came to engaging conversation.
Kimberly tried not to scowl at that. She tried to keep her face nice and impassive as she took the chocolate and took a big bite. There was no helping the past now, no fixing yesterday's fuck ups. There was no guaranteeing the future, not when all but one of them would probably be dead in less then a day. There was only the present, and the present included Reiko instead of Erik, and Kimberly had some things she wanted to know that Reiko could help her with.
She finished the chocolate first. Normally, she'd have tossed the wrapper into the flowerbed, but as she was moving to do so, she remembered it was doubling as a grave. The dead wouldn't care about some littering, but she didn't need to fuck up some grieving family's day even more. Funeral rites had always been for the living. These people were lucky enough to have had someone to care for their son or daughter. It wasn't Kimberly's place to spit on that.
Vaguely, she wondered if anyone would bury her. She wondered what they did with all the bodies, at the end. They had to check them, somehow, to make sure no one had managed to play dead.
It wasn't worth thinking about.
She shoved the wrapper into her pocket, checking at the same time that the lighter was still there. Good. Everything was in order.
"How've you been?" she finally asked, finding that none of her real questions was a particularly appropriate opener. There was no good way to lead with "Did you see your sister die?" or "Why'd you murder so many people?" or "How about that rescue we missed?". Faux-normalcy would have to suffice, even if it was stupid. WIth luck, Reiko would run with it and share the things that mattered.
And all the time, Kimberly was wondering how this was going to turn out. After all, there was no guarantee Reiko was half as stable as she looked, and it had to be getting pretty close to the end. She was curious as to how long it would be until Reiko saw her as just another obstacle in the road home.
Kimberly tried not to scowl at that. She tried to keep her face nice and impassive as she took the chocolate and took a big bite. There was no helping the past now, no fixing yesterday's fuck ups. There was no guaranteeing the future, not when all but one of them would probably be dead in less then a day. There was only the present, and the present included Reiko instead of Erik, and Kimberly had some things she wanted to know that Reiko could help her with.
She finished the chocolate first. Normally, she'd have tossed the wrapper into the flowerbed, but as she was moving to do so, she remembered it was doubling as a grave. The dead wouldn't care about some littering, but she didn't need to fuck up some grieving family's day even more. Funeral rites had always been for the living. These people were lucky enough to have had someone to care for their son or daughter. It wasn't Kimberly's place to spit on that.
Vaguely, she wondered if anyone would bury her. She wondered what they did with all the bodies, at the end. They had to check them, somehow, to make sure no one had managed to play dead.
It wasn't worth thinking about.
She shoved the wrapper into her pocket, checking at the same time that the lighter was still there. Good. Everything was in order.
"How've you been?" she finally asked, finding that none of her real questions was a particularly appropriate opener. There was no good way to lead with "Did you see your sister die?" or "Why'd you murder so many people?" or "How about that rescue we missed?". Faux-normalcy would have to suffice, even if it was stupid. WIth luck, Reiko would run with it and share the things that mattered.
And all the time, Kimberly was wondering how this was going to turn out. After all, there was no guarantee Reiko was half as stable as she looked, and it had to be getting pretty close to the end. She was curious as to how long it would be until Reiko saw her as just another obstacle in the road home.
Reiko couldn't help but smile when Kimberly took the chocolate. After so long fighting for her life, it was kind of refreshing to hear something as simple as a thank you. If they pretended hard enough, maybe they could believe themselves to be on a little picnic or something. Just so long as you ignored the dead bodies and the fact they were holding weapons. Reiko nodded her head in response, leaning back a bit on her hands.
There was a moment of silence, then Kimberly asked how she was doing. This brought a small laugh to the girl. "Oh you know, lost my sister, killed some people, watched my girlfriend escape while I was left behind. The usual stuff." That she could even manage something even remotely classified as humour probably said something about her mental health, but at this point she'd have been more concerned if she wasn't feeling something.
"We must be getting down to the wire, huh?" Reiko found herself saying. The last announcement had said there were only a dozen or so of them left, and she could be amazed if there was still that amount left. At some point her and Kimberly would probably have to face each other. Or at the very least, one of them would have to die. It was an inevitability that they would have to face sooner rather than later. For now though she was content with the civility between them.
There was a moment of silence, then Kimberly asked how she was doing. This brought a small laugh to the girl. "Oh you know, lost my sister, killed some people, watched my girlfriend escape while I was left behind. The usual stuff." That she could even manage something even remotely classified as humour probably said something about her mental health, but at this point she'd have been more concerned if she wasn't feeling something.
"We must be getting down to the wire, huh?" Reiko found herself saying. The last announcement had said there were only a dozen or so of them left, and she could be amazed if there was still that amount left. At some point her and Kimberly would probably have to face each other. Or at the very least, one of them would have to die. It was an inevitability that they would have to face sooner rather than later. For now though she was content with the civility between them.
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MurderWeasel
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"Yep," Kimberly said. "Kinda sucks. I'm glad your girlfriend's okay, though."
Time to think. Who the fuck was Reiko's girlfriend? No, wait, that was a silly question. Kimberly could almost remember something about Reiko and Sarah. She'd seen them together, at Prom, and Sarah had escaped, and she had wanted to find Reiko. They'd all agreed on that, Sarah and Bridget and Kimberly. Maybe Sarah had even mentioned something about them being together, and Kimberly had just missed the subtext. It all fit perfectly.
"Sarah, right? She saved my life."
It was nothing but a casual comment, now. There was no need to go into detail. Reiko didn't need to know what had transpired, how Sarah had patched her shoulder up, how they had traveled together, how Kimberly had left when it became clear that they weren't hunting Kris after all. Reiko certainly didn't need to know about Kimberly's little conversation with Sarah and Bridget, the one through the cameras. That might provoke a violent reaction.
In a happy little coincidence, if Reiko ever did find out, it would be far too late for Kimberly to worry about it.
In the meantime, they had a common point of interest, a humanizing factor. That meant Reiko was less likely to start shooting, and more likely to just hang out and shoot the shit. It meant Kimberly felt pretty safe when she reached over, picked up the fake gun, and stuffed it back into her pocket. Oh, sure, she was careful to move slowly, to avoid doing anything starling. Relative security or not, it wouldn't be good to have a misunderstanding now.
Still, she wasn't quite so concerned about imminent death, not anymore.
Time to think. Who the fuck was Reiko's girlfriend? No, wait, that was a silly question. Kimberly could almost remember something about Reiko and Sarah. She'd seen them together, at Prom, and Sarah had escaped, and she had wanted to find Reiko. They'd all agreed on that, Sarah and Bridget and Kimberly. Maybe Sarah had even mentioned something about them being together, and Kimberly had just missed the subtext. It all fit perfectly.
"Sarah, right? She saved my life."
It was nothing but a casual comment, now. There was no need to go into detail. Reiko didn't need to know what had transpired, how Sarah had patched her shoulder up, how they had traveled together, how Kimberly had left when it became clear that they weren't hunting Kris after all. Reiko certainly didn't need to know about Kimberly's little conversation with Sarah and Bridget, the one through the cameras. That might provoke a violent reaction.
In a happy little coincidence, if Reiko ever did find out, it would be far too late for Kimberly to worry about it.
In the meantime, they had a common point of interest, a humanizing factor. That meant Reiko was less likely to start shooting, and more likely to just hang out and shoot the shit. It meant Kimberly felt pretty safe when she reached over, picked up the fake gun, and stuffed it back into her pocket. Oh, sure, she was careful to move slowly, to avoid doing anything starling. Relative security or not, it wouldn't be good to have a misunderstanding now.
Still, she wasn't quite so concerned about imminent death, not anymore.