Wake up time!
Her eyes flew open and she screamed. Well, she got half a scream in before Alex stomped on her throat. Her scream tailed off into a whimper as he forced her down.
Allen was there. It took her a second but she remembered Allen had found her just before she fell unconscious again. Where was everyone else? What happened to Ray and Annaliese and Alex? Where was she? And perhaps the most pressing so to speak, why was this other Alex poking her full of holes? He was positioned above her with something sharp right at her head.
There was such an intense pain coming from her arm like she'd never felt. Her right hand reached up to Alex's shoe to try to put some space between it and her throat, but she didn't have the strength left to do much. Her legs writhed, trying to alleviate the situation by grinding against one another other uselessly. Tears started running out the sides of her eyes.
"Y-you," she choked out. "You're on me."
Monsters
Private.
-
Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Oh, that twisted grin.
"Quite happy, thanks for asking."
Swinging the spear back on to his back, the makeshift strap hanging it from his shoulder, Alex knelt down. Kept his foot on Isabel's neck, and the gun trained on Allen. Picked up the pills and pocketed them with nothing but a quick, satisfactory glance at the labels. Exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he needed.
"Now, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"
Alex stood. Still standing on Isabel's throat. Still aiming the gun at Allen. He had what he wanted, but why hadn't he left? Why?
He pressed on Isabel's throat.
"I think you deserve a little lesson, Allen."
Alex slid back the slide, caught what looked like a spent bullet as it flew out, and aimed the gun at Allen. Aimed long, and hard.
And then put the gun to Isabel's head.
"Goodbye, Isabel, Allen."
He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Not one little thing.
Alex just... laughed. Took his foot off of Isabel's throat. And walked away. Just fucking walked away. Leaving Allen and Isabel in shock.
Just fucking walked away.
...What a bastard.
"Quite happy, thanks for asking."
Swinging the spear back on to his back, the makeshift strap hanging it from his shoulder, Alex knelt down. Kept his foot on Isabel's neck, and the gun trained on Allen. Picked up the pills and pocketed them with nothing but a quick, satisfactory glance at the labels. Exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he needed.
"Now, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"
Alex stood. Still standing on Isabel's throat. Still aiming the gun at Allen. He had what he wanted, but why hadn't he left? Why?
He pressed on Isabel's throat.
"I think you deserve a little lesson, Allen."
Alex slid back the slide, caught what looked like a spent bullet as it flew out, and aimed the gun at Allen. Aimed long, and hard.
And then put the gun to Isabel's head.
"Goodbye, Isabel, Allen."
He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Not one little thing.
Alex just... laughed. Took his foot off of Isabel's throat. And walked away. Just fucking walked away. Leaving Allen and Isabel in shock.
Just fucking walked away.
...What a bastard.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. 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.
-
Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
((Jimmy Brennan continues from The Man Your Man Could Smell Like ))
Jimmy crawled through the forest like a wounded animal, practically frothing at the mouth. To say his wounds hurt would be an understatement- the pain was unbearable. But he had to persevere. Somewhere out there in the forest was Rosa Fiametta. More then anything else he needed to talk to her, medical attention be damned. His head was spinning, he spat blood.
It made him laugh.
He was in the shit now. On his hands and knees, a force of nature, crawling through the underbrush like a deadly animal, just waiting to be discovered. A human punji stick. The kids back home were probably eating him up.
He was a hero disgraced, who'd been beaten down for it. It was fair,- he could understand it to a degree. He didn't like it, and if he had any say in the matter Ray would pay for his actions. Somewhere in his foggy mind the beating had knocked something into place.
It makes sense. It makes perfect sense, I- I just didn't fuckin' see it is all. But now. Fuckin' now, fuckin' NOW..."
Jimmy realized now who he was-, Danya, God, whoever the fuck it was, they'd put him here for a purpose. Not a hero, an anti-hero. It was all clear now. Dirty Harry, he'd seen that movie once. That was who he was, dispensing justice with lead. Phillip and J.J deserved it. They'd beat him down, and if he had to end them again he would in a heartbeat and fucking enjoy it. But Ray wasn't friend or foe, he was just some unlucky fuck who'd been stranded along with him. He'd die in time, he'd have to die for Jimmy to go home. But that wasn't his call to make. Bastards like J.J and Phillip, Maxwell and bitch Reiko. They were the ones who mattered. They were his duty.
It explained everything- why he'd failed, why Rosa had ran away. If he could get to her, he'd be able to explain everything. They'd be back together, making their way through the Island, a force of nature. He needed his pack. He needed his things.
He needed her.
Jimmy had been skirting around the edges of the town. He couldn't quite remember where they'd run off to, and he was kicking himself for that now. But he was certain he was close. In a shop perhaps, or another home. Not far. Then he could rest. His body was close to breaking, but he wouldn't quit until he found her.
It was the only thing he needed in the world.
Jimmy crawled through the forest like a wounded animal, practically frothing at the mouth. To say his wounds hurt would be an understatement- the pain was unbearable. But he had to persevere. Somewhere out there in the forest was Rosa Fiametta. More then anything else he needed to talk to her, medical attention be damned. His head was spinning, he spat blood.
It made him laugh.
He was in the shit now. On his hands and knees, a force of nature, crawling through the underbrush like a deadly animal, just waiting to be discovered. A human punji stick. The kids back home were probably eating him up.
He was a hero disgraced, who'd been beaten down for it. It was fair,- he could understand it to a degree. He didn't like it, and if he had any say in the matter Ray would pay for his actions. Somewhere in his foggy mind the beating had knocked something into place.
It makes sense. It makes perfect sense, I- I just didn't fuckin' see it is all. But now. Fuckin' now, fuckin' NOW..."
Jimmy realized now who he was-, Danya, God, whoever the fuck it was, they'd put him here for a purpose. Not a hero, an anti-hero. It was all clear now. Dirty Harry, he'd seen that movie once. That was who he was, dispensing justice with lead. Phillip and J.J deserved it. They'd beat him down, and if he had to end them again he would in a heartbeat and fucking enjoy it. But Ray wasn't friend or foe, he was just some unlucky fuck who'd been stranded along with him. He'd die in time, he'd have to die for Jimmy to go home. But that wasn't his call to make. Bastards like J.J and Phillip, Maxwell and bitch Reiko. They were the ones who mattered. They were his duty.
It explained everything- why he'd failed, why Rosa had ran away. If he could get to her, he'd be able to explain everything. They'd be back together, making their way through the Island, a force of nature. He needed his pack. He needed his things.
He needed her.
Jimmy had been skirting around the edges of the town. He couldn't quite remember where they'd run off to, and he was kicking himself for that now. But he was certain he was close. In a shop perhaps, or another home. Not far. Then he could rest. His body was close to breaking, but he wouldn't quit until he found her.
It was the only thing he needed in the world.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.
((With Rickyassistance
For listening))
Rosa lay face down on the ground, hands balled into tight fists each breath was shallow, the exhalation more sob than anything else. Every time she forced air into her lungs, every last cut yawned open, spilling blood across her flesh like water, the broken off piece of glass burning with white-hot fire. She'd scrabbled at the wound, attempted to do something, but it had been no use. Probing at the edges of the ragged cut had been more pain than she could handle, and she'd been forced to leave it be, tears flowing freely.
She was already dead, she realised, it was too late. These injuries needed a doctor, a surgeon, a hospital. On this island, there wasn't a hope in hell. Briefly, Rosa burned with anger; rage at Danya, rage at Alex fucking White, rage at everything and anything she cared to think of. This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to- she didn't deserve... but... no. There was no sense in that. Hate wouldn't solve anything. There were too many regrets to waste time railing at things she couldn't change.
Frankie... had she felt this way before she died? Had she panicked? Had she cried? Had she ran desperately as the beeping in her ears grew louder and louder by the second? What had she said, the second before that collar detonated?
Ilario... he would be all alone now. That was wrong, horribly wrong. There were three. One of three. He cleaned up the mess, but they looked out for him too. An uneven partnership, but a partnership, nonetheless. Ily was out there... what would he do when he heard the announcement?
Rosa shuddered a little. Her name was going to be read out by that sick bastard. The pain of the myriad of cuts, the crimson beginning to drip to the street she lay on, they both told her that she didn't have a chance.
"Rosa... R-Rosa... Where... did you get..."
Felicia's voice drifted to her ears as she lay there. Rosa tried to speak, her breath catching as it caused searing pain to shoot through her back. She wet her lips, tried again. "F-Felicia..." it was the faintest of whispers, forced through the agony of her shredded skin. "Here..."
"Rosa... oh, oh god..." The other girl appeared in her vision, crawling along the ground. She hardly seemed to have enough balance to make the trip after what happened, but she made it all the same. "I'm here... I'm h-here, Rosa... why? Why did this happen?"
As best she could, Rosa looked up, barely having the energy to raise her head. She could feel the blood oozing from the cuts on her back, sapping her strength. Her searching eyes found Felicia, and Rosa managed a wan smile. "Because... somebody has a hard-on ...for violence," a glimmer of mischief, only a glimmer, entered her eyes. "Bet... bet it's not... feeling too good for him... right now, though."
Felicia crouched down over her, close enough so Rosa's weak eyes wouldn't have to strain. It seemed Rosa's own joke hadn't been taken in too well by the girl, though, the pain showing through and practically pouring out of her. In spite of this, Felicia cracked a bare smile and shook her head. "That's not funny..." she whispered. Concerned fingers ran over Rosa's body, avoiding any wounds themselves. "What did you... is he hurting? Where is he?"
Rosa made a motion that might have been a shrug, if she hadn't been bleeding so heavily. "Didn't... catch him. I kicked him in the balls..." Rosa's hand edged up Felicia's leg, gripping at her clothes to pull herself up, if only a little. "Now... listen. ...Listen. D-don't cry."
"A Fiametta doesn't cry. A Fiametta lets nobody see weakness!"
Junior... emotions aren't weakness. Being human isn't a weakness.
"It's... that's really hard," the dark skinned girl said through quivering and misbehaving lips, evincing a slight scowl. It looked as though Felicia were ready to disobey that order at any moment, and she brought her sleeve across her eyes to try and keep them dry. Once she steadied herself above Rosa with both her arms on the ground again, Felicia leaned in close to her. "You're going to get up from this, anyway... w-we just found each other, didn't we?"
The Fiametta gave her girlfriend a fierce look, one that brooked no argument even though she could barely move, every word a jolt of agony to the shard buried within her. "Stop... kidding yourself. Look at me... Look at me, okay?" Rosa glared as Felicia's eyes reluctantly settled on her gory wounds. "I'm... I'm done... I'm sorry, but... there's no fairy tale here," her expression softened. "...There's no knights ... in shining armour. I learned that... young, high time... you did too."
"True love... there ain't such a fucking thing as true love!"
Shut up, JJ.
You crushed my belief in stories.
"...No... no way. I came this far, not for you to... t-to fucking die in my arms!" Felicia said, leaning back onto her knees and wrapping her arms around Rosa to pull her up. The wounded girl letting out a cry of pain as Felicia took hold of her, even the slightest of touches sending burns through every last one of her injuries. "It's just a few... flesh wounds, right? We've all bled a little... damn you, Rosa, if you die, I'll... I'll fucking kill you!"
"And - listen, Rosa, I'd kind of...I'd really appreciate it if you could call next time."
I'm sorry, Ilario...
Through gritted teeth, blood spilling across Felicia's arms, Rosa spoke again. "It's not... fair, but it's fucking... true, alright? You... have to be... strong. F-for me," Rosa started to tremble a little, the pain beginning to get to her. "It's... your job... to keep going... You're... you're special, Feli... you can't let this place beat you."
Special... you mean... everything to me.
More than... everything.
"Stop.... just stop, at least TRY and say you're gonna..." Felicia's teeth clenched in her following words, trying to stop her tears. "At least... t-try to lie or something, okay? Lie to me, Rosa! I'm not s-sure I can make it if you're not here next to me..." wetness began to patter onto Rosa's cheeks, Felicia's tears coming in spite of all her efforts.
That's... how I felt all those times... all those times somebody broke up with me...
How can I go on?
Until my heart... scarred over...
How'd it go wrong... so often?
Where did it... go wrong?
A hand snapped up, its grip surprisingly strong, grasping Felicia's chin. "I've got... little enough time... without you going into... denial. I've fucking... had enough of lies. I spent... half my fucking life... lying. You're the... one person I could... be honest with. B-because I love you... you're the one. You have to face ...up to this."
J-just... you and me.
You never lied, never did me any wrong...
Went beyond lust... went back into...
What I never had since... since JJ...
I fell for you...
From the grasp, and the words that followed, whatever bolt that restrained Felicia's expressions of grief and fear broke. She simply couldn't 'not cry' as told, but everything else Rosa said, these things that she had to accept as what just might be Rosa's last words, entered her heart and stayed. "I love you too..." Felicia choked out, nodding even against the vice-like hand. "But what am I going to do!?"
That night... your lips were so soft. You were so shy...
I took you away from him, but I didn't care...
Because... you were worth it, worth upsetting him...
From that day in the canteen... wasn't even hitting on... you, really...
But... I stumbled upon... the best thing that ever... happened to me...
"I.... I can't, I can't help with you that," Rosa closed her eyes, tried to take a breath, cried out again as the glass embedded in her ground against her flesh. "You... have to decide that yourself," she opened her eyes, looked away to the side, into space. "J-Junior... if you're watching... Go fuck yourself," Rosa let out something that might have been a laugh. "You... were the only one that... made me happy, Felicia..." her eyes flickered, breathing laboured. "...Sorry I ... couldn't... be ... better."
I... found someone...
after...
all...
G026 - ROSA FIAMETTA: DECEASED
For listening))
Rosa lay face down on the ground, hands balled into tight fists each breath was shallow, the exhalation more sob than anything else. Every time she forced air into her lungs, every last cut yawned open, spilling blood across her flesh like water, the broken off piece of glass burning with white-hot fire. She'd scrabbled at the wound, attempted to do something, but it had been no use. Probing at the edges of the ragged cut had been more pain than she could handle, and she'd been forced to leave it be, tears flowing freely.
She was already dead, she realised, it was too late. These injuries needed a doctor, a surgeon, a hospital. On this island, there wasn't a hope in hell. Briefly, Rosa burned with anger; rage at Danya, rage at Alex fucking White, rage at everything and anything she cared to think of. This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to- she didn't deserve... but... no. There was no sense in that. Hate wouldn't solve anything. There were too many regrets to waste time railing at things she couldn't change.
Frankie... had she felt this way before she died? Had she panicked? Had she cried? Had she ran desperately as the beeping in her ears grew louder and louder by the second? What had she said, the second before that collar detonated?
Ilario... he would be all alone now. That was wrong, horribly wrong. There were three. One of three. He cleaned up the mess, but they looked out for him too. An uneven partnership, but a partnership, nonetheless. Ily was out there... what would he do when he heard the announcement?
Rosa shuddered a little. Her name was going to be read out by that sick bastard. The pain of the myriad of cuts, the crimson beginning to drip to the street she lay on, they both told her that she didn't have a chance.
"Rosa... R-Rosa... Where... did you get..."
Felicia's voice drifted to her ears as she lay there. Rosa tried to speak, her breath catching as it caused searing pain to shoot through her back. She wet her lips, tried again. "F-Felicia..." it was the faintest of whispers, forced through the agony of her shredded skin. "Here..."
"Rosa... oh, oh god..." The other girl appeared in her vision, crawling along the ground. She hardly seemed to have enough balance to make the trip after what happened, but she made it all the same. "I'm here... I'm h-here, Rosa... why? Why did this happen?"
As best she could, Rosa looked up, barely having the energy to raise her head. She could feel the blood oozing from the cuts on her back, sapping her strength. Her searching eyes found Felicia, and Rosa managed a wan smile. "Because... somebody has a hard-on ...for violence," a glimmer of mischief, only a glimmer, entered her eyes. "Bet... bet it's not... feeling too good for him... right now, though."
Felicia crouched down over her, close enough so Rosa's weak eyes wouldn't have to strain. It seemed Rosa's own joke hadn't been taken in too well by the girl, though, the pain showing through and practically pouring out of her. In spite of this, Felicia cracked a bare smile and shook her head. "That's not funny..." she whispered. Concerned fingers ran over Rosa's body, avoiding any wounds themselves. "What did you... is he hurting? Where is he?"
Rosa made a motion that might have been a shrug, if she hadn't been bleeding so heavily. "Didn't... catch him. I kicked him in the balls..." Rosa's hand edged up Felicia's leg, gripping at her clothes to pull herself up, if only a little. "Now... listen. ...Listen. D-don't cry."
"A Fiametta doesn't cry. A Fiametta lets nobody see weakness!"
Junior... emotions aren't weakness. Being human isn't a weakness.
"It's... that's really hard," the dark skinned girl said through quivering and misbehaving lips, evincing a slight scowl. It looked as though Felicia were ready to disobey that order at any moment, and she brought her sleeve across her eyes to try and keep them dry. Once she steadied herself above Rosa with both her arms on the ground again, Felicia leaned in close to her. "You're going to get up from this, anyway... w-we just found each other, didn't we?"
The Fiametta gave her girlfriend a fierce look, one that brooked no argument even though she could barely move, every word a jolt of agony to the shard buried within her. "Stop... kidding yourself. Look at me... Look at me, okay?" Rosa glared as Felicia's eyes reluctantly settled on her gory wounds. "I'm... I'm done... I'm sorry, but... there's no fairy tale here," her expression softened. "...There's no knights ... in shining armour. I learned that... young, high time... you did too."
"True love... there ain't such a fucking thing as true love!"
Shut up, JJ.
You crushed my belief in stories.
"...No... no way. I came this far, not for you to... t-to fucking die in my arms!" Felicia said, leaning back onto her knees and wrapping her arms around Rosa to pull her up. The wounded girl letting out a cry of pain as Felicia took hold of her, even the slightest of touches sending burns through every last one of her injuries. "It's just a few... flesh wounds, right? We've all bled a little... damn you, Rosa, if you die, I'll... I'll fucking kill you!"
"And - listen, Rosa, I'd kind of...I'd really appreciate it if you could call next time."
I'm sorry, Ilario...
Through gritted teeth, blood spilling across Felicia's arms, Rosa spoke again. "It's not... fair, but it's fucking... true, alright? You... have to be... strong. F-for me," Rosa started to tremble a little, the pain beginning to get to her. "It's... your job... to keep going... You're... you're special, Feli... you can't let this place beat you."
Special... you mean... everything to me.
More than... everything.
"Stop.... just stop, at least TRY and say you're gonna..." Felicia's teeth clenched in her following words, trying to stop her tears. "At least... t-try to lie or something, okay? Lie to me, Rosa! I'm not s-sure I can make it if you're not here next to me..." wetness began to patter onto Rosa's cheeks, Felicia's tears coming in spite of all her efforts.
That's... how I felt all those times... all those times somebody broke up with me...
How can I go on?
Until my heart... scarred over...
How'd it go wrong... so often?
Where did it... go wrong?
A hand snapped up, its grip surprisingly strong, grasping Felicia's chin. "I've got... little enough time... without you going into... denial. I've fucking... had enough of lies. I spent... half my fucking life... lying. You're the... one person I could... be honest with. B-because I love you... you're the one. You have to face ...up to this."
J-just... you and me.
You never lied, never did me any wrong...
Went beyond lust... went back into...
What I never had since... since JJ...
I fell for you...
From the grasp, and the words that followed, whatever bolt that restrained Felicia's expressions of grief and fear broke. She simply couldn't 'not cry' as told, but everything else Rosa said, these things that she had to accept as what just might be Rosa's last words, entered her heart and stayed. "I love you too..." Felicia choked out, nodding even against the vice-like hand. "But what am I going to do!?"
That night... your lips were so soft. You were so shy...
I took you away from him, but I didn't care...
Because... you were worth it, worth upsetting him...
From that day in the canteen... wasn't even hitting on... you, really...
But... I stumbled upon... the best thing that ever... happened to me...
"I.... I can't, I can't help with you that," Rosa closed her eyes, tried to take a breath, cried out again as the glass embedded in her ground against her flesh. "You... have to decide that yourself," she opened her eyes, looked away to the side, into space. "J-Junior... if you're watching... Go fuck yourself," Rosa let out something that might have been a laugh. "You... were the only one that... made me happy, Felicia..." her eyes flickered, breathing laboured. "...Sorry I ... couldn't... be ... better."
I... found someone...
after...
all...
G026 - ROSA FIAMETTA: DECEASED
(Andrea Raymer continued from Can Fall Down)
[note - this post encompasses times and situations that have not yet occurred. Specifically it takes place mostly during an upcoming timeskip. I apologize in advance for that, but we're on a tight schedule with these characters and can't really afford to wait. Should anything in future posts invalidate what occurs here I will edit in response]
Andrea awoke. Again. Seemed she'd been doing that a lot lately, lying down and passing out and waking up. At least there were no accompanying song lyrics this time.
As she'd also been doing a lot lately, she brought a hand up to feel her face. It had been disinfected, bandaged. By Allen, of course. It stung like a bitch and she was still sure something was broken, but it was better than the half-assed job she'd done. She'd look pretty silly once she put her glasses back on, though.
It had been a couple hours since she'd stumbled into the makeshift campsite by the grocery store, which itself had been a couple hours after Alex White crashed the party. And since his encounter with Andrea had been such a rousing success, he'd apparently decided to turn it up a notch for his next audience. Allen had seen her and practically had a stroke, and everyone else was busy dealing with injuries, grief, exhaustion, or grave-digging. The whole area felt creepy, like she'd stumbled into something post-apocalyptic, and Andrea herself felt small and out of place. These were the kids she was supposed to find and fuck over the game with? Isabel Guerra? Felicia Carmichael? Her ingenious new plan already seemed a million miles away.
Never mind that. It'd all be fine. What was important was that she had that plan. She had a plan; she had a plan; she had a--
"Hey Andrea."
GAH.
"Hey Allen." Well of course it was Allen.
She answered his question before he could ask it.
"I'm doing just peachy, thanks."
Allen had, in his trademark half-terrified manner, filled her in on all the details while fixing her face. Quite the uplifting tale, it had been. All the fucking work she'd put in to find Allen before Alex did, to warn him in advance and get her drugs back, to tell him all her great new ideas, and well, things weren't exactly working out that way. After Allen finished telling her how Alex had killed the two girls and then started on himself and Isabel, she'd had enough and politely told him to shut up and let her rest for a while.
"Andrea." Allen was talking again, ducking his head. "I mean, I'm sorry but he had Isabel and he... he just stabbed her. He drove that spear into her and... I just had to stop him. I didn't want to, but..."
"Wasn't your fault, Allen." Andrea said.
God, she was tired.
"Fuck, if anything it was mine."
"How was it your-" Allen started.
"I dunno, OK? Just... I mean, I'm a fuckin' drug dealer and I never even told you that, I shoulda.. I dunno warned you earlier or something." Arrgh, this wasn't even making sense to her. She just felt like shit, no shocking revelation there.
"I'm just glad that you're OK." Allen said. He looked tentative, then rested a hand on her shoulder. "I thought he'd... well really hurt you worse than he did."
Andrea couldn't help but smile at that. "You're sweet, Allen. Seriously, not trying to be sarcastic there. And you're uh, I dunno, genuine."
More than she was.
"I'm good at taking advantage of guys like that, so I'm uh, sorry if I ever did that with you. I dunno, I'm talking kinda nonsense here, I mean I'm practically going withdrawal I think."
Oh, there was no 'practically' about it.
"Alex take everything?"
She caught Allen ducking his head again. "Yeah. I think there's a bottle of Aspirin left in there, but that's it."
"Well, whatever," Summed up the situation eloquently, didn't it? There was sweet fuck-all could be done about it now.
Andrea shooed away any remaining sleepiness and got to her knees, Ugh, she needed something to occupy her mind for a bit. Checking her bag might accomplish that.
"He grabbed a couple of your grenades off me," she said, pulling the zipper. "Guess that makes us even?"
Andrea rummaged through the lonely remnants of her supplies. Thank god her other shoes were still there, at least. One in the plus column. She pulled them out, then returned to her search.
"Lemme find that Aspirin, I have a massive headache and these might be the fast-acting ones that have caffeine in them; it's better than nothing I guess."
There it was. She plucked the bottle from a corner of and held it up, squinting with one eye. No caffeine. Yeah, she'd expected that. In fact what the hell brand was this and why did she have....
One. Second. There.
She recognized that bottle.
You have got to be fucking kidding me...
Andrea poured a series of white tablets onto her palm. A tiny smile smarted to bloom. She brushed the pills carefully, sifted them, panned them for gold.
She recognized these, all right. Most of the pills were regular aspirin. Some were not.
Some of them were Ritalin.
Alex.
She couldn't help it. She laughed, and it felt good.
Alex. Younger brother Alex, not Alex fucking White. She had totally, 100% forgotten about that whole scenario well more like she'd pushed it out of her mind but what was this irony or karma or oh fuck, now Allen was staring at her, and what the hell was she going to say, she didn't want to get into the whole ridiculous story that had led to her having a secret stash of drugs that even she didn't know about.
"Sorry!" she said, managing to choke down the laughter a few seconds. "It's just that.. oh Christ I had totally forgotten that I had these and I guess Danya's fucking goons never checked it and..."
Great. Now she was laughing even harder. She needed to stop this before she went into total lunatic mode. She popped two of the Ritalin, dry-swallowing them. Oh yes.
Andrea closed her eyes She breathed in, trying to fill her lungs.
"It's uh, it's a long story. I'll tell it to you in a bit, OK?"
Yeah.
---------------------
After Allen had gone off for a while, Andrea returned to her belongings. Her journal was still there. She pulled it out, grabbed a pen.
OK. Focus. She could do that now. No excuses. Figure it fucking out. It was a simple plan, wasn't it? A simple genius plan.
The life raft. Fix it; inflate it at the Fun Fair.
The generator. Either at the fair or the mine. Had to be one of them. Had to be.
She just needed to put everything together, and then she'd be golden.
The game would be hers again.
Andrea looked down at the journal. She tapped pen against paper. She doodled for a while.
It was a long time before any words came.
---------------------
Some time later, she walked up to Ray Dawson. Ray-J Dawson himself, who a fucking lifetime ago had teased her in the mall parking lot after she'd made a deal. She'd bought some Vicodins off him. Sure would be nice to have those now.
She looked down at the papers she carried. Yeah, like Ray gave a shit. He'd spent most of the last few hours off by himself. Andrea didn't know if Ray had any desire to leave this place at all, let alone tromp around the whole island with her on a scavenger hunt. There wasn't exactly a deep streak of optimism running through this area. Andrea had tried to outline her genius plan; she'd tried to at least sell them on the possibility of it. because if nothing else there was still a chance (there had to be a chance, had to be, had to be--) of it working out. They had to go somewhere, so why not the Fun Fair. Ride the Ferris Wheel. Get some cotton candy. Look around for escape tools without alerting the Mod Squad somehow.
And then of course the announcement had blared over the speakers and declared the Southeast Woods a dangerzone. Which meant that any sojourn to the fair would involve going all the way around the mountain. Real fucking cute, Danya.
"Hey Ray."
Ray was standing above where he'd buried Annaliese Hansen. He'd loved her or something. Rosa Fiametta was also somewhere nearby, under the ground. Felicia had been her paramour. Andrea had come across a few other spots that looked like hastily-dug graves during over the last week or so. Maybe she should have been the island's resident mortician instead of the resident Liz Polanski wannabe.
Ray was still looking down at the grave, and she tried again.
"I, my dad was a funeral director. Don't know if you knew that or not. Raymer & Schenn. He'd uh... I have no idea what he'd actually say."
Well, so much for that dream. She'd never wanted it anyway. If her time on this island had convinced her of anything, it was that the whole fucking business of funerals and burials was pretty pointless on the whole, wasn't it?
No offense, dad. She actually thought her father had felt much the same at times. But of course, he wouldn't tell his customers that.
"But uh, I know that doing this shows that you really, well, cared about her. So.. now everyone'll know, no matter what happens, they'll know that. I think my dad would say that it'll always be a symbol of that. Hell of a lot better than I'll get or, well, most of us will."
Damn SOTF. Making her talk like this.
[note - this post encompasses times and situations that have not yet occurred. Specifically it takes place mostly during an upcoming timeskip. I apologize in advance for that, but we're on a tight schedule with these characters and can't really afford to wait. Should anything in future posts invalidate what occurs here I will edit in response]
Andrea awoke. Again. Seemed she'd been doing that a lot lately, lying down and passing out and waking up. At least there were no accompanying song lyrics this time.
As she'd also been doing a lot lately, she brought a hand up to feel her face. It had been disinfected, bandaged. By Allen, of course. It stung like a bitch and she was still sure something was broken, but it was better than the half-assed job she'd done. She'd look pretty silly once she put her glasses back on, though.
It had been a couple hours since she'd stumbled into the makeshift campsite by the grocery store, which itself had been a couple hours after Alex White crashed the party. And since his encounter with Andrea had been such a rousing success, he'd apparently decided to turn it up a notch for his next audience. Allen had seen her and practically had a stroke, and everyone else was busy dealing with injuries, grief, exhaustion, or grave-digging. The whole area felt creepy, like she'd stumbled into something post-apocalyptic, and Andrea herself felt small and out of place. These were the kids she was supposed to find and fuck over the game with? Isabel Guerra? Felicia Carmichael? Her ingenious new plan already seemed a million miles away.
Never mind that. It'd all be fine. What was important was that she had that plan. She had a plan; she had a plan; she had a--
"Hey Andrea."
GAH.
"Hey Allen." Well of course it was Allen.
She answered his question before he could ask it.
"I'm doing just peachy, thanks."
Allen had, in his trademark half-terrified manner, filled her in on all the details while fixing her face. Quite the uplifting tale, it had been. All the fucking work she'd put in to find Allen before Alex did, to warn him in advance and get her drugs back, to tell him all her great new ideas, and well, things weren't exactly working out that way. After Allen finished telling her how Alex had killed the two girls and then started on himself and Isabel, she'd had enough and politely told him to shut up and let her rest for a while.
"Andrea." Allen was talking again, ducking his head. "I mean, I'm sorry but he had Isabel and he... he just stabbed her. He drove that spear into her and... I just had to stop him. I didn't want to, but..."
"Wasn't your fault, Allen." Andrea said.
God, she was tired.
"Fuck, if anything it was mine."
"How was it your-" Allen started.
"I dunno, OK? Just... I mean, I'm a fuckin' drug dealer and I never even told you that, I shoulda.. I dunno warned you earlier or something." Arrgh, this wasn't even making sense to her. She just felt like shit, no shocking revelation there.
"I'm just glad that you're OK." Allen said. He looked tentative, then rested a hand on her shoulder. "I thought he'd... well really hurt you worse than he did."
Andrea couldn't help but smile at that. "You're sweet, Allen. Seriously, not trying to be sarcastic there. And you're uh, I dunno, genuine."
More than she was.
"I'm good at taking advantage of guys like that, so I'm uh, sorry if I ever did that with you. I dunno, I'm talking kinda nonsense here, I mean I'm practically going withdrawal I think."
Oh, there was no 'practically' about it.
"Alex take everything?"
She caught Allen ducking his head again. "Yeah. I think there's a bottle of Aspirin left in there, but that's it."
"Well, whatever," Summed up the situation eloquently, didn't it? There was sweet fuck-all could be done about it now.
Andrea shooed away any remaining sleepiness and got to her knees, Ugh, she needed something to occupy her mind for a bit. Checking her bag might accomplish that.
"He grabbed a couple of your grenades off me," she said, pulling the zipper. "Guess that makes us even?"
Andrea rummaged through the lonely remnants of her supplies. Thank god her other shoes were still there, at least. One in the plus column. She pulled them out, then returned to her search.
"Lemme find that Aspirin, I have a massive headache and these might be the fast-acting ones that have caffeine in them; it's better than nothing I guess."
There it was. She plucked the bottle from a corner of and held it up, squinting with one eye. No caffeine. Yeah, she'd expected that. In fact what the hell brand was this and why did she have....
One. Second. There.
She recognized that bottle.
You have got to be fucking kidding me...
Andrea poured a series of white tablets onto her palm. A tiny smile smarted to bloom. She brushed the pills carefully, sifted them, panned them for gold.
She recognized these, all right. Most of the pills were regular aspirin. Some were not.
Some of them were Ritalin.
Alex.
She couldn't help it. She laughed, and it felt good.
Alex. Younger brother Alex, not Alex fucking White. She had totally, 100% forgotten about that whole scenario well more like she'd pushed it out of her mind but what was this irony or karma or oh fuck, now Allen was staring at her, and what the hell was she going to say, she didn't want to get into the whole ridiculous story that had led to her having a secret stash of drugs that even she didn't know about.
"Sorry!" she said, managing to choke down the laughter a few seconds. "It's just that.. oh Christ I had totally forgotten that I had these and I guess Danya's fucking goons never checked it and..."
Great. Now she was laughing even harder. She needed to stop this before she went into total lunatic mode. She popped two of the Ritalin, dry-swallowing them. Oh yes.
Andrea closed her eyes She breathed in, trying to fill her lungs.
"It's uh, it's a long story. I'll tell it to you in a bit, OK?"
Yeah.
---------------------
After Allen had gone off for a while, Andrea returned to her belongings. Her journal was still there. She pulled it out, grabbed a pen.
OK. Focus. She could do that now. No excuses. Figure it fucking out. It was a simple plan, wasn't it? A simple genius plan.
The life raft. Fix it; inflate it at the Fun Fair.
The generator. Either at the fair or the mine. Had to be one of them. Had to be.
She just needed to put everything together, and then she'd be golden.
The game would be hers again.
Andrea looked down at the journal. She tapped pen against paper. She doodled for a while.
It was a long time before any words came.
---------------------
Some time later, she walked up to Ray Dawson. Ray-J Dawson himself, who a fucking lifetime ago had teased her in the mall parking lot after she'd made a deal. She'd bought some Vicodins off him. Sure would be nice to have those now.
She looked down at the papers she carried. Yeah, like Ray gave a shit. He'd spent most of the last few hours off by himself. Andrea didn't know if Ray had any desire to leave this place at all, let alone tromp around the whole island with her on a scavenger hunt. There wasn't exactly a deep streak of optimism running through this area. Andrea had tried to outline her genius plan; she'd tried to at least sell them on the possibility of it. because if nothing else there was still a chance (there had to be a chance, had to be, had to be--) of it working out. They had to go somewhere, so why not the Fun Fair. Ride the Ferris Wheel. Get some cotton candy. Look around for escape tools without alerting the Mod Squad somehow.
And then of course the announcement had blared over the speakers and declared the Southeast Woods a dangerzone. Which meant that any sojourn to the fair would involve going all the way around the mountain. Real fucking cute, Danya.
"Hey Ray."
Ray was standing above where he'd buried Annaliese Hansen. He'd loved her or something. Rosa Fiametta was also somewhere nearby, under the ground. Felicia had been her paramour. Andrea had come across a few other spots that looked like hastily-dug graves during over the last week or so. Maybe she should have been the island's resident mortician instead of the resident Liz Polanski wannabe.
Ray was still looking down at the grave, and she tried again.
"I, my dad was a funeral director. Don't know if you knew that or not. Raymer & Schenn. He'd uh... I have no idea what he'd actually say."
Well, so much for that dream. She'd never wanted it anyway. If her time on this island had convinced her of anything, it was that the whole fucking business of funerals and burials was pretty pointless on the whole, wasn't it?
No offense, dad. She actually thought her father had felt much the same at times. But of course, he wouldn't tell his customers that.
"But uh, I know that doing this shows that you really, well, cared about her. So.. now everyone'll know, no matter what happens, they'll know that. I think my dad would say that it'll always be a symbol of that. Hell of a lot better than I'll get or, well, most of us will."
Damn SOTF. Making her talk like this.
Ugh never say never
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Try as she might to coax further responses from the girl, Rosa remained silent. Though she held her nice and close, Felicia was now more alone than she had been before; more alone now than when Tiffany died, more alone now than when she was forced to kill Sebastian, more alone than when she woke up next to Samaya's cold body. Her heart found itself more isolated with its warm but no longer beating mate just feet from it than when she woke up by herself in the swamp, when nobody truly was around.
Felicia called to Rosa, though her own ears were deaf to it just as much as Rosa's were. She felt both it and the following scream of Rosa's name, but the world no longer carried such comforts such as sound. Rosa still never replied, nor would she ever again.
Felicia screamed, still, hoping to kill the silence that now threatened to deafen her.
Screams gave way to sobbing, even while the message remained unchanged.
Rosa.
Rosa.
Rosa.
Rosa was no longer with her.
[[Scene 2 finite]]
Felicia called to Rosa, though her own ears were deaf to it just as much as Rosa's were. She felt both it and the following scream of Rosa's name, but the world no longer carried such comforts such as sound. Rosa still never replied, nor would she ever again.
Felicia screamed, still, hoping to kill the silence that now threatened to deafen her.
Screams gave way to sobbing, even while the message remained unchanged.
Rosa.
Rosa.
Rosa.
Rosa was no longer with her.
[[Scene 2 finite]]
((Beginning final scene, this will be before the timeskip. Last cycle, everyone's got their order in the pms, then I'm finishing 'er off with my final post.))
A short while after Alex White had shattered several lives and skipped away from the grocery store, the real grieving had begun.
Ray stepped out of the store, the grim mask of his features something altogether new to his face, which was still puffy from crying. There was much reason to have the expression. Annaliese was slung across one shoulder, much like she had been back on the mountain when they had run from Kris Hartmann.
Except now she was dead, no off-kilter comments about popular culture being issued forth from her lips.
Ray carried a shovel procured from the market in his free hand, and it wasn't hard to figure out what he intended to do.
Behind him were Alex and Felicia, carrying Rosa Fiametta, freshly dead herself. She had looked like she'd been butchered, to be sold by the pound for a holiday dinner. Felicia had been sobbing over the corpse. That was how Ray and Alex (female Alex, the Alex who wasn't a sick, murdering fuck) had found her. Ray didn't know the girl, but goddammit, she was to be respected.
There was some semblance of a yard in front of the grocery store, choked as it was by weeds and unmowed grass. It looked as good a spot as any to break ground. He set Annaliese down, face-up, next on the spot of pavement next to the yard.
He looked at her face. It was still the face that told him that it was all ok, even as she died. Ray's eye twitched, and he swallowed, hard. He started to stand up, but fell back down and his haunches, nearly choked on the lump in his throat.
"We...We'll put them here." He said to his companions. He pushed himself to his feet with the shovel.
He took the shovel in both hands, and soon the blade was biting into the dirt.
A short while after Alex White had shattered several lives and skipped away from the grocery store, the real grieving had begun.
Ray stepped out of the store, the grim mask of his features something altogether new to his face, which was still puffy from crying. There was much reason to have the expression. Annaliese was slung across one shoulder, much like she had been back on the mountain when they had run from Kris Hartmann.
Except now she was dead, no off-kilter comments about popular culture being issued forth from her lips.
Ray carried a shovel procured from the market in his free hand, and it wasn't hard to figure out what he intended to do.
Behind him were Alex and Felicia, carrying Rosa Fiametta, freshly dead herself. She had looked like she'd been butchered, to be sold by the pound for a holiday dinner. Felicia had been sobbing over the corpse. That was how Ray and Alex (female Alex, the Alex who wasn't a sick, murdering fuck) had found her. Ray didn't know the girl, but goddammit, she was to be respected.
There was some semblance of a yard in front of the grocery store, choked as it was by weeds and unmowed grass. It looked as good a spot as any to break ground. He set Annaliese down, face-up, next on the spot of pavement next to the yard.
He looked at her face. It was still the face that told him that it was all ok, even as she died. Ray's eye twitched, and he swallowed, hard. He started to stand up, but fell back down and his haunches, nearly choked on the lump in his throat.
"We...We'll put them here." He said to his companions. He pushed himself to his feet with the shovel.
He took the shovel in both hands, and soon the blade was biting into the dirt.
Alex set Rosa down gently, as Ray decided on the spot where they were going to bury the girls. She stepped back a minute, her eyes filling with tears. She wiped them away angrily, there were things to do. Things to do, that's what she was going to focus on. Alex watched Ray start the grave and wondered at the...she didn't know what to call it...irony, perhaps. This was the second burial she'd attended on the island. Yet, the one that mattered most to her didn't happen.
Tears streamed down her face as the image of Roman's lifeless body appeared before her. All because Hayley had gone off the deep end, she'd showed up waving a gun firing at her while she was mourning her brother. What the hell was wrong with Hayley? Not that there had ever been anything particularly right with Hayley to begin with, Alex mused.
She pulled herself together, wiping the tears from her eyes again, this time with her the hem of her shirt. Alex made a face as she realized that she'd probably just done more harm than good, she didn't remember the last time she'd changed her shirt. Probably back when she was with Jessica.
"Let me know when you want me to take a turn," she told Ray softly, her mind on what was happening with Jessica at the moment.
Tears streamed down her face as the image of Roman's lifeless body appeared before her. All because Hayley had gone off the deep end, she'd showed up waving a gun firing at her while she was mourning her brother. What the hell was wrong with Hayley? Not that there had ever been anything particularly right with Hayley to begin with, Alex mused.
She pulled herself together, wiping the tears from her eyes again, this time with her the hem of her shirt. Alex made a face as she realized that she'd probably just done more harm than good, she didn't remember the last time she'd changed her shirt. Probably back when she was with Jessica.
"Let me know when you want me to take a turn," she told Ray softly, her mind on what was happening with Jessica at the moment.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Arscapi. 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.
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
It was of little solace that such a hallowed ceremony could take place on this island to Felicia. It was as if, with Rosa's burial, a piece of her heart had been cut out and was going to be put into the ground as well. Then there was Anna, with whom there came no happy news, no break in the sadness. Felicia couldn't bear to look at either one of them, so she tried to raise her eyes to Ray. Her eyes could not remain fixed on him for more than a few seconds before she had to look back down to her own shoes, a hand raised as a visor to cover the ever-present tears. It didn't take a sleuth to see the grief plastered all over the man's face. And even then, even burying somebody who had to mean just as much to him as Rosa did to her, he showed the strength to be the one moving the dirt. A little solace was better than none, Felicia morosely decided.
Felicia leaned a little in the direction of Alex. Ray was too busy working against his sorrow and doing something for the two girls that Felicia only wished she could provide. From where she was expected to summon the strength to help bury anybody she loved, let alone even hold the weight of the shovel right now, Felicia had no way of answering. Her strength had all been sapped from her body, replaced with conflicting and brash tongues of emotion, leaving her mind a neurotic mess. That was the worst of it, really... she had been rendered too weak and helpless to stand up, be strong and not make a fool out of herself in front of them.
Only a marginal amount of comfort rested with the knowledge that nobody here would judge her, and that marginal amount was still something. They were here not to wallow in their own suffering, but to ensure that Rosa and Anna could finally know peace, just like Samaya and Aislyn and all those names... those names numbering a hundred and nearly a hundred more that had been called out so callously by a man who knew nothing of them.
She hated that this had to happen to them, hated that Rosa died for nothing. Felicia hated that any of them had to die so young to begin with, and hated that she couldn't stop the tears even when Rosa had asked her. She hated that the bodies of those who fell here may likely never be returned home to be mourned properly by their loved ones. By that logic, these two were some of the 'lucky' ones... at least they got something, instead of rotting on the ground or wasting away in a room somewhere. It hurt to think of things happening like that, particularly in the state everybody was in right now, but as Aislyn would've stated (so harshly), it was true.
Rosa and Annaliese were two more casualties of the island, and nothing could ever change that.
Against her better judgement and reason, her arms wrapped around Ray.
Felicia leaned a little in the direction of Alex. Ray was too busy working against his sorrow and doing something for the two girls that Felicia only wished she could provide. From where she was expected to summon the strength to help bury anybody she loved, let alone even hold the weight of the shovel right now, Felicia had no way of answering. Her strength had all been sapped from her body, replaced with conflicting and brash tongues of emotion, leaving her mind a neurotic mess. That was the worst of it, really... she had been rendered too weak and helpless to stand up, be strong and not make a fool out of herself in front of them.
Only a marginal amount of comfort rested with the knowledge that nobody here would judge her, and that marginal amount was still something. They were here not to wallow in their own suffering, but to ensure that Rosa and Anna could finally know peace, just like Samaya and Aislyn and all those names... those names numbering a hundred and nearly a hundred more that had been called out so callously by a man who knew nothing of them.
She hated that this had to happen to them, hated that Rosa died for nothing. Felicia hated that any of them had to die so young to begin with, and hated that she couldn't stop the tears even when Rosa had asked her. She hated that the bodies of those who fell here may likely never be returned home to be mourned properly by their loved ones. By that logic, these two were some of the 'lucky' ones... at least they got something, instead of rotting on the ground or wasting away in a room somewhere. It hurt to think of things happening like that, particularly in the state everybody was in right now, but as Aislyn would've stated (so harshly), it was true.
Rosa and Annaliese were two more casualties of the island, and nothing could ever change that.
Against her better judgement and reason, her arms wrapped around Ray.
[NOTE: This continues the temporal displacement from Andrea's previous post, and is considered to take place shortly before everyone leaves the area.]
ANDREA RAYMER PRESENTS: EVERY LIFE HAS A SOUNDTRACK
*show intro*
HELLO to everyone out there! And you folks are in for a great show, because it's another BEE-YOO-TI-FUL DAY here on Killer Murder Carnage Island!! Can we get some applause folks?
*canned applause*
Well ALL-RIGHTY THEN! How many days have we been trapped here now, Bob the Annoying Douchebag Voice?
Well I think that this is officially Day Number NINE, Steve Sackodogshit!
Nine BEE-YOO-TI-FUL days, Bob!
You've got it Steve!
Hey, this current crop of kids ought to consider themselves lucky! You remember last year, Bob? How many days did it rain in v3?
Well I think it was about four or five days of rain, Steve!
You're always on the ball, Bob! FOUR OR FIVE STRAIGHT DAYS, people! And this wasn't any kind of piddly dinky-doodle rain, no sir-eee, this was TORRENTIAL stuff! I tell you, those kids last year were made of sterner stuff than this motley crew is! I thought folks from Minnesota were hardier than this!
Not to mention the escape attempt, Steve!
That's a heck of a point there, Bob! Of course, the Word of God says those v3 kids never actually SUCCEEDED in their escape attempt last season, but hey, they gave it the old college try, didn't they?
That's right, Steve. Heck, they even found themselves a generator!
They sure did, Bob! And between us friends, if you ask me or heck, half the fanbase out there, I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that some of those kids DID make it off! Why there was just no way that Adam Dodd or Neil Sinclair would go down without a fight, and never even have their death recorded for posterity, right?
Hold on a minute, Steve! While we're talking about Adam Dodd, it looks like we've got ourselves a caller!
Of course we've got a collar. Every student has a collar, Bob! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Oh, you kill me, Steve! Right now we've got Girl 77, the self-styled female Adam Dodd, Ms. Andrea Raymer on line one, calling into us LIVE from Killer Murder Carnage Island!
Alright, it's Andrea, folks, lets all give her a big hand!
*canned applause*
How's it going out there Andrea? Ha ha ha, don't worry about answering that. But I have to ask while I have you on the line, is there any truth to the rumor that you've failed miserably to live up to your self-proclamation as Adam Dodd, the chick version? Andrea?
Whoops, sorry Steve! Looks like Andrea's been disconnected. Turns out that we don't even exist and even if we did, we wouldn't allow LOSERS to call in!
Well Andrea, that's a shame! Well, wherever you are, just remember what your daddy said, and always look on the bright side of life! After all, it is a BEE-YOO-Ti-FUL out there, and I sure hope you can enjoy it with your ONE FRIGGIN' EYE! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA--
Ha ha ha.
Fucking hell. Forget what she'd said before. She missed the Springsteen lyrics. Bob Geldof. Hell, even MCR.
Andrea returned from her rendezvous with Ray at the gravesite, giving halfhearted hellos to Alex and Felicia and Isabel and feeling more like an outsider than ever. The group had managed to raid a few supplies from the store and surrounding areas, but they weren't exactly raring to go.
Still a chance. Still a chance.
She sat down next to Allen.
"So uh, if we're not taking off yet, got an hour or so to listen to me bitch?"
Thankfully, he did. Good for Allen.
She set her bag on her lap and pulled out the bottle of 'aspirin', idly rolling it in her hands.
"Like I said, it's a long story. "
Well, she had to tell it sometime. Or maybe she didn't.
Nah, she did.
"I told you a while back that my dad died when I was 15. He and uh, he and my mother, they divorced when I was 10 or so, just your average upper middle class white couple divorce shit. Anyway, even though me and my brother Alex lived with our mom after, I... always got along better with my dad I guess. And then he died.
"So fast-forward to present-day, and... this is degenerate of me I know but I'd started giving Alex some Ritalin on the side. Nothing serious, it was kid's stuff, you know? Prove how cool I am, corrupting my younger brother, yeah yeah. And I didn't know it at the time, but he'd been keeping his stash in an aspirin bottle."
She tossed the bottle in question over to Allen, not looking to see if he caught it or not.
"I dunno, maybe he thought he was being clever or something, the whole hiding in plain sight deal.
"OK moving on again, it's the morning after prom. I got back at who knows when, I was pretty fucked up. I hadn't even gone to prom, I'd gone out with Chad Klitou, I was out screwing Chad Klitou in my car during prom how fucked up is THAT, and then I stopped off at some party and I didn't get home until whenever and I went to bed and crashed."
Yeah. That was the background Now came the hard part.
"So I wake up next morning."
The really hard part. That part that fucking burned.
"I wake up the next morning, and it's like noon, and I'm just getting up and I'm still half asleep, and I turn around and this aspirin bottle fucking flies at me and hits me in the face. And uh, it was my mother.
"She was just sitting there on this chair she'd pulled up, I don't know how long she'd been waiting. And I don't even know what to say, I'm like in shock, so I stare at her, and she tells me that she found that in Alex's room. So she tells me to open it and I do and of course, there's the Ritalin. And then... see I'm trying to think of what I'm going to say when she... she's my fucking mother, she tells me that she doesn't give a damn about what I do to myself, that I can ruin my life if I want, but I'm not going to drag her son down with me.
"Her son. That's what she said.
"Then she gets up, and she just looks at me, and she says, just to punctuate it I guess she says... 'You're not my daughter, Andrea. You're his. Alex is my son; you're his daughter.' And then she left."
Huh, It was kind of funny. She wasn't crying. She wasn't even really raging. Still burned, though.
"She just fucking LEFT! And I thought about it, and I just realized that... that that's it, Allen, she never fucking cared, she NEVER gave a shit about me! Oh yeah, she gave me stuff, she gave me things, she told me to make my bed when I was a kid, but if I didn't? She didn't care. Alex was her son, she cared about him, and sure I was like, biologically hers too, but I was my dad's daughter, and he cared about me, and then he fucking died and is it any wonder that I ended up being kind of fucked up? Huh?"
It burned in her gut and her lungs and in her throat and she kept on.
"You want to know something, Allen? I don't think I had a single heartfelt conversation with her in my entire life. She never even taught me.... I mean thank god for the Internet and health class, or I wouldn't have even known what to do when I got my first period. Seriously, I know that's disgusting for guys to think about, but, yeah. There's one example for you.
And now I'm here, and I bet you, I bet you she is fucking loving it. There you go Andrea, that's what you get, now you're on Survival of the Fittest and you'll get exposed as what you are and your mother is free to raise her son however the hell she wants to without your nasty influence."
Andrea grabbed one of her newly-regained cigarettes from her pack and lit it, flicking the wheel of her lighter awkwardly several times before it caught flame. Yeah, why not prove her point to the world? That'll show them.
She didn't say anything for a few moments, then started again.
"Yeah, exposure. I guess that's what I always liked about watching the show. It was real, it was raw, it takes kids like you and me, and it just fucking strips us down until this is all that's left. And then what?"
Andrea breathed in the smoke and stared down at the embers dropping by her feet. She could feel the nicotine mixing with the Ritalin inside her, could sense those old familiar feelings. There were still table scraps though. That was 'then what'? Then you've got a few scraps and a partner you can't jerk around anymore.
"Look Allen... this whole escape thing I dragged you into, like I said I'm good at misleading guys like you. Nice guys and assholes both. I teamed up with you cause I knew you'd let me. It was never about you Allen, it was all about me, cause I'm hot shit. I'm smarter than Danya, smarter than Liz Polanski, whatever. This is my fucking game, that's my motto.
"And I'm going to keep that up, try to at least. I mean, what else can I do at this point? So I'm hoping that you and anyone else who wants will follow me on some new trip around the island, and I'm still writing it down instead of saying it and I keep telling myself that I can do this, but... I just had to tell you that so you can decide on your own what you'll do. I won't try to bullshit you anymore, shouldn't have done that in the first place. Sorry."
She looked back to Allen again and shrugged.
"So that's my whole story, Allen. Sorry to use you as my bitching board or whatever, just had to get that out before we all go off to our deaths. You want to tell me to fuck off, I will. Now's your chance, cause hopefully once we get away from here this Ritalin'll be kicking in more and I'll have something besides this self-pity to entertain you with."
Hopefully. She just had to keep pushing, cause her dead father told her so. Hard work, but hey, were there any other options?
Maybe lie down and let the rest of this crap play itself out. She could fall asleep and just bow out.
Not yet. Still some chance. The old stubborn Andrea.
Push a bit more.
[NOTE: Permission granted to outfoxd/Renard to GM Andrea moving out with the rest of the group to The Cavalry Arrives]
ANDREA RAYMER PRESENTS: EVERY LIFE HAS A SOUNDTRACK
*show intro*
HELLO to everyone out there! And you folks are in for a great show, because it's another BEE-YOO-TI-FUL DAY here on Killer Murder Carnage Island!! Can we get some applause folks?
*canned applause*
Well ALL-RIGHTY THEN! How many days have we been trapped here now, Bob the Annoying Douchebag Voice?
Well I think that this is officially Day Number NINE, Steve Sackodogshit!
Nine BEE-YOO-TI-FUL days, Bob!
You've got it Steve!
Hey, this current crop of kids ought to consider themselves lucky! You remember last year, Bob? How many days did it rain in v3?
Well I think it was about four or five days of rain, Steve!
You're always on the ball, Bob! FOUR OR FIVE STRAIGHT DAYS, people! And this wasn't any kind of piddly dinky-doodle rain, no sir-eee, this was TORRENTIAL stuff! I tell you, those kids last year were made of sterner stuff than this motley crew is! I thought folks from Minnesota were hardier than this!
Not to mention the escape attempt, Steve!
That's a heck of a point there, Bob! Of course, the Word of God says those v3 kids never actually SUCCEEDED in their escape attempt last season, but hey, they gave it the old college try, didn't they?
That's right, Steve. Heck, they even found themselves a generator!
They sure did, Bob! And between us friends, if you ask me or heck, half the fanbase out there, I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that some of those kids DID make it off! Why there was just no way that Adam Dodd or Neil Sinclair would go down without a fight, and never even have their death recorded for posterity, right?
Hold on a minute, Steve! While we're talking about Adam Dodd, it looks like we've got ourselves a caller!
Of course we've got a collar. Every student has a collar, Bob! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Oh, you kill me, Steve! Right now we've got Girl 77, the self-styled female Adam Dodd, Ms. Andrea Raymer on line one, calling into us LIVE from Killer Murder Carnage Island!
Alright, it's Andrea, folks, lets all give her a big hand!
*canned applause*
How's it going out there Andrea? Ha ha ha, don't worry about answering that. But I have to ask while I have you on the line, is there any truth to the rumor that you've failed miserably to live up to your self-proclamation as Adam Dodd, the chick version? Andrea?
Whoops, sorry Steve! Looks like Andrea's been disconnected. Turns out that we don't even exist and even if we did, we wouldn't allow LOSERS to call in!
Well Andrea, that's a shame! Well, wherever you are, just remember what your daddy said, and always look on the bright side of life! After all, it is a BEE-YOO-Ti-FUL out there, and I sure hope you can enjoy it with your ONE FRIGGIN' EYE! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA--
Ha ha ha.
Fucking hell. Forget what she'd said before. She missed the Springsteen lyrics. Bob Geldof. Hell, even MCR.
Andrea returned from her rendezvous with Ray at the gravesite, giving halfhearted hellos to Alex and Felicia and Isabel and feeling more like an outsider than ever. The group had managed to raid a few supplies from the store and surrounding areas, but they weren't exactly raring to go.
Still a chance. Still a chance.
She sat down next to Allen.
"So uh, if we're not taking off yet, got an hour or so to listen to me bitch?"
Thankfully, he did. Good for Allen.
She set her bag on her lap and pulled out the bottle of 'aspirin', idly rolling it in her hands.
"Like I said, it's a long story. "
Well, she had to tell it sometime. Or maybe she didn't.
Nah, she did.
"I told you a while back that my dad died when I was 15. He and uh, he and my mother, they divorced when I was 10 or so, just your average upper middle class white couple divorce shit. Anyway, even though me and my brother Alex lived with our mom after, I... always got along better with my dad I guess. And then he died.
"So fast-forward to present-day, and... this is degenerate of me I know but I'd started giving Alex some Ritalin on the side. Nothing serious, it was kid's stuff, you know? Prove how cool I am, corrupting my younger brother, yeah yeah. And I didn't know it at the time, but he'd been keeping his stash in an aspirin bottle."
She tossed the bottle in question over to Allen, not looking to see if he caught it or not.
"I dunno, maybe he thought he was being clever or something, the whole hiding in plain sight deal.
"OK moving on again, it's the morning after prom. I got back at who knows when, I was pretty fucked up. I hadn't even gone to prom, I'd gone out with Chad Klitou, I was out screwing Chad Klitou in my car during prom how fucked up is THAT, and then I stopped off at some party and I didn't get home until whenever and I went to bed and crashed."
Yeah. That was the background Now came the hard part.
"So I wake up next morning."
The really hard part. That part that fucking burned.
"I wake up the next morning, and it's like noon, and I'm just getting up and I'm still half asleep, and I turn around and this aspirin bottle fucking flies at me and hits me in the face. And uh, it was my mother.
"She was just sitting there on this chair she'd pulled up, I don't know how long she'd been waiting. And I don't even know what to say, I'm like in shock, so I stare at her, and she tells me that she found that in Alex's room. So she tells me to open it and I do and of course, there's the Ritalin. And then... see I'm trying to think of what I'm going to say when she... she's my fucking mother, she tells me that she doesn't give a damn about what I do to myself, that I can ruin my life if I want, but I'm not going to drag her son down with me.
"Her son. That's what she said.
"Then she gets up, and she just looks at me, and she says, just to punctuate it I guess she says... 'You're not my daughter, Andrea. You're his. Alex is my son; you're his daughter.' And then she left."
Huh, It was kind of funny. She wasn't crying. She wasn't even really raging. Still burned, though.
"She just fucking LEFT! And I thought about it, and I just realized that... that that's it, Allen, she never fucking cared, she NEVER gave a shit about me! Oh yeah, she gave me stuff, she gave me things, she told me to make my bed when I was a kid, but if I didn't? She didn't care. Alex was her son, she cared about him, and sure I was like, biologically hers too, but I was my dad's daughter, and he cared about me, and then he fucking died and is it any wonder that I ended up being kind of fucked up? Huh?"
It burned in her gut and her lungs and in her throat and she kept on.
"You want to know something, Allen? I don't think I had a single heartfelt conversation with her in my entire life. She never even taught me.... I mean thank god for the Internet and health class, or I wouldn't have even known what to do when I got my first period. Seriously, I know that's disgusting for guys to think about, but, yeah. There's one example for you.
And now I'm here, and I bet you, I bet you she is fucking loving it. There you go Andrea, that's what you get, now you're on Survival of the Fittest and you'll get exposed as what you are and your mother is free to raise her son however the hell she wants to without your nasty influence."
Andrea grabbed one of her newly-regained cigarettes from her pack and lit it, flicking the wheel of her lighter awkwardly several times before it caught flame. Yeah, why not prove her point to the world? That'll show them.
She didn't say anything for a few moments, then started again.
"Yeah, exposure. I guess that's what I always liked about watching the show. It was real, it was raw, it takes kids like you and me, and it just fucking strips us down until this is all that's left. And then what?"
Andrea breathed in the smoke and stared down at the embers dropping by her feet. She could feel the nicotine mixing with the Ritalin inside her, could sense those old familiar feelings. There were still table scraps though. That was 'then what'? Then you've got a few scraps and a partner you can't jerk around anymore.
"Look Allen... this whole escape thing I dragged you into, like I said I'm good at misleading guys like you. Nice guys and assholes both. I teamed up with you cause I knew you'd let me. It was never about you Allen, it was all about me, cause I'm hot shit. I'm smarter than Danya, smarter than Liz Polanski, whatever. This is my fucking game, that's my motto.
"And I'm going to keep that up, try to at least. I mean, what else can I do at this point? So I'm hoping that you and anyone else who wants will follow me on some new trip around the island, and I'm still writing it down instead of saying it and I keep telling myself that I can do this, but... I just had to tell you that so you can decide on your own what you'll do. I won't try to bullshit you anymore, shouldn't have done that in the first place. Sorry."
She looked back to Allen again and shrugged.
"So that's my whole story, Allen. Sorry to use you as my bitching board or whatever, just had to get that out before we all go off to our deaths. You want to tell me to fuck off, I will. Now's your chance, cause hopefully once we get away from here this Ritalin'll be kicking in more and I'll have something besides this self-pity to entertain you with."
Hopefully. She just had to keep pushing, cause her dead father told her so. Hard work, but hey, were there any other options?
Maybe lie down and let the rest of this crap play itself out. She could fall asleep and just bow out.
Not yet. Still some chance. The old stubborn Andrea.
Push a bit more.
[NOTE: Permission granted to outfoxd/Renard to GM Andrea moving out with the rest of the group to The Cavalry Arrives]
Ugh never say never
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
((I apologize for messing up post order, but I need to get Alex safe as I will have very little computer time tomorrow.))
Alex helped Ray lower Rosa and Annaliese into the graves they had dug. She stepped back and wiped at the sweat from her forehead, smearing dirt on her arm and face. Alex stood quietly as the burial continued. When it was over she simply grabbed her back and walked off. She was at a loss for words, couldn't bring herself to offer Ray sympathy. It all sounded hollow, and if she was honest she was a tad jealous. At least he'd gotten to bury Annaliese; been afforded a quiet time to mourn for her.
((Alex Jackson continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
Alex helped Ray lower Rosa and Annaliese into the graves they had dug. She stepped back and wiped at the sweat from her forehead, smearing dirt on her arm and face. Alex stood quietly as the burial continued. When it was over she simply grabbed her back and walked off. She was at a loss for words, couldn't bring herself to offer Ray sympathy. It all sounded hollow, and if she was honest she was a tad jealous. At least he'd gotten to bury Annaliese; been afforded a quiet time to mourn for her.
((Alex Jackson continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Arscapi. 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.
((This is the funeralpost, collaborated between me and Ricky))
(For those interested, this is the song Ray is singing.)
Ray didn't know how long it took to finish the graves. He kept at it until his arms were dead, passed it off once or twice to Alex or Allen, but he did most of the work. Somewhere early into the work they tended to Isabel's wounds. Then she was part of the grieving.
When they were done they had to somewhat shallow, but serviceable graves.
Ray had gently set the two girls into their respective graves, set their arms across their chests. Not for any particular significance, but because it looked right. He had hoped it made them look peaceful.
Everyone else had kept mostly grim silence as they got deeper into the gravedigging. Felicia, especially. He figured she must have just been fighting to keep from crying. But now was the time to grieve. Ray had lost a friend; Felicia had lost more than that.
"Felicia." He said. She looked at him, seeming lost, distant. "Come here."
He stood up, in front of the two graves, and waited for her to walk over.
If they had to grieve, they would do so together.
With a short nod, Felicia obeyed. Her legs were made of lead and each step drained her, but she made her way to Ray, unsure of what she could possibly say or do. Her voice had been stolen by Rosa's murderer, along with her joy and her strength. So instead of saying anything, she collapsed towards Ray yet again and his her face in his shirt.
She felt so awkward, clinging to him like some sort of hanger on like that. For a moment, she even feared what Ray might do. He was grieving just as much as her right now, it wouldn't be fair to take that away from him. None of this was fair, really, but she hardly needed to add to it.
Before she could find the drive to pull herself away and cry into her own sleeve, Felicia heard the lightest of noises from the man... the friend... who supported her. It was hard to hear above the vulnerable-sounding chokes and sobs she was making, but they were there. She couldn't see his face, but she knew: Ray, too, was crying.
It was in this moment that she didn't just cling to his shirt, but wrapped her arms around the boy, offering what little comfort she could give as she took her own. It was only when Ray's shirt was dampened with her tears and it became hard to breathe that Felicia pulled back, sniffing and trying to contain herself for at least a few moments more.
"I-I don't know what to say..." she whispered, shaking her head at Ray. "What d-do I do... what can I say to her?" Her teeth clenched together right there to stop the tears from coming. She had never been to a funeral, but at these sorts of things, weren't people supposed to walk up and say some words for the... ... the departed? Would it be bad if she couldn't think of anything to say? She could only pray that being too stricken to speak wouldn't make her a bad friend or a bad girlfriend.
"I'm just lost... I don't know what to do, Ray..." Felicia managed to say, turning herself to stand beside the boy. A brother in more ways than one, somebody who knew just what she was going through. Because they were going through this together.
Truth be told, Ray didn't know what it was Felicia could say. Truth be told, he didn't know what he could say. The words seemed to catch in his throat and die.
"You...you don't need words, girl. I think...think we need just to be here."
But even that didn't seem right, as Ray stared down into the holes at the two girls. Andrea had suggested somebody say something, and it seemed a good idea. But like Felicia, Ray was dead-tongued.
He thought back to the funerals he had been to. There had always been tearful words by family members, sometimes poignant ones. And here he was, unable to say anything. He'd never been much of a talker, before the island. Annaliese had actually gotten him to say more in two days than he had his whole school year at Bayview Secondary.
He thought back to the funeral of his uncle, a devout Southern Baptist who had died of a heart attack at 60. That funeral had been as much a celebration as it was a time of grieving. There was full service. There was singing.
Ray looked up, realizing what now what he wanted to do. He reached out, gently pulling Felicia back. He took a breath, and after steeling his nerves, dipped once again into the list of songs that his father used to listen to, long ago.
Annaliese came to Ray because of a song. He'd send her off the same way.
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone...
It's not warm when she's away..."
Ray did his best to match Bill Wither's somber tone. It wasn't too hard, Ray had the soulful voice, husky as it was. What was difficult was holding onto it as more sobs threatened to choke out.
"Wonder this time where she's gone
Wonder if she's gonna stay
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime she goes away..."
As he sang, he rocked Felicia in his arms. He was drawing as much strength as he could from the contact as he sang. Still, he almost faltered during the "I know" verse. Halfway through the words his voice cracked, and the crying almost took control. But he held on. He owed it to both of these girls to hold on. He couldn't stop his eyes from welling up with tears.
He finished the song, letting the final words slip out to the breeze. He remained silent a while afterwards, looking at the two girls. There wasn't much else he could do for them at this point.
As she listened to the song, Felicia let the mellow tones of Ray's voice flow through his chest and into her ear which pressed against it. She not only heard his voice but felt it, hanging onto every word. She didn't go to church as a child, but she remembered that song from somewhere.
The pain in Ray's voice had never left, it seemed, but something had risen up behind it. Her ear couldn't pick it up, but when the music reached her heart, that was able to uncover the immense strength Ray must've been using in order to do this. The tears streamed down her cheeks once more, but none of the sobs or wheezes came with it. Whatever strength Ray had developed, Felicia let it fill her and make her strong too.
"Thank you, Ray..." she whispered, finally able to look down towards the graves. "... Thanks..."
Ray shook his head at Felicia's words.
"Was nothing."
He picked up the shovel.
"Let's seal them up now."
- - -
Sometime after they started burying the bodies, they heard the announcement that there was an escape. Ray was still too far into himself to feel happy, even as the group started to head out to salvation.
((Raymond Dawson, Felicia Carmichael, Isabel Guerra, Andrea Raymer, and Allen Birkman continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
(For those interested, this is the song Ray is singing.)
Ray didn't know how long it took to finish the graves. He kept at it until his arms were dead, passed it off once or twice to Alex or Allen, but he did most of the work. Somewhere early into the work they tended to Isabel's wounds. Then she was part of the grieving.
When they were done they had to somewhat shallow, but serviceable graves.
Ray had gently set the two girls into their respective graves, set their arms across their chests. Not for any particular significance, but because it looked right. He had hoped it made them look peaceful.
Everyone else had kept mostly grim silence as they got deeper into the gravedigging. Felicia, especially. He figured she must have just been fighting to keep from crying. But now was the time to grieve. Ray had lost a friend; Felicia had lost more than that.
"Felicia." He said. She looked at him, seeming lost, distant. "Come here."
He stood up, in front of the two graves, and waited for her to walk over.
If they had to grieve, they would do so together.
With a short nod, Felicia obeyed. Her legs were made of lead and each step drained her, but she made her way to Ray, unsure of what she could possibly say or do. Her voice had been stolen by Rosa's murderer, along with her joy and her strength. So instead of saying anything, she collapsed towards Ray yet again and his her face in his shirt.
She felt so awkward, clinging to him like some sort of hanger on like that. For a moment, she even feared what Ray might do. He was grieving just as much as her right now, it wouldn't be fair to take that away from him. None of this was fair, really, but she hardly needed to add to it.
Before she could find the drive to pull herself away and cry into her own sleeve, Felicia heard the lightest of noises from the man... the friend... who supported her. It was hard to hear above the vulnerable-sounding chokes and sobs she was making, but they were there. She couldn't see his face, but she knew: Ray, too, was crying.
It was in this moment that she didn't just cling to his shirt, but wrapped her arms around the boy, offering what little comfort she could give as she took her own. It was only when Ray's shirt was dampened with her tears and it became hard to breathe that Felicia pulled back, sniffing and trying to contain herself for at least a few moments more.
"I-I don't know what to say..." she whispered, shaking her head at Ray. "What d-do I do... what can I say to her?" Her teeth clenched together right there to stop the tears from coming. She had never been to a funeral, but at these sorts of things, weren't people supposed to walk up and say some words for the... ... the departed? Would it be bad if she couldn't think of anything to say? She could only pray that being too stricken to speak wouldn't make her a bad friend or a bad girlfriend.
"I'm just lost... I don't know what to do, Ray..." Felicia managed to say, turning herself to stand beside the boy. A brother in more ways than one, somebody who knew just what she was going through. Because they were going through this together.
Truth be told, Ray didn't know what it was Felicia could say. Truth be told, he didn't know what he could say. The words seemed to catch in his throat and die.
"You...you don't need words, girl. I think...think we need just to be here."
But even that didn't seem right, as Ray stared down into the holes at the two girls. Andrea had suggested somebody say something, and it seemed a good idea. But like Felicia, Ray was dead-tongued.
He thought back to the funerals he had been to. There had always been tearful words by family members, sometimes poignant ones. And here he was, unable to say anything. He'd never been much of a talker, before the island. Annaliese had actually gotten him to say more in two days than he had his whole school year at Bayview Secondary.
He thought back to the funeral of his uncle, a devout Southern Baptist who had died of a heart attack at 60. That funeral had been as much a celebration as it was a time of grieving. There was full service. There was singing.
Ray looked up, realizing what now what he wanted to do. He reached out, gently pulling Felicia back. He took a breath, and after steeling his nerves, dipped once again into the list of songs that his father used to listen to, long ago.
Annaliese came to Ray because of a song. He'd send her off the same way.
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone...
It's not warm when she's away..."
Ray did his best to match Bill Wither's somber tone. It wasn't too hard, Ray had the soulful voice, husky as it was. What was difficult was holding onto it as more sobs threatened to choke out.
"Wonder this time where she's gone
Wonder if she's gonna stay
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime she goes away..."
As he sang, he rocked Felicia in his arms. He was drawing as much strength as he could from the contact as he sang. Still, he almost faltered during the "I know" verse. Halfway through the words his voice cracked, and the crying almost took control. But he held on. He owed it to both of these girls to hold on. He couldn't stop his eyes from welling up with tears.
He finished the song, letting the final words slip out to the breeze. He remained silent a while afterwards, looking at the two girls. There wasn't much else he could do for them at this point.
As she listened to the song, Felicia let the mellow tones of Ray's voice flow through his chest and into her ear which pressed against it. She not only heard his voice but felt it, hanging onto every word. She didn't go to church as a child, but she remembered that song from somewhere.
The pain in Ray's voice had never left, it seemed, but something had risen up behind it. Her ear couldn't pick it up, but when the music reached her heart, that was able to uncover the immense strength Ray must've been using in order to do this. The tears streamed down her cheeks once more, but none of the sobs or wheezes came with it. Whatever strength Ray had developed, Felicia let it fill her and make her strong too.
"Thank you, Ray..." she whispered, finally able to look down towards the graves. "... Thanks..."
Ray shook his head at Felicia's words.
"Was nothing."
He picked up the shovel.
"Let's seal them up now."
- - -
Sometime after they started burying the bodies, they heard the announcement that there was an escape. Ray was still too far into himself to feel happy, even as the group started to head out to salvation.
((Raymond Dawson, Felicia Carmichael, Isabel Guerra, Andrea Raymer, and Allen Birkman continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
-
JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
(This will be a placeholder post for Allen's lengthy reply to Andrea, then he's out of here)
((Allen Birkman continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
((Allen Birkman continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JamesRenard. 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.
Alex never left. Alex just watched.
Behind another building, around another corner, Alex waited and watched. Watched as Ray dug. He changed his bandages as he watched, slipping back into the shadows between the stores, ducking further into alleys. There wasn't a lot to be had in this town, but Alex was going to make the best out of what cover he could find. Staying behind the buildings, out of sight. Lurking in the shadows, again.
Watching.
Waiting.
Biding his time.
He looked down at his hands. There was no more blood. Just new bandages, keeping his hands covered. Keeping them out of his sight. He didn't need the bandages anymore, but he kept his hands bandaged. Every last bit of skin was kept covered.
He didn't want to see his hands. He still had blood on them. So much blood.
"You killed those girls, you know that."
That's right. He killed both of them.
"In cold blood, no less."
In cold blood. Without reason. He shot that girl, the blonde. He stabbed Rosa, brutalized her. And for no reason other than he could.
"You're going to hell."
A very special hell. One far worse than the hell they all were in.
They were burying those girls now. The holes had been dug, and in they went. And everyone was visibly upset. Everyone who had reason to mourn was mourning. Ray and Felicia among the worst of them. It took a little effort to listen in, but Alex heard Ray. Alex watched, waited, and listened as Ray sung.
As Ray almost broke down.
Alex stared at his hands, and watched as they finished burying those girls. Watched as each one of them started to leave. Listened to the sound of someone on a bull horn in the distance. They shuffled off, and started to disappear, and Alex made his way over to the graves.
Stared down at them.
At Rosa, and Annaliese.
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone."
Alex left something on Annaliese's grave before he left.
Alex followed them. He hung back, stayed out of sight, but he followed them.
He didn't look back.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Hunting in The Cavalry Arrives.]
Behind another building, around another corner, Alex waited and watched. Watched as Ray dug. He changed his bandages as he watched, slipping back into the shadows between the stores, ducking further into alleys. There wasn't a lot to be had in this town, but Alex was going to make the best out of what cover he could find. Staying behind the buildings, out of sight. Lurking in the shadows, again.
Watching.
Waiting.
Biding his time.
He looked down at his hands. There was no more blood. Just new bandages, keeping his hands covered. Keeping them out of his sight. He didn't need the bandages anymore, but he kept his hands bandaged. Every last bit of skin was kept covered.
He didn't want to see his hands. He still had blood on them. So much blood.
"You killed those girls, you know that."
That's right. He killed both of them.
"In cold blood, no less."
In cold blood. Without reason. He shot that girl, the blonde. He stabbed Rosa, brutalized her. And for no reason other than he could.
"You're going to hell."
A very special hell. One far worse than the hell they all were in.
They were burying those girls now. The holes had been dug, and in they went. And everyone was visibly upset. Everyone who had reason to mourn was mourning. Ray and Felicia among the worst of them. It took a little effort to listen in, but Alex heard Ray. Alex watched, waited, and listened as Ray sung.
As Ray almost broke down.
Alex stared at his hands, and watched as they finished burying those girls. Watched as each one of them started to leave. Listened to the sound of someone on a bull horn in the distance. They shuffled off, and started to disappear, and Alex made his way over to the graves.
Stared down at them.
At Rosa, and Annaliese.
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone."
Alex left something on Annaliese's grave before he left.
Alex followed them. He hung back, stayed out of sight, but he followed them.
He didn't look back.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Hunting in The Cavalry Arrives.]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Jimmy sat by the tree for a long while. A terrible burning sensation had arisen in his guts, like they were trying to claw out of his stomach. He couldn't blame them. His shotgun was in his hands, but for the moment it was down, the safety locked. He observed the scene, his eyes narrowed, yet wild.
He watched Alex White lay something near the graves. His pulse quickened as he observed the scene in silence. The boy had hurt him, and for that he would die painfully, by him or another, it didn't make a difference. Crouching in the bushes near the supermarket, Jimmy watched his prey with fascination.
Shoot him.
He wanted to. Jimmy felt powerful- a single well place round could split Alex's head right open. His life was in Jimmy's hands, and he felt smug satisfaction at controlling someone as physically imposing as Alex. Things felt right again, despite the pain, despite his burning in his guts. All his doubts and questions were wiped aside as he gloated, powerful and self absorbed once more. If only for a moment.
As he turns to leave, right when he thinks he's safe. In the leg first, then rush him. Shove it down his throat. Bullets for breakfast, a messy one-, fuckin'- messy as hell, just like J.J. Yeah. Die like J.J. He'll die- just like him. Yeah. That's what he gets. He fucked with me, now I fuck him. Yeah. That's how it goes. Never stop, never die.
Jimmy shifted, a fresh bolt of pain shooting up his shoulder. His bruises were turning that terrible yellowy purple color, and his fresh clothes were coated in mud once more. It seemed like an eternity since he'd awoken in the Gazebo. So much pain. So much confusion. But it was okay now. He still had his gun, and he'd figured things out. He was in control.
No more questions. Just pain and justice, an Island draped in stinking blood.
Truth be told, he felt pretty good.
Alex turned to leave. Jimmy bit his lip as the boy disappeared through the forest, in the opposite direction. He let out a sigh, looking toward the ground.
No... No. Leave him. Let him go. He comes back, his luck runs out. Rosa. Find Rosa- she'll fix everything. Can't risk her anymore- gotta explain everything.
Lucky Alex. You're a lucky bastard. I'll finish you though. I'll kill all the motherfuckers, and you're the biggest still walking. Just you wait bitch. I'll be the last thing you see. Just wait for it. Just wait-
He lay still for a long time, panting and wondering when to move. He had no idea where Rosa was- he supposed he should have asked Alex if he'd seen Ray and his Posse. But it was too late now, and he balked at the idea anyway. He was Jimmy Brennan, he didn't need anyone else.
Finally, he crawled forward.
It was too painful to walk proper. Instead he hobbled, trying his best at a cocky strut, not so much for himself, but for the audience. They were watching him he knew, watching his every move.
I'm still the best- remember? Still on top. Fuckin' A. Fuckin' right- Can't afford to go down now.
Jimmy kicked open the door of building, raising his gun and entering. His eyes adjusted to the gloom. Shelves, cans of food. It was silent as a tomb. He felt unease again-, something told him he'd picked up the wrong trail.
Shit... how far could they have gotten? How long did it take me to get here? It must have been a few minutes-, minutes at the most... Couldn't have been longer then that, could it?
He exited the building, looking around the clearing. With Alex gone, it was silent once more. He grunted in annoyance, kicking a stray rock back against the wall. His eyes trailed over, looking towards the graves Alex had marked.
Who in their right mind had time to dig graves? He shouldered his weapon, spitting on the ground and noting the blood, with a dull acceptance. He hobbled closer to the graves. Something was written the names down. The poor unlucky bastards.
He supposed it wouldn't hurt to read it.
((Jimmy Brennan continues in No One Here Gets Out Alive))
He watched Alex White lay something near the graves. His pulse quickened as he observed the scene in silence. The boy had hurt him, and for that he would die painfully, by him or another, it didn't make a difference. Crouching in the bushes near the supermarket, Jimmy watched his prey with fascination.
Shoot him.
He wanted to. Jimmy felt powerful- a single well place round could split Alex's head right open. His life was in Jimmy's hands, and he felt smug satisfaction at controlling someone as physically imposing as Alex. Things felt right again, despite the pain, despite his burning in his guts. All his doubts and questions were wiped aside as he gloated, powerful and self absorbed once more. If only for a moment.
As he turns to leave, right when he thinks he's safe. In the leg first, then rush him. Shove it down his throat. Bullets for breakfast, a messy one-, fuckin'- messy as hell, just like J.J. Yeah. Die like J.J. He'll die- just like him. Yeah. That's what he gets. He fucked with me, now I fuck him. Yeah. That's how it goes. Never stop, never die.
Jimmy shifted, a fresh bolt of pain shooting up his shoulder. His bruises were turning that terrible yellowy purple color, and his fresh clothes were coated in mud once more. It seemed like an eternity since he'd awoken in the Gazebo. So much pain. So much confusion. But it was okay now. He still had his gun, and he'd figured things out. He was in control.
No more questions. Just pain and justice, an Island draped in stinking blood.
Truth be told, he felt pretty good.
Alex turned to leave. Jimmy bit his lip as the boy disappeared through the forest, in the opposite direction. He let out a sigh, looking toward the ground.
No... No. Leave him. Let him go. He comes back, his luck runs out. Rosa. Find Rosa- she'll fix everything. Can't risk her anymore- gotta explain everything.
Lucky Alex. You're a lucky bastard. I'll finish you though. I'll kill all the motherfuckers, and you're the biggest still walking. Just you wait bitch. I'll be the last thing you see. Just wait for it. Just wait-
He lay still for a long time, panting and wondering when to move. He had no idea where Rosa was- he supposed he should have asked Alex if he'd seen Ray and his Posse. But it was too late now, and he balked at the idea anyway. He was Jimmy Brennan, he didn't need anyone else.
Finally, he crawled forward.
It was too painful to walk proper. Instead he hobbled, trying his best at a cocky strut, not so much for himself, but for the audience. They were watching him he knew, watching his every move.
I'm still the best- remember? Still on top. Fuckin' A. Fuckin' right- Can't afford to go down now.
Jimmy kicked open the door of building, raising his gun and entering. His eyes adjusted to the gloom. Shelves, cans of food. It was silent as a tomb. He felt unease again-, something told him he'd picked up the wrong trail.
Shit... how far could they have gotten? How long did it take me to get here? It must have been a few minutes-, minutes at the most... Couldn't have been longer then that, could it?
He exited the building, looking around the clearing. With Alex gone, it was silent once more. He grunted in annoyance, kicking a stray rock back against the wall. His eyes trailed over, looking towards the graves Alex had marked.
Who in their right mind had time to dig graves? He shouldered his weapon, spitting on the ground and noting the blood, with a dull acceptance. He hobbled closer to the graves. Something was written the names down. The poor unlucky bastards.
He supposed it wouldn't hurt to read it.
((Jimmy Brennan continues in No One Here Gets Out Alive))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.