((Gloria Benson continued from Bat & Rats & and Blind Cave Salamanders))
Gloria sat on her duffel bag, well away from the water, tensed up a bit as she heard the new announcements, heard the names of the dead. Swallowing in panic, she held her gun closer to her chest, making sure to aim it away from herself. The last thing she needed was to accidentally shoot herself in the heart.
Then there were the danger-zones..."Key."
Key...was she on the key? Panicking again, Gloria looked around for a few second before jumping off of and unzipping her duffel, pawing desperately through it until she found her map. Oh God, please no, no, nonononono...! Hands shaking, she unfolded her map, nearly dropping her gun several times--she was trying to do all this while maintaining a firm grip on the weapon. Again, the irony nearly made her laugh...a gun had killed her father, now a gun was probably the only thing that could keep her alive. At least she could defend herself from farther away...Dad would be devastated if he saw this.
"Keykeykeykey..." GLoria muttered to herself, eyes wide as she perused the map. Sweat was starting to gather on her forehead, strands of hair sticking to her face as she leaned closer to the map, nose to paper. ...No key. She was on a Beach, not Key. "Thank God...Thank you, God, Dad!" Gloria sobbed, collapsing face-down onto the map, sobbing. Shoulders shaking as she wept, her tears started to stain the map.
I Swear I Won't Shoot
I Swear I Won't Shoot
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Moth. 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.
-
Sister Grimm†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
((Micheal Raynor continued from When the Bite Just Isn't Sharp Enough ))
"This sucks." Micheal muttered to himself as he trudged along the shore with no location in mind. "This really, really really sucks." It might not have been so bad if he'd decided to go with Sofia. Maybe he wouldn't be finding Mady, but at least he'd have someone watching his back. It wasn't that bad, not with the claws sitting pretty in his bag, but it sure didn't help his paranoia. Instead of making his way along the island with a partner, he was wandering along. Probably a prime target for anyone with a decent weapon, too. Someone with a gun, hell, someone with a bat. The claws wouldn't be much good if he came up against someone who actually knew what they were doing. Still, it was a confidence booster. At least he had something.
It was lonely, tense night, he could tell you that. He didn't know where he was going either, so most of the day was spent wandering aimlessly. By the time night fell, it seemed like he'd crossed the whole damn island three times. His forehead was covered by a constant sheen of sweat and he seemed to be constantly out of breath. The question of the day? 'Why the hell did I come along on this trip?' That was never far from his thoughts and he couldn't for the life of him come up with a good reason. What was he thinking when he got on the bus?
Didn't matter now, he guessed. He was here and he probably wouldn't be going home. That was all there was too it. All he could do was try and keep going as long as he could. It could be like Horde mode, minus the chainsaw assault rifles. Geez, he hoped it was minus chainsaw assault rifles. If some jock loser had a freakin' Lancer, he was calling bullshit. If he saw someone coming at him with a Lancer, he was going home.
Micheal stopped short, cutting out in mid-step. Was that a person further down the beach? It sure looked like a person. A person who might potentially cut him in half with a chainsaw. Wait, no, not the chainsaw, but they could have some sort of weapon. But that wasn't fair. Everyone would have some form of weapon. As he drew ever closer, she looked to be crying, so that was...better? At least she wasn't giggling and talking to herself, right? That was a little comforting. He stopped a few feet away from the girl, moving carefully and, hopefully, silently.
"Uh, hey? Hi, how are you doing? Not crazy or anything, right? I mean, if you are, that's cool. But, you know, I'd be fine with you being normal and not blood-thirsty. That would totally be cool with me. But, uh, you okay? You hurt or something? I think I have a medkit or something, but apparently they don't heal you instantly here, despite this all seeming like a video game, am I right?" Micheal didn't wait for a chance for the joke to miss, so instead he held up his hands to show he didn't mean any harm. "Joke. Totally a joke. Uh, I'm Micheal, if you're not crazy. If you are, I'm...someone else."
"This sucks." Micheal muttered to himself as he trudged along the shore with no location in mind. "This really, really really sucks." It might not have been so bad if he'd decided to go with Sofia. Maybe he wouldn't be finding Mady, but at least he'd have someone watching his back. It wasn't that bad, not with the claws sitting pretty in his bag, but it sure didn't help his paranoia. Instead of making his way along the island with a partner, he was wandering along. Probably a prime target for anyone with a decent weapon, too. Someone with a gun, hell, someone with a bat. The claws wouldn't be much good if he came up against someone who actually knew what they were doing. Still, it was a confidence booster. At least he had something.
It was lonely, tense night, he could tell you that. He didn't know where he was going either, so most of the day was spent wandering aimlessly. By the time night fell, it seemed like he'd crossed the whole damn island three times. His forehead was covered by a constant sheen of sweat and he seemed to be constantly out of breath. The question of the day? 'Why the hell did I come along on this trip?' That was never far from his thoughts and he couldn't for the life of him come up with a good reason. What was he thinking when he got on the bus?
Didn't matter now, he guessed. He was here and he probably wouldn't be going home. That was all there was too it. All he could do was try and keep going as long as he could. It could be like Horde mode, minus the chainsaw assault rifles. Geez, he hoped it was minus chainsaw assault rifles. If some jock loser had a freakin' Lancer, he was calling bullshit. If he saw someone coming at him with a Lancer, he was going home.
Micheal stopped short, cutting out in mid-step. Was that a person further down the beach? It sure looked like a person. A person who might potentially cut him in half with a chainsaw. Wait, no, not the chainsaw, but they could have some sort of weapon. But that wasn't fair. Everyone would have some form of weapon. As he drew ever closer, she looked to be crying, so that was...better? At least she wasn't giggling and talking to herself, right? That was a little comforting. He stopped a few feet away from the girl, moving carefully and, hopefully, silently.
"Uh, hey? Hi, how are you doing? Not crazy or anything, right? I mean, if you are, that's cool. But, you know, I'd be fine with you being normal and not blood-thirsty. That would totally be cool with me. But, uh, you okay? You hurt or something? I think I have a medkit or something, but apparently they don't heal you instantly here, despite this all seeming like a video game, am I right?" Micheal didn't wait for a chance for the joke to miss, so instead he held up his hands to show he didn't mean any harm. "Joke. Totally a joke. Uh, I'm Micheal, if you're not crazy. If you are, I'm...someone else."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Sister Grimm.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued from Hideaway.]
He'd been walking ever since the swamp, leaving behind the ashes and charred place that Liz and Milo had been hiding out in, having burned it away with the molotov and the brush surrounding them; He left Milo on his own and chased Liz into the murky waters, but left her to her own self induced suffering instead of chasing her further. She was a threat, to others and to herself, that much was sure, but he wouldn't chase her any further than he had; He'd done his part in preventing further action from her, certain that her wounds, the burns she brought upon herself, would keep her from acting on others. She was already in bad shape when he left her, attacking someone else, trying to add more blood and gore to what she had already stained her face and the surroundings with, would cost her more than anyone was willing to give up.
Still, he had to wonder.
What drove her to do what she did, what he assumed she did, what Milo had lied to him about; He heard her name when Milo called out to her in the tree, knew that she hadn't killed anyone. Her name was not among those on the list of killers that first morning, that first announcement, but there was blood and bits of flesh scattered around her campsite and dried blood on her face; He knew she had done something, but she hadn't killed. He knew she hadn't killed, probably hadn't even attacked anyone, but he still attacked her, destroyed her place of safety and caused her to be injured. How could he say he was just protecting those he cared for, preventing what he knew was going to happen, when he was acting the part of those he sought to protect others from?
"I did what I had to do."
He'd repeated that to himself, out loud and in his mind, every time he thought of his reasons for his actions and what he would be willing to do in pursuit of his goal; That of protecting the ones he cared for and keeping them safe. Was this really the best way to go about that though? Was that list of his, of killers and their victims, the one he began writing after leaving behind the destruction he caused, really worth the cost he was willing to pay to make it just that much shorter? He knew most of the names on the list, had once called each of them a friend, was able to summon up at least one happy memory with each and every one of them. And yet, here he was, armed with a weapon and willing to do whatever it took to protect himself and the ones he cared for most. Already he had attacked someone, already he had endangered more than one life, yet he still told himself he was doing the right thing.
The right thing?
Did he really know what was the right thing anymore, after what he'd done, after what he'd risked and what he'd ignored? Could he really keep going on the way he was and still say he was doing the right thing, doing only what was needed to survive and to keep those he loved and cared for alive? He'd been doubting himself, doubting his actions and his reasons ever since he left the campground, as the hours ticked by and he passed pool after pool of murky water, every muddy bank and patch of barely dry earth; He'd check the map and the compass, try to figure out where he was, but one bad spill sent the precious little magnetic device into the mud and the muck, leaving him without direction. He could only guess at his destination now, only hope he was heading in the right direction, that the map alone would be enough to lead him to the key.
But it wouldn't.
For hours, he walked. When the sun dipped below the horizon once again, he kept walking. When it came time for him to eat, he did so while he walked. He'd been constantly moving for almost two days now, ever since he woke up in this hell to find he was now part of that horrible game, he'd never really stopped for long. Every time he stopped, every time he slowed down, he got into conflict with someone; When he stopped the first time, he fought with Nick, he brought the boy down and took from him one of his weapons. When he stopped again, he used that stolen weapon on Liz and Milo, he injured the girl and left the boy to his own devices. Would he come into conflict with another if he stopped again? The first time he stopped, it was morning. The second, it was morning. It was night now, so would it be safe to stop? No one had been around, he hadn't seen anyone or heard anyone for a while now, but he hadn't reached his destination. Would it be safe to rest?
Sooner or later, he would have to stop.
"Better do it now."
Within an hour, he had set up his campsite and spread out the contents of all three bags before him; His own personal bag, the bag they had supplied him with when he awoke and finally, Liz's bag. But were the three bags the only heavy burden he had to bear, the only weight that he carried? He began to pick through his belongings, his extra clothes and the snacks he intended on sharing with friends during their trip, the books he intended to read and in his mind, he began to pick through the memories he intended to make and share with the ones he cared for. It was supposed to be a normal trip, something that they all would enjoy, their last chance to forge new memories in their senior year of high school. After that, it would be college or a job or a combination of both for many, a future what was set or one that had yet to be decided; For Alex, it was supposed to be a choice, a final decision that would decide his future, choose where he would end up in the world.
"My future huh?"
He poked at the slowly flickering fire with the blackened end of his former torch, taking a moment to think about what his future was supposed to be, about what he would have decided if this trip had gone the way it was supposed to. Would he have followed in his father's footsteps, followed the path his brother had taken? Would he have gone off and become a police officer like his father and his older brother, risking his life every time he would stop a drunk driver? Would he have ended up losing his leg like his father had, or would he end up losing his life? But then, he had another option, one his mother encouraged; He could have gone on to study the arts, to study music and become a songwriter or pianist. No, his mother wanted him to go on and do something far more public than that, wanted to use him to follow the dreams she never had the courage to follow before it was too late. No, he didn't want to follow those paths, to follow the dreams of someone else instead of his own. Neither option was what he wanted.
But then, he never wanted this either.
"Listen up, because this is important."
It was after his first self defense class, when he was back at home and practicing with his father, listening to his lectures and his explanations, watching his examples and repeating what he taught him. He could have done without the lectures, however, or the comments made referring to a potential future as a police officer. His father was a kind man and certainly considerate of Alex and his choices or who he was; But he still had trouble picking up on Alex's indecisiveness, his worries about his future, but most of all, his desire to do his own thing instead of following what his parents wanted. But Alex would never say anything about it, he would simply smile and go along with what was suggested. High grades, extracurriculars, spending time with friends, practicing self defense, staying in shape, going hiking and camping, spending time with the family and looking for a job; It was all piling up as the years went by, but he never said a word, he simply took in stride even when it was too much to bear, too much to handle.
"Are you listening? This is important."
He shook his head and looked up, focusing once more on the task at hand.
"You remember that lecture I gave you when you signed up?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Good. Tell me what the point of it was."
"The point?"
"Get to it."
"I'm supposed to use what you taught me only to defend myself or to defend someone else who cannot defend themselves."
"Defend from what?"
"Defend from anyone who wishes to inflict harm upon myself or upon others."
"Good. Not exactly the standard, but it'll do. What else?"
"Umm... Never take up arms against someone without cause?"
"Close enough. Now, watch what I do and repeat."
It was always like that, always some short discussion before anything ever got done; He never really understood any of it, never understood why he was always made to repeat it or why it was something that needed to be done before everything else. It seemed cliche and silly at the time, but now? Now it was different, now it had actual meaning, even if it was far more serious than anything it was ever meant to be associated with. But now, when he had the best reasons to hold true to what he'd been taught, he'd ignored what he had learned. Ever since he woke up here, he'd been making the wrong choices, had been making mistake after mistake and now? Now, it was too late to go back and change it, to change his goals or how he went about achieving them. He'd made too many mistakes, disappointed too many people to try and make it right now; He couldn't give up now, after all he'd done, after what he'd already risked. He had to keep going and finish what he started, otherwise there would have been no point to what he had already done. He had to keep going, had to keep pushing, no matter what.
He had to keep moving.
It was morning again and Alex was once again on the move, trudging through the sands and listening to the waves as the sea churned, the very sounds he had fallen asleep to hours ago, miles back; They had been comforting then, just as they were now, but he never let himself relax, never let himself feel at ease. He had slept, but he hadn't managed to sleep very well or very long, something he expected would be an issue for many and an issue that would never go away; Even if he made it out of this alive, he didn't think he would ever sleep easy again, not after what was going on here. Just as the sun was starting to come up again, the same time but a different day, just like the other morning. He awaited the inevitable.
The loudspeakers came to life once again.
Every name, a face.
Every face, a memory.
But there was one name among the list, one name he never expected to write down, one person he would have never thought capable of participating in this game, in this twisted show. A name that was matched with so many memories, so many adored moments shared between the two; One of the very people that he sought to protect in this newfound hell. William had killed someone, had killed one of their classmates, one of their fellow students, one of their friends; Despite everything they had been through together, despite everything that told him that Will would have been the last person to participate, he had blood on his hands. What would he do now that the one he cared for had killed, the one he had tried so hard to protect in any way he could?
"Shit."
He didn't have time to think about it now, didn't have time to worry or wonder about what his next move would be; While he had been writing, extending that list of his and marking down the new danger zones, he had been walking at a constant consistent pace. Now, he was approaching figures in the distance, figures on the beach, a boy standing over a girl huddled and bent over, the sound of her sobbing against the crashing waves getting ever louder as he moved closer. He heard the boy talking, putting his foot in his mouth, going on about how this lovely little piece of hell was just like a video game, mentioning his name as he finally stopped his lips from moving and pulled the foot from his mouth.
Micheal huh?
He stuffed the map into his pocket, pulling the branch from the crook of his arm, holding his weapon of choice before him as he continued his approach. For now, neither of them looked to be much of a threat, neither had a weapon bared that he could see, so he didn't need to worry.
Right?
"You two alright?"
He waved to the pair.
It was time to stop.
Again.
He'd been walking ever since the swamp, leaving behind the ashes and charred place that Liz and Milo had been hiding out in, having burned it away with the molotov and the brush surrounding them; He left Milo on his own and chased Liz into the murky waters, but left her to her own self induced suffering instead of chasing her further. She was a threat, to others and to herself, that much was sure, but he wouldn't chase her any further than he had; He'd done his part in preventing further action from her, certain that her wounds, the burns she brought upon herself, would keep her from acting on others. She was already in bad shape when he left her, attacking someone else, trying to add more blood and gore to what she had already stained her face and the surroundings with, would cost her more than anyone was willing to give up.
Still, he had to wonder.
What drove her to do what she did, what he assumed she did, what Milo had lied to him about; He heard her name when Milo called out to her in the tree, knew that she hadn't killed anyone. Her name was not among those on the list of killers that first morning, that first announcement, but there was blood and bits of flesh scattered around her campsite and dried blood on her face; He knew she had done something, but she hadn't killed. He knew she hadn't killed, probably hadn't even attacked anyone, but he still attacked her, destroyed her place of safety and caused her to be injured. How could he say he was just protecting those he cared for, preventing what he knew was going to happen, when he was acting the part of those he sought to protect others from?
"I did what I had to do."
He'd repeated that to himself, out loud and in his mind, every time he thought of his reasons for his actions and what he would be willing to do in pursuit of his goal; That of protecting the ones he cared for and keeping them safe. Was this really the best way to go about that though? Was that list of his, of killers and their victims, the one he began writing after leaving behind the destruction he caused, really worth the cost he was willing to pay to make it just that much shorter? He knew most of the names on the list, had once called each of them a friend, was able to summon up at least one happy memory with each and every one of them. And yet, here he was, armed with a weapon and willing to do whatever it took to protect himself and the ones he cared for most. Already he had attacked someone, already he had endangered more than one life, yet he still told himself he was doing the right thing.
The right thing?
Did he really know what was the right thing anymore, after what he'd done, after what he'd risked and what he'd ignored? Could he really keep going on the way he was and still say he was doing the right thing, doing only what was needed to survive and to keep those he loved and cared for alive? He'd been doubting himself, doubting his actions and his reasons ever since he left the campground, as the hours ticked by and he passed pool after pool of murky water, every muddy bank and patch of barely dry earth; He'd check the map and the compass, try to figure out where he was, but one bad spill sent the precious little magnetic device into the mud and the muck, leaving him without direction. He could only guess at his destination now, only hope he was heading in the right direction, that the map alone would be enough to lead him to the key.
But it wouldn't.
For hours, he walked. When the sun dipped below the horizon once again, he kept walking. When it came time for him to eat, he did so while he walked. He'd been constantly moving for almost two days now, ever since he woke up in this hell to find he was now part of that horrible game, he'd never really stopped for long. Every time he stopped, every time he slowed down, he got into conflict with someone; When he stopped the first time, he fought with Nick, he brought the boy down and took from him one of his weapons. When he stopped again, he used that stolen weapon on Liz and Milo, he injured the girl and left the boy to his own devices. Would he come into conflict with another if he stopped again? The first time he stopped, it was morning. The second, it was morning. It was night now, so would it be safe to stop? No one had been around, he hadn't seen anyone or heard anyone for a while now, but he hadn't reached his destination. Would it be safe to rest?
Sooner or later, he would have to stop.
"Better do it now."
Within an hour, he had set up his campsite and spread out the contents of all three bags before him; His own personal bag, the bag they had supplied him with when he awoke and finally, Liz's bag. But were the three bags the only heavy burden he had to bear, the only weight that he carried? He began to pick through his belongings, his extra clothes and the snacks he intended on sharing with friends during their trip, the books he intended to read and in his mind, he began to pick through the memories he intended to make and share with the ones he cared for. It was supposed to be a normal trip, something that they all would enjoy, their last chance to forge new memories in their senior year of high school. After that, it would be college or a job or a combination of both for many, a future what was set or one that had yet to be decided; For Alex, it was supposed to be a choice, a final decision that would decide his future, choose where he would end up in the world.
"My future huh?"
He poked at the slowly flickering fire with the blackened end of his former torch, taking a moment to think about what his future was supposed to be, about what he would have decided if this trip had gone the way it was supposed to. Would he have followed in his father's footsteps, followed the path his brother had taken? Would he have gone off and become a police officer like his father and his older brother, risking his life every time he would stop a drunk driver? Would he have ended up losing his leg like his father had, or would he end up losing his life? But then, he had another option, one his mother encouraged; He could have gone on to study the arts, to study music and become a songwriter or pianist. No, his mother wanted him to go on and do something far more public than that, wanted to use him to follow the dreams she never had the courage to follow before it was too late. No, he didn't want to follow those paths, to follow the dreams of someone else instead of his own. Neither option was what he wanted.
But then, he never wanted this either.
"Listen up, because this is important."
It was after his first self defense class, when he was back at home and practicing with his father, listening to his lectures and his explanations, watching his examples and repeating what he taught him. He could have done without the lectures, however, or the comments made referring to a potential future as a police officer. His father was a kind man and certainly considerate of Alex and his choices or who he was; But he still had trouble picking up on Alex's indecisiveness, his worries about his future, but most of all, his desire to do his own thing instead of following what his parents wanted. But Alex would never say anything about it, he would simply smile and go along with what was suggested. High grades, extracurriculars, spending time with friends, practicing self defense, staying in shape, going hiking and camping, spending time with the family and looking for a job; It was all piling up as the years went by, but he never said a word, he simply took in stride even when it was too much to bear, too much to handle.
"Are you listening? This is important."
He shook his head and looked up, focusing once more on the task at hand.
"You remember that lecture I gave you when you signed up?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Good. Tell me what the point of it was."
"The point?"
"Get to it."
"I'm supposed to use what you taught me only to defend myself or to defend someone else who cannot defend themselves."
"Defend from what?"
"Defend from anyone who wishes to inflict harm upon myself or upon others."
"Good. Not exactly the standard, but it'll do. What else?"
"Umm... Never take up arms against someone without cause?"
"Close enough. Now, watch what I do and repeat."
It was always like that, always some short discussion before anything ever got done; He never really understood any of it, never understood why he was always made to repeat it or why it was something that needed to be done before everything else. It seemed cliche and silly at the time, but now? Now it was different, now it had actual meaning, even if it was far more serious than anything it was ever meant to be associated with. But now, when he had the best reasons to hold true to what he'd been taught, he'd ignored what he had learned. Ever since he woke up here, he'd been making the wrong choices, had been making mistake after mistake and now? Now, it was too late to go back and change it, to change his goals or how he went about achieving them. He'd made too many mistakes, disappointed too many people to try and make it right now; He couldn't give up now, after all he'd done, after what he'd already risked. He had to keep going and finish what he started, otherwise there would have been no point to what he had already done. He had to keep going, had to keep pushing, no matter what.
He had to keep moving.
It was morning again and Alex was once again on the move, trudging through the sands and listening to the waves as the sea churned, the very sounds he had fallen asleep to hours ago, miles back; They had been comforting then, just as they were now, but he never let himself relax, never let himself feel at ease. He had slept, but he hadn't managed to sleep very well or very long, something he expected would be an issue for many and an issue that would never go away; Even if he made it out of this alive, he didn't think he would ever sleep easy again, not after what was going on here. Just as the sun was starting to come up again, the same time but a different day, just like the other morning. He awaited the inevitable.
The loudspeakers came to life once again.
Every name, a face.
Every face, a memory.
But there was one name among the list, one name he never expected to write down, one person he would have never thought capable of participating in this game, in this twisted show. A name that was matched with so many memories, so many adored moments shared between the two; One of the very people that he sought to protect in this newfound hell. William had killed someone, had killed one of their classmates, one of their fellow students, one of their friends; Despite everything they had been through together, despite everything that told him that Will would have been the last person to participate, he had blood on his hands. What would he do now that the one he cared for had killed, the one he had tried so hard to protect in any way he could?
"Shit."
He didn't have time to think about it now, didn't have time to worry or wonder about what his next move would be; While he had been writing, extending that list of his and marking down the new danger zones, he had been walking at a constant consistent pace. Now, he was approaching figures in the distance, figures on the beach, a boy standing over a girl huddled and bent over, the sound of her sobbing against the crashing waves getting ever louder as he moved closer. He heard the boy talking, putting his foot in his mouth, going on about how this lovely little piece of hell was just like a video game, mentioning his name as he finally stopped his lips from moving and pulled the foot from his mouth.
Micheal huh?
He stuffed the map into his pocket, pulling the branch from the crook of his arm, holding his weapon of choice before him as he continued his approach. For now, neither of them looked to be much of a threat, neither had a weapon bared that he could see, so he didn't need to worry.
Right?
"You two alright?"
He waved to the pair.
It was time to stop.
Again.
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.
Gloria looked up sharply, gasping a bit--she hadn't heard anyone approaching. A very bad thing to do in this game, in this place--that'd get her killed faster than anything, wouldn't it? Nervously, she tightened her grip on her gun, hand trembling a bit, but she didn't lift it or aim at the other person. Maybe they, like her, were just scared and hoping to see a friendly face...Gloria knew that she would hate to go to a group, begging for help or companionship, only to be shot dead.
Or chainsawed.
Or blown up. Or--well...killed.
The other person was talking now, drawing Gloria out of her musing.
"...hurt or something? I think I have a medkit or something, but apparently they don't heal you instantly here, despite this all seeming like a video game, am I right?" A pause, and then before Gloria could even register what he'd said--"Joke. Totally a joke. Uh, I'm Micheal, if you're not crazy. If you are, I'm...someone else."
Okay...that made her smile a little. The tiniest of shy smiles appeared on Gloria's face, and she shook her head, sobs quieting ever so slightly as she hiccuped. Wiping her face on her sleeve, she shook her head. "D-Don't...don't th-think I'm c-c-crazy...n-not yet," she admitted. The girl was thinking that after a few more days here, in this situation, she might, though. "N-Not hurt...s-s-cared, 's'all..." she stuttered. The grip on her gun loosened somewhat. Michael didn't seem to be a threat...he seemed nice.
Wow. Gloria was trusting him right off-bat...I must be going crazy already...but it wouldn't hurt to have friends. "M-My...my n-name's Glori--"
"You two alright?"
She jumped again, and once more her grip tightened--she forced herself to calm down, she didn't need to be this jumpy. Some will wanna kill me...others are friends. Gotta tell the difference. Can't go insane on my friends, that's not nice... Gloria nodded, still wiping at her face, staring at the branch in the newcomer's hand. Was that his weapon? That'd hurt if he swung it at her head... "'m...'m f-f-ine..." she stuttered. "N-No...I-I'm just...j-just 'not h-hurt...'" she amended.
This was definitely not fine.
Or chainsawed.
Or blown up. Or--well...killed.
The other person was talking now, drawing Gloria out of her musing.
"...hurt or something? I think I have a medkit or something, but apparently they don't heal you instantly here, despite this all seeming like a video game, am I right?" A pause, and then before Gloria could even register what he'd said--"Joke. Totally a joke. Uh, I'm Micheal, if you're not crazy. If you are, I'm...someone else."
Okay...that made her smile a little. The tiniest of shy smiles appeared on Gloria's face, and she shook her head, sobs quieting ever so slightly as she hiccuped. Wiping her face on her sleeve, she shook her head. "D-Don't...don't th-think I'm c-c-crazy...n-not yet," she admitted. The girl was thinking that after a few more days here, in this situation, she might, though. "N-Not hurt...s-s-cared, 's'all..." she stuttered. The grip on her gun loosened somewhat. Michael didn't seem to be a threat...he seemed nice.
Wow. Gloria was trusting him right off-bat...I must be going crazy already...but it wouldn't hurt to have friends. "M-My...my n-name's Glori--"
"You two alright?"
She jumped again, and once more her grip tightened--she forced herself to calm down, she didn't need to be this jumpy. Some will wanna kill me...others are friends. Gotta tell the difference. Can't go insane on my friends, that's not nice... Gloria nodded, still wiping at her face, staring at the branch in the newcomer's hand. Was that his weapon? That'd hurt if he swung it at her head... "'m...'m f-f-ine..." she stuttered. "N-No...I-I'm just...j-just 'not h-hurt...'" she amended.
This was definitely not fine.
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Sister Grimm†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
She didn't seem crazy. Seem was the operative word here. Micheal didn't seem like the type to run through Left 4 Dead, solo, on Expert. Well, he did, but the point was that looks can be deceiving. Okay, better example, he didn't look like he could go all Wolverine any second. Wolverine with the claws, not Wolverine with the hair cut and yellow spandex. Well, the hair cut was negotiable, but no spandex, for everyone's sake. Still, Wolverine claws. Okay, again, the point was that anyone could be dangerous. That would include this girl sitting alone on the beach. Especially the girl sitting alone on the beach. If video games and movies have taught him anything, watch out for the one you don't expect.
Still, that didn't mean he had to be a dick. He was armed too. She seemed okay, anyhow, so it wouldn't hurt to help her out, right? At least she told him she wasn't crazy. That was a relief. After all, who would lie about that? Crazy people. Okay, well, she seemed sane. Beside, crazy people don't often lament about the situation they're cast into, like he assumed the girl was doing. Okay, that was only a guess, seeing how he'd never really met a crazy person, but it didn't seem like something a loony would do. No, she was just scared, something he could definitely relate to.
It was about to get to the introductions when someone else approached from behind. Micheal spun around at the sound of his voice, as level and non-threatening as it was. "Geez, where did you come from? Were you in sneak mode or something? Man, I screwed that spot check up bad! Frakkin' Sam Fisher over here. Which is easier then me admitting that I wasn't paying attention and you just don't make a lot of noise, but did you take lessons from Garret or something?" Micheal shook his head almost in exasperation, trying to make the way his hand drifted near his bag look natural. Sure, the guy didn't seem like he was going to aggro, but it was better to be prepared, right? He almost wished they'd issued him a Stimpack or some Jet instead. Maybe a nice little Pipboy, V.A.T.S. and all. But he dreams.
Glori- seemed a little nervous by the sudden arrival, but not, you know, crazy nervous. Just cautious. That was cool with him. The guy wasn't exactly setting out alarm bells, but an ounce of prevention was a pound of not getting his ass beaten to a respawn point. "In answer you your question, we're cool. Maybe not fine in the emotional sense, but all 100 hit points are still in place. Just, you know, had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?" When in doubt, quote Star Wars. Even if the situation doesn't call for it, especially if the quote doesn't make sense in the present context. It's a rule that served him well all his life and it wouldn't fail now.
Still, that didn't mean he had to be a dick. He was armed too. She seemed okay, anyhow, so it wouldn't hurt to help her out, right? At least she told him she wasn't crazy. That was a relief. After all, who would lie about that? Crazy people. Okay, well, she seemed sane. Beside, crazy people don't often lament about the situation they're cast into, like he assumed the girl was doing. Okay, that was only a guess, seeing how he'd never really met a crazy person, but it didn't seem like something a loony would do. No, she was just scared, something he could definitely relate to.
It was about to get to the introductions when someone else approached from behind. Micheal spun around at the sound of his voice, as level and non-threatening as it was. "Geez, where did you come from? Were you in sneak mode or something? Man, I screwed that spot check up bad! Frakkin' Sam Fisher over here. Which is easier then me admitting that I wasn't paying attention and you just don't make a lot of noise, but did you take lessons from Garret or something?" Micheal shook his head almost in exasperation, trying to make the way his hand drifted near his bag look natural. Sure, the guy didn't seem like he was going to aggro, but it was better to be prepared, right? He almost wished they'd issued him a Stimpack or some Jet instead. Maybe a nice little Pipboy, V.A.T.S. and all. But he dreams.
Glori- seemed a little nervous by the sudden arrival, but not, you know, crazy nervous. Just cautious. That was cool with him. The guy wasn't exactly setting out alarm bells, but an ounce of prevention was a pound of not getting his ass beaten to a respawn point. "In answer you your question, we're cool. Maybe not fine in the emotional sense, but all 100 hit points are still in place. Just, you know, had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?" When in doubt, quote Star Wars. Even if the situation doesn't call for it, especially if the quote doesn't make sense in the present context. It's a rule that served him well all his life and it wouldn't fail now.
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...He didn't really know how to respond.
Seriously, the first answer he got to his inquiry in to their health was simply enough, an answer amid sobs and tears and a reaction of a panicked girl. That was expected, that was normal... but this? This was just silly, listening to the boy ramble on and on, making constant references to games both old and new, giving away the nervousness he felt at that moment. He had to admit that he probably didn't have the appearance of someone who inspired safety or anything, that maybe the two of them were nervous at his sudden appearance with weapon in hand. Maybe they were right to be nervous around him, knowing what he's done already and what he was capable of doing, what he'd already decided he was capable of doing.
William had done it. Alex should be capable of doing it too.
The boy continued on as Alex came closer to the two of them, his eyes locked on the gun in the hands of the girl and the boys bag, his mind wandering and racing towards the conclusions and assumptions made about the people before him and their belongings. The question at the forefront of his thoughts quickly became what the boy may have as a weapon in that bag, if it was more of a threat than the gun in the hands of the girl or if it would pose an issue to Alex should he try to disarm them. But would he really need to resort to the force he used before to disarm them of the dangerous weapons in their possession? He jumped the gun with Nick, that was certainly a mistake, but Liz was already gone and he'd told himself he had no choice.
But now? Now he was faced with a nervous gamer and a girl who'd been crying just moments earlier.
Would he really jump straight to violence when handling them? He certainly didn't need to, it would be unnecessary and pointless, he already made that choice the last few times he'd been faced with the decision and things... things didn't work out too well. Maybe... maybe he should try something else, maybe he didn't need to go through this alone and maybe he could trust someone. Maybe he could get someone to trust him in this 'game', trust him enough to rely on him for their protection and keep them safe, trust him enough to let him use their weapons to defend them. He wouldn't need to use force to make sure the weapons weren't used against his friends, he could use trust, but in this game was that really a good choice?
Well, it was better than the choices he'd made before.
"I could be better, but everyone could, I suppose."
He responded to the boy's question of his own state of mind and body, his mental and physical and emotional status, as best as he could although he was not willing to admit that at least one of those probably wasn't in the best shape. He took a moment to examine any injuries he had accrued during his time spent wandering the island in search of the people he cared for; A cut on his arm covered with bandages that were likely dirty and a growing bruise on his side that had him worried some time ago. His back and arms were sore, not to mention his legs, but otherwise he was healthy. He was in a lot better shape than the people he'd fought, as far as he knew.
"A few cuts and bruises, but I'm no worse for wear. Emotionally... I'm... I'm alright, I suppose. I'd like to find a few people in particular, make sure that they are alright and that they haven't... y'know."
He didn't specify any names. Not now. Among the names of the ones he was looking for, two had already appeared on the announcements, had already killed their classmates for one reason or another. He wanted to find out those reasons, but their safety was the first thing that was on his mind and had been for a long time. He turned to face the two of them, digging the end of his chosen weapon into the ground as he leaned on it, making sure to avoid the soot covered and blackened end.
"Ran in to a few people that weren't exactly... friendly. But I'm in better shape than they are, I suppose. I guess I have my dad to thank for that, with everything he taught me. I just wish... I just wish I could do more. I just want to be able to keep someone safe, but I've already failed..."
For a moment, he looked to be visibly shaken by the thoughts running through his mind and the words he was trying to bring forth. Maybe they weren't of the subject he was speaking of, but they certainly seemed to have some effect, shaking the athletic young man as they did.
"I suppose you already heard, but Nick Reid killed someone. Thing is, I could have stopped him. Before it ever happened, I could have kept him from doing anything but I wasn't able to. He was right there, I had him right in front of me and despite everything I tried... He still got away with his weapons. He still ended up killing someone. He killed someone else yesterday, apparently."
His expression changed as he talked, shifted from the upset look he carried moments earlier to one of anger. Thing is... he didn't even know who that anger was directed at more, himself or Nick.
"I could have kept him from doing any of it and yet I made a mistake and failed and now... now two people are dead. Despite everything I tried, I couldn't protect anyone, couldn't prevent anything."
Without realizing it, he'd said far more than he needed to, said a lot more than he originally wanted to say to the two of them. He turned back to look at the two of them, unsure of what to say after all of that. After all of that, what could his point be to confide in them? A moment of thought brought out the answer.
"I just want to help but... I can't do it alone."
Seriously, the first answer he got to his inquiry in to their health was simply enough, an answer amid sobs and tears and a reaction of a panicked girl. That was expected, that was normal... but this? This was just silly, listening to the boy ramble on and on, making constant references to games both old and new, giving away the nervousness he felt at that moment. He had to admit that he probably didn't have the appearance of someone who inspired safety or anything, that maybe the two of them were nervous at his sudden appearance with weapon in hand. Maybe they were right to be nervous around him, knowing what he's done already and what he was capable of doing, what he'd already decided he was capable of doing.
William had done it. Alex should be capable of doing it too.
The boy continued on as Alex came closer to the two of them, his eyes locked on the gun in the hands of the girl and the boys bag, his mind wandering and racing towards the conclusions and assumptions made about the people before him and their belongings. The question at the forefront of his thoughts quickly became what the boy may have as a weapon in that bag, if it was more of a threat than the gun in the hands of the girl or if it would pose an issue to Alex should he try to disarm them. But would he really need to resort to the force he used before to disarm them of the dangerous weapons in their possession? He jumped the gun with Nick, that was certainly a mistake, but Liz was already gone and he'd told himself he had no choice.
But now? Now he was faced with a nervous gamer and a girl who'd been crying just moments earlier.
Would he really jump straight to violence when handling them? He certainly didn't need to, it would be unnecessary and pointless, he already made that choice the last few times he'd been faced with the decision and things... things didn't work out too well. Maybe... maybe he should try something else, maybe he didn't need to go through this alone and maybe he could trust someone. Maybe he could get someone to trust him in this 'game', trust him enough to rely on him for their protection and keep them safe, trust him enough to let him use their weapons to defend them. He wouldn't need to use force to make sure the weapons weren't used against his friends, he could use trust, but in this game was that really a good choice?
Well, it was better than the choices he'd made before.
"I could be better, but everyone could, I suppose."
He responded to the boy's question of his own state of mind and body, his mental and physical and emotional status, as best as he could although he was not willing to admit that at least one of those probably wasn't in the best shape. He took a moment to examine any injuries he had accrued during his time spent wandering the island in search of the people he cared for; A cut on his arm covered with bandages that were likely dirty and a growing bruise on his side that had him worried some time ago. His back and arms were sore, not to mention his legs, but otherwise he was healthy. He was in a lot better shape than the people he'd fought, as far as he knew.
"A few cuts and bruises, but I'm no worse for wear. Emotionally... I'm... I'm alright, I suppose. I'd like to find a few people in particular, make sure that they are alright and that they haven't... y'know."
He didn't specify any names. Not now. Among the names of the ones he was looking for, two had already appeared on the announcements, had already killed their classmates for one reason or another. He wanted to find out those reasons, but their safety was the first thing that was on his mind and had been for a long time. He turned to face the two of them, digging the end of his chosen weapon into the ground as he leaned on it, making sure to avoid the soot covered and blackened end.
"Ran in to a few people that weren't exactly... friendly. But I'm in better shape than they are, I suppose. I guess I have my dad to thank for that, with everything he taught me. I just wish... I just wish I could do more. I just want to be able to keep someone safe, but I've already failed..."
For a moment, he looked to be visibly shaken by the thoughts running through his mind and the words he was trying to bring forth. Maybe they weren't of the subject he was speaking of, but they certainly seemed to have some effect, shaking the athletic young man as they did.
"I suppose you already heard, but Nick Reid killed someone. Thing is, I could have stopped him. Before it ever happened, I could have kept him from doing anything but I wasn't able to. He was right there, I had him right in front of me and despite everything I tried... He still got away with his weapons. He still ended up killing someone. He killed someone else yesterday, apparently."
His expression changed as he talked, shifted from the upset look he carried moments earlier to one of anger. Thing is... he didn't even know who that anger was directed at more, himself or Nick.
"I could have kept him from doing any of it and yet I made a mistake and failed and now... now two people are dead. Despite everything I tried, I couldn't protect anyone, couldn't prevent anything."
Without realizing it, he'd said far more than he needed to, said a lot more than he originally wanted to say to the two of them. He turned back to look at the two of them, unsure of what to say after all of that. After all of that, what could his point be to confide in them? A moment of thought brought out the answer.
"I just want to help but... I can't do it alone."
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Still wiping her face, Gloria tried to smile again at the first boy's talking of games and HP and the like. It was a funny thing to be thinking about, treating this like a game, but--wait. It really was a game, wasn't it? A scary, dangerous game, but a game. (For a second, Gloria thought of that story, the one about the man who hunted humans because animals had lost the thrill. It disturbed her to think of it then, and even more now.)
Maybe this was how he dealt with trauma. Gloria cried and generally fell to pieces, this boy treated it as a video game with HP and MP. If he was killed, would he even be afraid right before? If it were a game, he'd just get up with one less life...Gloria shook her head again, sniffling. No, that was stupid. That was a terrible way to think of it. It'd make you careless.
The other guy seemed more serious about it though...But--
"I suppose you already heard, but Nick Reid killed someone. Thing is, I could have stopped him."
But he was only scaring her more. "Wh-what?" she hiccuped. He looked upset now, and kept talking, but she didn't hear most of it--some weird sort of roaring her ears. Maybe it was stress getting to her even more. She suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.
"... now two people are dead. Despite everything I tried, I couldn't protect anyone, couldn't prevent anything."
Stop it, stop it, stop it...
"I just want to help but... I can't do it alone."
"What?!" Gloria squeaked again, tightening her grip on the gun even more, making her hand hurt and her knuckles white. She stared up with wide eyes, feeling her stomach start to hurt. Was he implying..? "Y-You're recr-re-recruiting p-people aren't...ar-aren't you?" She shook her head rapidly. "B-But I ca-can't do...d-do anything--I-I wanna st-stay in a...a-a group, but..." She lowered her head, staring at the gun. She didn't want to be turned away, she needed company...but this guy had seen someone kill another, right? He might see more. Michael might've missed any deaths, but...Oh, this was so messed up.
"I do-don't know what...to d-do a-anym--more..." she whimpered, lifting her gun up into view.
Maybe this was how he dealt with trauma. Gloria cried and generally fell to pieces, this boy treated it as a video game with HP and MP. If he was killed, would he even be afraid right before? If it were a game, he'd just get up with one less life...Gloria shook her head again, sniffling. No, that was stupid. That was a terrible way to think of it. It'd make you careless.
The other guy seemed more serious about it though...But--
"I suppose you already heard, but Nick Reid killed someone. Thing is, I could have stopped him."
But he was only scaring her more. "Wh-what?" she hiccuped. He looked upset now, and kept talking, but she didn't hear most of it--some weird sort of roaring her ears. Maybe it was stress getting to her even more. She suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.
"... now two people are dead. Despite everything I tried, I couldn't protect anyone, couldn't prevent anything."
Stop it, stop it, stop it...
"I just want to help but... I can't do it alone."
"What?!" Gloria squeaked again, tightening her grip on the gun even more, making her hand hurt and her knuckles white. She stared up with wide eyes, feeling her stomach start to hurt. Was he implying..? "Y-You're recr-re-recruiting p-people aren't...ar-aren't you?" She shook her head rapidly. "B-But I ca-can't do...d-do anything--I-I wanna st-stay in a...a-a group, but..." She lowered her head, staring at the gun. She didn't want to be turned away, she needed company...but this guy had seen someone kill another, right? He might see more. Michael might've missed any deaths, but...Oh, this was so messed up.
"I do-don't know what...to d-do a-anym--more..." she whimpered, lifting her gun up into view.
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Sister Grimm†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
Micheal kind of expected the boy to give him a 'what the hell are you talking about' stare, and he wasn't disappointed. Micheal and his rapid-fire gamer talk tended to have that affect on most normal people. And that was in a normal situation, not a life or death struggle on Isla Sorna. It would just, you know, put people off elsewhere. A weird kid starts rattling off all sorts of video game references, quick enough that it's impossible to get in a word edgewise. How do you respond to that? Sure, it was a coping mechanism, but this new guy didn't know that. He probably thought Micheal had snapped or something and waiting for his turn to attack. Common sense said to maybe give it a rest, but once he started, it was hard to taper off.
The gamer had to bite his tongue as the boy started speaking. Snap reaction was to make a comment about reloading a save point and trying again, but that probably wouldn't help anything. Instead, Micheal shifted uneasily as the boy spilled his proverbial guts to the two kids he'd just met. Despite the fact he'd been there first, Micheal sort of felt like an intruder, like he was hearing something he wasn't supposed to be hearing. It was just that he'd never met this guy before, let alone talked to him, and he was baring his soul right there. It just felt, well, awkward.
So, he just stood there, folding his hands behind his back as the boy continued on. What else could he do? Any condolences or sympathies he might offer would fell forced and fake, and he couldn't exactly offer a similar to situation he was involved in that might be used to bond with the boy. Compared to these two, he felt almost thankful. They'd both clearly seen some action and it definitely showed. Meanwhile, he'd had a rock thrown at him. Noooot really the same. Mr. Stick was talking about letting someone die, and Glori-, while not telling her life story, had been kicking around long enough to feel the futility of it all.
Which raised the question: Why wasn't he feeling it like they were? Maybe because it didn't really seem real to him yet. A few people shouting, a girl with a lead pipe, nothing too wild. Change the environment; it would be a normal day. Okay, maybe not normal, but not that far off. The point being, his stay on the island had been positively uneventful. No big fight, no tearful confession to a dying friend, nothing like that. Yeah, he wasn't ecstatic to be here, and he'd love to be home in front of his computer. That didn't mean he'd break down in front of strangers. You know Mike, tough guy to the end.
Movement from Glori- brought his attention to the gun in her hand, one that had probably been there the whole time and had escaped his notice. "Oh, hold on there!" Micheal stepped back with a quickness, putting space between Glori- and the boy. "Yikes, I must have failed a spot check bad right there." For a moment, he thought of drawing his Wolverine claws, but that idea kind of died with the gun and its ability to kill him from more then a foot away.
"Okay now, we're all spooked and various states of emotion turmoil. Let's just relax and put our guns down. Maybe have a nice party chat, get to know each other and then embark on a personal quest to wrong some right that was done before we all met up. Or just talk. Unless we all have awesome Speech/Charisma scores, no one here seems like a psycho. I'm all for forming a party and sticking together, but I'm not down with fragging people. As long as we aren't going around to gank people, safety in numbers is an awesome thing. "
The gamer had to bite his tongue as the boy started speaking. Snap reaction was to make a comment about reloading a save point and trying again, but that probably wouldn't help anything. Instead, Micheal shifted uneasily as the boy spilled his proverbial guts to the two kids he'd just met. Despite the fact he'd been there first, Micheal sort of felt like an intruder, like he was hearing something he wasn't supposed to be hearing. It was just that he'd never met this guy before, let alone talked to him, and he was baring his soul right there. It just felt, well, awkward.
So, he just stood there, folding his hands behind his back as the boy continued on. What else could he do? Any condolences or sympathies he might offer would fell forced and fake, and he couldn't exactly offer a similar to situation he was involved in that might be used to bond with the boy. Compared to these two, he felt almost thankful. They'd both clearly seen some action and it definitely showed. Meanwhile, he'd had a rock thrown at him. Noooot really the same. Mr. Stick was talking about letting someone die, and Glori-, while not telling her life story, had been kicking around long enough to feel the futility of it all.
Which raised the question: Why wasn't he feeling it like they were? Maybe because it didn't really seem real to him yet. A few people shouting, a girl with a lead pipe, nothing too wild. Change the environment; it would be a normal day. Okay, maybe not normal, but not that far off. The point being, his stay on the island had been positively uneventful. No big fight, no tearful confession to a dying friend, nothing like that. Yeah, he wasn't ecstatic to be here, and he'd love to be home in front of his computer. That didn't mean he'd break down in front of strangers. You know Mike, tough guy to the end.
Movement from Glori- brought his attention to the gun in her hand, one that had probably been there the whole time and had escaped his notice. "Oh, hold on there!" Micheal stepped back with a quickness, putting space between Glori- and the boy. "Yikes, I must have failed a spot check bad right there." For a moment, he thought of drawing his Wolverine claws, but that idea kind of died with the gun and its ability to kill him from more then a foot away.
"Okay now, we're all spooked and various states of emotion turmoil. Let's just relax and put our guns down. Maybe have a nice party chat, get to know each other and then embark on a personal quest to wrong some right that was done before we all met up. Or just talk. Unless we all have awesome Speech/Charisma scores, no one here seems like a psycho. I'm all for forming a party and sticking together, but I'm not down with fragging people. As long as we aren't going around to gank people, safety in numbers is an awesome thing. "
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"Honestly?"
A relatively cold stare was the only thing he could give the girl as she stammered out a response to what he'd been talking about. The questions came and they were quite simple. Was he trying to recruit people?
"Yes, I am."
Was he trying to form a group?
"There is safety in numbers."
But what about her confession? She wasn't exactly capable of much, even with the gun; here she was, sitting on the beach, barely able to keep composed. When it came down to it, she was likely to die the moment she was in danger. Of course, he couldn't just tell her that, though he thought she knew exactly what would happen if one of those killers on the list were to find her there instead of the nervous little gamer or the track star with a few problems. Yeah, she knew exactly what would happen... but so did Alex and despite everything he'd done, he still thought he could help, still thought he was doing what was right. Prevention was the best medicine right?
"We stick together and you won't have to do anything. I've handled myself here in two fights and my dad... well, he taught me just about everything I know."
That's right... almost everything he knew, he learned from his dad and his older brother. Hell, the entire idea of protecting his friends was probably a result of what they'd taught him before, what they had always believed in with their professions. Despite his desires to do what he wanted to do instead of what others insisted he do, he was still following in his father's footsteps in one form or another. Of course, the way he was going about it wasn't something to be proud of. For a moment, he wondered what his dad would do if he were there.
But he's not here. I am. These are my choices. I just have to make the best ones I can.
But really, were they the best choices? In the long run, wouldn't every decision he made just end up hurting him or someone else? He hadn't exactly been the best judge of right or wrong here on the island... but really, who was?
"That gun..."
He'd never quite taken his gaze off her weapon from the moment he spotted her holding it; it looked old and slightly worn but still in good shape. Foreign in design, that was certain, but it was still a gun and any gun was better than no gun here in this hell. The entire time he'd been speaking to the two of them, spilling his story of what had been happening so far in his run of the game, he'd been contemplating how to get that weapon away from her. Could he just attack them, take their weapons and run without issue? No, not really; that was a gun he was staring at, not a molotov or a knife. He didn't even know why Micheal had yet, but that kind of thing wasn't the best to guess about and hope for the best; for all he knew, Micheal was hiding a something worse than a handgun in that bag.
Before he could respond further, Micheal was off again and didn't look to be stopping any time soon.
On and on and on and on.
"Don't you ever shut up?"
Alex interjected with that little bit of hostility as Micheal rambled. Yeah, the first instance was bad, but this was just worse; every few seconds it was another reference and another term. All of them from video games; RPGs and strategy games, first person shooters and other such action filled genres all seemed to have been covered by his gamer styled nervous rambling.
"Seriously, you jump off like that and spew shit no one understands."
Right, probably not the best idea to get angry.
"This is not a fucking video game."
This... is not looking too good.
"We don't have statistics to determine our skills and we don't have a fucking scoreboard telling us if we're beating the other team. This is not a game and we're not fictional characters and yet here you are spewing more shit every five seconds about this character or that."
Alex certainly didn't look happy now, thrusting his hand forward and pointing at the boy as he talked; he didn't step closer now, not without knowing what the boy was hiding, but he wasn't about to sit and listen to more game related bullshit. Not here, not in this place and not after what he did. He'd made too many mistakes and done far too much to let this idiot play it off as a video game. There was no chance in hell that he was going to let that happen. This was not a god damn video game!
"God damn it, this is fucking life and death! This isn't some fucking video game you can just save and quit! These are peoples lives we're talking about, not character sheets and dice rolls."
He'd done far too much since this all began to let him treat it so lightly. He would go on to do far worse as this all went on as well and he knew this and he wasn't about to let it all just become a game. This was real, he had to believe that, he had to control what little he could and help however he could and this asshole was treating it like a game and--
Fuck!
Nothing quite made sense now. Really, it was so small and yet Alex had suddenly become so irate. Here he was, confronting this boy he knew was just scared and nervous, yet Alex was barely able to hold back the hostility that he was throwing Micheal's way.
"God damn it!"
Within a moment, he was clutching the strap of Liz's bag as it hung from his back and ripping the apparently offending object from it's place among his belongings; the other two remained where they were, but the bag with Liz's name stitched unto the side was soon hitting the ground with a dull thump. It was certainly better than his original idea of throwing something at Micheal but it didn't exactly do much for his temper or anger. Speaking of which... why was he suddenly so angry, anyways? It didn't make much sense, really, for him to have gotten so riled up over Micheal's relatively small and inconsequential comments. So why in the hell was he so fucking mad?
"Damn it... I should have taken those pills."
A relatively cold stare was the only thing he could give the girl as she stammered out a response to what he'd been talking about. The questions came and they were quite simple. Was he trying to recruit people?
"Yes, I am."
Was he trying to form a group?
"There is safety in numbers."
But what about her confession? She wasn't exactly capable of much, even with the gun; here she was, sitting on the beach, barely able to keep composed. When it came down to it, she was likely to die the moment she was in danger. Of course, he couldn't just tell her that, though he thought she knew exactly what would happen if one of those killers on the list were to find her there instead of the nervous little gamer or the track star with a few problems. Yeah, she knew exactly what would happen... but so did Alex and despite everything he'd done, he still thought he could help, still thought he was doing what was right. Prevention was the best medicine right?
"We stick together and you won't have to do anything. I've handled myself here in two fights and my dad... well, he taught me just about everything I know."
That's right... almost everything he knew, he learned from his dad and his older brother. Hell, the entire idea of protecting his friends was probably a result of what they'd taught him before, what they had always believed in with their professions. Despite his desires to do what he wanted to do instead of what others insisted he do, he was still following in his father's footsteps in one form or another. Of course, the way he was going about it wasn't something to be proud of. For a moment, he wondered what his dad would do if he were there.
But he's not here. I am. These are my choices. I just have to make the best ones I can.
But really, were they the best choices? In the long run, wouldn't every decision he made just end up hurting him or someone else? He hadn't exactly been the best judge of right or wrong here on the island... but really, who was?
"That gun..."
He'd never quite taken his gaze off her weapon from the moment he spotted her holding it; it looked old and slightly worn but still in good shape. Foreign in design, that was certain, but it was still a gun and any gun was better than no gun here in this hell. The entire time he'd been speaking to the two of them, spilling his story of what had been happening so far in his run of the game, he'd been contemplating how to get that weapon away from her. Could he just attack them, take their weapons and run without issue? No, not really; that was a gun he was staring at, not a molotov or a knife. He didn't even know why Micheal had yet, but that kind of thing wasn't the best to guess about and hope for the best; for all he knew, Micheal was hiding a something worse than a handgun in that bag.
Before he could respond further, Micheal was off again and didn't look to be stopping any time soon.
On and on and on and on.
"Don't you ever shut up?"
Alex interjected with that little bit of hostility as Micheal rambled. Yeah, the first instance was bad, but this was just worse; every few seconds it was another reference and another term. All of them from video games; RPGs and strategy games, first person shooters and other such action filled genres all seemed to have been covered by his gamer styled nervous rambling.
"Seriously, you jump off like that and spew shit no one understands."
Right, probably not the best idea to get angry.
"This is not a fucking video game."
This... is not looking too good.
"We don't have statistics to determine our skills and we don't have a fucking scoreboard telling us if we're beating the other team. This is not a game and we're not fictional characters and yet here you are spewing more shit every five seconds about this character or that."
Alex certainly didn't look happy now, thrusting his hand forward and pointing at the boy as he talked; he didn't step closer now, not without knowing what the boy was hiding, but he wasn't about to sit and listen to more game related bullshit. Not here, not in this place and not after what he did. He'd made too many mistakes and done far too much to let this idiot play it off as a video game. There was no chance in hell that he was going to let that happen. This was not a god damn video game!
"God damn it, this is fucking life and death! This isn't some fucking video game you can just save and quit! These are peoples lives we're talking about, not character sheets and dice rolls."
He'd done far too much since this all began to let him treat it so lightly. He would go on to do far worse as this all went on as well and he knew this and he wasn't about to let it all just become a game. This was real, he had to believe that, he had to control what little he could and help however he could and this asshole was treating it like a game and--
Fuck!
Nothing quite made sense now. Really, it was so small and yet Alex had suddenly become so irate. Here he was, confronting this boy he knew was just scared and nervous, yet Alex was barely able to hold back the hostility that he was throwing Micheal's way.
"God damn it!"
Within a moment, he was clutching the strap of Liz's bag as it hung from his back and ripping the apparently offending object from it's place among his belongings; the other two remained where they were, but the bag with Liz's name stitched unto the side was soon hitting the ground with a dull thump. It was certainly better than his original idea of throwing something at Micheal but it didn't exactly do much for his temper or anger. Speaking of which... why was he suddenly so angry, anyways? It didn't make much sense, really, for him to have gotten so riled up over Micheal's relatively small and inconsequential comments. So why in the hell was he so fucking mad?
"Damn it... I should have taken those pills."
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.
Realizing what she had done, Gloria held the gun even closer to her now, though she didn't lower it out of sight again. Letting out a panicked squeak and holding the weapon to her chest, she looked between the two men with fearful eyes. This was bad. Very bad. Michael sounded nervous, rambling his video-game speak, and the other guy--
"Don't you ever shut up?"
Gloria ducked her head, shaking again. Oh God...Oh God!
"God damn it, this is fucking life and death! This isn't some fucking video game you can just save and quit! These are peoples lives we're talking about, not character sheets and dice rolls."
She'd been thinking something similar, but with less swears. Still, that didn't mean one had to go insane, yell about it--it was a coping mechanism, that was all...That was all, no reason to get angry! Lowering her head further, Gloria moved her hands away from her chest and over her ears, pressing hard, the gun still in one hand, aimed up in the air. Stop it...stop shouting, people will hear us...
The thump of the bag hitting the sand made her jump, and she fearfully lifted her head, praying that the noise meant his tirade was over. It seemed to be...he didn't look ready to scream any more, and he was speaking more quietly now. Gloria couldn't hear what he said with her ears covered, and as she carefully lifted her hands away from them, she only caught one word: "pills."
"...Pills?" she whispered, voice catching in her throat. Was that why he was angry? He needed pills, he was a split-personality, he was crazy?! It was a possibility..a nasty one, at that. Gloria swallowed hard, trying to calm down her heart--her chest was starting to feel a little tight. Okay...okay, if he got angry easily because of lack of pills, or sickness...it was best to not upset him further, right? Maybe not a good idea to travel with him, but...
"D-Don't..." she whispered again. "D-dont be m-mad...w-we won't...we-we'll do what...wh-what you s-sa-say, so...s-so please don't hu-hurt us?!" The last few words came out in a hysterical cry, tears starting to flow again. "Don't hurt us! D-Don't hu-hurt--don't wanna die--d-do wh-what you w-want!" She'd go anywhere he wanted to--at first. If he became horribly dangerous, she'd run...shoot him in the arm, the leg, somewhere non-lethal, and run away. She'd take Michael and they'd run.
"Don't you ever shut up?"
Gloria ducked her head, shaking again. Oh God...Oh God!
"God damn it, this is fucking life and death! This isn't some fucking video game you can just save and quit! These are peoples lives we're talking about, not character sheets and dice rolls."
She'd been thinking something similar, but with less swears. Still, that didn't mean one had to go insane, yell about it--it was a coping mechanism, that was all...That was all, no reason to get angry! Lowering her head further, Gloria moved her hands away from her chest and over her ears, pressing hard, the gun still in one hand, aimed up in the air. Stop it...stop shouting, people will hear us...
The thump of the bag hitting the sand made her jump, and she fearfully lifted her head, praying that the noise meant his tirade was over. It seemed to be...he didn't look ready to scream any more, and he was speaking more quietly now. Gloria couldn't hear what he said with her ears covered, and as she carefully lifted her hands away from them, she only caught one word: "pills."
"...Pills?" she whispered, voice catching in her throat. Was that why he was angry? He needed pills, he was a split-personality, he was crazy?! It was a possibility..a nasty one, at that. Gloria swallowed hard, trying to calm down her heart--her chest was starting to feel a little tight. Okay...okay, if he got angry easily because of lack of pills, or sickness...it was best to not upset him further, right? Maybe not a good idea to travel with him, but...
"D-Don't..." she whispered again. "D-dont be m-mad...w-we won't...we-we'll do what...wh-what you s-sa-say, so...s-so please don't hu-hurt us?!" The last few words came out in a hysterical cry, tears starting to flow again. "Don't hurt us! D-Don't hu-hurt--don't wanna die--d-do wh-what you w-want!" She'd go anywhere he wanted to--at first. If he became horribly dangerous, she'd run...shoot him in the arm, the leg, somewhere non-lethal, and run away. She'd take Michael and they'd run.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Moth. 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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Sister Grimm†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
Micheal was surprised, to say the least, when the sudden verbal torrent was unleashed in his direction. He'd been talking without thinking, nothing strange there, when whatshisname started going off on him! What the hell was up with that? Overreaction much? It was a stressful situation, sure, but how much does being polite cost? It was plain old rude.
Not to mention terrifying. Micheal wasn't tough by any stretch of the word. So, when a joke-looking guy started freaking out at him, he was pretty spooked. Add that too the nervousness he was already feeling, and it was a perfect recipe for someone to do something stupid. Honestly, he was afraid the guy was going to charge him or something. Then someone would get hurt no matter what happened. Micheal, if he did nothing, Jock McAnger if Micheal did. Micheal wasn't a pacifist either, but he didn't want anyone hurt.
Torn between fear and an almost instinctive to snap back, Micheal stood there with his head bowed, flinching with every thrown accusation. He felt like a dick, even though it was clearly the other kid losing it. Everyone was looking at him, though, and he felt awkward and uncomfortable and exposed and scared and plain old terrible.
So, the gamer just stood there while the kid shouted at him. When he finally did quiet down, Micheal shifted nervously, his eyes still looking to the sand. What else was he going to do? He wanted to say something clever and shut the kid down, but instead he muttered, quite lamely he might add, "I know it's not a game, asshole."
The sound of the bag hitting the sand made him jump, and he barely heard the guy muttering about pills. Still, shock dictated that he stay silent. He glanced up at the girl as she tried to talk to Mr. Angry, but after a second his gaze fell back to the ground. Micheal wished he could find someone he knew. He wished he friends had come along on the trip, even if that meant they would have been killed. Being around people who didn't get his references clearly wasn't for him.
Honestly, he was tempted to just head off on his own. His chances probably wouldn't be much better on his own then with these two. Glori- couldn't talk straight, what were the chances she could shoot straight? And don't get him started on the guy. Being around that asshole definitely wasn't at the top of his list. Madelyn was kicking around, wasn't she? Maybe he could try and find her. Yeah, that would be good. Better then the alternative, anyway. Still, Glori- was okay. Maybe he could get her to come along, sans the jerk standing by himself.
Not to mention terrifying. Micheal wasn't tough by any stretch of the word. So, when a joke-looking guy started freaking out at him, he was pretty spooked. Add that too the nervousness he was already feeling, and it was a perfect recipe for someone to do something stupid. Honestly, he was afraid the guy was going to charge him or something. Then someone would get hurt no matter what happened. Micheal, if he did nothing, Jock McAnger if Micheal did. Micheal wasn't a pacifist either, but he didn't want anyone hurt.
Torn between fear and an almost instinctive to snap back, Micheal stood there with his head bowed, flinching with every thrown accusation. He felt like a dick, even though it was clearly the other kid losing it. Everyone was looking at him, though, and he felt awkward and uncomfortable and exposed and scared and plain old terrible.
So, the gamer just stood there while the kid shouted at him. When he finally did quiet down, Micheal shifted nervously, his eyes still looking to the sand. What else was he going to do? He wanted to say something clever and shut the kid down, but instead he muttered, quite lamely he might add, "I know it's not a game, asshole."
The sound of the bag hitting the sand made him jump, and he barely heard the guy muttering about pills. Still, shock dictated that he stay silent. He glanced up at the girl as she tried to talk to Mr. Angry, but after a second his gaze fell back to the ground. Micheal wished he could find someone he knew. He wished he friends had come along on the trip, even if that meant they would have been killed. Being around people who didn't get his references clearly wasn't for him.
Honestly, he was tempted to just head off on his own. His chances probably wouldn't be much better on his own then with these two. Glori- couldn't talk straight, what were the chances she could shoot straight? And don't get him started on the guy. Being around that asshole definitely wasn't at the top of his list. Madelyn was kicking around, wasn't she? Maybe he could try and find her. Yeah, that would be good. Better then the alternative, anyway. Still, Glori- was okay. Maybe he could get her to come along, sans the jerk standing by himself.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Sister Grimm.
"What am I doing..."
Alex's outburst had silenced Micheal, that was certain, but it seemed to have done far more damage than intended. When everything was said and done with his anger filled monologue, Gloria was left stammering out a response in fear of further reprisal. She sounded hysterical and her words eventually broke away into crying, Alex barely able to make out the last few words she said. Was he really that terrifying? Did she really think he was going to try and kill her? Well... yeah, she did. Of course she did, who wouldn't? After all, he just came out of nowhere with that outburst, spurred on by something so small and insignificant, especially when you looked back at it. Really, anyone could make that assumption of him now, concluding that he had gone insane and was capable of killing people.
After all, hadn't he resolved to do just that not so long ago?
"I'm not going to kill you and I'm not going to hurt you."
A heavy sigh, sagging shoulders and a few deep breaths followed his statement before he grabbed the strap of the bag lying there in the sand and slung it across his back once again. It wasn't his bag but he still didn't want to just leave it there; food, water, various other little things, all of it might be useful so why abandon it. Alex turned to look at Gloria, dropping his gaze when he saw her still crying hysterically. God damn, he didn't mean to make a girl cry... now he just felt like shit. Nothing snaps you out of a moment of irrational anger like a crying girl.
"I'm not going to make you do anything."
You'd be useless anyways.
He didn't let that last part go anywhere but his mind, trying to calm down a bit before he did end up attacking either of them for whatever reasons he had. Could attack Micheal because he was the clearer threat, a boy who didn't seem to take any of this seriously and didn't know when to shut up. He could even attack Gloria and take that gun from her, she certainly wouldn't know how to use it and he really could just take it from her at this point. But really, did he want to do that? Sure, he attacked Nick and Liz, but they were actual threats at the time, or at least appeared to be. Could he really attack a crying girl and take her only weapon under the pretense of keeping it from being used on the wrong people?
"I could, but I won't."
I should but I can't.
When it came down to it though, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but turn away from the two of them. They hadn't done anything, they hadn't looked to be anywhere near hostile, neither of them were a threat to anyone just yet. There was no way he could feel right taking any weapons they had and he certainly didn't believe Gloria would be a threat to anyone with that gun of hers. Sure, he should take it just to be safe, take the both of them with him and actually do something right, but after that outburst from something so small... he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything until he got things under control. He knew exactly what was going to start happening to him and there was only one way to stop or delay it.
"I'm not going to force you to come with me and I can't promise something like that won't happen again, but believe me when I say that I didn't intend to hurt you. If you want to come with me, I can promise that as long as I am able, I'll do my best to protect you."
He didn't speak directly to either of them and refused to turn to face them, simply making sure all of his things were together and grabbing the pine branch.
"I'm sorry for that outburst but this isn't a game. No matter how often it is referred to as a game or nothing more than a show, our presence here should tell you this is all very real. Start treating it that way or else you'll end up dead very soon."
Alex didn't want to admit it, but even he was wrong in his approach to everything that was going on; there was reason to take this seriously, of course, but treating everyone as a killer or a victim and nothing else? That would end up with him dead or with someone else dead by his own hand. For all his wondering and all his worrying and all the anxiety and paranoia that filled his mind at all times, he doubt if he really was prepared to do whatever was necessary; he'd told himself he was several times over, but there are always doubts when it came to that sort of thing. Of course there were doubts; he knew that if there were no doubts at all, that if he really was willing to do everything needed than he wouldn't be much better than the people who killed without reason. After all... what was his reason?
Did he even have a reason anymore?
So many of his friends had become killers and so many had died, so was his reason really valid anymore? He failed to protect anyone with his method and it didn't look like he was going to make any progress in doing so, so what was his reason for any of this? How could he say he just wanted to protect people when every time he met someone he attacked them, tried to take whatever weapons they had, come to the assumption that everyone would be better off without the weapons... except himself. He really was doing more harm than good with his methods and yet nothing else seemed to make sense; maybe he really was losing it like Gloria and Micheal must have thought he was. After all, how long had it been? Three days? Maybe more? He couldn't remember the last time and now they were gone and there was no escape and their was no reprieve. It was just him and no support and his choices and no help and maybe he was wrong and maybe he was right and maybe there was no choice and maybe there was no other way and maybe his father was right and maybe he shouldn't try and maybe everyone else was right and maybe he really did have problems and...
Enough.
"I'm going to look for Andrea. Even if you don't trust me and even... even if you think I'm nuts, just promise me something okay? Don't end up on the announcements."
Just like that, he walked away.
...
That was it?
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued in Late Dawns and Early Sunsets.]
Alex's outburst had silenced Micheal, that was certain, but it seemed to have done far more damage than intended. When everything was said and done with his anger filled monologue, Gloria was left stammering out a response in fear of further reprisal. She sounded hysterical and her words eventually broke away into crying, Alex barely able to make out the last few words she said. Was he really that terrifying? Did she really think he was going to try and kill her? Well... yeah, she did. Of course she did, who wouldn't? After all, he just came out of nowhere with that outburst, spurred on by something so small and insignificant, especially when you looked back at it. Really, anyone could make that assumption of him now, concluding that he had gone insane and was capable of killing people.
After all, hadn't he resolved to do just that not so long ago?
"I'm not going to kill you and I'm not going to hurt you."
A heavy sigh, sagging shoulders and a few deep breaths followed his statement before he grabbed the strap of the bag lying there in the sand and slung it across his back once again. It wasn't his bag but he still didn't want to just leave it there; food, water, various other little things, all of it might be useful so why abandon it. Alex turned to look at Gloria, dropping his gaze when he saw her still crying hysterically. God damn, he didn't mean to make a girl cry... now he just felt like shit. Nothing snaps you out of a moment of irrational anger like a crying girl.
"I'm not going to make you do anything."
You'd be useless anyways.
He didn't let that last part go anywhere but his mind, trying to calm down a bit before he did end up attacking either of them for whatever reasons he had. Could attack Micheal because he was the clearer threat, a boy who didn't seem to take any of this seriously and didn't know when to shut up. He could even attack Gloria and take that gun from her, she certainly wouldn't know how to use it and he really could just take it from her at this point. But really, did he want to do that? Sure, he attacked Nick and Liz, but they were actual threats at the time, or at least appeared to be. Could he really attack a crying girl and take her only weapon under the pretense of keeping it from being used on the wrong people?
"I could, but I won't."
I should but I can't.
When it came down to it though, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but turn away from the two of them. They hadn't done anything, they hadn't looked to be anywhere near hostile, neither of them were a threat to anyone just yet. There was no way he could feel right taking any weapons they had and he certainly didn't believe Gloria would be a threat to anyone with that gun of hers. Sure, he should take it just to be safe, take the both of them with him and actually do something right, but after that outburst from something so small... he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything until he got things under control. He knew exactly what was going to start happening to him and there was only one way to stop or delay it.
"I'm not going to force you to come with me and I can't promise something like that won't happen again, but believe me when I say that I didn't intend to hurt you. If you want to come with me, I can promise that as long as I am able, I'll do my best to protect you."
He didn't speak directly to either of them and refused to turn to face them, simply making sure all of his things were together and grabbing the pine branch.
"I'm sorry for that outburst but this isn't a game. No matter how often it is referred to as a game or nothing more than a show, our presence here should tell you this is all very real. Start treating it that way or else you'll end up dead very soon."
Alex didn't want to admit it, but even he was wrong in his approach to everything that was going on; there was reason to take this seriously, of course, but treating everyone as a killer or a victim and nothing else? That would end up with him dead or with someone else dead by his own hand. For all his wondering and all his worrying and all the anxiety and paranoia that filled his mind at all times, he doubt if he really was prepared to do whatever was necessary; he'd told himself he was several times over, but there are always doubts when it came to that sort of thing. Of course there were doubts; he knew that if there were no doubts at all, that if he really was willing to do everything needed than he wouldn't be much better than the people who killed without reason. After all... what was his reason?
Did he even have a reason anymore?
So many of his friends had become killers and so many had died, so was his reason really valid anymore? He failed to protect anyone with his method and it didn't look like he was going to make any progress in doing so, so what was his reason for any of this? How could he say he just wanted to protect people when every time he met someone he attacked them, tried to take whatever weapons they had, come to the assumption that everyone would be better off without the weapons... except himself. He really was doing more harm than good with his methods and yet nothing else seemed to make sense; maybe he really was losing it like Gloria and Micheal must have thought he was. After all, how long had it been? Three days? Maybe more? He couldn't remember the last time and now they were gone and there was no escape and their was no reprieve. It was just him and no support and his choices and no help and maybe he was wrong and maybe he was right and maybe there was no choice and maybe there was no other way and maybe his father was right and maybe he shouldn't try and maybe everyone else was right and maybe he really did have problems and...
Enough.
"I'm going to look for Andrea. Even if you don't trust me and even... even if you think I'm nuts, just promise me something okay? Don't end up on the announcements."
Just like that, he walked away.
...
That was it?
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued in Late Dawns and Early Sunsets.]
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.
He was...leaving? Gloria lifted her head, swallowing her fresher sobs as Alex spoke. He wasn't going to do anything to them? Relief flooded Gloria's body, and she nearly collapsed. Leaning against her duffel, the hand holding the gun dropped onto it, and she just stared in shock at the man who had just a minute ago shouted, threw down a heavy bag--it didn't take much imagination for her to suspect he'd have struck one of them with it.
"W-Wait--!" she called out as he walked past, but her voice was too soft. Softer than usual, for a second, Gloria wondered if she truly wanted him to have waited. And even if he had...What would I say? That I wanted to go with him if it meant staying a group? ...That I'd go with anyone? Just a while ago she'd been planning to leave him, to take Michael and go, hadn't she? This game wasn't letting her think straight. She was confused, tired, sore...terrified.
"Stay out of the announcements," he'd said. Announcements. Gloria looked back at her gun, letting out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She'd heard them, heard the names, one of which was very familiar...
"O-One..." she whispered, head bowed. "O-One of th-the names I heard...w-we were f-f-friends, I t-think." She looked up at Michael, wiping at her tears without taking her glasses off. "M-Met at p-pr-prom...we w-were both sh-shy, an-and no...no partners...S-So we talked..." Head bowing again, Gloria swallowed. "I--I ga-gave him a.. a r-ride home, and...I'm n-not good with m-men, so...s-so I was su-surprised...that I wan-wanted to s-see him again." A tiny, humorless smile came to her lips. "H-His name was an--announced. W-We'd just m-met, you know?"
Why was she telling him all this, she wondered. Sympathy? Need to have company in mourning? Why?
"I--I wonder..i-if he had...h-had a group. Or w-was alone...I-If I w-was there...I coulda used m-my..." Could she? Could she have though? Lifting her head up again, staring at Michael with teary, wide eyes, she nervously held her free hand out, shaking slightly. "Can...c-can we g-go together? St-strength in numbers...w-we can have e-each other's backs. T-til..." She tried to smile again, thinking if she spoke like him, it'd show she wasn't crazy, evil, or really willing to play the game. "Til f-final boss...a-and ending cut-scene?"
"W-Wait--!" she called out as he walked past, but her voice was too soft. Softer than usual, for a second, Gloria wondered if she truly wanted him to have waited. And even if he had...What would I say? That I wanted to go with him if it meant staying a group? ...That I'd go with anyone? Just a while ago she'd been planning to leave him, to take Michael and go, hadn't she? This game wasn't letting her think straight. She was confused, tired, sore...terrified.
"Stay out of the announcements," he'd said. Announcements. Gloria looked back at her gun, letting out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She'd heard them, heard the names, one of which was very familiar...
"O-One..." she whispered, head bowed. "O-One of th-the names I heard...w-we were f-f-friends, I t-think." She looked up at Michael, wiping at her tears without taking her glasses off. "M-Met at p-pr-prom...we w-were both sh-shy, an-and no...no partners...S-So we talked..." Head bowing again, Gloria swallowed. "I--I ga-gave him a.. a r-ride home, and...I'm n-not good with m-men, so...s-so I was su-surprised...that I wan-wanted to s-see him again." A tiny, humorless smile came to her lips. "H-His name was an--announced. W-We'd just m-met, you know?"
Why was she telling him all this, she wondered. Sympathy? Need to have company in mourning? Why?
"I--I wonder..i-if he had...h-had a group. Or w-was alone...I-If I w-was there...I coulda used m-my..." Could she? Could she have though? Lifting her head up again, staring at Michael with teary, wide eyes, she nervously held her free hand out, shaking slightly. "Can...c-can we g-go together? St-strength in numbers...w-we can have e-each other's backs. T-til..." She tried to smile again, thinking if she spoke like him, it'd show she wasn't crazy, evil, or really willing to play the game. "Til f-final boss...a-and ending cut-scene?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Moth. 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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Sister Grimm†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
What a jerk. Seriously, what a jerk. Good riddance. That left him alone with the girl packing a gun, but he felt better with her then he did with the other guy. Chances were that she wasn't going to freak out on him anytime soon, so that was good. Considering that she was so freaked out that she couldn't string two words together was a good sign. Good sign that she wouldn't shoot him, at least. Less good if he decided that he was going to rely on that gun of hers. Could he really expect her to put up any real defense? Not frakking likely. Still, it was better then heading out with Mr. Angry.
Micheal looked on, trying to appear sympathetic. It wasn't that hard, it turned out. It was a crummy little tale. Not exactly Mario taking on a giant dinosaur to save the woman he loves, but still plenty sympathetic. What were people supposed to do in this sort of situation? Not the overall situation, but comforting someone who was in distress? He wasn't really the personable type, and even less the social type.
Normally, honest enough, he wouldn't care. You know, sorry for your bad luck, but that doesn't really affect me. But when she had a gun, and when he was just trying to find someone to look out for him, he could make himself care.
"I'm sorry." Was that enough? Did it seem, well, lacking? Or did it make it look like him was an emotionless jerk that was just feigning sympathy? "Really, that's, uh, rotten." Micheal searched for the right words, looking away as he tried to put something that would make it clear he cared, at least a little, into words. Then he realized that she wasn't really clear on whether he was alive or dead. He guessed the apology was still acceptable.
Still, he must have done okay, because she was asking to team up. That was a load off his mind. He let out a sigh, flashing a relieved grin toward the frightened girl. "Really, I wanted you to ask since I'd take me forever to get around to it. I'd love to have someone who wasn't, you know, crazy, tagging along or to tag along with. So, sure, I'd be happy to party up with you. I can be the smooth-talking leader, you can be the tank/dps, while I be off-tank/dps. Sound good?"
Micheal looked on, trying to appear sympathetic. It wasn't that hard, it turned out. It was a crummy little tale. Not exactly Mario taking on a giant dinosaur to save the woman he loves, but still plenty sympathetic. What were people supposed to do in this sort of situation? Not the overall situation, but comforting someone who was in distress? He wasn't really the personable type, and even less the social type.
Normally, honest enough, he wouldn't care. You know, sorry for your bad luck, but that doesn't really affect me. But when she had a gun, and when he was just trying to find someone to look out for him, he could make himself care.
"I'm sorry." Was that enough? Did it seem, well, lacking? Or did it make it look like him was an emotionless jerk that was just feigning sympathy? "Really, that's, uh, rotten." Micheal searched for the right words, looking away as he tried to put something that would make it clear he cared, at least a little, into words. Then he realized that she wasn't really clear on whether he was alive or dead. He guessed the apology was still acceptable.
Still, he must have done okay, because she was asking to team up. That was a load off his mind. He let out a sigh, flashing a relieved grin toward the frightened girl. "Really, I wanted you to ask since I'd take me forever to get around to it. I'd love to have someone who wasn't, you know, crazy, tagging along or to tag along with. So, sure, I'd be happy to party up with you. I can be the smooth-talking leader, you can be the tank/dps, while I be off-tank/dps. Sound good?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Sister Grimm.
For a few moments before he replied to her proposition, Gloria was tensed up, somewhat curled in on herself in nervousness. What if he refused? She didn't know why he would possibly, but the thought was still there. He had the right to say no. Had the right to smack her for the idea, or...or kill...maybe--
But her fears proved to be unfounded, and Gloria relaxed, smiling a bit more in sheer, unadulterated relief. She let out a tiny laugh, the first genuinely-happy sounding laugh she'd uttered during her whole stay here. That was progress! A few tears slipped out of her eyes, and she reached under her glasses to wipe them away. "I...I d-don't know wh-what th-the tanks and D-D-Dps is...but okay..." She reached up, holding the hand that didn't have the gun out, intending to shake his hand.
"W-We'll pr-prote-tect each o-other...ri-right?" she pressed on. "M-My d-dad used to b-be a po-police-man....I-I've an...an idea 'f h-how to u-use this...I--I'll be th-the best t-tank ever, y-you'll see!"
But her fears proved to be unfounded, and Gloria relaxed, smiling a bit more in sheer, unadulterated relief. She let out a tiny laugh, the first genuinely-happy sounding laugh she'd uttered during her whole stay here. That was progress! A few tears slipped out of her eyes, and she reached under her glasses to wipe them away. "I...I d-don't know wh-what th-the tanks and D-D-Dps is...but okay..." She reached up, holding the hand that didn't have the gun out, intending to shake his hand.
"W-We'll pr-prote-tect each o-other...ri-right?" she pressed on. "M-My d-dad used to b-be a po-police-man....I-I've an...an idea 'f h-how to u-use this...I--I'll be th-the best t-tank ever, y-you'll see!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Moth. 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.