((Bridget Connolly, Reiko Ishida and Sarah Xu continued from Revolution))
The group approached the waiting rescue boat, one of Sarah's fears already being calmed at the sight of people. She squeezed Reiko's hand tightly as her feet scuffed the sand, their fingers had been locked for minutes, as much to calm her own nerves as to indicate that her girlfriend wasn't there to cause trouble. She tried to make out the details, to focus on how many were there, what they were doing, it was all she could do to suppress the urge to sprint forward. Though, she wasn't entirely sure why she wasn't. They were finally going home, that was cause to be excited... And yet the closer they got the more nervous she was becoming.
She knew it was irrational, and she knew that if it were nine days earlier she would have been racing across the sand and hugging everyone in sight, but now she felt drained, and the prospect made her skittish. But she knew what she was feeling didn't make sense, and so she kept walking, her hand in Reiko's, until one of the guards noticed the trio, and her pace quickened as she thought about how much she wanted to go home again, to see mum and dad and Liam and Joel and to curl up with her Reiko in her bed in her room in her house.
When she reached them, she couldn't help but grin.
"W-we'd like to go home, please."
The Cavalry Arrives
See Midmonths
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiiii.
((Peter McCue continued from Back in St. Paul, if Just for an Evening...))
The night they had spent had been fantastic, and the last thing that he had wanted to do was face the morning light. More running for their lives. More hiding. More fretting having to make that decision, having to go back on his word to Imraan... For Katlin's sake. No gunpowder, no blood on his hands yet, but with each passing day he knew his luck was running dry. Some one would attack them. Someone would try to do something to Katlin, to him, prevent them from living a few minutes longer. But at the best, only one of them could get off the island... And his time to come up with a plan was running dry, fast. Very, very fast. The dawn had broken out of the window of their temporary home, signaling day ten.
Wait. The sun was up. Had he slept through the announcement? The announcement always went off at sunrise, or just a little after... But no, it was almost surreal. He could hear birds chirping outside the window, feel the sheet atop him sticking to his body... Had the entire thing been just a dream?
Rolling over to shield his sun for the eyes, his arms draped over Katlin... No, it hadn't been a dream. His love... That was still so strange to say. A smile crept across his face. He never thought he would smile a legitimate smile on this island, but he did. As he pulled her close, just willing the day away, he heard her stir. Nothing would interrupt this. Not until they had to leave. Even if it was hot, sticky, and uncomfortable, this was still his paradise. This one little room.
He tried to run his ideas through his head. They just would not come to him. He didn't care right then. There were bodies here, he was sure, that could wait.
...Wow, that was a macabre thought. He shook his head, before resting it on her shoulder, sighing happily. And so he intended to cuddle the day away, moving under the cover of night, leaving this happiness behind... Would it really have been so bad to just die here in each other's arms? Like this? They would die happy... No. He made a promise. He was going to keep it. He was going to keep it. No matter what it took.
His thoughts were interrupted by a screeching sound, some sort of electronic noise. In his half awaken stupor, he mistook it for the announcements, wondering why they were late.
"Hello, students of Bayview Secondary School, My name is Jaxon Jeremiah. I'm here with a group of people who can get your collars off and take you home, on one condition: that you have not been murdering your classmates over the past week. If that describes you, and you want a lift, come to the beach as quickly as you can. We won't be here for long."
...What? If the window to the room hadn't been open, he was sure he wouldn't have heard that. But...
"...group of people who can get your collars off and take you home..."
"...take you home..."
His eyes were wide. They couldn't have much time. Without taking any heed whatsoever of his clothingless state, he rolled out of the bed, but not before rousting Katlin as best as he could.
"Wake up! W-We're going home." Through tear filled eyes, and a quivering voice, he made the declaration. They were going home. Within a split second, the map was unfurled upon the carpet below him, and pants were sliding on. It took a quick moment to see that they only needed to advance north, the only possible beach they could have heard that from was there.
"We're going home..."
Already dressed, Katlin's hand in his, halfway out the door, shotgun held in the second. He glanced down to the steel he held in his hand. This... Was survival of the fittest. It could be a trap. Someone could have been given a megaphone, could have finally collected enough weapons to make mincemeat out of the last few non-players creeping around. People like him and Katlin.
He pulled back the forearm, checking the magazine tube. Loaded. "Listen, Katlin." He held his arm across the door defensively. "We're going to this, we're getting out of here. But... It could be a trap. That could be Maxwell. I... I'll go in front. Just be careful, and when we see the beach keep your head down... And if something does happen to me, I want you to promise me, you'll take the shotgun and run. D-Don't get yourself hurt."
A sigh.
"Let's do this."
---
That had been what felt like hours ago. The watch Danya had oh so happily provided them told him it had actually been two and a half. They said they weren't staying for long. How long was not long?
But...
Boat. There was in fact a boat. And it seemed like everyone and their brothers were crowded around it. A line was forming.
"Peter, There!"
I...
He felt a squeeze on his hand, a deathgrip. Power he didn't expect. She was just as elated as he was.
The barrel of the shotgun dipped to the ground. A goofy grin of disbelief spread across his face.
"We're actually going home!"
"W-We are. We're actually going home.[/i]
His stunned silence and disbelief didn't last long, as he nearly felt his arm ripped from its socket as Katlin sprinted forward. It hadn't been a trap. Someone was actually here. They were being rescued. He would have a moment to glance at the other faces around them later. He could only hope more people that he knew had made it. But it didn't matter for now. He was safe.
And more importantly she was safe. He held to his promise. They both survived this hell hole.
B008, PeterMcCue: Eliminated
He directed Katlin to the line, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
"There's one last thing I have to do... Don't worry, I'm not going far."
The nearest camera was close-by. Quite obvious, slid into the dunes. He crouched in front of it, a smug look on his face. "What was it. Ten days ago Danya? Ten days ago I told you that I would leave this island alive, but not be the only one? Well guess what. I told you so. You may have killed so many of my class mates, broken so many more... But we won. The kids won this one, you sick bastard."
He picked the camera up, in something akin to a chokehold, the shotgun slung over his back. Wires dangled into the sand, still connected, still recording. He knew this footage wasn't going to make it to TV. He knew this would never be shown. But he knew Danya would see it, or at least the remnants of some of his men. The epee slipped from his belt loop. With a quick thrust, it shattered the glass.
With an unceremonious plop, the camera fell back to the ground.
A foot in the sand followed by another. This was the end of this sick game. Survival of the Fittest was over for him and the person that mattered most to him. It was over.
Her arms embraced him as he returned, and his her. They were going home.
The night they had spent had been fantastic, and the last thing that he had wanted to do was face the morning light. More running for their lives. More hiding. More fretting having to make that decision, having to go back on his word to Imraan... For Katlin's sake. No gunpowder, no blood on his hands yet, but with each passing day he knew his luck was running dry. Some one would attack them. Someone would try to do something to Katlin, to him, prevent them from living a few minutes longer. But at the best, only one of them could get off the island... And his time to come up with a plan was running dry, fast. Very, very fast. The dawn had broken out of the window of their temporary home, signaling day ten.
Wait. The sun was up. Had he slept through the announcement? The announcement always went off at sunrise, or just a little after... But no, it was almost surreal. He could hear birds chirping outside the window, feel the sheet atop him sticking to his body... Had the entire thing been just a dream?
Rolling over to shield his sun for the eyes, his arms draped over Katlin... No, it hadn't been a dream. His love... That was still so strange to say. A smile crept across his face. He never thought he would smile a legitimate smile on this island, but he did. As he pulled her close, just willing the day away, he heard her stir. Nothing would interrupt this. Not until they had to leave. Even if it was hot, sticky, and uncomfortable, this was still his paradise. This one little room.
He tried to run his ideas through his head. They just would not come to him. He didn't care right then. There were bodies here, he was sure, that could wait.
...Wow, that was a macabre thought. He shook his head, before resting it on her shoulder, sighing happily. And so he intended to cuddle the day away, moving under the cover of night, leaving this happiness behind... Would it really have been so bad to just die here in each other's arms? Like this? They would die happy... No. He made a promise. He was going to keep it. He was going to keep it. No matter what it took.
His thoughts were interrupted by a screeching sound, some sort of electronic noise. In his half awaken stupor, he mistook it for the announcements, wondering why they were late.
"Hello, students of Bayview Secondary School, My name is Jaxon Jeremiah. I'm here with a group of people who can get your collars off and take you home, on one condition: that you have not been murdering your classmates over the past week. If that describes you, and you want a lift, come to the beach as quickly as you can. We won't be here for long."
...What? If the window to the room hadn't been open, he was sure he wouldn't have heard that. But...
"...group of people who can get your collars off and take you home..."
"...take you home..."
His eyes were wide. They couldn't have much time. Without taking any heed whatsoever of his clothingless state, he rolled out of the bed, but not before rousting Katlin as best as he could.
"Wake up! W-We're going home." Through tear filled eyes, and a quivering voice, he made the declaration. They were going home. Within a split second, the map was unfurled upon the carpet below him, and pants were sliding on. It took a quick moment to see that they only needed to advance north, the only possible beach they could have heard that from was there.
"We're going home..."
Already dressed, Katlin's hand in his, halfway out the door, shotgun held in the second. He glanced down to the steel he held in his hand. This... Was survival of the fittest. It could be a trap. Someone could have been given a megaphone, could have finally collected enough weapons to make mincemeat out of the last few non-players creeping around. People like him and Katlin.
He pulled back the forearm, checking the magazine tube. Loaded. "Listen, Katlin." He held his arm across the door defensively. "We're going to this, we're getting out of here. But... It could be a trap. That could be Maxwell. I... I'll go in front. Just be careful, and when we see the beach keep your head down... And if something does happen to me, I want you to promise me, you'll take the shotgun and run. D-Don't get yourself hurt."
A sigh.
"Let's do this."
---
That had been what felt like hours ago. The watch Danya had oh so happily provided them told him it had actually been two and a half. They said they weren't staying for long. How long was not long?
But...
Boat. There was in fact a boat. And it seemed like everyone and their brothers were crowded around it. A line was forming.
"Peter, There!"
I...
He felt a squeeze on his hand, a deathgrip. Power he didn't expect. She was just as elated as he was.
The barrel of the shotgun dipped to the ground. A goofy grin of disbelief spread across his face.
"We're actually going home!"
"W-We are. We're actually going home.[/i]
His stunned silence and disbelief didn't last long, as he nearly felt his arm ripped from its socket as Katlin sprinted forward. It hadn't been a trap. Someone was actually here. They were being rescued. He would have a moment to glance at the other faces around them later. He could only hope more people that he knew had made it. But it didn't matter for now. He was safe.
And more importantly she was safe. He held to his promise. They both survived this hell hole.
B008, PeterMcCue: Eliminated
He directed Katlin to the line, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
"There's one last thing I have to do... Don't worry, I'm not going far."
The nearest camera was close-by. Quite obvious, slid into the dunes. He crouched in front of it, a smug look on his face. "What was it. Ten days ago Danya? Ten days ago I told you that I would leave this island alive, but not be the only one? Well guess what. I told you so. You may have killed so many of my class mates, broken so many more... But we won. The kids won this one, you sick bastard."
He picked the camera up, in something akin to a chokehold, the shotgun slung over his back. Wires dangled into the sand, still connected, still recording. He knew this footage wasn't going to make it to TV. He knew this would never be shown. But he knew Danya would see it, or at least the remnants of some of his men. The epee slipped from his belt loop. With a quick thrust, it shattered the glass.
With an unceremonious plop, the camera fell back to the ground.
A foot in the sand followed by another. This was the end of this sick game. Survival of the Fittest was over for him and the person that mattered most to him. It was over.
Her arms embraced him as he returned, and his her. They were going home.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler T-Fox. 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.
Jaxon's face stung from the girl's blow, but he didn't complain, didn't say a thing after wishing her good luck. He stepped back, letting someone else deal with the new arrival, another boy who didn't stick around for some reason. Jaxon pressed a handkerchief to his cheek, soaking up the blood from the light gashes, sorting through his feelings.
He shouldn't have agreed to the exclusion list. He was regretting it, wishing he'd fought harder, wishing Nate had seen reason. The list made sense, perfect sense from the perspective of their goals, but that did nothing to make it moral. He could remember his own time in this game, remember the cool weight of a pistol in his hand, back before he'd known a thing about guns. He could remember drawing a bead on a girl, taking a deep breath and preparing to pull the trigger, preparing to take that step towards home.
He remembered the snap, the crack of a stick behind him, could remember spinning and not being able to figure out what had made the noise, being unsure if it had been an animal in the bushes or another student preparing to do to him what he'd planned to do to the girl. After a couple of seconds, he'd realized that nobody was going to shoot him, that nothing was coming. He'd turned back to his task, but the girl had vanished. He'd never seen her again. Someone else had gotten her, and Jaxon had poured all his energy, all his weak justifications, into that one attempt. He'd not had the heart to try for anyone else.
It didn't change the fact that he'd been a second away from being in the same sort of position as George or Raidon.
He glanced back up the beach, removing the handkerchief. The bleeding had stopped already. The boy who'd left was out of sight. A new girl stepped forwards and collapsed. The boy who had been tending the unconscious guy ran to the girl, looked at her, and shook his head.
Someone had died just short of the boats. A little defeat added onto all the other things Jaxon wasn't feeling good about.
The boy with the gear for the collars was looking overworked and stressed, moving among the people who had confirmed their intent to leave, removing collars as quickly as they could. Only the people leaving on the boat would be having their collars removed. Those staying, by choice or force, were going to have to live with the bombs around their necks. It was for the best, though. On the extremely unlikely off chance they could launch a second run, things would be massively complicated by another hunter-killer squad rounding up everyone whose collar they had removed. More than that, being hunted by the terrorists was, if anything, a worse way to die than many of the other options.
Jaxon still couldn't quite believe students were lingering on the island for ideological reasons. It was a death warrant. They were committing suicide in solidarity with killers, or in the hope that they they could save friends somehow, never mind the size of the island and the limited nature of the rescuers' time. It was noble, but it was illogical. It was painful to see happen. He wanted to scream at them, to argue with them, explain that their friends would want them to live.
But there would be time to think about that later. For now, there was a new trio. Jaxon recognized one of them at once. Reiko Ishida. It was just his lucky day, getting yet another person from the reject list. As he stepped up to them, one of the other girls, the non-murderers, said they wanted to go.
It seemed like everything happening was specifically designed to punish Jaxon for his choices, for his inability to argue harder. He sighed, and said, "I'm sorry. Ishida can't come. You two are fine, though."
He had his hand on the pistol at his waist, but didn't have it drawn. He was positive he could beat Ishida to the punch if he had to, but equally hopeful that things would not progress further. After a second of thought, he added to the other two, "If you still want to come, I mean."
He shouldn't have agreed to the exclusion list. He was regretting it, wishing he'd fought harder, wishing Nate had seen reason. The list made sense, perfect sense from the perspective of their goals, but that did nothing to make it moral. He could remember his own time in this game, remember the cool weight of a pistol in his hand, back before he'd known a thing about guns. He could remember drawing a bead on a girl, taking a deep breath and preparing to pull the trigger, preparing to take that step towards home.
He remembered the snap, the crack of a stick behind him, could remember spinning and not being able to figure out what had made the noise, being unsure if it had been an animal in the bushes or another student preparing to do to him what he'd planned to do to the girl. After a couple of seconds, he'd realized that nobody was going to shoot him, that nothing was coming. He'd turned back to his task, but the girl had vanished. He'd never seen her again. Someone else had gotten her, and Jaxon had poured all his energy, all his weak justifications, into that one attempt. He'd not had the heart to try for anyone else.
It didn't change the fact that he'd been a second away from being in the same sort of position as George or Raidon.
He glanced back up the beach, removing the handkerchief. The bleeding had stopped already. The boy who'd left was out of sight. A new girl stepped forwards and collapsed. The boy who had been tending the unconscious guy ran to the girl, looked at her, and shook his head.
Someone had died just short of the boats. A little defeat added onto all the other things Jaxon wasn't feeling good about.
The boy with the gear for the collars was looking overworked and stressed, moving among the people who had confirmed their intent to leave, removing collars as quickly as they could. Only the people leaving on the boat would be having their collars removed. Those staying, by choice or force, were going to have to live with the bombs around their necks. It was for the best, though. On the extremely unlikely off chance they could launch a second run, things would be massively complicated by another hunter-killer squad rounding up everyone whose collar they had removed. More than that, being hunted by the terrorists was, if anything, a worse way to die than many of the other options.
Jaxon still couldn't quite believe students were lingering on the island for ideological reasons. It was a death warrant. They were committing suicide in solidarity with killers, or in the hope that they they could save friends somehow, never mind the size of the island and the limited nature of the rescuers' time. It was noble, but it was illogical. It was painful to see happen. He wanted to scream at them, to argue with them, explain that their friends would want them to live.
But there would be time to think about that later. For now, there was a new trio. Jaxon recognized one of them at once. Reiko Ishida. It was just his lucky day, getting yet another person from the reject list. As he stepped up to them, one of the other girls, the non-murderers, said they wanted to go.
It seemed like everything happening was specifically designed to punish Jaxon for his choices, for his inability to argue harder. He sighed, and said, "I'm sorry. Ishida can't come. You two are fine, though."
He had his hand on the pistol at his waist, but didn't have it drawn. He was positive he could beat Ishida to the punch if he had to, but equally hopeful that things would not progress further. After a second of thought, he added to the other two, "If you still want to come, I mean."
It was an impossible dream. Bounce would have pinched herself if she wasn't so deathly afraid that she would snap out of it and find herself sprawled out in the woods somewhere, a killer looming over her. This didn't happen in Survival of the Fittest, this never happened in Survival of The Fittest. She just couldn't believe that they'd been this lucky, that the million to one chance had been cast, and come up trumps.
She felt like crying.
So she did.
At first it was just a slight snivelling as she held Alice's hands, a trickle that Bounce tried fiercely to hold back. But as the moment came that the collar was removed and she realised that she was truly free again, the dam burst and Bounce simply started sobbing. A tightness that she hadn't even been aware of had fallen away from her neck, constricted flesh finally released.
She hugged Alice tightly, crushingly, resting her head against the other girl's chest, tears streaming down her face.
"We made it," through the sobs. "We made it."
G014, Yelizaveta Volkova: ELIMINATED
She felt like crying.
So she did.
At first it was just a slight snivelling as she held Alice's hands, a trickle that Bounce tried fiercely to hold back. But as the moment came that the collar was removed and she realised that she was truly free again, the dam burst and Bounce simply started sobbing. A tightness that she hadn't even been aware of had fallen away from her neck, constricted flesh finally released.
She hugged Alice tightly, crushingly, resting her head against the other girl's chest, tears streaming down her face.
"We made it," through the sobs. "We made it."
G014, Yelizaveta Volkova: ELIMINATED
((Alex Jackson continued from Monsters))
Alex groaned as she heard a sound system start. She braced herself for another round of mocking, listening again to how far gone some of her classmates were. But the announcement was softer than she expected, not coming from the normal system. Alex concentrated and listened disbelieving to the words. Rescue? She could go home. Home!
She started forward immediately and then stopped after a few feet. Home, would it be home anymore without Roman? She shook her head after a moment. Of course there was home. It wouldn't be the same but it would have Mom and Dad, and they could figure out what to do together. There was no reason to stay on the island and every reason to get back to where she belonged.
She headed for the beach at a run and stopped at the edge of the beach. It was real; there really was someone here to rescue them. She could see about a dozen of her classmates had already beaten her here. She watched and saw several men in uniform. She selected one at random and walked up to him.
"Hi, I'm Alex...Alex Jackson," she clarified not wanting to be confused with the Alex who'd just done so much damage. "You're our ride home right?"
G46, Alexandria "Alex" Jackson - ELIMINATED
Alex groaned as she heard a sound system start. She braced herself for another round of mocking, listening again to how far gone some of her classmates were. But the announcement was softer than she expected, not coming from the normal system. Alex concentrated and listened disbelieving to the words. Rescue? She could go home. Home!
She started forward immediately and then stopped after a few feet. Home, would it be home anymore without Roman? She shook her head after a moment. Of course there was home. It wouldn't be the same but it would have Mom and Dad, and they could figure out what to do together. There was no reason to stay on the island and every reason to get back to where she belonged.
She headed for the beach at a run and stopped at the edge of the beach. It was real; there really was someone here to rescue them. She could see about a dozen of her classmates had already beaten her here. She watched and saw several men in uniform. She selected one at random and walked up to him.
"Hi, I'm Alex...Alex Jackson," she clarified not wanting to be confused with the Alex who'd just done so much damage. "You're our ride home right?"
G46, Alexandria "Alex" Jackson - ELIMINATED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Arscapi. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
((Sarah continues from You are on a rock floating in space))
Sarah didn't quite notice the big-boat-that-wasn't-there-yesterday docked at the beach - she was a little too tired to think beyond one thought at a time. As Jojo gave her her bag, she gasped and threw off her shoes, rushing down the sand dunes to the edge of the water and completely ignoring the presence of the boat along the way. She'd deal with that later.
Zipping open her bag, she pulled out her gun and started vigorously dipping it into the water, pushing the gun underneath the surface of the waves until it was completely submerged. She held it there with both hands, watching as the bubbles rose from its interior and pushed up to the surface.
There. Sarah waded into the water until it reached her knees and let go of the gun, watching it sink into the ocean. Now nobody would ever use that horrid weapon of destruction ever again. Sarah had made sure of it. Her promise to Sapphire was satisfied. She straightened herself up and looked around for her companions...
Whom had entirely disappeared...
"Jojo? Saul?" Sarah looked around spinning in circles in the sand, before craning her neck up to look at the boat and its collarless crew... and then she saw the body.
The body of another friend lifeless in the sand.
"Oh... sorry... I didn't see you up there. Uhm... How did you get your collars off? OH! And you're armed!" she declared as she stumbled back from the boat. "Please don't hurt me... I'm not going to do anything bad so please don't shoot me..."
Without the gun and her companions, she suddenly felt quite naked and vunerable.
Sarah didn't quite notice the big-boat-that-wasn't-there-yesterday docked at the beach - she was a little too tired to think beyond one thought at a time. As Jojo gave her her bag, she gasped and threw off her shoes, rushing down the sand dunes to the edge of the water and completely ignoring the presence of the boat along the way. She'd deal with that later.
Zipping open her bag, she pulled out her gun and started vigorously dipping it into the water, pushing the gun underneath the surface of the waves until it was completely submerged. She held it there with both hands, watching as the bubbles rose from its interior and pushed up to the surface.
There. Sarah waded into the water until it reached her knees and let go of the gun, watching it sink into the ocean. Now nobody would ever use that horrid weapon of destruction ever again. Sarah had made sure of it. Her promise to Sapphire was satisfied. She straightened herself up and looked around for her companions...
Whom had entirely disappeared...
"Jojo? Saul?" Sarah looked around spinning in circles in the sand, before craning her neck up to look at the boat and its collarless crew... and then she saw the body.
The body of another friend lifeless in the sand.
"Oh... sorry... I didn't see you up there. Uhm... How did you get your collars off? OH! And you're armed!" she declared as she stumbled back from the boat. "Please don't hurt me... I'm not going to do anything bad so please don't shoot me..."
Without the gun and her companions, she suddenly felt quite naked and vunerable.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler selphie_trabia. 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.
((Raymond Dawson continued from Monsters))
The group was almost too late to make their escape from the island, though Ray, fresh from grieving, had barely noticed. He had been nearly numb after leaving behind the bodies of two more
sisters?
classmates and friends, as much as the rest of the group had tried to help. Felicia was still grappling with her own grief. Ray didn't know Allen all too well, and Andrea was still mostly the girl he sold drugs too all that time ago. Even though she had given him some kind words during the burial process.
Isabel had done what she could, and Ray could remember feeling grateful to her. She'd given him a kiss on the cheek; an amazing occurrence if what his first attempt to make physical contact with her was par for the course.
Still, he felt hollow. Even with escape imminent. He didn't even feel like he was part of the group he was heading to the boat with.
When he was close to the ship, the vessel of escape, he stopped. For a brief, cold-gut second, he considered turning around, staying behind. Annaliese's killer was still loose on the island, a monster left unchecked. He could do something about it, find a real weapon, destroy Alex White. For a minute Ray turned over his shoulder, looked back to the island, longing for a chance at justice.
But he couldn't. He remembered what Annaliese had said.
A finger, streaked with blood, on his cheek. "Shhh." A gentle smile, despite pain, despite death. "I understand...It's all ok."
Ray turned back to the boat. He forced himself to continue walking.
"You still got a sister left."
B056, Raymond Dawson: ELIMINATED
The group was almost too late to make their escape from the island, though Ray, fresh from grieving, had barely noticed. He had been nearly numb after leaving behind the bodies of two more
sisters?
classmates and friends, as much as the rest of the group had tried to help. Felicia was still grappling with her own grief. Ray didn't know Allen all too well, and Andrea was still mostly the girl he sold drugs too all that time ago. Even though she had given him some kind words during the burial process.
Isabel had done what she could, and Ray could remember feeling grateful to her. She'd given him a kiss on the cheek; an amazing occurrence if what his first attempt to make physical contact with her was par for the course.
Still, he felt hollow. Even with escape imminent. He didn't even feel like he was part of the group he was heading to the boat with.
When he was close to the ship, the vessel of escape, he stopped. For a brief, cold-gut second, he considered turning around, staying behind. Annaliese's killer was still loose on the island, a monster left unchecked. He could do something about it, find a real weapon, destroy Alex White. For a minute Ray turned over his shoulder, looked back to the island, longing for a chance at justice.
But he couldn't. He remembered what Annaliese had said.
A finger, streaked with blood, on his cheek. "Shhh." A gentle smile, despite pain, despite death. "I understand...It's all ok."
Ray turned back to the boat. He forced himself to continue walking.
"You still got a sister left."
B056, Raymond Dawson: ELIMINATED
[Girl #48 - Kaitlin Anderheim. Continued from Back in St. Paul, if Just for an Evening.]
It was almost too good to be true.
Nine days. They spent nine days on that damn island. Nine days of fear and panic and running. Nine days of always worrying who they would run into, of always being afraid of what was around the next corner. Nine days of sleeping in the dark, huddled around a tiny fire, never wanting to face the next morning and the next announcement.
And now it was all over. They could go home. Nine days together, and they could finally go home. Just Kaitlin and Peter, together. Would they really be able to go home?
When they left the house, they didn't expect this at all. Peter was a little hesitant and to be honest, so was Kaitlin. She didn't know if it was real. She didn't know if it was just a trick or not, but they didn't have any better options. It was either take their chance at the beach, or go back to their original plan and Kaitlin wasn't exactly excited about their original plan. So they took the chance. Peter led the way, shotgun in hand, looking as intimidating as ever but it didn't bother her anymore. He was her knight in shining armor. His slightly dirty scout uniform was his armor, and his shotgun was his sword. He was always there to protect her, keep her safe, make her feel comfortable. More than comfortable.
That last night was...
"Peter, there!"
She pointed out across the beach, to the boat in the distance. People gathered around. Panicked, dirty, not one of them looking as if they could believe what was happening. Kaitlin and Peter would be joining them. Kaitlin and Peter would be getting out of this place, finally.
It was almost too good to be true... but it was real.
They were going home.
"Peter... we're going home."
She held his hand as tight as she could.
"We're actually going home!"
She couldn't help running. Despite everything that told her to approach this with caution, she ran. Down the beach, with Peter. Until she got closer, and saw everything in detail. The body nearby. Someone who died on their way to the boats, or someone they refused to take. She stopped running then, and stayed close to Peter, her arm wrapping around his. Staying next to him, behind him, that happiness and optimism replaced with fear. But they kept walking. Peter held the shotgun, and Kaitlin pulled the Epee from the loop of his backpack. Peter was her knight, he was her sword, but she needed one of her own to keep her safe. Just in case.
She wouldn't need it. Not for long, at least.
Because they were going home. They were actually going to be safe.
They were actually going home.
First stop? Cold Stone Creamery. For ice cream sundaes.
G048, Kaitlin Anderheim: Eliminated.
It was almost too good to be true.
Nine days. They spent nine days on that damn island. Nine days of fear and panic and running. Nine days of always worrying who they would run into, of always being afraid of what was around the next corner. Nine days of sleeping in the dark, huddled around a tiny fire, never wanting to face the next morning and the next announcement.
And now it was all over. They could go home. Nine days together, and they could finally go home. Just Kaitlin and Peter, together. Would they really be able to go home?
When they left the house, they didn't expect this at all. Peter was a little hesitant and to be honest, so was Kaitlin. She didn't know if it was real. She didn't know if it was just a trick or not, but they didn't have any better options. It was either take their chance at the beach, or go back to their original plan and Kaitlin wasn't exactly excited about their original plan. So they took the chance. Peter led the way, shotgun in hand, looking as intimidating as ever but it didn't bother her anymore. He was her knight in shining armor. His slightly dirty scout uniform was his armor, and his shotgun was his sword. He was always there to protect her, keep her safe, make her feel comfortable. More than comfortable.
That last night was...
"Peter, there!"
She pointed out across the beach, to the boat in the distance. People gathered around. Panicked, dirty, not one of them looking as if they could believe what was happening. Kaitlin and Peter would be joining them. Kaitlin and Peter would be getting out of this place, finally.
It was almost too good to be true... but it was real.
They were going home.
"Peter... we're going home."
She held his hand as tight as she could.
"We're actually going home!"
She couldn't help running. Despite everything that told her to approach this with caution, she ran. Down the beach, with Peter. Until she got closer, and saw everything in detail. The body nearby. Someone who died on their way to the boats, or someone they refused to take. She stopped running then, and stayed close to Peter, her arm wrapping around his. Staying next to him, behind him, that happiness and optimism replaced with fear. But they kept walking. Peter held the shotgun, and Kaitlin pulled the Epee from the loop of his backpack. Peter was her knight, he was her sword, but she needed one of her own to keep her safe. Just in case.
She wouldn't need it. Not for long, at least.
Because they were going home. They were actually going to be safe.
They were actually going home.
First stop? Cold Stone Creamery. For ice cream sundaes.
G048, Kaitlin Anderheim: Eliminated.
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((Cisco Vasquez continued from ...Because I Can't Make It On My Own))
((GMing by staff permitted. At least that's how I think it goes.))
Boats.
Surviving Classmates.
Soldiers that didn't resemble the ones that abducted him and more than 200 others off a bus.
The goddamn horizon.
Any one or combination of these things witnessed by Cisco Vasquez as he stumbled out of nature emaciated, gaunt and more delusional than usual into open daylight could have filled him with a sort of inexplicably religious sort of joy. As it turned out, it wasn't so much those as it was the fact that for the first time he felt as if he was finally escaping Death's clutches in regards to death by any number of means apart from old age. Hours-old bloodstains trickled down his side from his tattered upper clothing as he feebly advanced toward what he damn well hoped wasn't a mirage.
It had never completely occurred to him exactly how many times Death could have had his way with the boy and then left a $20 on his corpse for good measure. This wasn't just counting all the people he met after running into Joe "Grim Reaper" Rios, but the ones he had encountered from the moment he woke up on the back of a flatbed truck with an item that could have actually played sweet music instead of the circular sawblade that later gained the moniker.
George Leidman could have killed him while he was asleep, and then left some obsolete currency on his corpse. For good measure.
Joe Rios could have reaped him for disobeying his orders, or even while he was helpless and vulnerable from the dynamite explosion that first introduced him to his sweet music.
And speaking of that, whoever threw that dynamite could have thrown it a bit stronger and gibbed him where he stood.
Mike Maszer, well, he didn't know what his arch-nemesis had up his sleeve. That the rivalry was finally settled with his death provided only token relief.
Teo Weinstock could have reloaded his crossbow with another bolt and nailed Cisco to the dirt.
~*PANDORA BLACK*~ could have given him the Light Treatment. Okay, maybe that was a little too much fantasy.
Jessica Pentangeli could have shot him with an animal-strength tranquilizer from a $200 rifle accurate to 40 yards, putting him to sleep quickly like a small, wounded animal.
And Joseé Tremblay...well...Joseé Tremblay had come all this way with him. It wasn't over until it was really over, and to him it wasn't over until he either won, died or escaped (and probably died when the terrorists sank their boat.) She had dutifully followed him all this way despite losing her brother, but it might as well have been just like in the movies where the best friend always had the last laugh and the last shot.
After all that, there whatever nature could have done with him. Bugs, infections, simple accidents or acts of a deity he never found a reason to believe in (and probably would not despite the joy.)
The last thing he would have seen was his own death announcement in bright red letters before fading into oblivion.
B140 - VASQUEZ, F: WASTED
Yet despite all that, despite all the paranoia justified and re-established over nine long days of journeying, that wasn't what he saw. He saw a beach, with boats and soldiers removing collars from students and the horizon.
And despite all that and his joy, he knew it wasn't quite over. Technically speaking, it wouldn't be over until he was dead though that was an inevitability. And he certainly did not have Katelyn Wescott's probably vengeful parents - leta alone his own adoptive ones - at the top of his mind.
Still, he only had a few more steps to take before he could at least find something close to a good night's sleep. And if this really did turn out to be a rescue party that did not want him dead for being one of the island's killers, then it was a thought he could savor.
Yet it was a few steps before reaching the back of the line when he suddenly realized that somewhere along the way his mind had wandered from its fatigue and possibly blood loss, that he had finally lost his circular sawblade somewhere along the way here. Perhaps he had gotten used to its constant presence with him that he couldn't feel the weight (and pain from its serrated edges) finally lifted from his arms. And surely he had no reason to miss it when the results of all his love and care were blatantly manifested on the hideous wounds scabbing over on his upper chest.
If his mind had somehow found any solace in the journey here it was swiftly lost as he started to look around for the very same sweet music that had backstabbed him from the front. But by now his body was working much slower than his mind, and to the casual onlooker, it was like he was either a weary traveller wondering if he was looking at a mirage or some kind of zombie looking for flesh.
B140, Cisco Vasquez: ELIMINATED
((GMing by staff permitted. At least that's how I think it goes.))
Boats.
Surviving Classmates.
Soldiers that didn't resemble the ones that abducted him and more than 200 others off a bus.
The goddamn horizon.
Any one or combination of these things witnessed by Cisco Vasquez as he stumbled out of nature emaciated, gaunt and more delusional than usual into open daylight could have filled him with a sort of inexplicably religious sort of joy. As it turned out, it wasn't so much those as it was the fact that for the first time he felt as if he was finally escaping Death's clutches in regards to death by any number of means apart from old age. Hours-old bloodstains trickled down his side from his tattered upper clothing as he feebly advanced toward what he damn well hoped wasn't a mirage.
It had never completely occurred to him exactly how many times Death could have had his way with the boy and then left a $20 on his corpse for good measure. This wasn't just counting all the people he met after running into Joe "Grim Reaper" Rios, but the ones he had encountered from the moment he woke up on the back of a flatbed truck with an item that could have actually played sweet music instead of the circular sawblade that later gained the moniker.
George Leidman could have killed him while he was asleep, and then left some obsolete currency on his corpse. For good measure.
Joe Rios could have reaped him for disobeying his orders, or even while he was helpless and vulnerable from the dynamite explosion that first introduced him to his sweet music.
And speaking of that, whoever threw that dynamite could have thrown it a bit stronger and gibbed him where he stood.
Mike Maszer, well, he didn't know what his arch-nemesis had up his sleeve. That the rivalry was finally settled with his death provided only token relief.
Teo Weinstock could have reloaded his crossbow with another bolt and nailed Cisco to the dirt.
~*PANDORA BLACK*~ could have given him the Light Treatment. Okay, maybe that was a little too much fantasy.
Jessica Pentangeli could have shot him with an animal-strength tranquilizer from a $200 rifle accurate to 40 yards, putting him to sleep quickly like a small, wounded animal.
And Joseé Tremblay...well...Joseé Tremblay had come all this way with him. It wasn't over until it was really over, and to him it wasn't over until he either won, died or escaped (and probably died when the terrorists sank their boat.) She had dutifully followed him all this way despite losing her brother, but it might as well have been just like in the movies where the best friend always had the last laugh and the last shot.
After all that, there whatever nature could have done with him. Bugs, infections, simple accidents or acts of a deity he never found a reason to believe in (and probably would not despite the joy.)
The last thing he would have seen was his own death announcement in bright red letters before fading into oblivion.
B140 - VASQUEZ, F: WASTED
Yet despite all that, despite all the paranoia justified and re-established over nine long days of journeying, that wasn't what he saw. He saw a beach, with boats and soldiers removing collars from students and the horizon.
And despite all that and his joy, he knew it wasn't quite over. Technically speaking, it wouldn't be over until he was dead though that was an inevitability. And he certainly did not have Katelyn Wescott's probably vengeful parents - leta alone his own adoptive ones - at the top of his mind.
Still, he only had a few more steps to take before he could at least find something close to a good night's sleep. And if this really did turn out to be a rescue party that did not want him dead for being one of the island's killers, then it was a thought he could savor.
Yet it was a few steps before reaching the back of the line when he suddenly realized that somewhere along the way his mind had wandered from its fatigue and possibly blood loss, that he had finally lost his circular sawblade somewhere along the way here. Perhaps he had gotten used to its constant presence with him that he couldn't feel the weight (and pain from its serrated edges) finally lifted from his arms. And surely he had no reason to miss it when the results of all his love and care were blatantly manifested on the hideous wounds scabbing over on his upper chest.
If his mind had somehow found any solace in the journey here it was swiftly lost as he started to look around for the very same sweet music that had backstabbed him from the front. But by now his body was working much slower than his mind, and to the casual onlooker, it was like he was either a weary traveller wondering if he was looking at a mirage or some kind of zombie looking for flesh.
B140, Cisco Vasquez: ELIMINATED
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-
JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
((Allen Birkman continued from Monsters))
Allen could not believe the sight he was greeted with when he arrived at the northern beach.
A boat. People. Students who weren't being mercilessly gunned down. The armed guys on board really didn't belong to Danya. They really were here to save them. "This... this is too good to be true," Allen exclaimed to himself.
As he made his way down from the rocks bordering the beach, he couldn't help but feel the memories from the first day rushing back to greet him. Waking up, coughing up sand, scrambling away from the water in fear. Seeing Chris, the very first person he would meet. The gunshot, Chris dying nearly instantly. Clio arriving, about to shoot him too. The girl getting tackled, Allen fleeing the scene afraid for his life.
Tears were starting to well up, and he tried to will the thoughts away before he broke down in front of everyone.
He'd come full circle. In fact, as he stepped onto the sand, he could swear he was standing in the exact same place as he was when Chris Davidson had caught a bullet in the face. Looking down, he could see the remnants of bloodstains splattered over the dry sand and rocks nearby. His body was missing though, Allen guessing he was given some kind of burial like they'd done with Annaliese and Rosa. The poor guy deserved a decent burial, at least.
Allen tentatively walked towards the shore with the others, looking down at the sand and trying not to stare at the sea. He was already starting to break out into a sweat, briefly glancing at the waves lapping against the wet sand, and looking away again. He very well near laughed at the irony of it all. 'All this time I've been avoiding going near the sea so I don't drown. Now I have to get on a boat and go on the water, so I don't die.'
He was starting to get nervous, extremely nervous. It would be the first time he'd been on a boat since he was seven, and there had even been a couple of times when he just wanted to turn around and say 'hey, I can't do this, good luck,' to the others and just sprint back up the beach to somewhere far away from the sea.
But doing so would be ridiculous, like snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. So he stayed where he was.
He wasn't going to let his fear of the water prevent him from getting off of the island. No, for probably the first time in his life, he was going to fight his fears and make it home, come Hell or (appropriately enough) high water.
For him, it was all about to end where it had all began, eight days previously.
B121, Allen Birkman: ELIMINATED
Allen could not believe the sight he was greeted with when he arrived at the northern beach.
A boat. People. Students who weren't being mercilessly gunned down. The armed guys on board really didn't belong to Danya. They really were here to save them. "This... this is too good to be true," Allen exclaimed to himself.
As he made his way down from the rocks bordering the beach, he couldn't help but feel the memories from the first day rushing back to greet him. Waking up, coughing up sand, scrambling away from the water in fear. Seeing Chris, the very first person he would meet. The gunshot, Chris dying nearly instantly. Clio arriving, about to shoot him too. The girl getting tackled, Allen fleeing the scene afraid for his life.
Tears were starting to well up, and he tried to will the thoughts away before he broke down in front of everyone.
He'd come full circle. In fact, as he stepped onto the sand, he could swear he was standing in the exact same place as he was when Chris Davidson had caught a bullet in the face. Looking down, he could see the remnants of bloodstains splattered over the dry sand and rocks nearby. His body was missing though, Allen guessing he was given some kind of burial like they'd done with Annaliese and Rosa. The poor guy deserved a decent burial, at least.
Allen tentatively walked towards the shore with the others, looking down at the sand and trying not to stare at the sea. He was already starting to break out into a sweat, briefly glancing at the waves lapping against the wet sand, and looking away again. He very well near laughed at the irony of it all. 'All this time I've been avoiding going near the sea so I don't drown. Now I have to get on a boat and go on the water, so I don't die.'
He was starting to get nervous, extremely nervous. It would be the first time he'd been on a boat since he was seven, and there had even been a couple of times when he just wanted to turn around and say 'hey, I can't do this, good luck,' to the others and just sprint back up the beach to somewhere far away from the sea.
But doing so would be ridiculous, like snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. So he stayed where he was.
He wasn't going to let his fear of the water prevent him from getting off of the island. No, for probably the first time in his life, he was going to fight his fears and make it home, come Hell or (appropriately enough) high water.
For him, it was all about to end where it had all began, eight days previously.
B121, Allen Birkman: ELIMINATED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JamesRenard. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Josée Tremley continued from ...Because I Can't Make it On my Own.))
It had been a long trek across the island, but as the noise grew clearer it became quite clear that whatever was waiting for them was the rescue she had hoped for. And as she arrived at the beach, she breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of salvation. She walked alongside Cisco as they approached, trying to make sure that no-one would try to shoot them as they approached, but thankfully the area seemed perfectly secured. Josée was finally going to get home, after so much suffering, she had finally done something right and got an innocent person to safety.
The next thought that Josée thought was possibly the most inconvenient and stupid thought of her life, and it would certainly cost her it. But nonetheless, the thought was thought and Josée listened. It was the thought of Remy. Somewhere, on the island, walking around killing people without a care in the world, was Remy's killer. Remy wasn't the greatest person in the world, but through lack of competition, he was the greatest brother in the world, and Josée suddenly felt that she needed to bring the killer to justice, once and for all. Ericka Bradley must pay.
Cisco was safe now, she had made sure of that, but she knew that she couldn't face her family without Remy, she wouldn't be able to explain how she let him die when she turned a blind eye. Just before Cisco got on board the vehicle, she hugged him and quickly kissed him on the cheek, before saying the last words that she'll ever say to him. "You're safe now Cisco, I promised that I'd keep you safe." And on that note, she pushed backwards through the crowd and back to the island. The name Ericka Bradley rang through her ears, it was the one name that had been lingering in her head ever since she had heard the news. She didn't know how to go about finding her. She faintly remembered a girl by that name, Josée was certain she would recognise her if she found her. IF she found her...
((Josée Trembley in Tempting Fate.))
It had been a long trek across the island, but as the noise grew clearer it became quite clear that whatever was waiting for them was the rescue she had hoped for. And as she arrived at the beach, she breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of salvation. She walked alongside Cisco as they approached, trying to make sure that no-one would try to shoot them as they approached, but thankfully the area seemed perfectly secured. Josée was finally going to get home, after so much suffering, she had finally done something right and got an innocent person to safety.
The next thought that Josée thought was possibly the most inconvenient and stupid thought of her life, and it would certainly cost her it. But nonetheless, the thought was thought and Josée listened. It was the thought of Remy. Somewhere, on the island, walking around killing people without a care in the world, was Remy's killer. Remy wasn't the greatest person in the world, but through lack of competition, he was the greatest brother in the world, and Josée suddenly felt that she needed to bring the killer to justice, once and for all. Ericka Bradley must pay.
Cisco was safe now, she had made sure of that, but she knew that she couldn't face her family without Remy, she wouldn't be able to explain how she let him die when she turned a blind eye. Just before Cisco got on board the vehicle, she hugged him and quickly kissed him on the cheek, before saying the last words that she'll ever say to him. "You're safe now Cisco, I promised that I'd keep you safe." And on that note, she pushed backwards through the crowd and back to the island. The name Ericka Bradley rang through her ears, it was the one name that had been lingering in her head ever since she had heard the news. She didn't know how to go about finding her. She faintly remembered a girl by that name, Josée was certain she would recognise her if she found her. IF she found her...
((Josée Trembley in Tempting Fate.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Limisios. 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.
(Andrea Raymer continued from Monsters)
"So yeah, I know I look the part of the punk chick or the metal chick or the emo chick or whatever you want to call me, and sure, I would've sold myself on the street to get tickets for Bullet For My Valentine and Avenged Sevenfold earlier this year... uh, not that I did. But yeah, it was my dad that got me into a lot of the 70's and 80's stuff. Gave me my eclectic and cultured taste and all."
Oh, I will provide for you
And I'll stay by your side
You'll need a good companion
For this part of the ride
Leave behind the sorrows
Let this day be the last
Well, tomorrow there'll be sunshine
And all this darkness past
"You know what, looking back, I liked about Bruce Springsteen? He's such a... such an act. He'd write all these hits that were supposed to be 'hey there common man, throw off those shackles of oppression and your meaningless blue-collar existence and embrace life! Yeah, Born to Run in the USA and shit!' And he played up that image of being all positive but then if you actually look, what you see is that image, it's a load of crap. Most of his songs the guy goes off trying to make something of himself and he dies, or gets worse off, or he doesn't even go in the first place because the world just crushes every dreamer under its boot."
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between what's flesh and what's fantasy
And the poets down here don't write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded
Not even dead
"Yeah."
Andrea was rambling full-steam again. She was just trying to pass the time. Trying to kill the tension as they made their way to the beach and whatever the hell might be lurking there.
They'd heard the first announcement while still near the grocery store. It was tinny, barely audible, and nobody was quite sure what it meant. But it gave them a destination, and one that didn't involve them trekking either around or over the mountain to get to. Andrea kept her cynicism to herself, quietly holding no real hope of a legitimate fucking rescue, but then, as they got closer, the announcement repeated, clearer this time.
And now, as they stood by a grove of trees separating the beach from the open forest, well there it was. An actual boat.
She stood there, blinking with the eye she could blink with, honestly more stunned than anything, and the rest of the group sort of did the same for a few seconds. Then it broke; Ray was the first to rush the boat, and Andrea knew the rest would follow. She turned to Allen and wondered briefly what he could be thinking. Did he expect her to have some kind of witty remark?
"Go ahead," she said. "Go on, uh, help get Isabel on that boat. I just gotta... take this all in for a second."
No. No remark just yet. And as the others ran down to the crowded scene by the water, Andrea hung back, by the treeline, surveying the whole area.
So. Yet again, there it fucking was. Just what she'd wanted.
Her hands clenched and unclenched, fingers restless, and she grabbed at the pack slung over her shoulder. She pulled the zipper and looked down at the bulky life raft hastily crammed in there.
Andrea tapped her tongue against her teeth, deliberating, breathing deep and trying to keep that good Ritalin high going and not fuck herself over now. Finally she yanked the heavy bundle out of her bag and tossed it on the ground. She kicked at it once. Spat down. Looked back up and swallowed and felt coldness in her stomach and asked herself why she'd done that.
Of course, it was obvious. She'd figured out the answer right away, clever girl that she was. Just what she'd wanted. Yeah, sure. It was petulance, it was spite, it was that others had taken what by rights should have been hers. It was a child's voice, that stupid 11-year-old Andrea Raymer balling its fists inside her and throwing a tantrum.
It wasn't fair. Andrea looked down at herself, at her shaking hands and the ugly bruise on her arm, at her muggy cargo pants and sneakers.
It wasn't fucking fair, and she compared her deflated excuse for a boat with theirs full of students one last time and took a step forward anyway.
Go on Andrea Raymer, G077, female Adam Dodd, girl who owned the game, get on the fucking boat.
Live with it.
She could do that.
I know you like to push. But you have to learn how to give, too.
Well how bout that, Dad?
Took her long enough, but Andrea'd always been a stubborn girl.
Another step forward.
Then a pair of fucking bolas, of all things, struck her from behind and knocked her down.
Alex White had shown up to crash the party one last time.
"So yeah, I know I look the part of the punk chick or the metal chick or the emo chick or whatever you want to call me, and sure, I would've sold myself on the street to get tickets for Bullet For My Valentine and Avenged Sevenfold earlier this year... uh, not that I did. But yeah, it was my dad that got me into a lot of the 70's and 80's stuff. Gave me my eclectic and cultured taste and all."
Oh, I will provide for you
And I'll stay by your side
You'll need a good companion
For this part of the ride
Leave behind the sorrows
Let this day be the last
Well, tomorrow there'll be sunshine
And all this darkness past
"You know what, looking back, I liked about Bruce Springsteen? He's such a... such an act. He'd write all these hits that were supposed to be 'hey there common man, throw off those shackles of oppression and your meaningless blue-collar existence and embrace life! Yeah, Born to Run in the USA and shit!' And he played up that image of being all positive but then if you actually look, what you see is that image, it's a load of crap. Most of his songs the guy goes off trying to make something of himself and he dies, or gets worse off, or he doesn't even go in the first place because the world just crushes every dreamer under its boot."
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between what's flesh and what's fantasy
And the poets down here don't write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded
Not even dead
"Yeah."
Andrea was rambling full-steam again. She was just trying to pass the time. Trying to kill the tension as they made their way to the beach and whatever the hell might be lurking there.
They'd heard the first announcement while still near the grocery store. It was tinny, barely audible, and nobody was quite sure what it meant. But it gave them a destination, and one that didn't involve them trekking either around or over the mountain to get to. Andrea kept her cynicism to herself, quietly holding no real hope of a legitimate fucking rescue, but then, as they got closer, the announcement repeated, clearer this time.
And now, as they stood by a grove of trees separating the beach from the open forest, well there it was. An actual boat.
She stood there, blinking with the eye she could blink with, honestly more stunned than anything, and the rest of the group sort of did the same for a few seconds. Then it broke; Ray was the first to rush the boat, and Andrea knew the rest would follow. She turned to Allen and wondered briefly what he could be thinking. Did he expect her to have some kind of witty remark?
"Go ahead," she said. "Go on, uh, help get Isabel on that boat. I just gotta... take this all in for a second."
No. No remark just yet. And as the others ran down to the crowded scene by the water, Andrea hung back, by the treeline, surveying the whole area.
So. Yet again, there it fucking was. Just what she'd wanted.
Her hands clenched and unclenched, fingers restless, and she grabbed at the pack slung over her shoulder. She pulled the zipper and looked down at the bulky life raft hastily crammed in there.
Andrea tapped her tongue against her teeth, deliberating, breathing deep and trying to keep that good Ritalin high going and not fuck herself over now. Finally she yanked the heavy bundle out of her bag and tossed it on the ground. She kicked at it once. Spat down. Looked back up and swallowed and felt coldness in her stomach and asked herself why she'd done that.
Of course, it was obvious. She'd figured out the answer right away, clever girl that she was. Just what she'd wanted. Yeah, sure. It was petulance, it was spite, it was that others had taken what by rights should have been hers. It was a child's voice, that stupid 11-year-old Andrea Raymer balling its fists inside her and throwing a tantrum.
It wasn't fair. Andrea looked down at herself, at her shaking hands and the ugly bruise on her arm, at her muggy cargo pants and sneakers.
It wasn't fucking fair, and she compared her deflated excuse for a boat with theirs full of students one last time and took a step forward anyway.
Go on Andrea Raymer, G077, female Adam Dodd, girl who owned the game, get on the fucking boat.
Live with it.
She could do that.
I know you like to push. But you have to learn how to give, too.
Well how bout that, Dad?
Took her long enough, but Andrea'd always been a stubborn girl.
Another step forward.
Then a pair of fucking bolas, of all things, struck her from behind and knocked her down.
Alex White had shown up to crash the party one last time.
Ugh never say never
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
-
Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
((Isabel Guerra continued from Monsters))
(GM of the STAR member and Ray Dawson approved by the staff and Outfxod, respectively)
Isabel tromped through the sand, the horrible stuff was getting in her shoes, but she hardly cared. It seemed that she was running purely on anger. The announcement had sounded earlier and she learned that Roland, Dave and Winnie were all dead. Isabel hadn't said a word since then. It would have behooved her to pick up her feet a little in her angry march because her foot caught and she fell in the sand. She looked back to see what she'd tripped on.
"Helen!"
Isabel scrambled over to her body. Her lips trembled while she looked down at the girl. She was absolutely drenched in blood. Isabel put her ear to the girl's chest. Nothing. Isabel shuddered and put her hand over her mouth to stop from exploding into a scream. Her hand tasted of Helen's blood.
"No. Nonononono THIS ISN'T FAIR."
She took a moment to sit in the sand with her friend's blood smeared on her and dug her nails into her palms. In her mind, she counted to ten and at ten she took a deep breath and stood up.
"Hey boat guy!" she yelled out. It took the last of her self control not to call him something worse.
"Took you long enough," she mumbled under her breath.
Three days. It had been three god damn days since they'd sent out the message. If she had been in better condition she would have berated them for having taken that long. She swallowed and marched right up to him.
"Recognize me?" she asked. "I'm from the group that sent the coordinates. I'm the only one left," she growled.
They were all dead. Isabel wanted to kill someone for that. She wanted to grab a gun and fill Raidon so full of holes that they'd need dental records to identify him. He separated them. If it wasn't for him they might all still be alive.
"I need to talk to you before I get on this thing," she said trying to keep her voice even. "Number one, take these," she said as she shoved the letters at the man, "and give them to the parents of Ethan Kent and Feo Smith. They died to get you guys here. Number two, don't drop me off with the rest of these guys. I never want to go back to St. Paul and I never want to see any of these people again. Drop me off anywhere else, I don't care. If you're feeling generous, leave me in America in the south west and DO NOT take me to a hospital."
She'd been stabbed in the arm with a spear and had the blade twisted before it was finally yanked out. It was a bad injury, but she was willing to take a chance and treat it herself when she found supplies rather than risk going to a hospital where someone could identify her.
"List me as dead. You never picked me up. Last, how long are you going to be here with your boat? I need to find my friend Hayley and then bring her-"
The man raised an eyebrow at her. "Hayley Kelly?"
"Yes."
And then he informed her that as a killer, Hayley wouldn't be allowed on the rescue boat.
Isabel looked blankly at him. "Then I'm not getting on that fucking boat," she said with a shrug.
Ray tried to reason with her. She was dehydrated, she was tired and she'd lost a lot of blood. She shook her head.
"No. Roland told me to take care of our friends and now they're all dead. Hayley is still out there and I can't fail her too!"
The boat guy was getting impatient and time was running short. Ray grabbed Isabel and steered her towards the boat. She fought him, kicking and twisting and screaming but she was in bad shape and in no condition to fight anyone. Ray forced her to the floor of the boat and someone took off her collar while he held her down.
"You're saving my life," she breathed out. "And I'll never forgive you."
G105, Isabel Guerra: ELIMINATED
((Isabel Guerra continued in Abre Los Ojos ))
(GM of the STAR member and Ray Dawson approved by the staff and Outfxod, respectively)
Isabel tromped through the sand, the horrible stuff was getting in her shoes, but she hardly cared. It seemed that she was running purely on anger. The announcement had sounded earlier and she learned that Roland, Dave and Winnie were all dead. Isabel hadn't said a word since then. It would have behooved her to pick up her feet a little in her angry march because her foot caught and she fell in the sand. She looked back to see what she'd tripped on.
"Helen!"
Isabel scrambled over to her body. Her lips trembled while she looked down at the girl. She was absolutely drenched in blood. Isabel put her ear to the girl's chest. Nothing. Isabel shuddered and put her hand over her mouth to stop from exploding into a scream. Her hand tasted of Helen's blood.
"No. Nonononono THIS ISN'T FAIR."
She took a moment to sit in the sand with her friend's blood smeared on her and dug her nails into her palms. In her mind, she counted to ten and at ten she took a deep breath and stood up.
"Hey boat guy!" she yelled out. It took the last of her self control not to call him something worse.
"Took you long enough," she mumbled under her breath.
Three days. It had been three god damn days since they'd sent out the message. If she had been in better condition she would have berated them for having taken that long. She swallowed and marched right up to him.
"Recognize me?" she asked. "I'm from the group that sent the coordinates. I'm the only one left," she growled.
They were all dead. Isabel wanted to kill someone for that. She wanted to grab a gun and fill Raidon so full of holes that they'd need dental records to identify him. He separated them. If it wasn't for him they might all still be alive.
"I need to talk to you before I get on this thing," she said trying to keep her voice even. "Number one, take these," she said as she shoved the letters at the man, "and give them to the parents of Ethan Kent and Feo Smith. They died to get you guys here. Number two, don't drop me off with the rest of these guys. I never want to go back to St. Paul and I never want to see any of these people again. Drop me off anywhere else, I don't care. If you're feeling generous, leave me in America in the south west and DO NOT take me to a hospital."
She'd been stabbed in the arm with a spear and had the blade twisted before it was finally yanked out. It was a bad injury, but she was willing to take a chance and treat it herself when she found supplies rather than risk going to a hospital where someone could identify her.
"List me as dead. You never picked me up. Last, how long are you going to be here with your boat? I need to find my friend Hayley and then bring her-"
The man raised an eyebrow at her. "Hayley Kelly?"
"Yes."
And then he informed her that as a killer, Hayley wouldn't be allowed on the rescue boat.
Isabel looked blankly at him. "Then I'm not getting on that fucking boat," she said with a shrug.
Ray tried to reason with her. She was dehydrated, she was tired and she'd lost a lot of blood. She shook her head.
"No. Roland told me to take care of our friends and now they're all dead. Hayley is still out there and I can't fail her too!"
The boat guy was getting impatient and time was running short. Ray grabbed Isabel and steered her towards the boat. She fought him, kicking and twisting and screaming but she was in bad shape and in no condition to fight anyone. Ray forced her to the floor of the boat and someone took off her collar while he held her down.
"You're saving my life," she breathed out. "And I'll never forgive you."
G105, Isabel Guerra: ELIMINATED
((Isabel Guerra continued in Abre Los Ojos ))
-
GregTheAnti-Viking†
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
Nathan was still locked in his thoughts. Nearly dying at the hands of his best friend would do that to you. At least, that's what he mused. But now he was alive. Better yet, he would be free. He'd be able to make it home.
But even then, going home felt like a dubious reward. His folks would talk about how they were scared and everything. Scared about losing their prescious Nathan. But after a month, it'd be back to work. He had to keep going down the track career path. Had to beat Geoffrey after all. That was the most important thing.
He talked little, prefering to help lead Maf's body in silence. The beach was in their sights now and Nathan could not help but feel as if something had been litfted off of him. He felt himself surging forwards, Jason had been too. The both of them made haste to the boat that was now in plain sight.
The hustle and bustle of those on the beach had swamped him. He tried to pay attention to the chaos taking place, but found himself unable to do so.
Jason had said something, congratulating him on how they had made it. They were going to survive. Nathan found his head turning away. His body was aching and Jason's words could not be taken as anything but earnest. A pain was growing inside his gut.
When they took Maf off of their shoulders. Nathan bent down and heaved for breath. His hands on his knees. It was as if they were back in a training room lifting weights. Or back on the track after another not 11.00 second run.
He gulped when he saw that behind him, a girl had fallen onto the beach, a bloody trail tailing behind her. It made Nathan queesy just to watch it, but now he could not look away. It had made Jason's words all the more terrible. Jason, Nathan even Maf had made it. But the girl...
"Hey mate, get this thing off me! I have to go back, my mate's still out there."
The hypnosis that Nathan was under had been lifted and he turned to see Jason pointing out into the distance. Nathan's eyes widened and when he turned to the STAR member shaking his head he gulped. Two thoughts came into his head, both terrible. First, was the thought that Jason's kill made him inelligable to join both Maf and Nathan. Second, even if he was free to go...he was going to back and Nathan knew exactly who it was he was trying to save.
No way...
Jason had already stood up and turned his back on the people attending Maf. He was going to go out regardless of what happened. He was actually going to try and save Brook, the guy who kept appearing on announcement after announcement. That was pure suicide. Nathan knew that much already. How could someone accidentally murder person after person? It was impossible.
His gaze turned back to Maf's body. He was in good hands. Nathan knew that much. He couldn't believe that the Fijian would ever go and murder anybody. He just happened to be in the wrong place. He probably witnessed that scene and got caught up in all. Nathan knew that he would be safe to go to...barely.
He closed his eyes. Why was Jason doing this? He had a chance to go home. He just had to explain his case right? They'd believe his story of accidental shooting right? But if he went out there after Brook...
Nathan turned back to Jason and gulped.
He placed a hand on Jason and stoped him.
"You go alone and he's going to kill you..."
Nathan's voice caught himself. He couldn't believe he was doing this.
"Tomorrow morning if we don't see him...we gotta go back..."
Nathan felt the grip on Jason's shoulder tighten. He turned his head back to look at Nathan and he seemed to give a nod of understanding, but he said nothing more.
He let go of his friend and turned back to the person looking through his clip board.
"We'll be back." He said, to no real acknowledgment. Nathan's gaze turned down to the battered body of Maf Tuigamala. "Take care of Maf..."
Nathan had one last urge to stay here. One last urge to fling himself onto the boat and to hell with the collars. But then the thoughts turned back to how he had almost killed Jason. He had to help him...it was the least he could do...
Without another word, he and Jason ran off to find Brook.
Damn it...
((Nathan Choultard and Jason Harris continued in Never Take Friendship Personal))
But even then, going home felt like a dubious reward. His folks would talk about how they were scared and everything. Scared about losing their prescious Nathan. But after a month, it'd be back to work. He had to keep going down the track career path. Had to beat Geoffrey after all. That was the most important thing.
He talked little, prefering to help lead Maf's body in silence. The beach was in their sights now and Nathan could not help but feel as if something had been litfted off of him. He felt himself surging forwards, Jason had been too. The both of them made haste to the boat that was now in plain sight.
The hustle and bustle of those on the beach had swamped him. He tried to pay attention to the chaos taking place, but found himself unable to do so.
Jason had said something, congratulating him on how they had made it. They were going to survive. Nathan found his head turning away. His body was aching and Jason's words could not be taken as anything but earnest. A pain was growing inside his gut.
When they took Maf off of their shoulders. Nathan bent down and heaved for breath. His hands on his knees. It was as if they were back in a training room lifting weights. Or back on the track after another not 11.00 second run.
He gulped when he saw that behind him, a girl had fallen onto the beach, a bloody trail tailing behind her. It made Nathan queesy just to watch it, but now he could not look away. It had made Jason's words all the more terrible. Jason, Nathan even Maf had made it. But the girl...
"Hey mate, get this thing off me! I have to go back, my mate's still out there."
The hypnosis that Nathan was under had been lifted and he turned to see Jason pointing out into the distance. Nathan's eyes widened and when he turned to the STAR member shaking his head he gulped. Two thoughts came into his head, both terrible. First, was the thought that Jason's kill made him inelligable to join both Maf and Nathan. Second, even if he was free to go...he was going to back and Nathan knew exactly who it was he was trying to save.
No way...
Jason had already stood up and turned his back on the people attending Maf. He was going to go out regardless of what happened. He was actually going to try and save Brook, the guy who kept appearing on announcement after announcement. That was pure suicide. Nathan knew that much already. How could someone accidentally murder person after person? It was impossible.
His gaze turned back to Maf's body. He was in good hands. Nathan knew that much. He couldn't believe that the Fijian would ever go and murder anybody. He just happened to be in the wrong place. He probably witnessed that scene and got caught up in all. Nathan knew that he would be safe to go to...barely.
He closed his eyes. Why was Jason doing this? He had a chance to go home. He just had to explain his case right? They'd believe his story of accidental shooting right? But if he went out there after Brook...
Nathan turned back to Jason and gulped.
He placed a hand on Jason and stoped him.
"You go alone and he's going to kill you..."
Nathan's voice caught himself. He couldn't believe he was doing this.
"Tomorrow morning if we don't see him...we gotta go back..."
Nathan felt the grip on Jason's shoulder tighten. He turned his head back to look at Nathan and he seemed to give a nod of understanding, but he said nothing more.
He let go of his friend and turned back to the person looking through his clip board.
"We'll be back." He said, to no real acknowledgment. Nathan's gaze turned down to the battered body of Maf Tuigamala. "Take care of Maf..."
Nathan had one last urge to stay here. One last urge to fling himself onto the boat and to hell with the collars. But then the thoughts turned back to how he had almost killed Jason. He had to help him...it was the least he could do...
Without another word, he and Jason ran off to find Brook.
Damn it...
((Nathan Choultard and Jason Harris continued in Never Take Friendship Personal))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler GregTheAnti-Viking. 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.
(Raidon Naoko, Mizore Soryu and that other asshole continued from Boats and Birds)
((GM totally approved here.))
Zach did not have a fantastic romantic life. Hell, he could only recall four chicks, one that he actually got involved with. Lacy was the one he liked. Then there was this one slut from some protest. That blue haired bitch who tried to get him during school. The latter two were like bad dreams. The last one was a nightmare. More of a stalker who wouldn't give up. Her name was Kim and Zach met her in elementary. He forgot which grade. She was alright, at the time, back when he was a stupid kid. Girl didn't know when to quit though. It got worse in middle school. She was pining on him, like some hyperactive puppy. It was annoying, and he didn't like pets. So he put her down. She cried, like Lacy did, like the blue bitch did.
So another heart to the small pile. Zach never spoke to her again, and he was perfectly fine with that. He tried never to think about her and the way it ended.
It was funny.
Kim was Asian and dyed her hair black.
Zach could taste the irony. It made him want to gag.
It wasn't much further, he thought. Just stop bitching to yourself until you actually get this girl to the boat.
He looked over at the boy. He completely forgot his name. Zach was terrible at names. That asian kid was fine in his mind. Well. Technically that other asian kid, but Zach knew Mizore's name so there wasn't much point. The boy had asked him to help him drag Mizore away, and Zach didn't complain or tell him no. Hell, he didn't even bother to mention that Mizore and Zach had crossed paths. He just went along with it, like the little bitch he was turning into.
He had seen the kiss and it made him think of Kim. He had seen everything and it made him twitch.
...
Mizore was heavier than he thought. Fuck. She looked like a damn stick for christsake.
He didn't think about that. No, he didn't want to think about it. He hated the taste of sugar, especially in spoonfuls. Escape was on his mind. Or rather the general idea of leaving the island. Even then he didn't really think about that. It was more like the equivalent of placing a thought on an empty shelf, if only to have something on his mind. Escape. Going home. Not having to deal with this shitty island. Yeah. Zach could get behind that. Then again, Zach was not one to take rides from strangers. He was suspicious, but he kept that little detail to himself.
They stumbled over to the boat. Zach didn't look in the least impressed about the escape. His face was stone cold. He saw a few kids rushing around, and Zach did his best not to look at them. He was afraid someone would come up, bust out crying and hug his leg. If helping a stranger with a weird asian chick out of the goodness of his black, hate-filled heart wasn't bad enough, dragging a big crybaby along like that would be worse.
Raidon and Zach lowered the girl to the sand. Zach sighed, coughed and reached into his pocket. He didn't look at Raidon. Instead he stared directly at the soldier.
"Another sheep for the pasture."
Zach took out a cigarette.
"S'kinda unconscious. Makes it easier for you I suppose. No resistance," Zach glared at the soldier named Jaxon, "right?"
G112, Mizore "Radio Asuka": ELIMINATED
((GM totally approved here.))
Zach did not have a fantastic romantic life. Hell, he could only recall four chicks, one that he actually got involved with. Lacy was the one he liked. Then there was this one slut from some protest. That blue haired bitch who tried to get him during school. The latter two were like bad dreams. The last one was a nightmare. More of a stalker who wouldn't give up. Her name was Kim and Zach met her in elementary. He forgot which grade. She was alright, at the time, back when he was a stupid kid. Girl didn't know when to quit though. It got worse in middle school. She was pining on him, like some hyperactive puppy. It was annoying, and he didn't like pets. So he put her down. She cried, like Lacy did, like the blue bitch did.
So another heart to the small pile. Zach never spoke to her again, and he was perfectly fine with that. He tried never to think about her and the way it ended.
It was funny.
Kim was Asian and dyed her hair black.
Zach could taste the irony. It made him want to gag.
It wasn't much further, he thought. Just stop bitching to yourself until you actually get this girl to the boat.
He looked over at the boy. He completely forgot his name. Zach was terrible at names. That asian kid was fine in his mind. Well. Technically that other asian kid, but Zach knew Mizore's name so there wasn't much point. The boy had asked him to help him drag Mizore away, and Zach didn't complain or tell him no. Hell, he didn't even bother to mention that Mizore and Zach had crossed paths. He just went along with it, like the little bitch he was turning into.
He had seen the kiss and it made him think of Kim. He had seen everything and it made him twitch.
...
Mizore was heavier than he thought. Fuck. She looked like a damn stick for christsake.
He didn't think about that. No, he didn't want to think about it. He hated the taste of sugar, especially in spoonfuls. Escape was on his mind. Or rather the general idea of leaving the island. Even then he didn't really think about that. It was more like the equivalent of placing a thought on an empty shelf, if only to have something on his mind. Escape. Going home. Not having to deal with this shitty island. Yeah. Zach could get behind that. Then again, Zach was not one to take rides from strangers. He was suspicious, but he kept that little detail to himself.
They stumbled over to the boat. Zach didn't look in the least impressed about the escape. His face was stone cold. He saw a few kids rushing around, and Zach did his best not to look at them. He was afraid someone would come up, bust out crying and hug his leg. If helping a stranger with a weird asian chick out of the goodness of his black, hate-filled heart wasn't bad enough, dragging a big crybaby along like that would be worse.
Raidon and Zach lowered the girl to the sand. Zach sighed, coughed and reached into his pocket. He didn't look at Raidon. Instead he stared directly at the soldier.
"Another sheep for the pasture."
Zach took out a cigarette.
"S'kinda unconscious. Makes it easier for you I suppose. No resistance," Zach glared at the soldier named Jaxon, "right?"
G112, Mizore "Radio Asuka": ELIMINATED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. 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.