((Kris Hartmann continued from A Pit Stop of Sorts))
Desolate. Barren. Dead. This place suited her well.
Kris had been walking for awhile since leaving the residential district and the group she'd encountered behind, and unlike her previous departures, the key difference was walking. It gave her time to think. Time she didn't want but couldn't avoid. She had to slow down, otherwise she'd wind up in a bad, bad way. Hell Kris had outright collapsed from exhaustion earlier, and fatigue was still tearing at her.
So the skater thought about how she'd never get to roll out for the Slam City Jam. Never get to meet the true pros, her idols that she held the faintest of hopes of encountering. She thought again about the loss of her beloved board, almost like having a limb severed. She thought about that wonderful, romantic prom night with Etain. But most of all, Reika and Kimberly replayed in her head, over and over and over.
Voice. Jump. Spin. Squeeze. Bang. Dead. "If you're going to shoot then sho-". Trigger, scream. Blood. Flee.
At last, Kris couldn't take it any longer. She was tired, she was rattled. She needed some time. She sank down to the ground and sat herself against a wide tree stump. Once upon a time, it must have been the base of a mighty tree.
"Just... leave me alone," Kris muttered, talking to the images that were constantly flashing through her head. "I know... I know what I did. Please... give me some peace."
Despondant, Kris stared out into space, her right hand gently caressing the grip of her SIG Sauer. She noticed it, looked at her weapon for a long moment, then looked away again, leaving hand and gun untouched.
Clean and Righteous
Private - PM plz / [later removed]
((Amber Whimsy start))
Amber Whimsy had set off on the move some time ago, having grown restless of hiding out in a set of bushes. Although the greenery had proven an apt spot for Amber to cry out the shock of waking up in Survival of the Fittest, that horrible show her Dad had never let her watch, the horror of the island had not proven enough to convince the young journalist to lay low and keep still for a change.
With the army helmet she had found in her daypack worn low over her head (despite how it kept falling over her eyes and obscuring her vision, she continued wearing the only hope of protection she had), she had set off about a short while ago, stumbling around aimlessly in the vague hopes of finding something to help her, struggling to move quickly with the heavy bags dragging her down. She foolishly believed that she'd find something to help her live through the game, refusing to even consider that the odds of escaping were beyond chance.
Eventually, she had made her way into the felled forest, the countless stumps around her seeming to stretch on forever. The place unnerved Amber, as she hunched over low before she slowly crept onwards. Looking around, propping up her helmet as it fell forwards, she wondered if she'd get lost amongst the stumps of wood, indistinguishable from one another. It was after rounding yet another stump that Kris Hartman came into view, sat only a few feet away from her.
Without thinking, Amber yelled out to the girl, unable to see the weapon on her other side: "Hey!" she called out to her. Amber had never been a girl for keeping quiet, and calling out to Kris was hardly out of character for her. Sadly, it was this character that would eventually come to cause her cruel, underserved end.
Amber Whimsy had set off on the move some time ago, having grown restless of hiding out in a set of bushes. Although the greenery had proven an apt spot for Amber to cry out the shock of waking up in Survival of the Fittest, that horrible show her Dad had never let her watch, the horror of the island had not proven enough to convince the young journalist to lay low and keep still for a change.
With the army helmet she had found in her daypack worn low over her head (despite how it kept falling over her eyes and obscuring her vision, she continued wearing the only hope of protection she had), she had set off about a short while ago, stumbling around aimlessly in the vague hopes of finding something to help her, struggling to move quickly with the heavy bags dragging her down. She foolishly believed that she'd find something to help her live through the game, refusing to even consider that the odds of escaping were beyond chance.
Eventually, she had made her way into the felled forest, the countless stumps around her seeming to stretch on forever. The place unnerved Amber, as she hunched over low before she slowly crept onwards. Looking around, propping up her helmet as it fell forwards, she wondered if she'd get lost amongst the stumps of wood, indistinguishable from one another. It was after rounding yet another stump that Kris Hartman came into view, sat only a few feet away from her.
Without thinking, Amber yelled out to the girl, unable to see the weapon on her other side: "Hey!" she called out to her. Amber had never been a girl for keeping quiet, and calling out to Kris was hardly out of character for her. Sadly, it was this character that would eventually come to cause her cruel, underserved end.
Kris didn't even think about it. The second she heard the voice, the gun was drawn, she'd spun, and the pistol was pointed straight at the interloper. In seconds, she'd gone from leaning against the stump to lying stretched out on the ground, pistol propped up on the flat surface of where the tree's trunk had been.
She blinked.
What the... what the fuck was she doing? This was beyond jumpy, beyond paranoid, this was purely murderous. Just like she'd said before. Fuck redemption, Kris couldn't even get crept up on without pulling her gun out. At this stage, she wasn't even sure if it was just an excuse.
Mördare.
Kris' hands trembled. Her finger wavered on the trigger for an eternity... then she forced it away from there. This was Amber, Amber Whimsy, she hadn't done anything. She was just standing there with her army helmet and... and fuck she'd come so close to doing it again. For no reason at all.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't let anybody close to her.
"Get out of here," Kris murmured. "You can't be near me. You CAN'T BE NEAR ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"
Hyperventilation. Something's wrong. Something's broken. In her brain, in her heart. Trembling hand, wavering resolve. She wants to shoot, she fears to shoot. Why?
She blinked.
What the... what the fuck was she doing? This was beyond jumpy, beyond paranoid, this was purely murderous. Just like she'd said before. Fuck redemption, Kris couldn't even get crept up on without pulling her gun out. At this stage, she wasn't even sure if it was just an excuse.
Mördare.
Kris' hands trembled. Her finger wavered on the trigger for an eternity... then she forced it away from there. This was Amber, Amber Whimsy, she hadn't done anything. She was just standing there with her army helmet and... and fuck she'd come so close to doing it again. For no reason at all.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't let anybody close to her.
"Get out of here," Kris murmured. "You can't be near me. You CAN'T BE NEAR ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"
Hyperventilation. Something's wrong. Something's broken. In her brain, in her heart. Trembling hand, wavering resolve. She wants to shoot, she fears to shoot. Why?
Amber blinked; the sight of Kris' gun had frozen her in fear, and her mouth dropped open in shock. The barrel pointed at her chest made her blood chill, and sweat ran down her brow as she stood rooted to the spot, helpless.
She was about to let out a scream, when she saw Kris pull the gun away from her. The effect was still lasting though, and she could barely comprehend what was being screamed at her. She didn't want to go, because she had finally found someone else on the island. She had a gun pointed at her, but she had taken it away too, Amber thought as she began thinking again, no longer stunned thoughtless by the prospect of imminent death.
"Wait!" She called out again, even though Kris wasn't moving. "You can't leave! You're the first person I found, and you weren't gonna kill me!" Amber wasn't thinking straight, and it came clear in her words. Even Amber wasn't stupid enough to trust people pointing weapons at her in normal situations, but the pressure of the game had slowly eaten away at her since it started. Now it was culminating in a total loss of logic or common sense.
"We can team up!" she continued, edging slightly closer to Kris. "We can work together, and then I won't be alone anymore! Don't go!" she yelled, still advancing. Finally, it overtook her, as she took a glint of light reflecting off Kris' weapon, and she darted forwards to grab a tight hold of her arm, attempting to cling onto it and never let go.
"Don't leave me!"
She was about to let out a scream, when she saw Kris pull the gun away from her. The effect was still lasting though, and she could barely comprehend what was being screamed at her. She didn't want to go, because she had finally found someone else on the island. She had a gun pointed at her, but she had taken it away too, Amber thought as she began thinking again, no longer stunned thoughtless by the prospect of imminent death.
"Wait!" She called out again, even though Kris wasn't moving. "You can't leave! You're the first person I found, and you weren't gonna kill me!" Amber wasn't thinking straight, and it came clear in her words. Even Amber wasn't stupid enough to trust people pointing weapons at her in normal situations, but the pressure of the game had slowly eaten away at her since it started. Now it was culminating in a total loss of logic or common sense.
"We can team up!" she continued, edging slightly closer to Kris. "We can work together, and then I won't be alone anymore! Don't go!" she yelled, still advancing. Finally, it overtook her, as she took a glint of light reflecting off Kris' weapon, and she darted forwards to grab a tight hold of her arm, attempting to cling onto it and never let go.
"Don't leave me!"
Why... why couldn't she understand?
It didn't make sense. The gun was there, Kris had it pointed straight at Amber. She'd told her to leave[/i]. Why didn't she fucking GET it!?
The barrel of the pistol was all over the place, roving up and down Amber's body, feet to head. Kris was afraid - not of Amber, but almost of herself. Her first instinct was always to go for the gun, above and beyond the 'somebody might get shot' thought she'd initially had when finding it. Kris didn't want to kill anybody dammit, it was just... there was something, some alien facet of her that did.
Oh yeah, that would hold up in court, right? 'It wasn't my fault, judge! My dark side took over my body and made me pull the trigger!'
And Amber kept getting closer.
"Amber..."
The other girl was edging forward.
Hand clenches tight. Fingers wavers, then released. No, can't pull. Back off. Back off. Can't...
"Get..."
She wouldn't stop moving.
Mouth dry. Bile taste lingers. Aim freezes. "If you're going to shoot then shoot." Like Kimberly. No! NOT like Kimberly! One hand clasps the other. Keeps it from the trigger. Back off Amber. BACK OFF.
"The fuck..."
There was desperation in Amber's eyes and hysteria in her voice.
Deathly still, aim unwavering. Closer, closer... the gun is immovable. Iron will. Kris can't... she can't... the control. Finger twitches.
"OUT OF HERE!"
And then Amber made to grab Kris.
The dream. Twisted tendrils emerge from the gun. Burrow into her arm. Covered in blood. Nothing but. Deep crimson tentacles wind around the hand, wind into her. She holds. She's held. Part of her.
Kris hurled herself backwards as best she could from her position lying down, the awkwardness meaning that Amber's fingertips just barely brushed her arm as she moved away.
Her finger spasmed, pulled the trigger.
Something smiles.
It didn't make sense. The gun was there, Kris had it pointed straight at Amber. She'd told her to leave[/i]. Why didn't she fucking GET it!?
The barrel of the pistol was all over the place, roving up and down Amber's body, feet to head. Kris was afraid - not of Amber, but almost of herself. Her first instinct was always to go for the gun, above and beyond the 'somebody might get shot' thought she'd initially had when finding it. Kris didn't want to kill anybody dammit, it was just... there was something, some alien facet of her that did.
Oh yeah, that would hold up in court, right? 'It wasn't my fault, judge! My dark side took over my body and made me pull the trigger!'
And Amber kept getting closer.
"Amber..."
The other girl was edging forward.
Hand clenches tight. Fingers wavers, then released. No, can't pull. Back off. Back off. Can't...
"Get..."
She wouldn't stop moving.
Mouth dry. Bile taste lingers. Aim freezes. "If you're going to shoot then shoot." Like Kimberly. No! NOT like Kimberly! One hand clasps the other. Keeps it from the trigger. Back off Amber. BACK OFF.
"The fuck..."
There was desperation in Amber's eyes and hysteria in her voice.
Deathly still, aim unwavering. Closer, closer... the gun is immovable. Iron will. Kris can't... she can't... the control. Finger twitches.
"OUT OF HERE!"
And then Amber made to grab Kris.
The dream. Twisted tendrils emerge from the gun. Burrow into her arm. Covered in blood. Nothing but. Deep crimson tentacles wind around the hand, wind into her. She holds. She's held. Part of her.
Kris hurled herself backwards as best she could from her position lying down, the awkwardness meaning that Amber's fingertips just barely brushed her arm as she moved away.
Her finger spasmed, pulled the trigger.
Something smiles.
For a moment, she just stood there with eyes wide open, as her ears rang in shock from noise of the gun. Then, all hell came over her.
It was like someone had punched her hard in the chest, but they hadn't stopped: they just kept pushing through, pushing a hole into her skin, her body, her organs, and stayed there, inside her body, letting blood trickle out the orifice brutally carved into her form.
She looked dumbly at Kris, mouth gawping open like someone had just told her a bad joke, as her pink hoody was stained crimson. Then she screamed, and fell to her knees.
"IT HURTS! IT HURTS!" she screamed, clutching the wound with her slowly draining strength, trying to pull her skin back together as if it would stick like Velcro. "IT HUUURTS!"
Slowly, she collapsed onto her front, pouring out onto the ground beneath, eyes hot with tears of pain and fear, as she yelled into the floor. "MOMMY IT HURTS! IT HURTS!" It was all too much for her to handle, as she was reduced to nothing more than a crying, dying, child.
Her screams had been so loud, so terror filled, that her throat was starting to go hoarse; it didn't matter though, as the light began to fade from her vision, darkness swimming around her. Pitiably, she pushed her head up onto its chin, looking into a black and empty distance. Far away from her, she could see her friends, her family, all looking at her. They said nothing, merely watching, as she screamed back at them, her voice raspy and thin: "Help me! Help me please!" she spluttered out between coughs at the empty figures, who remained motionless. There was no help for Amber Whimsy, who lay on the floor as what little life she had drifted out for her.
Soon, even the sight of those closest to her began to fade and blur, disappearing like an ending dream. The dreams Amber Whimsy had had: going to college; becoming a journalist; having a family: they were all ending.
They weren't ending because she was waking up; they were ending because she was falling into a cold, endless sleep.
And with one final miserable cry, the life left the plucky young girl forever.
G021 - AMBER WHIMSY: DECEASED
It was like someone had punched her hard in the chest, but they hadn't stopped: they just kept pushing through, pushing a hole into her skin, her body, her organs, and stayed there, inside her body, letting blood trickle out the orifice brutally carved into her form.
She looked dumbly at Kris, mouth gawping open like someone had just told her a bad joke, as her pink hoody was stained crimson. Then she screamed, and fell to her knees.
"IT HURTS! IT HURTS!" she screamed, clutching the wound with her slowly draining strength, trying to pull her skin back together as if it would stick like Velcro. "IT HUUURTS!"
Slowly, she collapsed onto her front, pouring out onto the ground beneath, eyes hot with tears of pain and fear, as she yelled into the floor. "MOMMY IT HURTS! IT HURTS!" It was all too much for her to handle, as she was reduced to nothing more than a crying, dying, child.
Her screams had been so loud, so terror filled, that her throat was starting to go hoarse; it didn't matter though, as the light began to fade from her vision, darkness swimming around her. Pitiably, she pushed her head up onto its chin, looking into a black and empty distance. Far away from her, she could see her friends, her family, all looking at her. They said nothing, merely watching, as she screamed back at them, her voice raspy and thin: "Help me! Help me please!" she spluttered out between coughs at the empty figures, who remained motionless. There was no help for Amber Whimsy, who lay on the floor as what little life she had drifted out for her.
Soon, even the sight of those closest to her began to fade and blur, disappearing like an ending dream. The dreams Amber Whimsy had had: going to college; becoming a journalist; having a family: they were all ending.
They weren't ending because she was waking up; they were ending because she was falling into a cold, endless sleep.
And with one final miserable cry, the life left the plucky young girl forever.
G021 - AMBER WHIMSY: DECEASED
From the position she'd hurled herself into on the ground, Kris watched, frozen in place, exactly what the consequences of her actions were. This wasn't Reika, who had died near-instantaneously, nor Kimberly, who Kris had fled from. Amber was screaming in utter agony, begging and pleading, blood pouring from her chest. Her eyes locked on Kris', beseeching her for help, asking that simple, yet impossible question; why? It seemed to stretch on for an utter eternity, not even ceasing when Amber collapsed, the girl still writhing in agony and screaming. Even when, at long last, the other girl stopped moving, Kris' eyes remained fixed on her.
The SIG-Sauer went tumbling from her fingers to fall into the dirt. Kris' trigger finger, in spite of her no longer holding anything, spasmed again. And again. And again; firing a gun that wasn't present. After a few more seconds of that, Kris sagged, falling onto her back and staring up at the sky through eyes that were suddenly blurred by tears. What the hell kind of a monster was she? That wasn't accidental, not even approaching it. Why had she even thought she had to bring her gun out in the first place!? There was no FUCKING reason! Kris didn't understand anything. She wanted to cry and was disgusted at herself for it at the same time. She had no right to tears after her actions.
...She wanted her skateboard back.
"Can't do this..." Kris murmured. "Just... can't," the skater pushed herself up onto her knees, then immediately hung her head.
Killer instinct... just survival. The gun has a grip, bound, tied. She doesn't want to die, the inner drive... outweighs conscience. Feeble protest. Tears nothing before hot lead. Insidious leech ever larger. Feeding on shame. Fear sweeps compassion before it.
Kris' hand reached out and she snatched the gun back up off the floor without even looking at it. The motion was almost resentful. She got up to her feet and was about to walk away when something caught her eye. Amber's duffle bag. Barely thinking, Kris went over and picked the bag up. She didn't even go close to the daypack, that just wasn't on her agenda (she'd barely had a bite to eat since coming onto the island). Kris felt like hell and looked like it too. Maybe... maybe a change of clothes would get some of the stench of blood from her.
Kris doubted that. She was awash with it.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm ...weak."
((Kris Hartmann continued in Clap For The Killers))
The SIG-Sauer went tumbling from her fingers to fall into the dirt. Kris' trigger finger, in spite of her no longer holding anything, spasmed again. And again. And again; firing a gun that wasn't present. After a few more seconds of that, Kris sagged, falling onto her back and staring up at the sky through eyes that were suddenly blurred by tears. What the hell kind of a monster was she? That wasn't accidental, not even approaching it. Why had she even thought she had to bring her gun out in the first place!? There was no FUCKING reason! Kris didn't understand anything. She wanted to cry and was disgusted at herself for it at the same time. She had no right to tears after her actions.
...She wanted her skateboard back.
"Can't do this..." Kris murmured. "Just... can't," the skater pushed herself up onto her knees, then immediately hung her head.
Killer instinct... just survival. The gun has a grip, bound, tied. She doesn't want to die, the inner drive... outweighs conscience. Feeble protest. Tears nothing before hot lead. Insidious leech ever larger. Feeding on shame. Fear sweeps compassion before it.
Kris' hand reached out and she snatched the gun back up off the floor without even looking at it. The motion was almost resentful. She got up to her feet and was about to walk away when something caught her eye. Amber's duffle bag. Barely thinking, Kris went over and picked the bag up. She didn't even go close to the daypack, that just wasn't on her agenda (she'd barely had a bite to eat since coming onto the island). Kris felt like hell and looked like it too. Maybe... maybe a change of clothes would get some of the stench of blood from her.
Kris doubted that. She was awash with it.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm ...weak."
((Kris Hartmann continued in Clap For The Killers))