[[Jasper-Declan MacDermott continued from Pearl and Destiny]]
They'd gotten separated. Who knew how, but they had.
They'd been walking, that was certainly so, walking- where? Jasper-Declan didn't know. He wasn't paying much attention to direction, to the map, to the compass- he paid attention to the slowly setting sun, but only to admire the orange tint it gave their surroundings. But they were walking, the three of them together- him and his newfound friends allies, George and Carly. Walking away from that...situation, for lack of a better word, back at the warehouse. I wonder, perhaps, if George felt that same sense of...of being ignored, as I did. That spoiled feeling, perhaps it wasn't only myself. Or perhaps it was and I just wish for someone else to share the feeling to make myself feel a tad bit less...
Pathetic?
No matter.
At any rate.
They were walking, essentially forward, forward, ever forward, and suddenly they found themselves in a town. A small town, a...he cringed even thinking the word quaint town, but it still was not anywhere Jasper-Declan wanted to be. Towns meant people, likely lots of people, and people, in a game like Survival of the Fittest, meant conflict and danger and possible/probable death. Though the sense of loneliness that had been nagging him practically since he'd started in this game, since he'd felt that keen sense of rejection from the boys on the beach, or more probably, since that moment he'd realized he was going to die-
He shook his head. Not allowed to go down that path again.
-despite all that, he didn't want to be anywhere near anyone else. George and Carly, they helped. The presence of people who...didn't necessarily like him, that was too much to ask, but at least trusted him, at least needed him, that helped a lot. Gave him another reason, a good one, to keep himself alive.
He was thinking about that- and he was thinking about the sunset lights on the town's rooftops, and how different the architecture was from that back home, and just where were they, anyway? and where were these people who lived here, all dead now, perhaps? had they had to leave, were they forced from their home by the terrorists and Danya? or perhaps they were simply all killed-
And sometime during that train of thought, George had disappeared.
No, disappeared was the wrong word. Disappeared implied that they had no idea where he had gone. Presumably he had wandered off on his own, gotten distracted by something and gone off to investigate. The question was, what to do about it? Too much time spent wandering in this town would undoubtedly result in some discovered problem-in-progress, and Carly was certainly in no position to defend herself. So they agreed to wait for a bit- wait for George to come wandering back.
He did not. And so what could they do but move on?
They wandered some more, not stopping but with no destination in mind. Jasper-Declan ate a few crackers during the walk, at some point remembering that eating is in fact an important human function, but was otherwise quiet. He couldn't think of much to say, and anyway his mind was quite busy taking in the surroundings.
Those surroundings changed every moment. The town fell behind them and eventually disappeared into the distance as they found themselves on some sort of road. Most people would follow the road- in any other circumstance that would only be logical- but Jasper-Declan would not do so. Roads led to people. And so he veered off absent-mindedly to the right, grateful that Carly, at least, didn't question him.
And now the light was truly fading, the last reds disappearing from view, replaced with cold blue. He watched the light disappear on the horizon, fascinated, and even more fascinating was the starlight that followed. The sky outside the city lights...it's truly an inspiring sight.
The same could not be said for their more immediate surroundings. Jasper-Declan realized, looking around, that he had stumbled into a wasteland of tree stumps, a sad graveyard of sorts. He felt truly upset for a moment, upset that something that was likely once beautiful was now long since dead and gone, and he wore a pained expression. But that moment passed quickly, and he put it behind him- the sky was more than enough in the way of beauty, and besides, the ugliness of this place would make it unattractive to others.
He turned to Carly. It was truly very dark, and Jasper-Declan supposed this was as good a place to stop as any. Perhaps it was a good time to get some sleep- did he need sleep? He didn't feel tired, not in the least, but it occurred to him that he hadn't slept in days. Perhaps sheer adrenaline kept him awake, adrenaline or insomnia, but to him these days just felt so short.
The nights, though, ran long. Strange for summer, but what wasn't strange nowadays?
"Is this an agreeable campsite for the night...?" he asked politely. After all, she, at least, would likely want to rest.
Late Dawns and Early Sunsets
[Late Day 3, OPEN]
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Hollyquin†
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Late Dawns and Early Sunsets
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Isaiah Garvey continued from Milk of Human Kindness))
The day had come and gone. Isaiah had not found his quarry.
Of course, the terrain had not helped, not in the slightest. From the beach, he had found himself in this boneyard of trees, picking his way over branches, scrambling over loose dirt, always watching for the guy from before. He just wanted to make sure the boy was alright. Or, failing that, wanted to see his body, wanted to bury him, too. It was the least Isaiah could do for someone loyal even to a dead friend.
Unfortunately, his search faced several challenges. To start with, he didn't know the guy's name. This meant that the announcements would be completely useless for determining whether or not he was still alive. Really, though, it was not the most important thing. Whether he succeeded or failed in this search, he would soon enough find something else to do. Of this, he was entirely certain.
He had, in the process, managed to at least refill his water bottles at a stream. He'd also drunk as much as he could there, hoping to delay a need to restock again for as long as possible. The stream was probably contaminated with tropical parasites or other awful things, but he was pretty sure that they wouldn't be able to take hold before the end of this experience, in whatever form it came. Besides, what would a tapeworm live off of? It wasn't like he had much to eat.
The wandering had given Isaiah a lot of time to think, to reflect on the course of events. He had tried to figure out a better strategy, tried to come up with an ingenious plan for escape or a way to eke out a moral victory. Finally, though, he had concluded that both things were impossible. People had already killed. That meant there would be more killings. There was no forcing that genie back into the bottle. Sure, it was possible that the final dozen or so would resist, would die together as a statement of solidarity, but at that point, things would be so far along that playing would actually be a viable strategy. It would require a very strong group to throw the game back in Danya's face so close to the end.
And escape? How? Danya would blow anyone's collar if they hit on a tenable plan. Even if, by some miracle, they did disable them, they would be stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. The terrorists could gun them down, bomb them, or starve them out.
So, that left him with the same option he'd first been drawn to. He would live, and he would do his best to do the right thing, and he would stay true to himself and his faith. He would help others as best he could, and Lord knew they needed help. And then, in the end...
He wanted to face death without fear. That was proving somewhat more difficult than he'd imagined, though.
Pulling himself over another log, Isaiah found himself looking over a monotonous sea of the same terrain. It was broken only by a few features. Of these, the one that caught his attention was two shapes in the dark. Either they were people, or they were very tall stumps, trees broken off far above all the others around them.
It bore investigation, whether it was the boy he sought or not. Isaiah started moving in their direction, not making any real attempt at stealth, but not loudly announcing his presence, either. If it was someone looking for trouble, he would slip away. If it was somebody friendly, perhaps he would be able to stop with them for a while.
The day had come and gone. Isaiah had not found his quarry.
Of course, the terrain had not helped, not in the slightest. From the beach, he had found himself in this boneyard of trees, picking his way over branches, scrambling over loose dirt, always watching for the guy from before. He just wanted to make sure the boy was alright. Or, failing that, wanted to see his body, wanted to bury him, too. It was the least Isaiah could do for someone loyal even to a dead friend.
Unfortunately, his search faced several challenges. To start with, he didn't know the guy's name. This meant that the announcements would be completely useless for determining whether or not he was still alive. Really, though, it was not the most important thing. Whether he succeeded or failed in this search, he would soon enough find something else to do. Of this, he was entirely certain.
He had, in the process, managed to at least refill his water bottles at a stream. He'd also drunk as much as he could there, hoping to delay a need to restock again for as long as possible. The stream was probably contaminated with tropical parasites or other awful things, but he was pretty sure that they wouldn't be able to take hold before the end of this experience, in whatever form it came. Besides, what would a tapeworm live off of? It wasn't like he had much to eat.
The wandering had given Isaiah a lot of time to think, to reflect on the course of events. He had tried to figure out a better strategy, tried to come up with an ingenious plan for escape or a way to eke out a moral victory. Finally, though, he had concluded that both things were impossible. People had already killed. That meant there would be more killings. There was no forcing that genie back into the bottle. Sure, it was possible that the final dozen or so would resist, would die together as a statement of solidarity, but at that point, things would be so far along that playing would actually be a viable strategy. It would require a very strong group to throw the game back in Danya's face so close to the end.
And escape? How? Danya would blow anyone's collar if they hit on a tenable plan. Even if, by some miracle, they did disable them, they would be stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. The terrorists could gun them down, bomb them, or starve them out.
So, that left him with the same option he'd first been drawn to. He would live, and he would do his best to do the right thing, and he would stay true to himself and his faith. He would help others as best he could, and Lord knew they needed help. And then, in the end...
He wanted to face death without fear. That was proving somewhat more difficult than he'd imagined, though.
Pulling himself over another log, Isaiah found himself looking over a monotonous sea of the same terrain. It was broken only by a few features. Of these, the one that caught his attention was two shapes in the dark. Either they were people, or they were very tall stumps, trees broken off far above all the others around them.
It bore investigation, whether it was the boy he sought or not. Isaiah started moving in their direction, not making any real attempt at stealth, but not loudly announcing his presence, either. If it was someone looking for trouble, he would slip away. If it was somebody friendly, perhaps he would be able to stop with them for a while.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
[[Jimmy Brennan continues from The Only Way is Up ]]
Jimmy Brennan wanted to kill something.
No, not something.
He wanted to kill everything.
He wanted to kill Danya, for putting him in such a sick, twisted game. He wanted to kill his classmates, for making him afraid, making him Jimmy Brennan "The Pussy". Most of all, he wanted to kill his parents for having the fucking gall to give birth to him in the first place.
Jimmy stumbled through the forest, his feet red and bloody, his socks torn through. Somehow late on the first night, after collapsing from exhaustion, Jimmy had lost his shoes. He had no idea how he had done it, and knowing that he was being watched by cameras 24/7 he hadn't spent too long looking for them. He had no intention of looking like a complete idiot on live TV so he simply left the clearing, hoping anyone watching would simply assume he had meant to leave his shoes behind. Jimmy only truly realized the absolute stupidity of this decision on the next day, when he'd cut his right foot on a sharp branch. Not being well versed in medicine, he'd initially tried to band-aid the cut back together. Failing this, he wrapped a cloth around his foot, which he likewise lost a few hours later.
He had no map. He had no idea where anything was. His weapon was a can of soda. His feet were aching and bleeding, and he was angry and sleep deprived. His pants, which he hadn't bothered to change since the first day, smelt like piss. And somewhere along the way, Jimmy's wall of denial had faltered and he realized that Leila had probably just been fucking with him all along. It didn't stop him from getting a raging boner thinking about her, but it had blown his last ditch effort at self respect out the window. The only upside he could find was that he hadn't encountered anyone since the mountain. With no one encountered, that meant there was no one to kill him. Jimmy reasoned this was a very good thing.
Everyone on the Island hated him, good guy or bad guy it made no difference. He was Jimmy Brennan to them, a coward, a pussy and a liability. He wasn't even worth wasting a bullet on. That's what made him angry the most. He WAS worth it. Sure, he had done some stupid things in his day, but he had changed. He was hardcore, would always BE hardcore. He wasn't a coward, he wouldn't go down without a fight. And he would prove that before he was done, that he vowed. Win or lose, Jimmy Brennan would fight like a dog and earn some respect.
The announcements hadn't exactly been as bad as Jimmy thought they'd be. Having next to no friends, he wasn't moved by any of the deaths. He even found himself smiling in delight at times when a certain student was listed.
Paige Strand, that asshole Jacob's girlfriend, had been shot to death. As far as Jimmy was concerned, it served her right for being such a huge fucking bitch. That disgusting fat-ass Harold had been killed as well, and frankly Jimmy was happy he'd at least lived longer than him. As the names went on and on, Jimmy began to get more excited rather then fearful. How many students had been on the trip? It couldn't be long until there was just a few remaining. Maybe he could make it, maybe he COULD survive.
Survival was something Jimmy thought about often. He'd mostly put himself down as "As good as dead", but regardless he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he got his hands on a gun. He'd definitely fuck some shit up, but could he make it? No one had actually attacked him yet, unbelievable as it was. Waiting for death, expected or otherwise was a shitty strategy he figured. His only objective was survival, and with each name he could feel himself getting closer to his goal.
Trudging through the forest, lost in his thoughts, Jimmy didn't register the lack of trees until he was standing smack dab in the middle of a clearing. He cursed and momentarily sat down on a stump, bringing up his right foot to take a better look at it. For the most part, it looked clean. He supposed that was a good thing. It hurt like a bitch, which he figured was a bad thing. Jimmy opened his bag and began to dig around for a water bottle, or something to clean the wound. Coming up empty handed, he fell back onto the stump, stretching. It felt good to stretch.
Damn, how much longer 'til the next announcement? How many more've been killed? Fucking shit, this is boring, all this waiting. I guess that's a good thing... Don't wanna get used to excitement, not without a fucking weapon...
Pulling himself up he scanned the immediate surroundings, something he figured he should have done in the first place. Jimmy often found himself making such strategic blunders, but it hadn't resulted in anything bad thus far. Squinting in the growing darkness, Jimmy saw nothing at first... and then, just like that, he spotted them. Two very tall trees, moving. Moving? Trees don't move. People then.
"Shit!" he cried out loud, falling off the stump into the dirt. He had no idea if they'd spotted him. He didn't want to check. Twisting around, Jimmy looked frantically about him for a means of escape.
"Shit!"
Why the fuck would I leave the fucking forest!? What the fuck Jimmy! Pull the fuck together!
Risking a glance up, Jimmy saw the two figures hadn't moved. Much more intriguing, he could see another figure slowly approaching them. What was it? An ambush?
Fucking shit, is someone gonna get murdered!?
Jimmy wiggled his way forward through the dirt on his chest, trying to make as little noise as possible. Hauling himself up behind a stump he observed the figures, watching for any sign of violence. He could feel his heart pumping fast, but it wasn't from fear. He grinned to himself as he watched the scene.
Damn, I'm a cold one... I'm like a fucking Vulture, waiting for the leftovers... hehehehhh
Jimmy Brennan wanted to kill something.
No, not something.
He wanted to kill everything.
He wanted to kill Danya, for putting him in such a sick, twisted game. He wanted to kill his classmates, for making him afraid, making him Jimmy Brennan "The Pussy". Most of all, he wanted to kill his parents for having the fucking gall to give birth to him in the first place.
Jimmy stumbled through the forest, his feet red and bloody, his socks torn through. Somehow late on the first night, after collapsing from exhaustion, Jimmy had lost his shoes. He had no idea how he had done it, and knowing that he was being watched by cameras 24/7 he hadn't spent too long looking for them. He had no intention of looking like a complete idiot on live TV so he simply left the clearing, hoping anyone watching would simply assume he had meant to leave his shoes behind. Jimmy only truly realized the absolute stupidity of this decision on the next day, when he'd cut his right foot on a sharp branch. Not being well versed in medicine, he'd initially tried to band-aid the cut back together. Failing this, he wrapped a cloth around his foot, which he likewise lost a few hours later.
He had no map. He had no idea where anything was. His weapon was a can of soda. His feet were aching and bleeding, and he was angry and sleep deprived. His pants, which he hadn't bothered to change since the first day, smelt like piss. And somewhere along the way, Jimmy's wall of denial had faltered and he realized that Leila had probably just been fucking with him all along. It didn't stop him from getting a raging boner thinking about her, but it had blown his last ditch effort at self respect out the window. The only upside he could find was that he hadn't encountered anyone since the mountain. With no one encountered, that meant there was no one to kill him. Jimmy reasoned this was a very good thing.
Everyone on the Island hated him, good guy or bad guy it made no difference. He was Jimmy Brennan to them, a coward, a pussy and a liability. He wasn't even worth wasting a bullet on. That's what made him angry the most. He WAS worth it. Sure, he had done some stupid things in his day, but he had changed. He was hardcore, would always BE hardcore. He wasn't a coward, he wouldn't go down without a fight. And he would prove that before he was done, that he vowed. Win or lose, Jimmy Brennan would fight like a dog and earn some respect.
The announcements hadn't exactly been as bad as Jimmy thought they'd be. Having next to no friends, he wasn't moved by any of the deaths. He even found himself smiling in delight at times when a certain student was listed.
Paige Strand, that asshole Jacob's girlfriend, had been shot to death. As far as Jimmy was concerned, it served her right for being such a huge fucking bitch. That disgusting fat-ass Harold had been killed as well, and frankly Jimmy was happy he'd at least lived longer than him. As the names went on and on, Jimmy began to get more excited rather then fearful. How many students had been on the trip? It couldn't be long until there was just a few remaining. Maybe he could make it, maybe he COULD survive.
Survival was something Jimmy thought about often. He'd mostly put himself down as "As good as dead", but regardless he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he got his hands on a gun. He'd definitely fuck some shit up, but could he make it? No one had actually attacked him yet, unbelievable as it was. Waiting for death, expected or otherwise was a shitty strategy he figured. His only objective was survival, and with each name he could feel himself getting closer to his goal.
Trudging through the forest, lost in his thoughts, Jimmy didn't register the lack of trees until he was standing smack dab in the middle of a clearing. He cursed and momentarily sat down on a stump, bringing up his right foot to take a better look at it. For the most part, it looked clean. He supposed that was a good thing. It hurt like a bitch, which he figured was a bad thing. Jimmy opened his bag and began to dig around for a water bottle, or something to clean the wound. Coming up empty handed, he fell back onto the stump, stretching. It felt good to stretch.
Damn, how much longer 'til the next announcement? How many more've been killed? Fucking shit, this is boring, all this waiting. I guess that's a good thing... Don't wanna get used to excitement, not without a fucking weapon...
Pulling himself up he scanned the immediate surroundings, something he figured he should have done in the first place. Jimmy often found himself making such strategic blunders, but it hadn't resulted in anything bad thus far. Squinting in the growing darkness, Jimmy saw nothing at first... and then, just like that, he spotted them. Two very tall trees, moving. Moving? Trees don't move. People then.
"Shit!" he cried out loud, falling off the stump into the dirt. He had no idea if they'd spotted him. He didn't want to check. Twisting around, Jimmy looked frantically about him for a means of escape.
"Shit!"
Why the fuck would I leave the fucking forest!? What the fuck Jimmy! Pull the fuck together!
Risking a glance up, Jimmy saw the two figures hadn't moved. Much more intriguing, he could see another figure slowly approaching them. What was it? An ambush?
Fucking shit, is someone gonna get murdered!?
Jimmy wiggled his way forward through the dirt on his chest, trying to make as little noise as possible. Hauling himself up behind a stump he observed the figures, watching for any sign of violence. He could feel his heart pumping fast, but it wasn't from fear. He grinned to himself as he watched the scene.
Damn, I'm a cold one... I'm like a fucking Vulture, waiting for the leftovers... hehehehhh
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
(Carly Jean Dooley continued from Pearl and Destiny)
Stupid George.
Stupid STUPID George.
She'd never even WANTED to go to prom with George Leidman in the first place! Way back in class when she brought the whole thing up in the first place, hadn't she been hoping that Nathan Choultard would take the hint and ask her out? Hadn't she? Carly couldn't really remember, but she did know that Nathan had awesome hair and was on the track team, and she DID know that Nathan wouldn't have just gone off and abandoned her in the middle of the night, leaving her stuck with the robot kid she was with now!
OK, maybe that was a bit harsh. Sure, Jasper was awkward and strange, but whatever. He was nice enough, and he wasn't crazy or going to kill her. At least she hoped so.
Ugh, and she'd been feeling so much better, too. At least before George had gone off. She'd actually been starting to feel.... at peace with this whole stupid thing, Carly didn't know how to put it. In a kind of 'at least I'm not going to die alone' sort of way. That was pretty pathetic thinking, wasn't it? Here she was, she was probably going to get killed on this island and nobody'd remember her and she'd done NOTHING with her whole stupid little life, and she was going to be happy that at least she was with the guy she went to prom with? Lame.
Sometimes she wanted to run back to the warehouse. She'd find her spot and hide there, and just wait and cry and be miserable until whatever happened. But she'd managed to keep herself from bolting away so far. She'd stuck with Jasper, and who the fuck knew, maybe she could consider that to be a personal victory, no matter how pitiful it was. And maybe she'd find George again, or something else would happen that would justify this whole thing and her whole stupid life up to this point.
Jasper seemed to be absorbed by the sunset, taking the time to watch the colors and shapes change in the sky. Carly was jealous of him. All she saw was a bunch of lights, and they didn't calm her down. They made her mad. Mad that she was out here being forced to watch the sun setting on this island in the middle of nowhere, instead of in the safe and boring confines of St. Paul. Sure, it was pretty, but who cares about how pretty the sky looks when you're dead?
He turned and asked her if she wanted to sleep here. What she WANTED was to sleep in her bed, but that wasn't very likely to happen, now was it? So sure, why not here? Couldn't be any worse than sleeping while scrunched into a corner of the warehouse.
"Sure," she said. "I mean, wherever, I guess this place works as good as anywhere else."
Carly shrugged her pack to the ground and rubbed her shoulder, wincing. She was used to walking around carrying a bag over her shoulder from the golf team, but this was still seriously tiring. Not to mention that they didn't even get anything GOOD to eat, and so she'd been walking around the whole day with nothing but really bland bread and crackers to keep her going. She looked over at her new traveling partner.
"Jasper, has uh, anyone ever told you that you talk kinda weird? I don't wanna sound mean or anything it's just that you can sound kinda robotic when you talk like that and -- hey someone's coming!"
In the fading light there was someone coming their way. There was another sound behind her as well, but Carly's attention was focused on the newcomer and she didn't register it to any real degree. Should they run? No, no Jasper had a gun, and they couldn't just run away from everyone they met, what if it was George coming back or someone else who could help her?
"Uh, who's there?" she called, trying not to sound too scared or too forceful. She stepped back, hoping she wouldn't have to run away again.
Stupid George.
Stupid STUPID George.
She'd never even WANTED to go to prom with George Leidman in the first place! Way back in class when she brought the whole thing up in the first place, hadn't she been hoping that Nathan Choultard would take the hint and ask her out? Hadn't she? Carly couldn't really remember, but she did know that Nathan had awesome hair and was on the track team, and she DID know that Nathan wouldn't have just gone off and abandoned her in the middle of the night, leaving her stuck with the robot kid she was with now!
OK, maybe that was a bit harsh. Sure, Jasper was awkward and strange, but whatever. He was nice enough, and he wasn't crazy or going to kill her. At least she hoped so.
Ugh, and she'd been feeling so much better, too. At least before George had gone off. She'd actually been starting to feel.... at peace with this whole stupid thing, Carly didn't know how to put it. In a kind of 'at least I'm not going to die alone' sort of way. That was pretty pathetic thinking, wasn't it? Here she was, she was probably going to get killed on this island and nobody'd remember her and she'd done NOTHING with her whole stupid little life, and she was going to be happy that at least she was with the guy she went to prom with? Lame.
Sometimes she wanted to run back to the warehouse. She'd find her spot and hide there, and just wait and cry and be miserable until whatever happened. But she'd managed to keep herself from bolting away so far. She'd stuck with Jasper, and who the fuck knew, maybe she could consider that to be a personal victory, no matter how pitiful it was. And maybe she'd find George again, or something else would happen that would justify this whole thing and her whole stupid life up to this point.
Jasper seemed to be absorbed by the sunset, taking the time to watch the colors and shapes change in the sky. Carly was jealous of him. All she saw was a bunch of lights, and they didn't calm her down. They made her mad. Mad that she was out here being forced to watch the sun setting on this island in the middle of nowhere, instead of in the safe and boring confines of St. Paul. Sure, it was pretty, but who cares about how pretty the sky looks when you're dead?
He turned and asked her if she wanted to sleep here. What she WANTED was to sleep in her bed, but that wasn't very likely to happen, now was it? So sure, why not here? Couldn't be any worse than sleeping while scrunched into a corner of the warehouse.
"Sure," she said. "I mean, wherever, I guess this place works as good as anywhere else."
Carly shrugged her pack to the ground and rubbed her shoulder, wincing. She was used to walking around carrying a bag over her shoulder from the golf team, but this was still seriously tiring. Not to mention that they didn't even get anything GOOD to eat, and so she'd been walking around the whole day with nothing but really bland bread and crackers to keep her going. She looked over at her new traveling partner.
"Jasper, has uh, anyone ever told you that you talk kinda weird? I don't wanna sound mean or anything it's just that you can sound kinda robotic when you talk like that and -- hey someone's coming!"
In the fading light there was someone coming their way. There was another sound behind her as well, but Carly's attention was focused on the newcomer and she didn't register it to any real degree. Should they run? No, no Jasper had a gun, and they couldn't just run away from everyone they met, what if it was George coming back or someone else who could help her?
"Uh, who's there?" she called, trying not to sound too scared or too forceful. She stepped back, hoping she wouldn't have to run away again.
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
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
It was really very dark.
It was strange, how heavily that was weighing on Jasper-Declan's mind. Perhaps it was simply because this was the first time he had really stopped to rest- perhaps because this was the first time he was truly surrounded by the darkness, without the comfort of his flashlight (it would only attract unwanted attention here, he reasoned). Or perhaps it was just dawning on him exactly how dangerous this situation was. Not that danger meant anything to him. Danger was a word- he could understand its meaning without feeling it, as a sociopath can understand what 'love' is on an intellectual level while never feeling it himself. Jasper-Declan had never felt like he was in danger, had never felt pain, had never felt afraid.
Something about the creeping darkness threatened to change that, if he lingered on it much longer.
So he rerouted his attention, instead pulling a few crackers from his daypack, chewing mechanically. He ran his fingers over his gun absentmindedly- in all honesty he kept forgetting it was even there, in his hand, though it had never left. Still, I hold this weapon...still, this remains my own possession. Still I wonder what I could accomplish, what I should accomplish with a tool such as this. What...what on earth am I meant to do...?
The combination of the darkness and the cold metal in his hand were flustering him. It was a strange feeling. Not one he had much experience with. He was grateful for the interruption when Carly spoke.
"Jasper, has uh, anyone ever told you that you talk kinda weird? I don't wanna sound mean or anything it's just that you can sound kinda robotic when you talk like that and --"
Jasper-Declan had already formulated his response- yes, I have been told that before, but my way of speaking is simply that, my way of speaking, and is not anything I'd be capable of changing...particularly not at a stressful time like this- but he suddenly became aware of the change in circumstance about a millisecond before Carly verbalized it.
"-- hey someone's coming!"
Two someones, in fact, he mentally corrected her, before mentally chiding himself for using a phrase like 'two someones'. There was undoubtedly a figure coming towards them- even starlight was enough to confirm the figure as a reality- but Jasper-Declan was a bit more concerned with the sound he'd heard behind him. It sounded like...well, truth be told, it sounded like vulgarity, and he wrinkled his nose in response. He was used to swearing- being friends with Alex Campbell and Jay Holland would do that to a person- but out of the mouths of those he didn't already care about, unnecessary vulgarity struck him as just that. Vulgar, that is. At any rate, there was certainly someone behind them, and not a particularly civil person, either.
Or intelligent...
He wasn't afraid. What is fear but a reaction to possible future pain, and what is pain? Nothing at all to Jasper-Declan.
He calmly dug his flashlight out of his backpack, his other hand held a firm grip around his gun. Drawing the flashlight, he pointed it at the incoming stranger. It didn't tell him much, and he was mildly disappointed when no name had the courtesy of drifting into his mind at the sight. The boy was tall, black, athletic looking, and Jasper-Declan was sure he'd had a class with this boy at some point, but still, no name. No weapon in sight, though, and that at least was a comfort. He didn't raise his gun- didn't see the need. Instead-
"...Hello, whoever you are. I am Jasper-Declan. This is Carly. We are resting here for the night. If you do not plan to kill us in our sleep, feel free to rest here for a while."
He smiled a tiny, wry smile before turning around. He pointed the flashlight at himself, meaning simply to illuminate himself for the benefit of their other mysterious intruder. And why not? There was no advantage the other newcomer could hold over a boy with a gun. Fortunate, for myself, I suppose.
"...And whoever you are, feel free to show yourself. I do hope you don't believe yourself to be hidden."
It was strange, how heavily that was weighing on Jasper-Declan's mind. Perhaps it was simply because this was the first time he had really stopped to rest- perhaps because this was the first time he was truly surrounded by the darkness, without the comfort of his flashlight (it would only attract unwanted attention here, he reasoned). Or perhaps it was just dawning on him exactly how dangerous this situation was. Not that danger meant anything to him. Danger was a word- he could understand its meaning without feeling it, as a sociopath can understand what 'love' is on an intellectual level while never feeling it himself. Jasper-Declan had never felt like he was in danger, had never felt pain, had never felt afraid.
Something about the creeping darkness threatened to change that, if he lingered on it much longer.
So he rerouted his attention, instead pulling a few crackers from his daypack, chewing mechanically. He ran his fingers over his gun absentmindedly- in all honesty he kept forgetting it was even there, in his hand, though it had never left. Still, I hold this weapon...still, this remains my own possession. Still I wonder what I could accomplish, what I should accomplish with a tool such as this. What...what on earth am I meant to do...?
The combination of the darkness and the cold metal in his hand were flustering him. It was a strange feeling. Not one he had much experience with. He was grateful for the interruption when Carly spoke.
"Jasper, has uh, anyone ever told you that you talk kinda weird? I don't wanna sound mean or anything it's just that you can sound kinda robotic when you talk like that and --"
Jasper-Declan had already formulated his response- yes, I have been told that before, but my way of speaking is simply that, my way of speaking, and is not anything I'd be capable of changing...particularly not at a stressful time like this- but he suddenly became aware of the change in circumstance about a millisecond before Carly verbalized it.
"-- hey someone's coming!"
Two someones, in fact, he mentally corrected her, before mentally chiding himself for using a phrase like 'two someones'. There was undoubtedly a figure coming towards them- even starlight was enough to confirm the figure as a reality- but Jasper-Declan was a bit more concerned with the sound he'd heard behind him. It sounded like...well, truth be told, it sounded like vulgarity, and he wrinkled his nose in response. He was used to swearing- being friends with Alex Campbell and Jay Holland would do that to a person- but out of the mouths of those he didn't already care about, unnecessary vulgarity struck him as just that. Vulgar, that is. At any rate, there was certainly someone behind them, and not a particularly civil person, either.
Or intelligent...
He wasn't afraid. What is fear but a reaction to possible future pain, and what is pain? Nothing at all to Jasper-Declan.
He calmly dug his flashlight out of his backpack, his other hand held a firm grip around his gun. Drawing the flashlight, he pointed it at the incoming stranger. It didn't tell him much, and he was mildly disappointed when no name had the courtesy of drifting into his mind at the sight. The boy was tall, black, athletic looking, and Jasper-Declan was sure he'd had a class with this boy at some point, but still, no name. No weapon in sight, though, and that at least was a comfort. He didn't raise his gun- didn't see the need. Instead-
"...Hello, whoever you are. I am Jasper-Declan. This is Carly. We are resting here for the night. If you do not plan to kill us in our sleep, feel free to rest here for a while."
He smiled a tiny, wry smile before turning around. He pointed the flashlight at himself, meaning simply to illuminate himself for the benefit of their other mysterious intruder. And why not? There was no advantage the other newcomer could hold over a boy with a gun. Fortunate, for myself, I suppose.
"...And whoever you are, feel free to show yourself. I do hope you don't believe yourself to be hidden."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Alright. It was people. Two of them, a girl and a boy. They'd called out to him, not opened fire, not acted aggressively in the slightest. More than that, they had identified themselves. Jasper and Carly. They were, at least for now, friendly. Isaiah released his breath, and his posture eased, tension he hadn't even noticed flowing from him. Sure, he had no idea who these two were (though, for some reason, he had this idea that Jasper was a weird guy), but decent civility was enough to recommend them for the moment.
Then they called out to someone else, causing Isaiah to start. He hadn't been very aware if he'd missed another newcomer, had he? That wasn't good. Maybe staying up all night digging a grave hadn't been such a hot move, at least from the perspective of survival. It had been the right thing to do, though, and hey, he hadn't been killed yet. This other guy wasn't coming in shooting either, so maybe they'd be able to have a nice time together, make friends, share a few moments before heading off to their fates.
Isaiah was not looking for long term allies, at least, not any who did not share his mission. Given that it was quite nebulously defined, he wasn't really counting on finding anyone. It would be lonely, but so it goes sometimes.
"I'm Isaiah," he called out. "Isaiah Garvey. I'm not looking for any trouble. A little rest sounds great right about now."
Isaiah did not abandon all pretense of caution, with the other person still an unknown quantity, but he made his way towards the others as casually as he could. He felt oddly blessed by his run of luck so far. As soon as he had overcome his fear, had destroyed his self-deception, he had run into nothing but nice, helpful people. Maybe it had just been a big mistake back at the tower. Maybe his own hostility had provoked JJ and the fat guy—realization hit Isaiah hard. It had been lurking in the back of his mind for some time, just beneath the surface, but the boy on the beach, the one Andrew had buried, with the screwed up head, he'd been the guy from the tower. He'd been one of the ones causing trouble, and now he was gone, just like that.
It was proved, then. Aggression was morally wrong, and would not go unpunished. Those who lived by the gun fell to bullets. Not that that made him feel any better about not having recognized the poor guy. No matter what crimes he had been guilty of, he hadn't deserved such "justice" as this. No one deserved to die.
So why?
Time for that later. Isaiah was close enough to smile and give a little wave to the other two, while glancing around, looking for the other guy. Maybe they could get a little bit of genuine camping done after all.
Then they called out to someone else, causing Isaiah to start. He hadn't been very aware if he'd missed another newcomer, had he? That wasn't good. Maybe staying up all night digging a grave hadn't been such a hot move, at least from the perspective of survival. It had been the right thing to do, though, and hey, he hadn't been killed yet. This other guy wasn't coming in shooting either, so maybe they'd be able to have a nice time together, make friends, share a few moments before heading off to their fates.
Isaiah was not looking for long term allies, at least, not any who did not share his mission. Given that it was quite nebulously defined, he wasn't really counting on finding anyone. It would be lonely, but so it goes sometimes.
"I'm Isaiah," he called out. "Isaiah Garvey. I'm not looking for any trouble. A little rest sounds great right about now."
Isaiah did not abandon all pretense of caution, with the other person still an unknown quantity, but he made his way towards the others as casually as he could. He felt oddly blessed by his run of luck so far. As soon as he had overcome his fear, had destroyed his self-deception, he had run into nothing but nice, helpful people. Maybe it had just been a big mistake back at the tower. Maybe his own hostility had provoked JJ and the fat guy—realization hit Isaiah hard. It had been lurking in the back of his mind for some time, just beneath the surface, but the boy on the beach, the one Andrew had buried, with the screwed up head, he'd been the guy from the tower. He'd been one of the ones causing trouble, and now he was gone, just like that.
It was proved, then. Aggression was morally wrong, and would not go unpunished. Those who lived by the gun fell to bullets. Not that that made him feel any better about not having recognized the poor guy. No matter what crimes he had been guilty of, he hadn't deserved such "justice" as this. No one deserved to die.
So why?
Time for that later. Isaiah was close enough to smile and give a little wave to the other two, while glancing around, looking for the other guy. Maybe they could get a little bit of genuine camping done after all.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Shit, shit shit!
Jimmy hit the dirt with a thud and stayed there, trying his best to not make any more noises. A flashlight beam illuminated the ground around him, (And quite possibly himself, although Jimmy wasn't about to look and see) and a somewhat... strange voice announced they'd located Jimmy. He felt himself beginning to sweat. His plans had pretty much been dashed as soon as he'd thought them out.
Well fuck them! I'm not gonna' walk out, act all friendly! Look what happened last time! Fucking Franco, just making fun of me! And Leila! And those boys' all given a fucking handgun- WHAT THE FUCK DANYA. WHY. Why did I get a can of soda? Am I supposed to kill'em with soda!? Fuck them! Fuck you! You probably just want me to play, you want me to fail, you- you- RGGHHHH!
Jimmy pounded his fist into the ground as the flashlight beam finally hovered away. He had no idea if he'd given himself up. He had no idea if the boy (He was very certain it was a boy) was just bluffing. But he WAS certain of what he was going to do. He wasn't going to move, not another inch. Not even if someone was shooting up the place, he'd just lay low, wait until it's all done. He wasn't afraid to die, he wasn't afraid to kill.
I'm not afraid! I'll do it if I have to! I've gotta win this game, I can make it! I can! These assholes, they don't mean shit to me! So why should it matter? I've just been Jimmy Brennan, a fucking annoying little shit to them! Why should I give them any- any sympathy? I'm not gonna! I deserve to live, not them!
On a further inspection, Jimmy realized he was very afraid to die. There was more talking in the clearing. By the sound of things, another person had joined the party. Another boy. Jimmy felt his hands ball into fists. A low growl emanated from his throat.
I probably don't even know him, and he probably fucking hates me. Word of mouth. How's that fair? How is this fair? I haven't done anything wrong. I'm the good guy! They won't believe me! That's just it! It's go time Jimmy, become an animal! No fear, no feeling! Go go go, let the adrenaline and God knows what else take you...
Taking a deep breath, Jimmy peaked his head out to scan the area. He couldn't see much of anything in the dark, and he wasn't even sure if the group was still there or had left. His suspicions were starting to get the better of him. Paranoia soaked into his mind, infecting his thoughts.
Maybe they're looking for me...
Jimmy shook at the idea, trying hard to push back his fear. He couldn't be afraid, or cry, or anything. He'd been mocked by just about everyone, and he was sick of it. He had ALWAYS been sick of it. No one had understood, but he WAS changing. Gradually. He wasn't taking it laying down anymore. The altercation in the forest, the mountain, a week ago Jimmy would never have imagined he could have possibly survived that, survived this far in Survival of the Fittest. Not with Bayview. But lo and behold here he was, still alive, only a cut foot holding him back. Back home, they must have been impressed. And he was determined to keep up the good work. Fear didn't belong with Jimmy Brennan, not anymore.
If they're coming for me, I'm gonna slit their god damn throats. I'll jump up, an' haymaker the first guy. He'll have a knife and I'll grab it, spin and just like- BAM! Straight into the head of the next one. That's what I'll do. They won't expect that. They'll- they won't expect anything from me! And I'll prove them wrong! I'm not a nobody, I'll show Leila! I'm hardcore and when I see those fuckheads at the mountain, shiiiiit they'll see a brand new Jimmy! I got a plan now! I'm not gonna die, I'm not afraid!
In the back of his mind, Jimmy was very, very afraid. But he wasn't going to listen to anything anymore, not even his doubts. They'd never helped before and they wouldn't help now. It was just Jimmy now. Jimmy Brennan, his balls and his fists. And he was going to impress.
Come'on! Come looking for me! I'll show you what I got! I'll fucking kill you all!
Jimmy hit the dirt with a thud and stayed there, trying his best to not make any more noises. A flashlight beam illuminated the ground around him, (And quite possibly himself, although Jimmy wasn't about to look and see) and a somewhat... strange voice announced they'd located Jimmy. He felt himself beginning to sweat. His plans had pretty much been dashed as soon as he'd thought them out.
Well fuck them! I'm not gonna' walk out, act all friendly! Look what happened last time! Fucking Franco, just making fun of me! And Leila! And those boys' all given a fucking handgun- WHAT THE FUCK DANYA. WHY. Why did I get a can of soda? Am I supposed to kill'em with soda!? Fuck them! Fuck you! You probably just want me to play, you want me to fail, you- you- RGGHHHH!
Jimmy pounded his fist into the ground as the flashlight beam finally hovered away. He had no idea if he'd given himself up. He had no idea if the boy (He was very certain it was a boy) was just bluffing. But he WAS certain of what he was going to do. He wasn't going to move, not another inch. Not even if someone was shooting up the place, he'd just lay low, wait until it's all done. He wasn't afraid to die, he wasn't afraid to kill.
I'm not afraid! I'll do it if I have to! I've gotta win this game, I can make it! I can! These assholes, they don't mean shit to me! So why should it matter? I've just been Jimmy Brennan, a fucking annoying little shit to them! Why should I give them any- any sympathy? I'm not gonna! I deserve to live, not them!
On a further inspection, Jimmy realized he was very afraid to die. There was more talking in the clearing. By the sound of things, another person had joined the party. Another boy. Jimmy felt his hands ball into fists. A low growl emanated from his throat.
I probably don't even know him, and he probably fucking hates me. Word of mouth. How's that fair? How is this fair? I haven't done anything wrong. I'm the good guy! They won't believe me! That's just it! It's go time Jimmy, become an animal! No fear, no feeling! Go go go, let the adrenaline and God knows what else take you...
Taking a deep breath, Jimmy peaked his head out to scan the area. He couldn't see much of anything in the dark, and he wasn't even sure if the group was still there or had left. His suspicions were starting to get the better of him. Paranoia soaked into his mind, infecting his thoughts.
Maybe they're looking for me...
Jimmy shook at the idea, trying hard to push back his fear. He couldn't be afraid, or cry, or anything. He'd been mocked by just about everyone, and he was sick of it. He had ALWAYS been sick of it. No one had understood, but he WAS changing. Gradually. He wasn't taking it laying down anymore. The altercation in the forest, the mountain, a week ago Jimmy would never have imagined he could have possibly survived that, survived this far in Survival of the Fittest. Not with Bayview. But lo and behold here he was, still alive, only a cut foot holding him back. Back home, they must have been impressed. And he was determined to keep up the good work. Fear didn't belong with Jimmy Brennan, not anymore.
If they're coming for me, I'm gonna slit their god damn throats. I'll jump up, an' haymaker the first guy. He'll have a knife and I'll grab it, spin and just like- BAM! Straight into the head of the next one. That's what I'll do. They won't expect that. They'll- they won't expect anything from me! And I'll prove them wrong! I'm not a nobody, I'll show Leila! I'm hardcore and when I see those fuckheads at the mountain, shiiiiit they'll see a brand new Jimmy! I got a plan now! I'm not gonna die, I'm not afraid!
In the back of his mind, Jimmy was very, very afraid. But he wasn't going to listen to anything anymore, not even his doubts. They'd never helped before and they wouldn't help now. It was just Jimmy now. Jimmy Brennan, his balls and his fists. And he was going to impress.
Come'on! Come looking for me! I'll show you what I got! I'll fucking kill you all!
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Carly had only the vaguest idea of who Isaiah Garvey was, but whatever. At this point in the game, she found herself caring less and less about who her classmates had been before this whole thing started. It was a weird feeling, but not one she entirely disliked. After all, it was probably helping her to stay alive, wasn't it? She would never have wanted to hang out with some weirdo like Jasper before.
Jasper's statement that another person was nearby suddenly disrupted her thought process, and she scanned the area where he was aiming his flashlight at, feeling jittery and unprotected. The other person or thing didn't answer, but she did hear something in that direction.
"Uhh, Jasper, maybe we should just find somewhere else to camp?"
More movement. Whatever the sound was, it wasn't just going to show itself. Carly was about to repeat her suggestion to Jasper when a sudden realization struck her. What if it was George, maybe hurt? Or... what if it was even someone else who'd been hurt?
Uh, leave them?
Yes, just leave them, she couldn't worry about someone else, let Jasper or the Isaiah guy check it out. Just... like the pathetic scaredy-cat she was. Carly tightened her grip on her bag. But... what if it WAS George?
That tore it. "Hold on a sec."
She thrust her hand into her bag and came out with her own flashlight, berating herself for not having it out earlier. Then Carly took a few tentative steps towards where the sound had came from last, flipped the switch and illuminated Jimmy Brennan a couple feet away from her. She uttered a high, short scream, mostly from the surprise, and then all her concern melted away and turned to disdain.
It was fucking Jimmy Brennan.
Fucking Jimmy Brennan. What the hell was he doing here? He was the one who'd ran into her in the first day; it was HIS fault that she'd spent the next while in such a blind panic! And now what? Was he trying to sneak up on them? When Isaiah had come along, he'd walked straight up to them, and let them know who he was. Had Jimmy done that? No, he'd been hiding out in the shadows, like the little worm that he was. Screw that. Screw him.
"FUCK YOU JIMMY BRENNAN!"
All her prior thoughts about preconceptions were gone for now. Carly took a step forward and unleashed a kick right between Jimmy's legs. That'd show Jimmy Brennan that she wasn't afraid anymore.
Then she turned, picking out Jasper's flashlight beam and jogging towards him. "It's Jimmy Brennan," she said. "Jimmy, he like attacked me on the first day, OK? I had to- I had to hit him."
She looked back at Jimmy, hoping he wouldn't be up quite yet. "So I really think we should get somewhere else to camp tonight, and uh, we should go now, sorry. C'mon, let's go!"
With that, she took off, hoping to gain as much distance from Jimmy Brennan as possible. Thank god for the night.
(Carly Jean Dooley concluded in She Bopped)
[Had permission from Little to kick Jimmy in the balls
]
Jasper's statement that another person was nearby suddenly disrupted her thought process, and she scanned the area where he was aiming his flashlight at, feeling jittery and unprotected. The other person or thing didn't answer, but she did hear something in that direction.
"Uhh, Jasper, maybe we should just find somewhere else to camp?"
More movement. Whatever the sound was, it wasn't just going to show itself. Carly was about to repeat her suggestion to Jasper when a sudden realization struck her. What if it was George, maybe hurt? Or... what if it was even someone else who'd been hurt?
Uh, leave them?
Yes, just leave them, she couldn't worry about someone else, let Jasper or the Isaiah guy check it out. Just... like the pathetic scaredy-cat she was. Carly tightened her grip on her bag. But... what if it WAS George?
That tore it. "Hold on a sec."
She thrust her hand into her bag and came out with her own flashlight, berating herself for not having it out earlier. Then Carly took a few tentative steps towards where the sound had came from last, flipped the switch and illuminated Jimmy Brennan a couple feet away from her. She uttered a high, short scream, mostly from the surprise, and then all her concern melted away and turned to disdain.
It was fucking Jimmy Brennan.
Fucking Jimmy Brennan. What the hell was he doing here? He was the one who'd ran into her in the first day; it was HIS fault that she'd spent the next while in such a blind panic! And now what? Was he trying to sneak up on them? When Isaiah had come along, he'd walked straight up to them, and let them know who he was. Had Jimmy done that? No, he'd been hiding out in the shadows, like the little worm that he was. Screw that. Screw him.
"FUCK YOU JIMMY BRENNAN!"
All her prior thoughts about preconceptions were gone for now. Carly took a step forward and unleashed a kick right between Jimmy's legs. That'd show Jimmy Brennan that she wasn't afraid anymore.
Then she turned, picking out Jasper's flashlight beam and jogging towards him. "It's Jimmy Brennan," she said. "Jimmy, he like attacked me on the first day, OK? I had to- I had to hit him."
She looked back at Jimmy, hoping he wouldn't be up quite yet. "So I really think we should get somewhere else to camp tonight, and uh, we should go now, sorry. C'mon, let's go!"
With that, she took off, hoping to gain as much distance from Jimmy Brennan as possible. Thank god for the night.
(Carly Jean Dooley concluded in She Bopped)
[Had permission from Little to kick Jimmy in the balls
]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
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Suddenly, complexity.
"I'm Isaiah. Isaiah Garvey. I'm not looking for any trouble. A little rest sounds great right about now."
That name meant nothing to him, though the boy the name belonged to seemed pleasant enough, and certainly didn't strike Jasper-Declan as a threat. Perhaps- in another circumstance- the trio would be able to spend a pleasant night together.
But that was not to be. After all, Isaiah Garvey was not the source of the complexity.
"FUCK YOU JIMMY BRENNAN!"
That was.
Jasper-Declan knew Jimmy Brennan. Well, he didn't know him, so to speak, but he knew of him and had certainly heard him mouthing off in the halls of Bayview. He was exceptionally loud and the vulgarity was entirely in character for him- in fact he was surprised at himself for having not guessed at the identity of their intruder. But Jasper-Declan remembered that Carly had seen Jimmy earlier, and that he had attacked her...
He whirled around just in time to see Carly kick Jimmy where it would hurt.
Jasper-Declan cringed. Not that he'd felt that pain before, but some male instinct told him he really didn't want to be Jimmy right now.
"It's Jimmy Brennan. Jimmy, he like attacked me on the first day, OK? I had to- I had to hit him."
He only nodded.
"So I really think we should get somewhere else to camp tonight, and uh, we should go now, sorry. C'mon, let's go!"
He nodded again. Jasper-Declan was never a man of many words, and now was not the time to change. But before he followed after her, he stopped for a moment to speak to the newly identified Isaiah Garvey.
"...I'm sorry. I hope we meet each other again in good health."
And then he followed Carly, careful not to outrun her.
Strange how I truly wish for his safety...I hardly know him. It would be better for my future, such as it is, if he was taken out, no?
Illogical, but...
[[Jasper-Declan MacDermott continued in She Bopped]]
"I'm Isaiah. Isaiah Garvey. I'm not looking for any trouble. A little rest sounds great right about now."
That name meant nothing to him, though the boy the name belonged to seemed pleasant enough, and certainly didn't strike Jasper-Declan as a threat. Perhaps- in another circumstance- the trio would be able to spend a pleasant night together.
But that was not to be. After all, Isaiah Garvey was not the source of the complexity.
"FUCK YOU JIMMY BRENNAN!"
That was.
Jasper-Declan knew Jimmy Brennan. Well, he didn't know him, so to speak, but he knew of him and had certainly heard him mouthing off in the halls of Bayview. He was exceptionally loud and the vulgarity was entirely in character for him- in fact he was surprised at himself for having not guessed at the identity of their intruder. But Jasper-Declan remembered that Carly had seen Jimmy earlier, and that he had attacked her...
He whirled around just in time to see Carly kick Jimmy where it would hurt.
Jasper-Declan cringed. Not that he'd felt that pain before, but some male instinct told him he really didn't want to be Jimmy right now.
"It's Jimmy Brennan. Jimmy, he like attacked me on the first day, OK? I had to- I had to hit him."
He only nodded.
"So I really think we should get somewhere else to camp tonight, and uh, we should go now, sorry. C'mon, let's go!"
He nodded again. Jasper-Declan was never a man of many words, and now was not the time to change. But before he followed after her, he stopped for a moment to speak to the newly identified Isaiah Garvey.
"...I'm sorry. I hope we meet each other again in good health."
And then he followed Carly, careful not to outrun her.
Strange how I truly wish for his safety...I hardly know him. It would be better for my future, such as it is, if he was taken out, no?
Illogical, but...
[[Jasper-Declan MacDermott continued in She Bopped]]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Everything flew to pieces faster than Isaiah had seen before. So little trust, so little empathy. The boy was Jimmy Brennan. Someone Isaiah had heard of in school, never in a flattering light. Jimmy Brennan was supposed to be a whiner or a poser or something. Supposed to be a phenomenal pain. That really didn't seem to merit attacking him out of hand, though. Of course, if what Carly said was true, if Jimmy had attacked her earlier, maybe that changed the situation some.
Maybe it didn't.
It wasn't like Jimmy's name had been blazing across the announcements for days. It wasn't like he had a killing streak and a Best Kill Award behind him. He was just a boy, a scared boy who'd been kicked in the crotch, and Isaiah simply could not take him seriously as a threat.
Carly was moving on. So was Jasper, following her, apologizing for running off. Isaiah nodded at him, said, "Good luck." No real time for anything else. Then they were gone, leaving Isaiah alone with the small boy. He wasn't sure what to do, exactly. Would Jimmy be mad at him, since he'd been talking to the others? Would he really be an insane psychopath, immediately reacting with violence? Would he just be a constantly-annoying buffoon, a curse to deal with, a divine test of patience?
Only one way to find out, the way that Isaiah had to take. The compassionate way.
He walked over to Jimmy, and lowered his hand, in case the boy needed help.
Then he said, "Hey, man, you alright?"
Maybe it didn't.
It wasn't like Jimmy's name had been blazing across the announcements for days. It wasn't like he had a killing streak and a Best Kill Award behind him. He was just a boy, a scared boy who'd been kicked in the crotch, and Isaiah simply could not take him seriously as a threat.
Carly was moving on. So was Jasper, following her, apologizing for running off. Isaiah nodded at him, said, "Good luck." No real time for anything else. Then they were gone, leaving Isaiah alone with the small boy. He wasn't sure what to do, exactly. Would Jimmy be mad at him, since he'd been talking to the others? Would he really be an insane psychopath, immediately reacting with violence? Would he just be a constantly-annoying buffoon, a curse to deal with, a divine test of patience?
Only one way to find out, the way that Isaiah had to take. The compassionate way.
He walked over to Jimmy, and lowered his hand, in case the boy needed help.
Then he said, "Hey, man, you alright?"
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Jimmy felt his heart beat faster and faster with each approaching footfall- someone was coming, someone was looking for him. He gritted his teeth, trying hard not to shake.
Bring it! Bring it! I won't die like a fucking pacifist, I'll scratch your dick off!
As often as he tried to fool himself now with his probable death approach him, Jimmy's mind was clear. He couldn't lie to himself in the end, no matter how hard he wished. Leila didn't like him. He was a pussy, and he ran away from trouble. He swore too much, hated too much and was weak and cowardly. He was a vulture in this game, growing happier off the suffering of others. Survival of the Fittest had been made for Jimmy Brennan. It had been created for the express purpose of eliminating pussies like Jimmy from the face of the earth. Who would miss him? His parents? His siblings? They wouldn't care. The cameras would make sure of that, they'd make sure to show everything and anything wrong with him, damn him in their eyes. And when Jimmy would eventually succumb to some sucking chest wound, they would turn off the TV and wonder if a memorial service would really be necessary for such a bastard.
It doesn't have to be this way! It doesn't!
Anger burned in his eyes as a figure loomed out of the darkness.
It doesn't matter! I can change! I AM changing! I deserve redemption! I deserve life, not them! I deserve the entire fucking world, because I didn't have it before!
Jimmy moved into a crouching position, pulling his fist back, prepared to strike. Now was the time, now was HIS time. His heart beat faster, he lunged forward.
There was a click.
Jimmy faltered in his step as a light momentarily blinded him. He raised his hands, shielding his aching eyes. His foot throbbed as if to remind Jimmy of his failings. The element of surprise was lost, if he had even had it to begin with. Awkwardly stepping backwards, Jimmy contemplated running. If they had a gun, whoever it was, then his death was mere seconds away. A melee weapon... a few minutes away. Running would do nothing. He could feel a scream of anger building up inside him. This was to be his moment, and it had been taken from him. Jimmy Brennan would die and it would mean nothing to no one. No one would carry scars, signaling he had once existed...
"What? What the fuck!?" He managed to squeak out as his fear began to grip him. Jimmy heard a familiar voice.
A very familiar phrase.
"FUCK YOU JIMMY BRENNAN!"
Before Jimmy could react Carly Jean Dooley was once more, for the second time in a few days, rushing towards him. Throwing up his hands in terror, Jimmy flinched back trying to protect his face and his chest. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly where the girl was aiming.
Jimmy didn't really like Carly. He didn't really know Carly either. She had been in the woods on the first day, witness to the first of his many breakdowns. Jimmy would have cared more about the fact he'd cried in front of a girl, but he was positive she would die, and die quickly. His luck it seemed, wasn't really luck. Carly had survived, countless more cowardly students were probably lurking in the jungle, shitting their pants. Jimmy wasn't special.
His sadness was soon eclipsed by pain as a foot slammed into his crotch.
Jimmy let out a strange, OOF noise as he feel back down the small hill he'd been hiding behind. His hands flew down towards his crotch, cupping his nuts. Jimmy struggled to yell, he struggled to breath. He awaited the next blow, sure that Carly meant to finish him off, deliver a most embarrassing end. The blow never came. But the pain did. Tears began to leak out of Jimmy's scrunched up red face. He rolled about on the ground, trying in vain to yell out, to curse Carly's name. The girl was already gone.
Jimmy had been kicked in the balls before. He'd had his bones broken, he'd had his face broken. He'd been yelled at, cursed at. He'd had kids he didn't even know snicker at him in the hallway, flip him off and laugh. He'd once had a girl in his history class rip up a supposed "Love Note" from him, a love note with suspiciously similar hand writing to one, Jacob Charles. He'd once been shoved in a garbage can on the way home from school by some kids in a Mustang. He'd started his fair share of fights. He'd been punched in the face by Phillip Ward. He was on a first name basis with the school nurse, who coincidently, also seemed to loathe him. After so much pain, Jimmy figured he'd had gotten used to it, mastered it. Turned it into some kind of weapon, to be used against his oppressors. Jimmy dreamed of a day when, nose broken, blood streaming down his face he'd walk away from a fight, victorious at last, never to be fucked with again. Jimmy wanted the bruises to remind him of his victories, he wanted his cuts to leak pride not shame. He wanted to take an AK-47 and mow down the entire population of some backwater Vietnam village, and not feel a fucking thing.
Instead, Jimmy Brennan cried like a child who had dropped his ice cream, and begged God to make the pain stop. It didn't work. He rolled around on the ground for the next two or so minutes, blubbering like a baby. Jimmy didn't hear the approaching footsteps until they had stopped a few feet from him.
At first, he was sure it was Carly, returning with a 20 Gauge to blow his stupid fucking brains in. Looking up however, in the darkness Jimmy saw... a boy. Extending his hand. Jimmy was perplexed. And rather angry.
"Hey, man, you alright?"
Groaning and wiping tears from his eyes, Jimmy struggled upwards, his balls still hurting something awful. He gasped as he tried to talk, his face so red it must have looked like someone had taken a cheese grader to it.
"What... what the fuck do you think!?" Jimmy managed to gasp out, as he tried to climb back up the small hill he had fallen down. He ignored the boys' helping hand. Jimmy didn't need sympathy, not like this.
"I just got my nuts punched in by some stupid COCKSUCKING FAGGOT, OF COURSE I DON'T FEEL ALRIGHT. FUCKPASTE." Jimmy shouted, his volume rising with each word. He scanned the immediate area. Carly was gone, as was the figure from before. Jimmy spun around, looking in the gloom. They were gone. Jimmy let out a low growl of anger. Carly had kicked him, kicked him in the nuts and left him to die.
Why?! Why the fuck would she do that?! Did she just want me to suffer? Did she think I wasn't worth a bullet?! I'm worth a bullet! I'm worth all the bullets!
Turning back towards the boy, Jimmy crouched lower, massaging his crotch.
"They left! They fucking left, just like that! What the shit is that?! Motherfucker, that motherfucking fuckhead!! She kicked me and left! I didn't fucking DO ANYTHING!" Sinking to his knees, pain shot through him once more. Jimmy doubled over, gripping his nuts in terror.
"Jesus Christ! She broke my nuts! My balls are leaking! I can feel them! What the FUCK am I supposed to do with that, DUCT TAPE? Cunt! Fucking cunt that's what she is- CUNT, CUNT, CUNT! Shitcunt- motherfuc- ARGHHH! She left! SHE. FUCKING. LEFT. I'm not worth it!? I'M WORTH IT! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU JIMMY- FUCK, FUCK FUCKASSDICKSUCK!"
Jimmy pounded a fist into the ground in rage. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. A song was screaming in his ear, louder than it had ever been and he couldn't identify it. It was killing him, driving him insane, slowly and methodically. God was trying to kill him and he would succeed. But first, Jimmy Brennan was meant to suffer, swear and cry. And a million cameras would chronicle his suffering, for all of the world to watch, until the heat death of the universe.
Jimmy Brennan; Born to Fail.
Bring it! Bring it! I won't die like a fucking pacifist, I'll scratch your dick off!
As often as he tried to fool himself now with his probable death approach him, Jimmy's mind was clear. He couldn't lie to himself in the end, no matter how hard he wished. Leila didn't like him. He was a pussy, and he ran away from trouble. He swore too much, hated too much and was weak and cowardly. He was a vulture in this game, growing happier off the suffering of others. Survival of the Fittest had been made for Jimmy Brennan. It had been created for the express purpose of eliminating pussies like Jimmy from the face of the earth. Who would miss him? His parents? His siblings? They wouldn't care. The cameras would make sure of that, they'd make sure to show everything and anything wrong with him, damn him in their eyes. And when Jimmy would eventually succumb to some sucking chest wound, they would turn off the TV and wonder if a memorial service would really be necessary for such a bastard.
It doesn't have to be this way! It doesn't!
Anger burned in his eyes as a figure loomed out of the darkness.
It doesn't matter! I can change! I AM changing! I deserve redemption! I deserve life, not them! I deserve the entire fucking world, because I didn't have it before!
Jimmy moved into a crouching position, pulling his fist back, prepared to strike. Now was the time, now was HIS time. His heart beat faster, he lunged forward.
There was a click.
Jimmy faltered in his step as a light momentarily blinded him. He raised his hands, shielding his aching eyes. His foot throbbed as if to remind Jimmy of his failings. The element of surprise was lost, if he had even had it to begin with. Awkwardly stepping backwards, Jimmy contemplated running. If they had a gun, whoever it was, then his death was mere seconds away. A melee weapon... a few minutes away. Running would do nothing. He could feel a scream of anger building up inside him. This was to be his moment, and it had been taken from him. Jimmy Brennan would die and it would mean nothing to no one. No one would carry scars, signaling he had once existed...
"What? What the fuck!?" He managed to squeak out as his fear began to grip him. Jimmy heard a familiar voice.
A very familiar phrase.
"FUCK YOU JIMMY BRENNAN!"
Before Jimmy could react Carly Jean Dooley was once more, for the second time in a few days, rushing towards him. Throwing up his hands in terror, Jimmy flinched back trying to protect his face and his chest. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly where the girl was aiming.
Jimmy didn't really like Carly. He didn't really know Carly either. She had been in the woods on the first day, witness to the first of his many breakdowns. Jimmy would have cared more about the fact he'd cried in front of a girl, but he was positive she would die, and die quickly. His luck it seemed, wasn't really luck. Carly had survived, countless more cowardly students were probably lurking in the jungle, shitting their pants. Jimmy wasn't special.
His sadness was soon eclipsed by pain as a foot slammed into his crotch.
Jimmy let out a strange, OOF noise as he feel back down the small hill he'd been hiding behind. His hands flew down towards his crotch, cupping his nuts. Jimmy struggled to yell, he struggled to breath. He awaited the next blow, sure that Carly meant to finish him off, deliver a most embarrassing end. The blow never came. But the pain did. Tears began to leak out of Jimmy's scrunched up red face. He rolled about on the ground, trying in vain to yell out, to curse Carly's name. The girl was already gone.
Jimmy had been kicked in the balls before. He'd had his bones broken, he'd had his face broken. He'd been yelled at, cursed at. He'd had kids he didn't even know snicker at him in the hallway, flip him off and laugh. He'd once had a girl in his history class rip up a supposed "Love Note" from him, a love note with suspiciously similar hand writing to one, Jacob Charles. He'd once been shoved in a garbage can on the way home from school by some kids in a Mustang. He'd started his fair share of fights. He'd been punched in the face by Phillip Ward. He was on a first name basis with the school nurse, who coincidently, also seemed to loathe him. After so much pain, Jimmy figured he'd had gotten used to it, mastered it. Turned it into some kind of weapon, to be used against his oppressors. Jimmy dreamed of a day when, nose broken, blood streaming down his face he'd walk away from a fight, victorious at last, never to be fucked with again. Jimmy wanted the bruises to remind him of his victories, he wanted his cuts to leak pride not shame. He wanted to take an AK-47 and mow down the entire population of some backwater Vietnam village, and not feel a fucking thing.
Instead, Jimmy Brennan cried like a child who had dropped his ice cream, and begged God to make the pain stop. It didn't work. He rolled around on the ground for the next two or so minutes, blubbering like a baby. Jimmy didn't hear the approaching footsteps until they had stopped a few feet from him.
At first, he was sure it was Carly, returning with a 20 Gauge to blow his stupid fucking brains in. Looking up however, in the darkness Jimmy saw... a boy. Extending his hand. Jimmy was perplexed. And rather angry.
"Hey, man, you alright?"
Groaning and wiping tears from his eyes, Jimmy struggled upwards, his balls still hurting something awful. He gasped as he tried to talk, his face so red it must have looked like someone had taken a cheese grader to it.
"What... what the fuck do you think!?" Jimmy managed to gasp out, as he tried to climb back up the small hill he had fallen down. He ignored the boys' helping hand. Jimmy didn't need sympathy, not like this.
"I just got my nuts punched in by some stupid COCKSUCKING FAGGOT, OF COURSE I DON'T FEEL ALRIGHT. FUCKPASTE." Jimmy shouted, his volume rising with each word. He scanned the immediate area. Carly was gone, as was the figure from before. Jimmy spun around, looking in the gloom. They were gone. Jimmy let out a low growl of anger. Carly had kicked him, kicked him in the nuts and left him to die.
Why?! Why the fuck would she do that?! Did she just want me to suffer? Did she think I wasn't worth a bullet?! I'm worth a bullet! I'm worth all the bullets!
Turning back towards the boy, Jimmy crouched lower, massaging his crotch.
"They left! They fucking left, just like that! What the shit is that?! Motherfucker, that motherfucking fuckhead!! She kicked me and left! I didn't fucking DO ANYTHING!" Sinking to his knees, pain shot through him once more. Jimmy doubled over, gripping his nuts in terror.
"Jesus Christ! She broke my nuts! My balls are leaking! I can feel them! What the FUCK am I supposed to do with that, DUCT TAPE? Cunt! Fucking cunt that's what she is- CUNT, CUNT, CUNT! Shitcunt- motherfuc- ARGHHH! She left! SHE. FUCKING. LEFT. I'm not worth it!? I'M WORTH IT! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU JIMMY- FUCK, FUCK FUCKASSDICKSUCK!"
Jimmy pounded a fist into the ground in rage. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. A song was screaming in his ear, louder than it had ever been and he couldn't identify it. It was killing him, driving him insane, slowly and methodically. God was trying to kill him and he would succeed. But first, Jimmy Brennan was meant to suffer, swear and cry. And a million cameras would chronicle his suffering, for all of the world to watch, until the heat death of the universe.
Jimmy Brennan; Born to Fail.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued from I Swear I Won't Shoot.
Day late and a dollar short, but it's better than nothing.]
Well, wasn't this just an enjoyable time they were having here.
"You certainly sound happy now don't you Jimmy."
How long he'd been standing there wasn't important, nor was how he got there to begin with; what was important was the rather wide smile Alex had plastered on his face while watching Jimmy Brennan kicking and screaming on the ground after Carly's little 'gift'. Sure, he wondered if he should even bother coming over when he first spotted them, but this was too much to miss. Jimmy Brennan getting kicked in the balls? It was the most entertainment he'd seen in a long while. Sure, he'd feel bad about enjoying it so much and he didn't really have a problem with Jimmy, it was just that he got kicked in the nuts and that was the last thing he expected to see when expecting someone to get injured. So yeah, he was enjoying this for a while.
"The hell did you do to get the boot anyways?"
Alex wasn't really going to do much more than stand there and watch; that other boy, Isaiah, had already tried to help and Jimmy certainly wasn't in the mood to accept any further help, so why bother? The stream of curses and swears brought out a couple laughs from the torch-holding boy, but little else as he stood there with one hand in his pocket and the other holding the lit torch at his side. Why was he using a torch again anyways? Oh, wait, dead flashlight, that was it.
"Whatever it was, it certainly seemed to piss her off."
He glanced back at the direction Carly and the other boy had run off in. For a moment, he wondered what the long gone silhouetted figures may have had when it came to a weapon, but he shook that off. It was time to give that up, he had no reason to keep pursuing that. Forget disarming everyone, just get a grip on reality and find Andrea. That was the plan now. That outburst on the beach? That was... well, that was reality slipping a little too far out of reach, that's what that had been. But Jimmy? He was a nice little bit of canned reality, a nice bit of normalcy. As far as he could recall, Alex always remembered Jimmy like this. Then again, things could get skewed because of current events... maybe he just wanted to think Jimmy was always like this. It just seemed... normal, y'know? Seeing someone get kicked in the nuts by a girl.
"Come on now, I'm sure your balls are fine. Get up and stop crying."
Probably not a good choice of words toward the pissed off boy with the sore nuts.
"Aren't you supposed to be a badass?"
Probably shouldn't antagonize him either.
"What happened to that tough guy attitude from school?"
What was the point of this again? Was he looking to get Jimmy even more pissed off? Either way, it looked to be working. Jimmy Brennan was not happy and it looked like he found the perfect way to show it too.
Day late and a dollar short, but it's better than nothing.]
Well, wasn't this just an enjoyable time they were having here.
"You certainly sound happy now don't you Jimmy."
How long he'd been standing there wasn't important, nor was how he got there to begin with; what was important was the rather wide smile Alex had plastered on his face while watching Jimmy Brennan kicking and screaming on the ground after Carly's little 'gift'. Sure, he wondered if he should even bother coming over when he first spotted them, but this was too much to miss. Jimmy Brennan getting kicked in the balls? It was the most entertainment he'd seen in a long while. Sure, he'd feel bad about enjoying it so much and he didn't really have a problem with Jimmy, it was just that he got kicked in the nuts and that was the last thing he expected to see when expecting someone to get injured. So yeah, he was enjoying this for a while.
"The hell did you do to get the boot anyways?"
Alex wasn't really going to do much more than stand there and watch; that other boy, Isaiah, had already tried to help and Jimmy certainly wasn't in the mood to accept any further help, so why bother? The stream of curses and swears brought out a couple laughs from the torch-holding boy, but little else as he stood there with one hand in his pocket and the other holding the lit torch at his side. Why was he using a torch again anyways? Oh, wait, dead flashlight, that was it.
"Whatever it was, it certainly seemed to piss her off."
He glanced back at the direction Carly and the other boy had run off in. For a moment, he wondered what the long gone silhouetted figures may have had when it came to a weapon, but he shook that off. It was time to give that up, he had no reason to keep pursuing that. Forget disarming everyone, just get a grip on reality and find Andrea. That was the plan now. That outburst on the beach? That was... well, that was reality slipping a little too far out of reach, that's what that had been. But Jimmy? He was a nice little bit of canned reality, a nice bit of normalcy. As far as he could recall, Alex always remembered Jimmy like this. Then again, things could get skewed because of current events... maybe he just wanted to think Jimmy was always like this. It just seemed... normal, y'know? Seeing someone get kicked in the nuts by a girl.
"Come on now, I'm sure your balls are fine. Get up and stop crying."
Probably not a good choice of words toward the pissed off boy with the sore nuts.
"Aren't you supposed to be a badass?"
Probably shouldn't antagonize him either.
"What happened to that tough guy attitude from school?"
What was the point of this again? Was he looking to get Jimmy even more pissed off? Either way, it looked to be working. Jimmy Brennan was not happy and it looked like he found the perfect way to show it too.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Jimmy Brennan was not okay.
He was also a foul-mouthed little prick. Isaiah had been prepared for this possibility. It did not make his situation any more pleasant. The rant, the swearing, it got on his nerves more quickly than he could have imagined. Good thing he had some self restraint, or he'd have just stalked off again, leaving the boy to moan and froth his hate at the stumps and the night.
But that was not the right thing to do. All humans were deserving of compassion, and it was important to remember that events had shaped Jimmy Brennan into the pathetic mess he was now. Specifically, a kick to the crotch had shaped him this way. Isaiah chose to temporarily deceive himself into believing that that was the only reason Brennan was such a nightmare, that he'd cool down or something any time and would be a perfectly respectable (albeit highly temporary) companion.
But then another guy had showed up. He started talking, deciding to goad Brennan, to taunt him. The funny thing was, this ticked Isaiah off even more than the sniveling little wretch at his feet. Sure, you could think awful things about other people. It was only human. You didn't go and say them, though. You didn't just run your mouth off and spew venom and hatred at the people you should have been struggling to keep safe, struggling to unite with in the face of this most terrible of tragedies.
Isaiah opened his mouth and became an instant hypocrite.
"Yeah, 'cause it's real badass to stand there and taunt a guy who just took a shot to the nuts. Like, you think you'd be doing better in his shoes? 'For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.' -Matthew 7:2."
That... was undeniably not the best diplomatic decision in this very tense situation. Perhaps a moment of reflection was in order. Isaiah fell silent, waiting for the reprisal he assumed was imminent, trying to steel himself to do the right thing this time and not snap back. He would take the high road. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to win this debate.
After all, leading into an argument with a quote that could instantly be turned back on yourself wasn't a very sound strategy on the best of days.
He was also a foul-mouthed little prick. Isaiah had been prepared for this possibility. It did not make his situation any more pleasant. The rant, the swearing, it got on his nerves more quickly than he could have imagined. Good thing he had some self restraint, or he'd have just stalked off again, leaving the boy to moan and froth his hate at the stumps and the night.
But that was not the right thing to do. All humans were deserving of compassion, and it was important to remember that events had shaped Jimmy Brennan into the pathetic mess he was now. Specifically, a kick to the crotch had shaped him this way. Isaiah chose to temporarily deceive himself into believing that that was the only reason Brennan was such a nightmare, that he'd cool down or something any time and would be a perfectly respectable (albeit highly temporary) companion.
But then another guy had showed up. He started talking, deciding to goad Brennan, to taunt him. The funny thing was, this ticked Isaiah off even more than the sniveling little wretch at his feet. Sure, you could think awful things about other people. It was only human. You didn't go and say them, though. You didn't just run your mouth off and spew venom and hatred at the people you should have been struggling to keep safe, struggling to unite with in the face of this most terrible of tragedies.
Isaiah opened his mouth and became an instant hypocrite.
"Yeah, 'cause it's real badass to stand there and taunt a guy who just took a shot to the nuts. Like, you think you'd be doing better in his shoes? 'For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.' -Matthew 7:2."
That... was undeniably not the best diplomatic decision in this very tense situation. Perhaps a moment of reflection was in order. Isaiah fell silent, waiting for the reprisal he assumed was imminent, trying to steel himself to do the right thing this time and not snap back. He would take the high road. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to win this debate.
After all, leading into an argument with a quote that could instantly be turned back on yourself wasn't a very sound strategy on the best of days.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Jimmy was panting, straining as he tried to keep his breathing steady. He was failing miserably. His hand was aching, his fingers had long gone numb. His fists seemed a permanent part of him, an extension of his will. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. He had no idea where the boy had appeared from, or for how long he had been there laughing at him. He could feel his mind bend, and he pushed, willing himself to snap. But it wasn't that easy. The words ripped him apart. He felt weak, he felt like crying. His bottom lip quivered in a deadly mixture of sorrow and rage. Jimmy Brennan could almost feel the cameras all around, focusing in on him. His mind was doing cartwheels, screaming out a song, pushing him ever closer to the breaking point. And it was just what he wanted.
A tiny voice held him back. A tiny shred, a mixture of his fear, his self-loathing. If he failed, what would he be? Just another Youtube clip. Just another hilarious blooper, an ugly death. It wasn't time for action. The voice had always been there, unacknowledged, crammed in the back of his brain. Jimmy couldn't afford to let it out, even let it know it existed. He was undefeated. He had to be unbreakable. And the voice ensured it. The voice told him it was a fluke, a lucky shot. The voice said that it wasn't game day, the voice said it was a practice run. It held him back, and it kept him sane. But he couldn't afford it now. He couldn't afford to wait any longer, he couldn't afford to LIE.
"Shut up." He said, his voice cracking with the last syllables. "Shut up. You don't know anything!"
Through his growing rage, he recognized the figure... Alex White. Just another face in the halls, just another mocking voice. It seemed like the entire student population of Bayview was intent on kicking him while he was down. It didn't matter what he wanted, it didn't matter what he tried. They wouldn't understand. They didn't understand, not one of them. Jimmy was understanding. The gears, the reasoning for Danya's existence... it was all clicking as the self-induced madness began to envelop him.
Not even here, on the Island. They're still THEM. They're still the fucking monsters they always were! That's why it exists! That's why- it's just a display! We're just on display! And they don't understand it's over! They don't understand, and- and they think it's a joke! They think it's funny and its'- how!? How is it funny!? God! How is it funny God?! Am I just a joke to you?! You asshole, you fucking slut! Go die Jesus! Go die Mary and Joseph and all your fucking angels, and especially you God, because you are a fucking prick!
His breathing grew even faster. Jimmy made short quick gasps as if he was desperate for air. His face glowed bright red as he fought back a loosing battle with his tears.
"I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die! Isn't that enough for you!? What the FUCK IS ENOUGH FOR YOU!?" He screamed, stumbling down the hill towards the pair.
Jimmy's brain began to race faster and faster, spinning around in a confusing jumble that even he couldn't make sense of. He didn't know what Alex was saying, he didn't even know if they had finished talking. The words were flowing out of his mouth, and he knew he had past the point of no return.
"I get here! I get to this place, and it's supposed to be HELL! It's supposed to be fucking apocalypse, we're supposed to be massacring each other, raping and shooting and outright fucking murder and and- being adults! That's what it's all about! They want us to grow the fuck up, get our dicks wet, fucking KILL bitches, be ANIMALS, BE HARDCORE. And- and that's all it's about! It's a club, it's a fucking country club for all the cunts and the fuckers who think they're tough shit, think they fucking know what it's all about! Because they're MATURE, they UNDERSTAND! NO! THEY DON'T. THEY DON'T GET ME. I DON'T GET IN. I'm not GOOD enough for this, you fucking cunts!? I'm not BAD enough for you? I'm not worth it? You don't think I'm worth a bullet!? I'm worth all the bullets! I'm worth a fucking ATOM BOMB. I CAN BE WHATEVER I WANT, BECAUSE I'M NOT A FUCKING COWARD. I DON'T DESERVE THIS. I DON'T DESERVE TO DIE. YOU DO. YOU DESERVE TO DIE. ALL OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, I'M BETTER THAN YOU! AND THIS IS JUST IT. WE GET HERE, AND IT'S THE SAME. THIS IS BAYVIEW AS IT'S REALLY BEEN. THIS IS FUCKING AMERICA!"
He was crying again, he had sworn he would never again, but it mattered little now. He felt empty inside, and it was beginning to feel comforting. It reminded him of home, it reminded him of nights alone, dreaming of his victory. The victory the voice had assured would one day come, if he would just wait, just hold on and not change a thing...
Jimmy paused, his entire body visibly shaking. He hurt all over. He had begun spilling his guts for all that was worth. He wobbled back, unsteady on his feet. Jimmy Brennan felt a sickening sensation building up inside him, from his guts, up into his chest. He felt loose, elastic-like.
"I DESERVE to win! I suffered, I bled, I did all that shit long before this fucking island made it the style! And now, now that we get here- you all think I'm not worth the trouble? You think I'm not a threat, that I'm a fucking joke!? You think I'm going to sit down, and- and cry like a fucking coward!? You fucking CUNT. You fucking BASTARD. I am going to die! But I swear to that dick-sucking motherfucker up there in heaven, I will die breaking your fucking COCK. I WILL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT, AND STUFF IT IN YOUR ASS. I. HATE. YOU!"
A single thought rang out through his mind.
Jimmy screamed, anger and bloodlust shooting up through his veins and into his lungs. Winding his fist back, Jimmy sailed forward aiming a punch directly towards Alex's face.
A tiny voice held him back. A tiny shred, a mixture of his fear, his self-loathing. If he failed, what would he be? Just another Youtube clip. Just another hilarious blooper, an ugly death. It wasn't time for action. The voice had always been there, unacknowledged, crammed in the back of his brain. Jimmy couldn't afford to let it out, even let it know it existed. He was undefeated. He had to be unbreakable. And the voice ensured it. The voice told him it was a fluke, a lucky shot. The voice said that it wasn't game day, the voice said it was a practice run. It held him back, and it kept him sane. But he couldn't afford it now. He couldn't afford to wait any longer, he couldn't afford to LIE.
"Shut up." He said, his voice cracking with the last syllables. "Shut up. You don't know anything!"
Through his growing rage, he recognized the figure... Alex White. Just another face in the halls, just another mocking voice. It seemed like the entire student population of Bayview was intent on kicking him while he was down. It didn't matter what he wanted, it didn't matter what he tried. They wouldn't understand. They didn't understand, not one of them. Jimmy was understanding. The gears, the reasoning for Danya's existence... it was all clicking as the self-induced madness began to envelop him.
Not even here, on the Island. They're still THEM. They're still the fucking monsters they always were! That's why it exists! That's why- it's just a display! We're just on display! And they don't understand it's over! They don't understand, and- and they think it's a joke! They think it's funny and its'- how!? How is it funny!? God! How is it funny God?! Am I just a joke to you?! You asshole, you fucking slut! Go die Jesus! Go die Mary and Joseph and all your fucking angels, and especially you God, because you are a fucking prick!
His breathing grew even faster. Jimmy made short quick gasps as if he was desperate for air. His face glowed bright red as he fought back a loosing battle with his tears.
"I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die! Isn't that enough for you!? What the FUCK IS ENOUGH FOR YOU!?" He screamed, stumbling down the hill towards the pair.
Jimmy's brain began to race faster and faster, spinning around in a confusing jumble that even he couldn't make sense of. He didn't know what Alex was saying, he didn't even know if they had finished talking. The words were flowing out of his mouth, and he knew he had past the point of no return.
"I get here! I get to this place, and it's supposed to be HELL! It's supposed to be fucking apocalypse, we're supposed to be massacring each other, raping and shooting and outright fucking murder and and- being adults! That's what it's all about! They want us to grow the fuck up, get our dicks wet, fucking KILL bitches, be ANIMALS, BE HARDCORE. And- and that's all it's about! It's a club, it's a fucking country club for all the cunts and the fuckers who think they're tough shit, think they fucking know what it's all about! Because they're MATURE, they UNDERSTAND! NO! THEY DON'T. THEY DON'T GET ME. I DON'T GET IN. I'm not GOOD enough for this, you fucking cunts!? I'm not BAD enough for you? I'm not worth it? You don't think I'm worth a bullet!? I'm worth all the bullets! I'm worth a fucking ATOM BOMB. I CAN BE WHATEVER I WANT, BECAUSE I'M NOT A FUCKING COWARD. I DON'T DESERVE THIS. I DON'T DESERVE TO DIE. YOU DO. YOU DESERVE TO DIE. ALL OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, I'M BETTER THAN YOU! AND THIS IS JUST IT. WE GET HERE, AND IT'S THE SAME. THIS IS BAYVIEW AS IT'S REALLY BEEN. THIS IS FUCKING AMERICA!"
He was crying again, he had sworn he would never again, but it mattered little now. He felt empty inside, and it was beginning to feel comforting. It reminded him of home, it reminded him of nights alone, dreaming of his victory. The victory the voice had assured would one day come, if he would just wait, just hold on and not change a thing...
Jimmy paused, his entire body visibly shaking. He hurt all over. He had begun spilling his guts for all that was worth. He wobbled back, unsteady on his feet. Jimmy Brennan felt a sickening sensation building up inside him, from his guts, up into his chest. He felt loose, elastic-like.
"I DESERVE to win! I suffered, I bled, I did all that shit long before this fucking island made it the style! And now, now that we get here- you all think I'm not worth the trouble? You think I'm not a threat, that I'm a fucking joke!? You think I'm going to sit down, and- and cry like a fucking coward!? You fucking CUNT. You fucking BASTARD. I am going to die! But I swear to that dick-sucking motherfucker up there in heaven, I will die breaking your fucking COCK. I WILL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT, AND STUFF IT IN YOUR ASS. I. HATE. YOU!"
A single thought rang out through his mind.
Jimmy screamed, anger and bloodlust shooting up through his veins and into his lungs. Winding his fist back, Jimmy sailed forward aiming a punch directly towards Alex's face.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
[All GMing approved by Little.]
Looks like Jimmy was a bit more than a little wound up already, certainly more than Alex expected. Then again, what else would he really expect? This was Jimmy Brennan after all, Alex knew exactly what would happen if he taunted and antagonized him. Course, maybe that was exactly what he wanted; he'd spent most of his time on this island fighting, so who better to pick a fight with than Jimmy fucking Brennan? A fight seemed to be exactly what he wanted since that incident at the beach, wanting someone to take out some of that pent up anger on. Yeah... a fight would be perfect. Oh look, Jimmy wanted a fight too.
Perhaps if he wasn't intent on fighting Jimmy, Alex would have paid a bit more attention to Isaiah's comments. Then again, listening to someone spout biblical passages wasn't exactly high on his list of things he'd enjoy doing even when he wasn't on an island being forced to fight for his life, so maybe it was for the best that he didn't really listen to Isaiah. No, his focus was on Jimmy and Jimmy alone, at least for the moment. He listened to his ranting and his raving, his shouting and his swearing and the shear amount of curses thrown about.
Jimmy Brennan had issues. Then again, everyone probably has more than a few issues now.
"Yeah? Well I hate you t--"
He didn't really expect Jimmy to make the first strike; really, who would? Jimmy was never much of a fighter, he just got people mad and usually was the first one to go down. At least that's how he was being remembered as. Really though, who would expect Jimmy to throw the first punch and actually make contact? And who would have guessed that a pissed off Jimmy Brennan could actually do some damage?
"Fucker!"
Tossing his torch off to the side, Alex threw back a few blows of his own and the fight escalated from there. Sure, neither of them were focusing much, both of their tempers were running very, very high, too high to think straight about a fight. They traded a few blows and got a bit more than a little bloody, but the fight continued for only a short time before one of them came out ahead. It wasn't exactly surprising to see Alex coming out ahead of Jimmy when the fight was winding down; he was almost a foot taller and more than 40lbs heavier than Jimmy, not to mention stronger. Despite the difference though, neither of them seemed to have escaped the fight without at least a few cuts and bruises and a bloody nose or two.
But the fight had to come to an end eventually and there had to be a victor.
"You're mine now!"
With a vice-like grip on Jimmy's wrist, Alex tripped up the smaller boy and sent him to the ground, twisting his arm and pinning him down in the dirt.
"And you're going to answer a question for me."
He pulled on Jimmy's arm to get his attention... well, to get him to shut up and listen, to be exact. Profanities weren't the answers he was looking for.
"Now, you'll tell me if you've seen Andrea."
...more profanity, huh?
"Fuck it."
There was only one way Alex was going to shut Jimmy up now and that was to knock his ass out. So, with one last solid punch, that is exactly what he intended on doing.
Of course, Alex and Jimmy weren't alone. Maybe Isaiah would have the answers he was looking for. Yeah, maybe... or maybe not. Who cares. If he got in another fight... well, that would be just fine.
"...Isaiah, right?"
Alex stood up and wiped a bit of blood from his nose.
"Want to answer a question for me?"
I've really lost it, haven't I?
Looks like Jimmy was a bit more than a little wound up already, certainly more than Alex expected. Then again, what else would he really expect? This was Jimmy Brennan after all, Alex knew exactly what would happen if he taunted and antagonized him. Course, maybe that was exactly what he wanted; he'd spent most of his time on this island fighting, so who better to pick a fight with than Jimmy fucking Brennan? A fight seemed to be exactly what he wanted since that incident at the beach, wanting someone to take out some of that pent up anger on. Yeah... a fight would be perfect. Oh look, Jimmy wanted a fight too.
Perhaps if he wasn't intent on fighting Jimmy, Alex would have paid a bit more attention to Isaiah's comments. Then again, listening to someone spout biblical passages wasn't exactly high on his list of things he'd enjoy doing even when he wasn't on an island being forced to fight for his life, so maybe it was for the best that he didn't really listen to Isaiah. No, his focus was on Jimmy and Jimmy alone, at least for the moment. He listened to his ranting and his raving, his shouting and his swearing and the shear amount of curses thrown about.
Jimmy Brennan had issues. Then again, everyone probably has more than a few issues now.
"Yeah? Well I hate you t--"
He didn't really expect Jimmy to make the first strike; really, who would? Jimmy was never much of a fighter, he just got people mad and usually was the first one to go down. At least that's how he was being remembered as. Really though, who would expect Jimmy to throw the first punch and actually make contact? And who would have guessed that a pissed off Jimmy Brennan could actually do some damage?
"Fucker!"
Tossing his torch off to the side, Alex threw back a few blows of his own and the fight escalated from there. Sure, neither of them were focusing much, both of their tempers were running very, very high, too high to think straight about a fight. They traded a few blows and got a bit more than a little bloody, but the fight continued for only a short time before one of them came out ahead. It wasn't exactly surprising to see Alex coming out ahead of Jimmy when the fight was winding down; he was almost a foot taller and more than 40lbs heavier than Jimmy, not to mention stronger. Despite the difference though, neither of them seemed to have escaped the fight without at least a few cuts and bruises and a bloody nose or two.
But the fight had to come to an end eventually and there had to be a victor.
"You're mine now!"
With a vice-like grip on Jimmy's wrist, Alex tripped up the smaller boy and sent him to the ground, twisting his arm and pinning him down in the dirt.
"And you're going to answer a question for me."
He pulled on Jimmy's arm to get his attention... well, to get him to shut up and listen, to be exact. Profanities weren't the answers he was looking for.
"Now, you'll tell me if you've seen Andrea."
...more profanity, huh?
"Fuck it."
There was only one way Alex was going to shut Jimmy up now and that was to knock his ass out. So, with one last solid punch, that is exactly what he intended on doing.
Of course, Alex and Jimmy weren't alone. Maybe Isaiah would have the answers he was looking for. Yeah, maybe... or maybe not. Who cares. If he got in another fight... well, that would be just fine.
"...Isaiah, right?"
Alex stood up and wiped a bit of blood from his nose.
"Want to answer a question for me?"
I've really lost it, haven't I?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.