((Aaron Hughes continued from Could Have Been Worse))
The last few days had not been among Aaron's best. Everything was coming to pieces. Everything had been falling apart since he'd encountered Rob. Lily was dead. Somehow, Rob had walked away from getting shot, had caught up to her and killed her. Aaron would have been upset about this had several other deaths not been preying on his mind. Richard had apparently managed to take a dive off a cliff. That was ridiculously stupid but also completely in keeping with expectations.
Also, everyone who had ever turned down the opportunity to join Aaron's group was now dead. There was that. It was an interesting thing to note. Even with the setbacks, he still had kept people safe. That was something to cling to.
What really had him upset, though, was the death of William Sears. Will was one of Aaron's better friends. He was a smart guy, in his own way. He was loyal, and tried to be heroic. He was also a bit too naïve to have had much of a chance, especially against Nick Reid. For the first time, Aaron was upset that he'd let the killer walk. Before, Nick had been something of an asset, a villain to demonize but never to encounter or actually worry about, a far away threat to galvanize the group to action. Now, though, it was personal. Now there would be a reckoning. The fact that it would play well into the plan was just a bonus.
Jennifer Romita was dead, too, at the hands of Hayley Kelly (KoS), which meant presumably Nick was alone and Hayley was his enemy. Aaron hoped that, when they eventually clashed, Nick came out on top. Ideally, he could get wounded some in so doing, though. That way, the inevitable fight would be a bit more weighted in Aaron's favor.
Of course, all of this was insignificant. It paled in comparison to the things truly occupying Aaron's mind.
His plan wouldn't work.
Well, that was perhaps an overstatement. More precisely, if Danya was telling the truth, the part of the plan related to actually removing the collars wouldn't work. Over the past few days, Aaron had slowed the group's pace, making sure everyone was rested and adequately fed (at least, as much as possible). He'd had them keep watch over the nights, and, on one of his watches, he'd just so happened to leaf through Danya's little survival guide, more for a laugh than anything else. What he'd found hadn't left him laughing.
"So, what do you all need to know about the collars this go around? They're waterproof, they're shockproof, and they aren't removable."
The collars were shockproof. Aaron had isolated a source of power on the island, one no one had ever tapped before. He'd been pretty sure it would be a simple matter of feeding enough of it into the collars to blow out their circuitry. It seemed the terrorists had actually thought of that, though, at least enough to pretend to have it covered. Aaron wasn't quite willing to believe them without testing it himself, of course, but he'd have to be way more cautious about it. He'd need a hostage, or maybe Milo. Someone who either couldn't or wouldn't protest. He'd need to get one of the others, perhaps Charlie, to actually conduct the experiment, in case it didn't work and Danya decided to announce it as a kill.
More than that, he'd need a backup plan.
He hadn't shared his revelations with the group. It would be demoralizing. Besides, as long as they were working productively towards an end, they were less likely to complain. They knew the start of the plan, and nothing more. Aaron could change things all over the place, and none of his followers would be the wiser. In fact, he could keep them spinning their wheels, chasing after some illusory progress, for a potentially-indefinite period of time.
It wasn't exactly an optimal solution. Ideally, he'd have a functional plan and save everyone right away. Realistically, though, the announcements had proved that he was their best bet for survival, and if he had to manipulate them a little bit to keep them safe, well, it was all for the best in the end.
And of course, he was safer with a group too, even a poorly-equipped one. This was certainly better than going things alone, or with unreliable friends.
He'd spoken to Charlie some over the past few days, or, more precisely, passed a scrap of paper (not the one with his plan on it) back and forth. He'd learned who she'd met. He'd learned that Liz Polanski was in bad shape. He'd decided that attempting to help her was a losing proposition, if she was that badly injured. He'd decided that playing around with computers or whatever in the ranger station was equally stupid, especially when it came out that the girl running things had been blown up.
It all added up, in the end, to an island descended into chaos. That was a good thing, though. It meant Aaron's group was unlikely to attract much official attention. It meant they could continue to operate, continue to try to find a way off. It also meant his allies were more likely to cling to him and the plan, even if it seemed to be taking an awful while to take shape.
Because there was always the second plan.
Aaron hadn't really given this too much conscious thought, but he did have a backup idea in case it turned out escape really was impracticable. The best part was, it was pretty much the same plan as if they did escape.
Now, it was near the end of day seven. they'd been at this for a week. They were on their way to the sawmill, and, though progress was somewhat slow, though Bounce had likely come and gone, they were at least doing something.
It was good to have goals.
No Such Thing as a Perfect Plan
Open, Late Day Seven
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Continues from Feral Intelligence))
It's been a while since I left that place.
RJ. I'll miss you buddy. Semper Fi, my friend.
I'm not even sure where I learnt that. It seems fitting.
Anyway, I've been alone for a while. It had to have been almost, over, 12 hours ago. I left RJ's girl, I left the Japanese thing, and I left that crazy bitch to her own devices. They can take her down, I disposed of her fucking explosive. Girl had a gun. Capable.
I tried the Sawmill. The road to it was packed, fighting. Bodies, a lot of them, really. I went around, through some of the woods. According to the map, it was THE SOUTHERN FELLED FOREST (paraphrased. I'm too tired to get out my map.) And that was okay. I finally ran into Francine for real. Unlucky bitch smelt like she belonged stacked on the shelf with the rest of the Beef Jerky. She looked like
well, it's hard to describe a dead body. Especially one who had what happened to Francine happen to her. But people were coming. I ran off.
And now, I'm here. I stopped on a stump near the body of what used to be Hermione Miller. I can see one more a little while away. Another girl. But I can also see people. A group of people.
I'm gonna check it out.
*
Aston twitched.
The group in her line of sight weren't the ones she was looking for. In fact, none of them even resembled the two people she was looking for in any way whatsoever. That...was irritating. There were far less people on the island than there were a week ago, surely there had to be a better chance of finding the right ones? But no, the gods of chance spat on her. No boxer. Pretty peroxide princess was noticeably not there. A cheerleader, that rich kid, and two nerds. The people she least expected to even make it halfway. She needed their secret to become hers, that would be useful.
She didn't try to be stealthy. This wasn't a game, there was no immediate danger in being spotted. From her limited recollection, none of them looked like anyone she could remember on the announcements. Aston snapped shut her notebook, dropped it in her bag, swapping it for her gun. She flicked the safety on, shoved it in the back of her jeans, and got ready to initiate contact with this group of people who needed to further her goals.
Despite the waves of stumps that boggled her line of sight, she made it over to the group of four rather quickly. Oh, well now at this distance, she could see them. Let's see...
Aaron Hughes. Nerd to the highest caliber. He was...not someone one wanted to cross at Bayview, cause there was no way of telling how he'd react to most situations.
Aileen Borden. Well, this was a change of pace. She recognised Aileen, she was one of those girls who had somewhat of a passing interest in wildlife protection, it clicked similarly to Aston's own love of animals. Still, not like that was a good basis on which to judge a person on SOTF.
Milo Taylor.
...
Moving on.
Well, there was Charlie Duclare. Bitch. No other word was as fitting as just a plain old "Bitch". That was all she had to say, really.
Of course, she didn't know whether or not they knew she was there, so...
Aston coughed in her usual, attention-seeking way, and crossed her arms.
"Hello there. Been busy?"
It's been a while since I left that place.
RJ. I'll miss you buddy. Semper Fi, my friend.
I'm not even sure where I learnt that. It seems fitting.
Anyway, I've been alone for a while. It had to have been almost, over, 12 hours ago. I left RJ's girl, I left the Japanese thing, and I left that crazy bitch to her own devices. They can take her down, I disposed of her fucking explosive. Girl had a gun. Capable.
I tried the Sawmill. The road to it was packed, fighting. Bodies, a lot of them, really. I went around, through some of the woods. According to the map, it was THE SOUTHERN FELLED FOREST (paraphrased. I'm too tired to get out my map.) And that was okay. I finally ran into Francine for real. Unlucky bitch smelt like she belonged stacked on the shelf with the rest of the Beef Jerky. She looked like
well, it's hard to describe a dead body. Especially one who had what happened to Francine happen to her. But people were coming. I ran off.
And now, I'm here. I stopped on a stump near the body of what used to be Hermione Miller. I can see one more a little while away. Another girl. But I can also see people. A group of people.
I'm gonna check it out.
*
Aston twitched.
The group in her line of sight weren't the ones she was looking for. In fact, none of them even resembled the two people she was looking for in any way whatsoever. That...was irritating. There were far less people on the island than there were a week ago, surely there had to be a better chance of finding the right ones? But no, the gods of chance spat on her. No boxer. Pretty peroxide princess was noticeably not there. A cheerleader, that rich kid, and two nerds. The people she least expected to even make it halfway. She needed their secret to become hers, that would be useful.
She didn't try to be stealthy. This wasn't a game, there was no immediate danger in being spotted. From her limited recollection, none of them looked like anyone she could remember on the announcements. Aston snapped shut her notebook, dropped it in her bag, swapping it for her gun. She flicked the safety on, shoved it in the back of her jeans, and got ready to initiate contact with this group of people who needed to further her goals.
Despite the waves of stumps that boggled her line of sight, she made it over to the group of four rather quickly. Oh, well now at this distance, she could see them. Let's see...
Aaron Hughes. Nerd to the highest caliber. He was...not someone one wanted to cross at Bayview, cause there was no way of telling how he'd react to most situations.
Aileen Borden. Well, this was a change of pace. She recognised Aileen, she was one of those girls who had somewhat of a passing interest in wildlife protection, it clicked similarly to Aston's own love of animals. Still, not like that was a good basis on which to judge a person on SOTF.
Milo Taylor.
...
Moving on.
Well, there was Charlie Duclare. Bitch. No other word was as fitting as just a plain old "Bitch". That was all she had to say, really.
Of course, she didn't know whether or not they knew she was there, so...
Aston coughed in her usual, attention-seeking way, and crossed her arms.
"Hello there. Been busy?"
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
((Garry Villette and Sunil Savarkar continued from I'll Huff and I'll Puff))
So Dustin Royal was a massive jerk.
Garry and Sunil were worried about Rena's safety, that was why they'd gone to look for her. Dustin, judging from the fact he didn't even bother to follow the pair, didn't give a rat's ass about the girl. And Garry did not like that one bit. 'Fucking bastard, I dunno why I even bothered teaming up with him in the first place,' Garry angrily thought.
For the past twenty-four hours he and Sunil had, without Dustin's 'help', been retracing their steps back to where they'd originally met up with Rena. Away from the greens, past the point where they'd (unfortunately) met with Dustin at the mountain, and back to the northern felled forest. 'This was the area where... where Jake was killed,' Garry remembered, sighing deeply as the terrible memories rushed back to greet him.
The green beret, Cyrille's beret, was back on his head; he'd come across it in his bag during the earlier hours when looking for something to eat. It was a major shock and he felt immensely guilty for completely forgetting about it during the past few days. He'd kept the beret as a memento, a mark of respect, and what had he done with it? Just stuffed in it his bag. It was an insult to Cyrille and Violetta's memories, and Garry wouldn't stop beating himself up over it. To try and erase the guilt, he decided to wear it again, making sure that he wouldn't forget about it for a second time.
So Garry and Sunil wandered around the sea of tree stumps for a while, the larger boy keeping hold of the paintball gun as they went. And that was how they came across the group of four students. "Hm, you think they might've seen Rena around?" Garry asked Sunil, watching the small group from a relatively safe distance while a fifth student went up to talk to them. "They don't look like they're threatening anyone, so... you wanna go talk with them?"
So Dustin Royal was a massive jerk.
Garry and Sunil were worried about Rena's safety, that was why they'd gone to look for her. Dustin, judging from the fact he didn't even bother to follow the pair, didn't give a rat's ass about the girl. And Garry did not like that one bit. 'Fucking bastard, I dunno why I even bothered teaming up with him in the first place,' Garry angrily thought.
For the past twenty-four hours he and Sunil had, without Dustin's 'help', been retracing their steps back to where they'd originally met up with Rena. Away from the greens, past the point where they'd (unfortunately) met with Dustin at the mountain, and back to the northern felled forest. 'This was the area where... where Jake was killed,' Garry remembered, sighing deeply as the terrible memories rushed back to greet him.
The green beret, Cyrille's beret, was back on his head; he'd come across it in his bag during the earlier hours when looking for something to eat. It was a major shock and he felt immensely guilty for completely forgetting about it during the past few days. He'd kept the beret as a memento, a mark of respect, and what had he done with it? Just stuffed in it his bag. It was an insult to Cyrille and Violetta's memories, and Garry wouldn't stop beating himself up over it. To try and erase the guilt, he decided to wear it again, making sure that he wouldn't forget about it for a second time.
So Garry and Sunil wandered around the sea of tree stumps for a while, the larger boy keeping hold of the paintball gun as they went. And that was how they came across the group of four students. "Hm, you think they might've seen Rena around?" Garry asked Sunil, watching the small group from a relatively safe distance while a fifth student went up to talk to them. "They don't look like they're threatening anyone, so... you wanna go talk with them?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JamesRenard. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
If Sunil could read minds, he would be nodding with Garry's assessment that Dustin was a massive jerk. He'd been completely insufferable and disagreeable, had made no effort to be welcoming, helpful or comradely and had just acted rude and aggressive. Add to that he was probably staring at Rena's ass the whole time he'd been with the group, and Sunil could hardly be upset Dustin had decided to leave the group behind.
Hey, that whole staring at Rena's ass thing wouldn't exactly be out-of-character for Dustin.
Don't look at Sunil like that.
No, he wasn't doing that. Don't be silly, Sunil was pure and kind-hearted and innocent...
Okay, scratch that, but he wasn't a pervert.
She didn't have much of an ass anyway.
ANYWAY, moving on swiftly...
So, in short, his concern for Rena's unscheduled absence had been overtaken by mumbling and discontent at Dustin's general jerkiness. Sunil was fine with that. Wishing a painful and beautifully karmic death on a douche was much better than fretting about whether an ally and teammate was still alive and well. If he worried about Rena's well-being, he'd just get into a mental tangent about life and death and whether it all had a meaning and how death was inevitable and all that jazz, and quite frankly, that sorta shit was depressing.
And hey, he'd just given a pep talk to Rena on how breaking down and having a panic attack not only gave the various killers and aspiring players on the island a strong strategic weak point to target, but also involved letting Danya win. He nourished himself on the tears of the students of Bayview Secondary, after all. Lazy, uncultured terrorist scumbags like Danya did not deserve nourishment.
So, all in all, it would be kinda awkward if Rena stumbled upon Sunil bawling his eyes out like a baby just after he gave a compassionate speech to Rena on why NOT to bawl your eyes out like a baby. Sunil was many things, but he was not a hypocrite, damn it!
Also, Garry had decided to wear a rather fetching green beret. Not the sort of fashion statement he would have associated with a guy like Garry, but, hell, there was probably some sentimental reason behind it all. Sunil decided to spend the next few hours mulling over a way to ask Garry about it casually while minimalising the chance of causing any offence or hassle.
At this point, Garry spotted a bunch of people, standing there, doing some random shit. It took a few seconds for Sunil's brain to work out who the students were and assess that they PROBABLY weren't mass murderers, and after a few seconds of mentally weighing up the pros and cons (pros: less lonely, potentially useful allies or info. Cons: may get killed) he decided his response.
"Meh...your choice."
When in doubt, the non-committal answer is always the best way to go.
Hey, that whole staring at Rena's ass thing wouldn't exactly be out-of-character for Dustin.
Don't look at Sunil like that.
No, he wasn't doing that. Don't be silly, Sunil was pure and kind-hearted and innocent...
Okay, scratch that, but he wasn't a pervert.
She didn't have much of an ass anyway.
ANYWAY, moving on swiftly...
So, in short, his concern for Rena's unscheduled absence had been overtaken by mumbling and discontent at Dustin's general jerkiness. Sunil was fine with that. Wishing a painful and beautifully karmic death on a douche was much better than fretting about whether an ally and teammate was still alive and well. If he worried about Rena's well-being, he'd just get into a mental tangent about life and death and whether it all had a meaning and how death was inevitable and all that jazz, and quite frankly, that sorta shit was depressing.
And hey, he'd just given a pep talk to Rena on how breaking down and having a panic attack not only gave the various killers and aspiring players on the island a strong strategic weak point to target, but also involved letting Danya win. He nourished himself on the tears of the students of Bayview Secondary, after all. Lazy, uncultured terrorist scumbags like Danya did not deserve nourishment.
So, all in all, it would be kinda awkward if Rena stumbled upon Sunil bawling his eyes out like a baby just after he gave a compassionate speech to Rena on why NOT to bawl your eyes out like a baby. Sunil was many things, but he was not a hypocrite, damn it!
Also, Garry had decided to wear a rather fetching green beret. Not the sort of fashion statement he would have associated with a guy like Garry, but, hell, there was probably some sentimental reason behind it all. Sunil decided to spend the next few hours mulling over a way to ask Garry about it casually while minimalising the chance of causing any offence or hassle.
At this point, Garry spotted a bunch of people, standing there, doing some random shit. It took a few seconds for Sunil's brain to work out who the students were and assess that they PROBABLY weren't mass murderers, and after a few seconds of mentally weighing up the pros and cons (pros: less lonely, potentially useful allies or info. Cons: may get killed) he decided his response.
"Meh...your choice."
When in doubt, the non-committal answer is always the best way to go.
((Aileen Borden continued from Could Have Been Worse))
One word summed up how Aileen felt right now.
Miserable.
That announcement still rang in her head.
Rob Jenkins was still alive. And he... he murdered Lily. She didn't make it after all. And not only that... Richard Han. Toppled off a cliff.
Announcements were already painful enough for Aileen. It wasn't like she liked listening to them or something. But each time she heard that fuckheaded douchebag blather on, it was a reminder. It reminded them of how much time they had, and who they were unable to save. They were unable to save Reika, they were unable to save Trevor, they were unable to save Tom, and now they were unable to save Lily and Richard. And those were only the names Aileen recognized. They had to save as many people as possible, and there was already a sizable body count.
And now Lily and Richard were gone.
Even now, Aileen's mind was a whirlwind of emotions.
Sometimes she would feel sad. Sometimes she would feel angry. At what, though, she didn't know. Sometimes she would get angry at that fucker who had put them here in the first place, sometimes she would get angry at Rob for killing Lily, sometimes she would get angry at Jacquard for putting the group into chaos, sometimes she would get angry at Aaron for running away and leaving them behind, and sometimes she would even get angry at Richard and Lily simply for dying.
To be honest, she didn't know what exactly to feel.
Aileen didn't cry or anything. She wasn't the type to cry. But, she had been feeling a little out of it since that announcement. She was still trying to be alert, but she wasn't feeling so good.
Maybe the island was finally catching up with her.
Maybe that was it.
Home. It was where she wanted to be. She wanted to be somewhere familiar, not this shithole. It wouldn't bring anyone who died back, but it would help if one day she could make it home with as many people alive as possible. She didn't believe in this "last man standing" nonsense. She didn't buy it.
So, for the longest period of time, Aileen had been quiet, even more so than she was back at school. Right now, she had propped herself on a stump, face buried downwards in her hands.
It had seemed awfully quiet for a while. Aaron had talked to DuClare about what she knew, and neither she nor Milo knew what was up. Milo, she could get, but her? Bah.
But in any case, it had been actually been pretty quiet. Usually an entire swarm of people would come in, doing god knows what. And thank god for that. Aileen was not in the mood to deal with random groups of people jumping in and asking-
Oh hell. Speak of the devil.
She lifted her head towards this new... person. At first she thought it was a guy, but on closer inspection? It was a girl... or at least, she thought it was a girl.
And oh look. She(?) was asking if they were busy. Oh no, not at all. It wasn't like they had lost most of their group over the past few days since they got here and they were trying to escape but with no avail. Nope, they had all the time in the world to get killed by... whoever this was. Seriously, hopefully someone would recognize her or something? She looked vaguely familiar, like most of her classmates, but you know. Aileen, as we all know by now, wasn't good with names.
"Uh... kinda. You'll... you'll have to talk to Aaron..." she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. "He's kind of the man with the plan..."
She didn't even have the energy right now to yell at people as usual, or at least not as much. She just felt tired and slightly depressed, is all. Maybe if it turned out she was something like Jacquard, she would start yelling again. But, well.
But, she had to keep her guard up, as usual. She couldn't spend this entire time worrying about those who had been killed, like Reika, Trevor, Tom, Lily, Richard, and god knew who else. Her hammer was secured right next to her on the stump, so if someone tried to get them, she could fight them off. She could grab it in a heartbeat if she ever attacked the group. Anyone. That included her, Aaron, DuClare, and yes, even Mil-ron. Because you know what? No one was going to mess with the group again on her watch.
Absolutely no one.
One word summed up how Aileen felt right now.
Miserable.
That announcement still rang in her head.
Rob Jenkins was still alive. And he... he murdered Lily. She didn't make it after all. And not only that... Richard Han. Toppled off a cliff.
Announcements were already painful enough for Aileen. It wasn't like she liked listening to them or something. But each time she heard that fuckheaded douchebag blather on, it was a reminder. It reminded them of how much time they had, and who they were unable to save. They were unable to save Reika, they were unable to save Trevor, they were unable to save Tom, and now they were unable to save Lily and Richard. And those were only the names Aileen recognized. They had to save as many people as possible, and there was already a sizable body count.
And now Lily and Richard were gone.
Even now, Aileen's mind was a whirlwind of emotions.
Sometimes she would feel sad. Sometimes she would feel angry. At what, though, she didn't know. Sometimes she would get angry at that fucker who had put them here in the first place, sometimes she would get angry at Rob for killing Lily, sometimes she would get angry at Jacquard for putting the group into chaos, sometimes she would get angry at Aaron for running away and leaving them behind, and sometimes she would even get angry at Richard and Lily simply for dying.
To be honest, she didn't know what exactly to feel.
Aileen didn't cry or anything. She wasn't the type to cry. But, she had been feeling a little out of it since that announcement. She was still trying to be alert, but she wasn't feeling so good.
Maybe the island was finally catching up with her.
Maybe that was it.
Home. It was where she wanted to be. She wanted to be somewhere familiar, not this shithole. It wouldn't bring anyone who died back, but it would help if one day she could make it home with as many people alive as possible. She didn't believe in this "last man standing" nonsense. She didn't buy it.
So, for the longest period of time, Aileen had been quiet, even more so than she was back at school. Right now, she had propped herself on a stump, face buried downwards in her hands.
It had seemed awfully quiet for a while. Aaron had talked to DuClare about what she knew, and neither she nor Milo knew what was up. Milo, she could get, but her? Bah.
But in any case, it had been actually been pretty quiet. Usually an entire swarm of people would come in, doing god knows what. And thank god for that. Aileen was not in the mood to deal with random groups of people jumping in and asking-
Oh hell. Speak of the devil.
She lifted her head towards this new... person. At first she thought it was a guy, but on closer inspection? It was a girl... or at least, she thought it was a girl.
And oh look. She(?) was asking if they were busy. Oh no, not at all. It wasn't like they had lost most of their group over the past few days since they got here and they were trying to escape but with no avail. Nope, they had all the time in the world to get killed by... whoever this was. Seriously, hopefully someone would recognize her or something? She looked vaguely familiar, like most of her classmates, but you know. Aileen, as we all know by now, wasn't good with names.
"Uh... kinda. You'll... you'll have to talk to Aaron..." she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. "He's kind of the man with the plan..."
She didn't even have the energy right now to yell at people as usual, or at least not as much. She just felt tired and slightly depressed, is all. Maybe if it turned out she was something like Jacquard, she would start yelling again. But, well.
But, she had to keep her guard up, as usual. She couldn't spend this entire time worrying about those who had been killed, like Reika, Trevor, Tom, Lily, Richard, and god knew who else. Her hammer was secured right next to her on the stump, so if someone tried to get them, she could fight them off. She could grab it in a heartbeat if she ever attacked the group. Anyone. That included her, Aaron, DuClare, and yes, even Mil-ron. Because you know what? No one was going to mess with the group again on her watch.
Absolutely no one.
((Milo Taylor continued from Could Have Been Worse))
Milo had been bored through most of the trek. Bored, dumb, and tired. So naturally, when they got to a decent stopping point, the first thing he'd done was pass out into a dreamless sleep.
When he woke up, the walking continued. Milo, his mental faculties working better than usual since he'd finally had a decent night's sleep that didn't involve punching horses, noted in the boredom that he'd gotten quite disgusting over the past few days. His nice suit was covered in mud, his sunglasses were cracked in at least one place, and he felt dried drool on his cheeks and chin.
This baffled Milo.
Eventually, they'd gotten closer to the sawmill, as Milo had overheard, and everyone had settled down. Milo had a vague recollection of the past few days, but most of it was a haze induced by sleep deprivation.
He vaguely remembered screeching that he was going to "skullfuck" a retarded girl, and then everything clicked. He grabbed his daypack and screamed into it at the top of his lungs. He took a deep breath, and then screamed into it again.
This was gonna be a long couple of days, if he even lasted that long.
He noticed a girl who seemed somewhat unkempt, albeit cute for a "low" person, sitting on a stump with her head in her hands and a hammer next to her, and decided to try and help his chances along a bit. He walked over, closer to her, although careful to maintain some sort of personal space- he had a hunch that he had not exactly endeared himself to her.
"Hey, uh... what in the hell have I been doing over the past couple of days? I haven't been acting like the lion-blooded demigod I am, have I?"
Milo had been bored through most of the trek. Bored, dumb, and tired. So naturally, when they got to a decent stopping point, the first thing he'd done was pass out into a dreamless sleep.
When he woke up, the walking continued. Milo, his mental faculties working better than usual since he'd finally had a decent night's sleep that didn't involve punching horses, noted in the boredom that he'd gotten quite disgusting over the past few days. His nice suit was covered in mud, his sunglasses were cracked in at least one place, and he felt dried drool on his cheeks and chin.
This baffled Milo.
Eventually, they'd gotten closer to the sawmill, as Milo had overheard, and everyone had settled down. Milo had a vague recollection of the past few days, but most of it was a haze induced by sleep deprivation.
He vaguely remembered screeching that he was going to "skullfuck" a retarded girl, and then everything clicked. He grabbed his daypack and screamed into it at the top of his lungs. He took a deep breath, and then screamed into it again.
This was gonna be a long couple of days, if he even lasted that long.
He noticed a girl who seemed somewhat unkempt, albeit cute for a "low" person, sitting on a stump with her head in her hands and a hammer next to her, and decided to try and help his chances along a bit. He walked over, closer to her, although careful to maintain some sort of personal space- he had a hunch that he had not exactly endeared himself to her.
"Hey, uh... what in the hell have I been doing over the past couple of days? I haven't been acting like the lion-blooded demigod I am, have I?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Aaron knew they were coming, of course. He'd tracked their progress through the field of stumps and logs. It was hard to be quiet in the outdoors, and Aaron had had experience listening for people even before the abduction. He was aware of the two guys off in the distance. They didn't seem to be preparing to open fire, so they were fine. He was aware of the girl right there in the group, talking to them. It gave him a bit of a thrill when Aileen redirected the newcomer's attention. There was no longer the slightest hint of a question as to who was running the show.
At the same time, Milo seemed to be returning to some semblance of sanity. That was... mildly disconcerting. Aaron wasn't really prepared to deal with Milo being a human being, at least, not one with reasoning capacity. He'd have to revise his plans. He'd have to assume Milo had been faking thus far. Maybe he was actually planning to play, and had been prioritizing his targets. From now on, Aaron decided, he would make sure that he and Milo shared a watch. That way, he could neutralize any threat before it spiraled out of control. Milo was still arrogant. If he was dangerous, he was underestimating everyone by tipping his hand now.
Turning his attention back to the present, Aaron tried to figure out who the new girl was. Right now, though, he was pulling blanks. Frustrating.
"Yeah," he said. "We've been fairly busy. I hope you'll pardon the imposition, but I'd like you to share your name and disclose your armament. We've had some unfortunate business these past few days."
Aaron was leaning against a stump, nice and casual. His hand was resting on the butt of his pistol. He'd taken to leaving the safety off. In all likelihood, it would be more than worth the slight risk to be able to respond more quickly.
At the same time, Milo seemed to be returning to some semblance of sanity. That was... mildly disconcerting. Aaron wasn't really prepared to deal with Milo being a human being, at least, not one with reasoning capacity. He'd have to revise his plans. He'd have to assume Milo had been faking thus far. Maybe he was actually planning to play, and had been prioritizing his targets. From now on, Aaron decided, he would make sure that he and Milo shared a watch. That way, he could neutralize any threat before it spiraled out of control. Milo was still arrogant. If he was dangerous, he was underestimating everyone by tipping his hand now.
Turning his attention back to the present, Aaron tried to figure out who the new girl was. Right now, though, he was pulling blanks. Frustrating.
"Yeah," he said. "We've been fairly busy. I hope you'll pardon the imposition, but I'd like you to share your name and disclose your armament. We've had some unfortunate business these past few days."
Aaron was leaning against a stump, nice and casual. His hand was resting on the butt of his pistol. He'd taken to leaving the safety off. In all likelihood, it would be more than worth the slight risk to be able to respond more quickly.
Well, he got to the point. Aaron Hughes didn't feel like making brief chit-chat (at least he recognised it as such, that ginger girl seemed to take her statement at face value), so now the ball was left idle in her court. Welp, change that. Aston flicked a curt smile towards the grand muskateers, and withdrew her gun from her waistband.
"All I've got is this. Bersa, some number or other. Half the ammo's gone, I...wasted it."
Small silence. There was an uncomfortable murmuring going behind the nerd who captured all her attention, but it wasn't of Aston's concern right now.
"The name's Aston Bennett, and unless you plan on saying right now you are aligned with Quincy Jones or Tiffany Chanders, I don't plan on wasting you. Not much ammo left."
She shoved the gun back into her jeans, double checking the safety before stowing it away from sight. Okay, so...time to rationalise these people and their little group.
So...if this group assembled at the start of the game, then this was not the same people. She needed to know who they'd met over the course of this sick thing, but that was for later. Either way, Aston's experience with groups led her to believe that, unless you had the gods of fate on your side, you couldn't ride this thing out unscathed. She honestly wanted to just plain out ask how many people they'd lost. Screw tact. Screw it with a rusty knife.
"So, I'll cut to the chase. Do any of you know, or have seen, Quincy Jones or Tiffany Chanders? I have...unfinished business with him in particular, and I'll leave it at that."
She felt like this was enroaching on dangerous territory here. Unpredictable.
"All I've got is this. Bersa, some number or other. Half the ammo's gone, I...wasted it."
Small silence. There was an uncomfortable murmuring going behind the nerd who captured all her attention, but it wasn't of Aston's concern right now.
"The name's Aston Bennett, and unless you plan on saying right now you are aligned with Quincy Jones or Tiffany Chanders, I don't plan on wasting you. Not much ammo left."
She shoved the gun back into her jeans, double checking the safety before stowing it away from sight. Okay, so...time to rationalise these people and their little group.
So...if this group assembled at the start of the game, then this was not the same people. She needed to know who they'd met over the course of this sick thing, but that was for later. Either way, Aston's experience with groups led her to believe that, unless you had the gods of fate on your side, you couldn't ride this thing out unscathed. She honestly wanted to just plain out ask how many people they'd lost. Screw tact. Screw it with a rusty knife.
"So, I'll cut to the chase. Do any of you know, or have seen, Quincy Jones or Tiffany Chanders? I have...unfinished business with him in particular, and I'll leave it at that."
She felt like this was enroaching on dangerous territory here. Unpredictable.
((Charlie DuClare continued from Could Have Been Worse))
She wasn't too sure what she'd been expecting.
Something like a miracle, maybe. That nice magic moment where chains get broken and choirs shake off their cobwebs because hey, hey, jigsaw just fell into place. Jigsaw was one piece useless information from Charlie about presumably failed escape plans she wasn't even really privy to, one part je ne sais quoi from Aaron, and if you tilted it just the right way it looked pretty goddamn beautiful.
And so she had that beautiful snapshot of something that was never going to happen.
Because it turns out that when you bring nothing to the table except for pocket lint and desperation, you will never ever get your miracle. You will finish talking, you will stand for a few seconds while the silence whispers Is there anything else? You will mark the look on Aaron's face as he realizes you're at the end of your usefulness. And though an untrained eye will never notice, you will shudder and cower and you will be curled up in a little ball.
And something funny happened then. Nobody said anything. Not with their words or with their faces or with their silence. Well, technically Aaron was saying some things and technically Charlie was even paying attention, but none of the words were the ones she knew she was gonna hear at any moment. Try as she might, she never heard him say Leave or Goodbye or Disappointed. Which couldn't be right, she'd thrown herself at that group based on a false promise and now... no, they were just waiting, or something? Any moment now and she'd hear those words.
That was two days ago now. So you tell her what happened in the meantime.
Not friendship, not yet at least. This one was... harder than last time. But easier than the first time, because these people at least weren't such aggressively unlikable idiots. Some sort of happy middle ground, maybe, where she wasn't letting loose all her hellfire and four-letter words at the drop of a hat, and she wasn't... growing to like them.
If you grow to like them, it'll hurt more when you run away. And God knows, Charlie DuClare, it'll take a lot more than a good group of friends and a better shot at survival to keep you from running away.
So now there was this girl. Aston Bennett. With a gun and with a lot of very pointed words. Asking about Quincy Jones, asking about Tiffany Chanders. Not threatening to kill them- good heavens, no, definitely not threatening to kill them- and yet Charlie was more scared than the time the girl had tried to murder her with a hammer, or the time she'd started talking shit to the angry retard with the tire iron.
Just say no, just say no, everyone just say no. You don't know Quincy, you don't know Tiffany, she has no reason to stick around here any longer. Just say no like Charlie just did, like Charlie actually just shook her head because words were occasionally hard, and just say no and then
And then she'll be gone, right?
She wasn't too sure what she'd been expecting.
Something like a miracle, maybe. That nice magic moment where chains get broken and choirs shake off their cobwebs because hey, hey, jigsaw just fell into place. Jigsaw was one piece useless information from Charlie about presumably failed escape plans she wasn't even really privy to, one part je ne sais quoi from Aaron, and if you tilted it just the right way it looked pretty goddamn beautiful.
And so she had that beautiful snapshot of something that was never going to happen.
Because it turns out that when you bring nothing to the table except for pocket lint and desperation, you will never ever get your miracle. You will finish talking, you will stand for a few seconds while the silence whispers Is there anything else? You will mark the look on Aaron's face as he realizes you're at the end of your usefulness. And though an untrained eye will never notice, you will shudder and cower and you will be curled up in a little ball.
And something funny happened then. Nobody said anything. Not with their words or with their faces or with their silence. Well, technically Aaron was saying some things and technically Charlie was even paying attention, but none of the words were the ones she knew she was gonna hear at any moment. Try as she might, she never heard him say Leave or Goodbye or Disappointed. Which couldn't be right, she'd thrown herself at that group based on a false promise and now... no, they were just waiting, or something? Any moment now and she'd hear those words.
That was two days ago now. So you tell her what happened in the meantime.
Not friendship, not yet at least. This one was... harder than last time. But easier than the first time, because these people at least weren't such aggressively unlikable idiots. Some sort of happy middle ground, maybe, where she wasn't letting loose all her hellfire and four-letter words at the drop of a hat, and she wasn't... growing to like them.
If you grow to like them, it'll hurt more when you run away. And God knows, Charlie DuClare, it'll take a lot more than a good group of friends and a better shot at survival to keep you from running away.
So now there was this girl. Aston Bennett. With a gun and with a lot of very pointed words. Asking about Quincy Jones, asking about Tiffany Chanders. Not threatening to kill them- good heavens, no, definitely not threatening to kill them- and yet Charlie was more scared than the time the girl had tried to murder her with a hammer, or the time she'd started talking shit to the angry retard with the tire iron.
Just say no, just say no, everyone just say no. You don't know Quincy, you don't know Tiffany, she has no reason to stick around here any longer. Just say no like Charlie just did, like Charlie actually just shook her head because words were occasionally hard, and just say no and then
And then she'll be gone, right?
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
Trust Sunil to sit on the fence when it came to making that kind of decision. Well whatever, he didn't appear to have anything against Garry's idea of them meeting up, so that was good enough for him.
"Alright, guess there's no harm in asking them," Garry said, starting to approach the group of five, "they obviously didn't try to attack that person-" He cut himself off when the person in question drew a gun from her/his pocket. Garry ground to a halt in mid-stride, staring at the scene ahead of him and immediately began to panic. 'Oh shit, a gun, they've got a goddamn gun out. Oh fuck, is that guy going to shoot everyone up here?!'
And to add to his problems, one of the males in the group suddenly, for whatever reason, started screaming into his bag. Which was odd, to say the least. Garry readied himself to sprint away and drag Sunil with him should things turn ugly. Fortunately, his fears were unfounded and nothing of what he imagined actually happened. The newcomer simply put the gun away again and the boy just appeared to calm back down again, Garry feeling absolutely relieved that a mass slaughter wasn't on the cards. "Okay, panic over, let's go talk to them," he said, sighing slightly at the end of his sentence.
He continued the approach, weaving around and hopping over the tree stumps in his path. "Hey, uh, hello there," he introduced himself once he was in hearing range. "Can any of you help us? We're looking for Rena Peters, she left our group a while back and we haven't been able to find her since. Have any of you seen her? We're also looking for Saul Fetteralf, you know, the husky mascot?"
It sounded all so familiar, then he remembered that he'd been through it before; when he was asking the two girls on the beach whether they'd seen Violetta. It had been a fruitless search though, Violetta died before he could reach her. And if history was to repeat itself, Rena was going to die before they reached her as well. 'No! I can't think like that! She's still alive, she has to be!'
While he waited for some kind of response, he lowered the barrel of the paintball gun so as to make sure he didn't appear threatening to the others. The last thing he wanted was to be shot down like some rabid wolf over some stupid misunderstanding.
"Alright, guess there's no harm in asking them," Garry said, starting to approach the group of five, "they obviously didn't try to attack that person-" He cut himself off when the person in question drew a gun from her/his pocket. Garry ground to a halt in mid-stride, staring at the scene ahead of him and immediately began to panic. 'Oh shit, a gun, they've got a goddamn gun out. Oh fuck, is that guy going to shoot everyone up here?!'
And to add to his problems, one of the males in the group suddenly, for whatever reason, started screaming into his bag. Which was odd, to say the least. Garry readied himself to sprint away and drag Sunil with him should things turn ugly. Fortunately, his fears were unfounded and nothing of what he imagined actually happened. The newcomer simply put the gun away again and the boy just appeared to calm back down again, Garry feeling absolutely relieved that a mass slaughter wasn't on the cards. "Okay, panic over, let's go talk to them," he said, sighing slightly at the end of his sentence.
He continued the approach, weaving around and hopping over the tree stumps in his path. "Hey, uh, hello there," he introduced himself once he was in hearing range. "Can any of you help us? We're looking for Rena Peters, she left our group a while back and we haven't been able to find her since. Have any of you seen her? We're also looking for Saul Fetteralf, you know, the husky mascot?"
It sounded all so familiar, then he remembered that he'd been through it before; when he was asking the two girls on the beach whether they'd seen Violetta. It had been a fruitless search though, Violetta died before he could reach her. And if history was to repeat itself, Rena was going to die before they reached her as well. 'No! I can't think like that! She's still alive, she has to be!'
While he waited for some kind of response, he lowered the barrel of the paintball gun so as to make sure he didn't appear threatening to the others. The last thing he wanted was to be shot down like some rabid wolf over some stupid misunderstanding.
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
Non-committal, generic responses were such a great tool. They had literally hundreds of uses.
Couldn't hear what someone was saying after the fourth time? Slight grin and a quiet chuckle.
Parents asking you if you definitely don't have any homework? "Meh, probably" is such a beautiful phrase.
Not willing to admit you didn't know this pop star everyone was rambling on about? A nod and a generic word in agreement and problem solved.
Not only were they extremely annoying for the other person (and Sunil was very much a hypocrite in this regard, as he'd keep on pestering people who sat on the fence to take a stance, particularly on relatively important matters such as this), but sometimes, a non-committal answer was just a reflex. Sometimes, you did have an opinion on the subject at hand, but didn't make it known. Sometimes, you didn't care that much, sometimes you couldn't be bothered to articulate your thoughts into coherent words and sometimes...
Well, sometimes, it was a bit embarrassing to admit that you were scared that the big group of people over there would react rather violently to an unwanted disturbance.
Rather then protesting Garry's decision further, he just let out another grunt that would probably be interpreted as reluctant agreement.
And so, Sunil was quietly cursing his luck when Garry decided to not press the point and made the decision for him. He couldn't really blame Garry, but damnit, he wasn't really in the mood right this second for social interaction. Give it a few minutes, maybe he would come round to the idea, but right now, he frankly didn't really want to go talk to that big group of his fellow Minnesotan high school students, one of whom may very well end up being his murderer.
And when that girl (whatserface. Sunil knew her name, it was on the tip of his tongue) pulled out her gun, Sunil's predominant feelings of fear and anxiety were mixed in with an ever so subtle hint of relief. Maybe he and Garry could just wonder off, forget this ever happened, hear their names later on in the announcements without even realising how close they were to the bearers of the names...
But no. Shit didn't end up hitting the fan. The fan was left completely clean, and so Garry, in response to the proverbial fan's cleanliness, decided to resume his original plan of walking towards the armed group, armed with the oh-so-deadly weapon of a paintball gun and flanked by his trusty partner-in-crime, a skinny Indian kid with a bunch of unopened, unloved tin cans.
And as Garry made his motives known, Sunil just stood a couple of paces behind him, arms behind his back, an insincere smile on his face, giving out brief, barely-noticeable nods of acknowledgement to all the others in the vicinity. Aside from gun girl. First impressions were often false, but boy, if someone's first impression is waving a gun about, you had to be forgiven for being slightly hesitant to trust them.
Couldn't hear what someone was saying after the fourth time? Slight grin and a quiet chuckle.
Parents asking you if you definitely don't have any homework? "Meh, probably" is such a beautiful phrase.
Not willing to admit you didn't know this pop star everyone was rambling on about? A nod and a generic word in agreement and problem solved.
Not only were they extremely annoying for the other person (and Sunil was very much a hypocrite in this regard, as he'd keep on pestering people who sat on the fence to take a stance, particularly on relatively important matters such as this), but sometimes, a non-committal answer was just a reflex. Sometimes, you did have an opinion on the subject at hand, but didn't make it known. Sometimes, you didn't care that much, sometimes you couldn't be bothered to articulate your thoughts into coherent words and sometimes...
Well, sometimes, it was a bit embarrassing to admit that you were scared that the big group of people over there would react rather violently to an unwanted disturbance.
Rather then protesting Garry's decision further, he just let out another grunt that would probably be interpreted as reluctant agreement.
And so, Sunil was quietly cursing his luck when Garry decided to not press the point and made the decision for him. He couldn't really blame Garry, but damnit, he wasn't really in the mood right this second for social interaction. Give it a few minutes, maybe he would come round to the idea, but right now, he frankly didn't really want to go talk to that big group of his fellow Minnesotan high school students, one of whom may very well end up being his murderer.
And when that girl (whatserface. Sunil knew her name, it was on the tip of his tongue) pulled out her gun, Sunil's predominant feelings of fear and anxiety were mixed in with an ever so subtle hint of relief. Maybe he and Garry could just wonder off, forget this ever happened, hear their names later on in the announcements without even realising how close they were to the bearers of the names...
But no. Shit didn't end up hitting the fan. The fan was left completely clean, and so Garry, in response to the proverbial fan's cleanliness, decided to resume his original plan of walking towards the armed group, armed with the oh-so-deadly weapon of a paintball gun and flanked by his trusty partner-in-crime, a skinny Indian kid with a bunch of unopened, unloved tin cans.
And as Garry made his motives known, Sunil just stood a couple of paces behind him, arms behind his back, an insincere smile on his face, giving out brief, barely-noticeable nods of acknowledgement to all the others in the vicinity. Aside from gun girl. First impressions were often false, but boy, if someone's first impression is waving a gun about, you had to be forgiven for being slightly hesitant to trust them.
Oh, look who had finally been woken up by the new person.
Milo had been spending most of the time either fast asleep or in a daze. Honestly, she couldn't blame him. And to be frank, it was possibly the best thing for him to be doing right now. Aileen could remember when he attracted Jacquard over by screaming that he was going to skull-fuck her. Compared to that, she'd prefer him to be asleep. Sure, he could actually be helping them plan things out, but sleeping was nice compared to his... past antics. Especially right now. Aileen still wasn't in the best of moods after that announcement.
But now he was up. He had promptly announced this by... appearing to scream into his bag. Aileen stared for a few seconds, and went back to the new girl. Okay? Now what-
Oh hell. He was asking her what he was doing the past few days? She honestly had no clue. If screaming at killers that you want to skullfuck them, making fun of their names, and feeling insulted over being called a "Ron" counted as something, sure. But he was probably asking about being asleep and/or dazed this entire time.
But it didn't help he had called himself a "lion blooded demigod". If by "lion blooded demigod" he meant "complete moron", well, sure, that would be a yes. Not only a yes, but a yes with flying fucking colors.
"You've been sleeping like a sack of potatoes", she mumbled, reaching up to rub her head again.
Okay, the last time she had a conversation with him, it didn't end well. For a few seconds, she almost expected it to end in some way similar. She didn't know, him screaming about how he wasn't a potato and that he wants to stab Lombardi in the butt with a fork or something. He wasn't that predictable, certainly. But you never know.
But enough of Milo.
After prompting from Aaron, new girl(?) introduced herself as Aston Bennett, and revealed her weapon; a small gun, a Bersa. Good news, she wasn't planning on attacking. Bad news, she was asking them whether they met two people and implying that... well, yeah. So someone who had a grudge against two people was now asking them if they had seen certain people implicitly so she could fucking kill them. That... that... she didn't even know what to make of that. Sure, some part of her still wanted to find Nick Reid, Hartmann, and Jenkins, and get back, but now... now? They were dealing with some girl who seemed to want revenge against someone, for reasons that weren't explained. She wasn't sure just how bad a thing it was.
And, oh hell. More people?
One of them she recognized, though once again, she couldn't remember his name. But she did remember that he apparently had a werewolf fetish or something along those lines. Maybe one of those "furry" things? She had no clue. The other guy, though... damn, who is that? It seemed as if the furry guy was the one doing all the talking and acting, though.
And oh great. Their new job, it seemed, was not to escape the island, but to find miscellaneous people that were lost. Two new people they had to look out for; someone named Rena Peters, and someone else named Saul Fetteralf, the "husky mascot". If she were in a better mood, she'd honestly make a comment about the guy obsessed with werewolves wanting to find someone wearing a husky mascot outfit. That's what these "furry" people liked, right, mascot outfits?
But, more importantly, she was sure that they hadn't ran into any of these people, at least not recently. Heck, they hadn't seen anyone else over at least two days by this point, she was sure.
"Guys... we haven't seen anyone else but each other for days..." she grumbled, answering both questions at once.
Would they stick around? Maybe. Heck, furry guy would be good in case they needed strength, judging by his looks. But these three people were off looking for someone else, including two people that the girl apparently wanted to murder.
Milo had been spending most of the time either fast asleep or in a daze. Honestly, she couldn't blame him. And to be frank, it was possibly the best thing for him to be doing right now. Aileen could remember when he attracted Jacquard over by screaming that he was going to skull-fuck her. Compared to that, she'd prefer him to be asleep. Sure, he could actually be helping them plan things out, but sleeping was nice compared to his... past antics. Especially right now. Aileen still wasn't in the best of moods after that announcement.
But now he was up. He had promptly announced this by... appearing to scream into his bag. Aileen stared for a few seconds, and went back to the new girl. Okay? Now what-
Oh hell. He was asking her what he was doing the past few days? She honestly had no clue. If screaming at killers that you want to skullfuck them, making fun of their names, and feeling insulted over being called a "Ron" counted as something, sure. But he was probably asking about being asleep and/or dazed this entire time.
But it didn't help he had called himself a "lion blooded demigod". If by "lion blooded demigod" he meant "complete moron", well, sure, that would be a yes. Not only a yes, but a yes with flying fucking colors.
"You've been sleeping like a sack of potatoes", she mumbled, reaching up to rub her head again.
Okay, the last time she had a conversation with him, it didn't end well. For a few seconds, she almost expected it to end in some way similar. She didn't know, him screaming about how he wasn't a potato and that he wants to stab Lombardi in the butt with a fork or something. He wasn't that predictable, certainly. But you never know.
But enough of Milo.
After prompting from Aaron, new girl(?) introduced herself as Aston Bennett, and revealed her weapon; a small gun, a Bersa. Good news, she wasn't planning on attacking. Bad news, she was asking them whether they met two people and implying that... well, yeah. So someone who had a grudge against two people was now asking them if they had seen certain people implicitly so she could fucking kill them. That... that... she didn't even know what to make of that. Sure, some part of her still wanted to find Nick Reid, Hartmann, and Jenkins, and get back, but now... now? They were dealing with some girl who seemed to want revenge against someone, for reasons that weren't explained. She wasn't sure just how bad a thing it was.
And, oh hell. More people?
One of them she recognized, though once again, she couldn't remember his name. But she did remember that he apparently had a werewolf fetish or something along those lines. Maybe one of those "furry" things? She had no clue. The other guy, though... damn, who is that? It seemed as if the furry guy was the one doing all the talking and acting, though.
And oh great. Their new job, it seemed, was not to escape the island, but to find miscellaneous people that were lost. Two new people they had to look out for; someone named Rena Peters, and someone else named Saul Fetteralf, the "husky mascot". If she were in a better mood, she'd honestly make a comment about the guy obsessed with werewolves wanting to find someone wearing a husky mascot outfit. That's what these "furry" people liked, right, mascot outfits?
But, more importantly, she was sure that they hadn't ran into any of these people, at least not recently. Heck, they hadn't seen anyone else over at least two days by this point, she was sure.
"Guys... we haven't seen anyone else but each other for days..." she grumbled, answering both questions at once.
Would they stick around? Maybe. Heck, furry guy would be good in case they needed strength, judging by his looks. But these three people were off looking for someone else, including two people that the girl apparently wanted to murder.
Milo sighed.
"What a helpful God-damned answer. You know, if you make it off this island you should be a fucking private investigator or something, what with your amazing deductive skills. I'm totally not being sarcastic right now, either," he said.
Time to bug the leader guy. Maybe he'll be a little more helpful.
Milo walked up to the guy who he vaguely recalled addressing as "leader-bro," and paused for a second. He then smacked himself, hard, in the face as punishment for saying "leader-bro" at any point in the past. The man appeared to be talking to someone he didn't recognize, but this was much more important as it concerned him and not them.
"Hey, uh, leader person whose name I don't know. What the actual fuck have I been doing over the past couple of days?" he asked loudly, deliberately interrupting their obviously unimportant conversation.
"What a helpful God-damned answer. You know, if you make it off this island you should be a fucking private investigator or something, what with your amazing deductive skills. I'm totally not being sarcastic right now, either," he said.
Time to bug the leader guy. Maybe he'll be a little more helpful.
Milo walked up to the guy who he vaguely recalled addressing as "leader-bro," and paused for a second. He then smacked himself, hard, in the face as punishment for saying "leader-bro" at any point in the past. The man appeared to be talking to someone he didn't recognize, but this was much more important as it concerned him and not them.
"Hey, uh, leader person whose name I don't know. What the actual fuck have I been doing over the past couple of days?" he asked loudly, deliberately interrupting their obviously unimportant conversation.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Sean. 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
((So, apologies for the long post, and also for any skipping that happens in the future here. Just gotta make sure a death finishes on time.))
The new people were all around now, making Aaron edgy and nervous. The two other guys had come over, and the girl had a gun out. The new boys seemed decidedly lacking when it came to heavy armaments, but that wasn't saying much at all. They could simply be hiding weapons, waiting to open up when they were sure there would be no effective retaliation. Aaron glanced at them. With just one of these external entities, he'd probably have risked a longer discussion, but right now he just wasn't in the mood. Aileen seemed to feel about the same way, attempting to get them to leave. That was a poor allocation of resources, though. They had a girl with a gun and a murderous demeanor to work with. You didn't throw away that sort of potential.
"Hang on a moment," Aaron said, looking at the girl. "Quincy Jones, medium height, short hair, a bit stocky?" It was what came to mind with the name, but also described half of Bayview. Whatever. Aaron was a good actor; feigning familiarity was a breeze, and by acting a bit unsure he let himself off the hook for the lie. "I saw him with Nick Reid, oh, four or five days ago, real buddy buddy, right when they killed one of my friends. It was while we'd split off from the rest of the group. If you get them both, I'll owe you. We'll watch for Jones ourselves, too, but we're trying to avoid trouble, not make it."
Milo interrupted, and in that instant, Aaron decided he had to go. The little prick was trying to sabotage this and get them all killed, or he was too dumb to realize that was the likely outcome. Once these people left, he'd sit everyone down and patiently and calmly explain why Milo would be better off working on his own. Perhaps the best way to frame it would be a recruitment scheme, say they were sending Milo off to rustle up some more support, which they certainly needed. In reality, of course, it would just be to get him out of their hair, but with a suitable lie, Aileen and Charlotte would probably be happy to play along. Milo annoyed everyone, after all.
"Anyways, if that's all, glad we could help you. Good luck."
Conversation over, unless she wanted to push it.
Glancing over to the others, Aaron said, "And no, we haven't seen Rena or Saul. Sorry. You might try the sawmill, though; there's shelter there, and it's a good stopping point if they were headed this way."
He didn't add that he suspected there was a trap of some variety there. Better to let these guys flush it first. That would improve his group's chance of avoiding anything truly unpleasant. The boys seemed harmless enough, too, so if everything was legitimate, they wouldn't cause any problems for Bounce and her mystery friend. Of course, there had been smoke from the direction of the sawmill a while back, but it was gone now. Any trouble related to it would have moved on as well.
With the problem neatly in hand, Aaron turned his attention away from the boys and finally addressed Milo.
"Sorry about that, had to make sure no one would interrupt me while I was dealing with important social interactions," he said. "For the past few days, you've been helping us out. We're a group which wants to see this through without any unnecessary bloodshed. We—"
And right then, the announcements came on. Aaron whipped his notebook out of his pocket, blowing off Milo completely, and started scribbling onto his list of the killers and the dead. Rein, the boy with the funny accent from that chess game, had apparently been crushed underneath a bunch of boxes. Aaron found that vaguely... well, not amusing, that would have been twisted, but...
Anyways, other people had died too, including Rob Jenkins. That was a very good thing; there was now one less antagonistic player out for Aaron's blood. That left his problem list with Jacquard and Nick, plus anyone else who still was holding onto crazy grudges from school. Oh, and Milo, if he really was faking his insanity as a ploy.
And then, everything went to pieces.
Liz Polanski was dead.
Aaron didn't give a damn about that. It had been inevitable. The problem was, she'd been killed by someone Danya didn't care to name. It took half a second to put that together with the helicopter that had been flying over the island lately. There were terrorists here, and they were hunting down people with escape plans. They'd killed Liz, who had already messed with her collar. Aaron didn't recall the helicopter leaving, though. They were still here. That meant they had more work to do.
It was impossible to say what Polanski had done to the collars, but Aaron had an idea of the long term effects, now. She hadn't disabled her collar. She'd removed the terrorists' ability to detonate any of them remotely, except through danger zones. This didn't mesh too well with what Charlotte had told him, but it didn't matter. It made enough sense. That, or they figured a manhunt made for better viewing.
The end result was still the same.
They were coming for Aaron and his group next.
It was the only thing that made sense. Why else would they still be on the island? Maybe they were just waiting until he pulled his trick. Maybe they were on their way even now. Somehow, that seemed rather likely.
That meant Aaron potentially had only minutes to enact his backup plan.
He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but on some level, he'd suspected it would. He had prepared himself for it. He knew just how to make it play out, and he had his materials ready. Over the past few days, he'd stripped the ends of his wire and uncoiled it. He had two good sections, now, perfectly ready to be hooked up, just waiting in his backpack next to the gloves.
He had to do this the right way, though. Calmly, he flipped two pages past his plan and scribbled something. Then, he turned back to the plan itself. It was time to give this a try.
He glanced around. If any of the newcomers were still here, well, hopefully they'd get the hint and split. Otherwise, he might have to encourage them to go. He put his hand on the pistol, then removed it again, leaving the gun in place. That came later. For now, he turned to Aileen and said, "Aileen, sounds like there are some new factors in play. Our timetable just advanced. Take this. Read it. We're doing this now."
Next, he said, "Charlie, give me a lookout. If you see anyone else coming, tell me."
Then, to Milo: "And you, hang on a sec. You've got the most important role."
The plans he was holding out to Aileen had been completed days ago, before he'd know of their likely flaw. They read as follows:
it seems pretty clear, given the lack of electricity around the island, that they don't want us to have acess to power. the question, then, is why? i think we can probly assume that its because electricity is some how dangerous to their plans. the thing is, there's electricity all around us. those cameras dont run off magic. i don't know any batteries that last for weeks, and they cant be solar because then a week of clouds would end this whole thing.
that means there has to be a generator somewhere.
i don't know where it is. yet. the thing is, we don't need to know where it is. i think i know the reasons they dont want us using power. now, the obvious one is, if we blow up the generator the cameras all break. thats too obvious though. the thing will be hidden somewhere incredibly difficult to find or get to, and theyll blow our collars if we go anywhere near it.
but that's the thing: it has to do with the collars.
i know a fair bit about electricity. you pour too much of it through complicated circutry, it melts. these collars are the prime example of complicated. thats why we're going to use the camera's power to break our collars. what we do is simple. person #1 takes the gloves i found and the stripped wire. they find a wire off one of the cameras, not too close, so they can't see what we're doing. they make a small cut to expose the conductive part. then they wrap one end of each of the wires i have to the collar of person #2. they take the other ends and hook them to the camera wire. this will channel the electricity through the collar and overload the computer components. since theres no spark, being a closed circut, person #2 will be safe and the explosives will not ignite (plus they are stable, or they'd go off every time students got too near fire).
at that point, we just switch the leads around the group. in about three minutes, every collar should be disabled and we'll be free to maneuver more freely. of course, someone will come after us, but that will take time. in the meantime, we can get to the generator, wherever it is, and take it out. this will break the cameras. at that point, we can't be tracked or observed. we break every other collar we find, free the others, and prepare a defense.
It was a beautiful plan. The only problem was, Aaron was almost positive it didn't have a hope of working.
"Aileen," he said, "you're person number one."
The new people were all around now, making Aaron edgy and nervous. The two other guys had come over, and the girl had a gun out. The new boys seemed decidedly lacking when it came to heavy armaments, but that wasn't saying much at all. They could simply be hiding weapons, waiting to open up when they were sure there would be no effective retaliation. Aaron glanced at them. With just one of these external entities, he'd probably have risked a longer discussion, but right now he just wasn't in the mood. Aileen seemed to feel about the same way, attempting to get them to leave. That was a poor allocation of resources, though. They had a girl with a gun and a murderous demeanor to work with. You didn't throw away that sort of potential.
"Hang on a moment," Aaron said, looking at the girl. "Quincy Jones, medium height, short hair, a bit stocky?" It was what came to mind with the name, but also described half of Bayview. Whatever. Aaron was a good actor; feigning familiarity was a breeze, and by acting a bit unsure he let himself off the hook for the lie. "I saw him with Nick Reid, oh, four or five days ago, real buddy buddy, right when they killed one of my friends. It was while we'd split off from the rest of the group. If you get them both, I'll owe you. We'll watch for Jones ourselves, too, but we're trying to avoid trouble, not make it."
Milo interrupted, and in that instant, Aaron decided he had to go. The little prick was trying to sabotage this and get them all killed, or he was too dumb to realize that was the likely outcome. Once these people left, he'd sit everyone down and patiently and calmly explain why Milo would be better off working on his own. Perhaps the best way to frame it would be a recruitment scheme, say they were sending Milo off to rustle up some more support, which they certainly needed. In reality, of course, it would just be to get him out of their hair, but with a suitable lie, Aileen and Charlotte would probably be happy to play along. Milo annoyed everyone, after all.
"Anyways, if that's all, glad we could help you. Good luck."
Conversation over, unless she wanted to push it.
Glancing over to the others, Aaron said, "And no, we haven't seen Rena or Saul. Sorry. You might try the sawmill, though; there's shelter there, and it's a good stopping point if they were headed this way."
He didn't add that he suspected there was a trap of some variety there. Better to let these guys flush it first. That would improve his group's chance of avoiding anything truly unpleasant. The boys seemed harmless enough, too, so if everything was legitimate, they wouldn't cause any problems for Bounce and her mystery friend. Of course, there had been smoke from the direction of the sawmill a while back, but it was gone now. Any trouble related to it would have moved on as well.
With the problem neatly in hand, Aaron turned his attention away from the boys and finally addressed Milo.
"Sorry about that, had to make sure no one would interrupt me while I was dealing with important social interactions," he said. "For the past few days, you've been helping us out. We're a group which wants to see this through without any unnecessary bloodshed. We—"
And right then, the announcements came on. Aaron whipped his notebook out of his pocket, blowing off Milo completely, and started scribbling onto his list of the killers and the dead. Rein, the boy with the funny accent from that chess game, had apparently been crushed underneath a bunch of boxes. Aaron found that vaguely... well, not amusing, that would have been twisted, but...
Anyways, other people had died too, including Rob Jenkins. That was a very good thing; there was now one less antagonistic player out for Aaron's blood. That left his problem list with Jacquard and Nick, plus anyone else who still was holding onto crazy grudges from school. Oh, and Milo, if he really was faking his insanity as a ploy.
And then, everything went to pieces.
Liz Polanski was dead.
Aaron didn't give a damn about that. It had been inevitable. The problem was, she'd been killed by someone Danya didn't care to name. It took half a second to put that together with the helicopter that had been flying over the island lately. There were terrorists here, and they were hunting down people with escape plans. They'd killed Liz, who had already messed with her collar. Aaron didn't recall the helicopter leaving, though. They were still here. That meant they had more work to do.
It was impossible to say what Polanski had done to the collars, but Aaron had an idea of the long term effects, now. She hadn't disabled her collar. She'd removed the terrorists' ability to detonate any of them remotely, except through danger zones. This didn't mesh too well with what Charlotte had told him, but it didn't matter. It made enough sense. That, or they figured a manhunt made for better viewing.
The end result was still the same.
They were coming for Aaron and his group next.
It was the only thing that made sense. Why else would they still be on the island? Maybe they were just waiting until he pulled his trick. Maybe they were on their way even now. Somehow, that seemed rather likely.
That meant Aaron potentially had only minutes to enact his backup plan.
He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but on some level, he'd suspected it would. He had prepared himself for it. He knew just how to make it play out, and he had his materials ready. Over the past few days, he'd stripped the ends of his wire and uncoiled it. He had two good sections, now, perfectly ready to be hooked up, just waiting in his backpack next to the gloves.
He had to do this the right way, though. Calmly, he flipped two pages past his plan and scribbled something. Then, he turned back to the plan itself. It was time to give this a try.
He glanced around. If any of the newcomers were still here, well, hopefully they'd get the hint and split. Otherwise, he might have to encourage them to go. He put his hand on the pistol, then removed it again, leaving the gun in place. That came later. For now, he turned to Aileen and said, "Aileen, sounds like there are some new factors in play. Our timetable just advanced. Take this. Read it. We're doing this now."
Next, he said, "Charlie, give me a lookout. If you see anyone else coming, tell me."
Then, to Milo: "And you, hang on a sec. You've got the most important role."
The plans he was holding out to Aileen had been completed days ago, before he'd know of their likely flaw. They read as follows:
it seems pretty clear, given the lack of electricity around the island, that they don't want us to have acess to power. the question, then, is why? i think we can probly assume that its because electricity is some how dangerous to their plans. the thing is, there's electricity all around us. those cameras dont run off magic. i don't know any batteries that last for weeks, and they cant be solar because then a week of clouds would end this whole thing.
that means there has to be a generator somewhere.
i don't know where it is. yet. the thing is, we don't need to know where it is. i think i know the reasons they dont want us using power. now, the obvious one is, if we blow up the generator the cameras all break. thats too obvious though. the thing will be hidden somewhere incredibly difficult to find or get to, and theyll blow our collars if we go anywhere near it.
but that's the thing: it has to do with the collars.
i know a fair bit about electricity. you pour too much of it through complicated circutry, it melts. these collars are the prime example of complicated. thats why we're going to use the camera's power to break our collars. what we do is simple. person #1 takes the gloves i found and the stripped wire. they find a wire off one of the cameras, not too close, so they can't see what we're doing. they make a small cut to expose the conductive part. then they wrap one end of each of the wires i have to the collar of person #2. they take the other ends and hook them to the camera wire. this will channel the electricity through the collar and overload the computer components. since theres no spark, being a closed circut, person #2 will be safe and the explosives will not ignite (plus they are stable, or they'd go off every time students got too near fire).
at that point, we just switch the leads around the group. in about three minutes, every collar should be disabled and we'll be free to maneuver more freely. of course, someone will come after us, but that will take time. in the meantime, we can get to the generator, wherever it is, and take it out. this will break the cameras. at that point, we can't be tracked or observed. we break every other collar we find, free the others, and prepare a defense.
It was a beautiful plan. The only problem was, Aaron was almost positive it didn't have a hope of working.
"Aileen," he said, "you're person number one."
Aston sniffed at the news. So he'd seen him? Lovely. If that's all he had, well, time to get out. It's not like ginger, bitch, or Milo Taylor could provide anything useful. They seemed to be a rather dysfunctional group of losers anyway, no point in sticking
Oh, and look at that, more people decided to show up, how delightfully unwanted. Now, Aston wasn't a journalist or some crap like that, so she really, REALLY was not up for doing tiresome interviews of everyone she came across, especially when she had some perfectly apt information at hand.
Aston smirked a little at his wishes. Contempt didn't travel well hidden by him, he should probably get some acting lessons.
"Whatever."
Aston turned tail and strolled away.
Now...where to go?
North sounded nice at the moment.
((Aston Bennett continues in Cracking))
Oh, and look at that, more people decided to show up, how delightfully unwanted. Now, Aston wasn't a journalist or some crap like that, so she really, REALLY was not up for doing tiresome interviews of everyone she came across, especially when she had some perfectly apt information at hand.
Aston smirked a little at his wishes. Contempt didn't travel well hidden by him, he should probably get some acting lessons.
"Whatever."
Aston turned tail and strolled away.
Now...where to go?
North sounded nice at the moment.
((Aston Bennett continues in Cracking))