"Just a few more minutes..." Peter mumbled as the light seeping through his eyelids overwhelmed the dark of sleep. Once he woke up, there'd be a new day to face. If he could just get a little longer to collect himself and plan out the day before getting up, then everything would be- wait a minute.
No, it wasn't a nightmare. Yes, it's real. Stop thinking silly thoughts. Game face on, NOW.
The bed under his body was too hard. There wasn't a warm blanket over him. He was wearing his jeans and shoes. Things just weren't adding up. Peter opened his eyes and bolted up from the ground. Green grass and blue sky surrounded him. Nearby, about two meters away, were his camping backpack and a smaller daypack, tagged "B004".
Right. Survival of the Fittest.
Is there a prize for being slow at figuring things out? I think I just won it.
Peter couldn't help but laugh. Just a few days before the trip, he had been browsing through his usual forum lurks, and happened across a thread discussing the statistics of Survival of the Fittest. Some kid had gotten all worried about an upcoming school trip, and the forum-goers had assured him that the chance of actually getting kidnapped was on the order of 0.05%. The dice clearly hadn't been on Peter's side then.
There were a lot of things to digest, like the fact that he was now in a life or death situation which would very likely result in the death of himself and everyone else in his class, or that he might have to partake in some of the killing. He remembered the little introduction demonstration Danya had put up for them. The smell of blood, the sounds of crying, the sight of death, all of those lingered in the back of his mind. But now was not the time to mull it over.
So when is? Don't run from this.
Peter went over to his backpack. He hadn't seen it earlier from where he had been dropped, but now he could see the sword that apparently was his assigned weapon. Probably better than a gun anyway, considering how bad his aim was. It had a long curved blade, but the style was not anything Peter was familiar with. Considering the kind of joke weapons he had seen in Version 3 of Survival of the Fittest, a sword was at least a passable weapon.
He put the thoughts of the sword aside and started to rummage through his backpack and the daypack. Peter hadn't brought as much of the outdoors gear as he had, like the ball of twine or the unbreakable water bottle. Not that it mattered since they had apparently taken his first aid kit, survival kit, and pocketknife. "Dammit," he muttered after a few minutes of trying to find the tools. They could've been useful, and not just for killing. At least they left his clothes and the snacks he had packed, two bags of sour cream and onion chips. Peter rummaged for a few more moments until his hands closed over a small hard object. "At least I got to keep my vodka and rum." His hiking boots were at the bottom of the backpack, so he pulled them out and swapped them with his runners. No sense carrying around extra weight and walking in sub-optimal footwear.
The daypack had a few of the useful survival tools that had been in his survival kit, so at least Peter wasn't totally lost in the woods. There was also a first-aid kit, which had far more things in it than Peter's own confiscated one had. Guess he couldn't complain too much about what they supplied. The rations and the water rounded out the supplies in the daypack. After clearing a little bit of room at the top of his backpack, he crammed the little daypack into the larger backpack. He'd packed a lot more than was necessary for a long expedition, but Peter didn't want to just leave his stuff out here in the middle of the tall grass.
I gotta stop stalling. There's a lot more to this than just hiking. Gotta put it all into perspective.
Finally, he strapped the sword onto the side of the backpack. Not the best place to put it for easy access, but nobody was nearby so there was no danger for the moment. He shouldered the large backpack, grunting at surprise over how much heavier it had gotten. At best, he could hike for about three hours with something this heavy. Hopefully, he'd find a place to rest and store unnecessary gear by then. After that, he could worry about the rest of the game.
Not later. Now, or else later is going to be when I'm staring down the barrel of a gun.
White Knight Nightmare
B004: Start
White Knight Nightmare
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(Alexander Campbell continues from "This one time, I had to use a lamp as a pillow.")
Alex walked through the overgrown grass towards the blinking dot on the reciever. Keeping low he tried to spot him, looking behind him to make sure Jonathan was still with him. He looked ahead to see Peter rising up from the grass, a sword strapped to the side of his daypack. "Fucking hell. That could do some damage." he murmured back at Jonathan.
He looked over the boy. "Peter something or other." he murmured to Jonathan. "Catholic kid. I used to take philosophy with him. We never spoke much, but he seemed smart enough." he said, looking forward again. Not the greatest sales pitch.
"Right. On three we stand up. If he tries to attack us..." he said "...try and aim for his knees or something..." he sighed. "Try and aim for the knees. Fuck man, i'm seventeen years old, why am I having this conversation." he said, shaking his head and sighing. "Right. 1... 2... 3." he said.
He stood up. "Hey!" he called out. "Danya's a cunt, and I'm not playing his game." he said. "I'm Alex, this is Jonathan." he said. "We want to talk." he said. He kept his own hands up, showing he was unarmed. Slowly he stepped forward.
"The way we figure it, you can play and almost definately die. Or you can try a third option." he said.
"We're going to try and find a way off this island." he said.
Alex walked through the overgrown grass towards the blinking dot on the reciever. Keeping low he tried to spot him, looking behind him to make sure Jonathan was still with him. He looked ahead to see Peter rising up from the grass, a sword strapped to the side of his daypack. "Fucking hell. That could do some damage." he murmured back at Jonathan.
He looked over the boy. "Peter something or other." he murmured to Jonathan. "Catholic kid. I used to take philosophy with him. We never spoke much, but he seemed smart enough." he said, looking forward again. Not the greatest sales pitch.
"Right. On three we stand up. If he tries to attack us..." he said "...try and aim for his knees or something..." he sighed. "Try and aim for the knees. Fuck man, i'm seventeen years old, why am I having this conversation." he said, shaking his head and sighing. "Right. 1... 2... 3." he said.
He stood up. "Hey!" he called out. "Danya's a cunt, and I'm not playing his game." he said. "I'm Alex, this is Jonathan." he said. "We want to talk." he said. He kept his own hands up, showing he was unarmed. Slowly he stepped forward.
"The way we figure it, you can play and almost definately die. Or you can try a third option." he said.
"We're going to try and find a way off this island." he said.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler nowave. 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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gambit508†
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:25 am
(Jonathan continued from "This one time, I had to use a lamp as a pillow")
Jon paused as he saw the kid, staying low to the ground like Alex, though it didn't help him much considering he still poked up obviously, he didn't know the weapon besides it being a sword and that really was enough. Alex explained his name was Peter and he was some catholic guy. That didn't tell Jon much besides he wasn't likely to pay the game, unless he was one of those fanatics who want all sinners dead, in which case Jon would.
"....aim for the knees..." Alex muttered as Jon shook his head, what he wasn't going to do that, that was stupid. Jon was about to mention this when Alex stood up, Jon doing as well. Alex pitched the idea toward Peter as Jon held on to the gun.
"Yeah, what Alex said, we're trying to escape, hopefully no more people would die, except Danya of course" Jon said as he spat at the name and glanced at Alex. "I know you don't like killing, but that bastard is going down, one way or another" Jon said as he glanced back at Peter. "So Peter, what's it gonna be?"
Jon paused as he saw the kid, staying low to the ground like Alex, though it didn't help him much considering he still poked up obviously, he didn't know the weapon besides it being a sword and that really was enough. Alex explained his name was Peter and he was some catholic guy. That didn't tell Jon much besides he wasn't likely to pay the game, unless he was one of those fanatics who want all sinners dead, in which case Jon would.
"....aim for the knees..." Alex muttered as Jon shook his head, what he wasn't going to do that, that was stupid. Jon was about to mention this when Alex stood up, Jon doing as well. Alex pitched the idea toward Peter as Jon held on to the gun.
"Yeah, what Alex said, we're trying to escape, hopefully no more people would die, except Danya of course" Jon said as he spat at the name and glanced at Alex. "I know you don't like killing, but that bastard is going down, one way or another" Jon said as he glanced back at Peter. "So Peter, what's it gonna be?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler gambit508.
At least now Peter knew what it felt like when he managed to sneak behind someone and surprise them by talking. His muscles tensed up when the silence broke, and he stopped to look around to find the source. A boy, Peter identified as Alexander Campbell, rose from his hiding place in the tall grass, followed shortly by another taller boy, Jonathan Jarocki. If they had been hiding in the grass, how long had they been there? Were they planning on killing him and taking his sword?
God, could I be any more paranoid? They had plenty of time to hit me and they didn't. They should be safe.
"Fuck," Peter muttered under his breath. He had liked the whole idea of not thinking about the game, of not considering what he'd do to survive and who would be in the way of that. Too many variables. Too many possibilities. The thought of having to face it all at once scared him. And now he was forced to face it right now. This at least gave him something to curb the fear with. Now Peter could also be pissed at his own weakness, pissed at his situation, and pissed at those two idiots who forced him into this.
Slowly, Peter let his heavy backpack slide off his shoulders as he listened to Alexander talk. The two of them didn't seem like they were hostile, but if anything went wrong, he'd need to be able to move. At first, it was just the standardized glurge of "I'm not playing"s, but when Alexander said he wanted to escape, Peter's opinion of him just went out the window.
"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." Seems oddly appropriate.
"Ha. Ha. Ha." Peter really could not believe that Alexander Campbell, a fairly sharp knife in the drawer, would think that an escape plan could hold any water. "There are patrols in the water. There's probably air surveillance. And then there's these fucking collars." Peter tapped the side of his own collar. "Tracking device, heartbeat monitor, microphone, and remote detonated explosives. This isn't just Danya you're trying to escape from. There's an entire organization behind it, with scientists, engineers, technicians, businessmen, and other experts. How do you plan on beating an organization with just a handful of kids?"
Maybe I should pull the punches? People are less aggravated when not crushed under a wall of cynicism.
A long time ago, when Peter had first happened across Survival of the Fittest, he had wondered about how one might escape from the island under the circumstances. His search on the internet had led him to a discussion about the lengths one would have to go to escape, which summarized that the average unprepared student would have no chance. It wasn't something Peter had wanted to accept, but the truth was in the facts. The same facts that he was now slinging at the two students eager to survive without playing. Peter didn't like the words coming out of his mouth now; he didn't like being the harbinger of bad news. But it was necessary, to keep them from trying something monumentally stupid that got innocent kids killed.
Necessary. Keep thinking that and it'll soon be necessary to kill for shits and giggles.
"Look," Peter said, trying to soften his tone of voice, "you already screwed your chances by talking about an escape plan. They're probably on to you now. Do you know what happened last time someone thought rebelling against Danya was a good idea? People died. Innocent people died." Peter stopped for a moment, trying to remember the names of the previous victims. "Neil Sinclair. You remember him right? He thought it would be a great idea to whack any camera he could see. Four girls, unrelated to him, died for that. Jazzalyn Creed, Wednesday Ryan, Trinity Sparks, and Melissa Diaz. People will die, but it shouldn't be like that."
It's great being all sentimental, but there's something a bit more important and dangerous right in your face.
Peter was observant, but he didn't process all the details at the same time. Sometimes these details were of utmost importance. It had taken a second take for Peter to realize what exactly Jonathan was holding. Maybe he shouldn't have mouthed off at them so quickly. If they wanted to gun him down for refusing, there wasn't much cover in the area to hide behind.
Why not just try to steal the gun? Preferably without killing them. The gun would be handy though.
God, could I be any more paranoid? They had plenty of time to hit me and they didn't. They should be safe.
"Fuck," Peter muttered under his breath. He had liked the whole idea of not thinking about the game, of not considering what he'd do to survive and who would be in the way of that. Too many variables. Too many possibilities. The thought of having to face it all at once scared him. And now he was forced to face it right now. This at least gave him something to curb the fear with. Now Peter could also be pissed at his own weakness, pissed at his situation, and pissed at those two idiots who forced him into this.
Slowly, Peter let his heavy backpack slide off his shoulders as he listened to Alexander talk. The two of them didn't seem like they were hostile, but if anything went wrong, he'd need to be able to move. At first, it was just the standardized glurge of "I'm not playing"s, but when Alexander said he wanted to escape, Peter's opinion of him just went out the window.
"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." Seems oddly appropriate.
"Ha. Ha. Ha." Peter really could not believe that Alexander Campbell, a fairly sharp knife in the drawer, would think that an escape plan could hold any water. "There are patrols in the water. There's probably air surveillance. And then there's these fucking collars." Peter tapped the side of his own collar. "Tracking device, heartbeat monitor, microphone, and remote detonated explosives. This isn't just Danya you're trying to escape from. There's an entire organization behind it, with scientists, engineers, technicians, businessmen, and other experts. How do you plan on beating an organization with just a handful of kids?"
Maybe I should pull the punches? People are less aggravated when not crushed under a wall of cynicism.
A long time ago, when Peter had first happened across Survival of the Fittest, he had wondered about how one might escape from the island under the circumstances. His search on the internet had led him to a discussion about the lengths one would have to go to escape, which summarized that the average unprepared student would have no chance. It wasn't something Peter had wanted to accept, but the truth was in the facts. The same facts that he was now slinging at the two students eager to survive without playing. Peter didn't like the words coming out of his mouth now; he didn't like being the harbinger of bad news. But it was necessary, to keep them from trying something monumentally stupid that got innocent kids killed.
Necessary. Keep thinking that and it'll soon be necessary to kill for shits and giggles.
"Look," Peter said, trying to soften his tone of voice, "you already screwed your chances by talking about an escape plan. They're probably on to you now. Do you know what happened last time someone thought rebelling against Danya was a good idea? People died. Innocent people died." Peter stopped for a moment, trying to remember the names of the previous victims. "Neil Sinclair. You remember him right? He thought it would be a great idea to whack any camera he could see. Four girls, unrelated to him, died for that. Jazzalyn Creed, Wednesday Ryan, Trinity Sparks, and Melissa Diaz. People will die, but it shouldn't be like that."
It's great being all sentimental, but there's something a bit more important and dangerous right in your face.
Peter was observant, but he didn't process all the details at the same time. Sometimes these details were of utmost importance. It had taken a second take for Peter to realize what exactly Jonathan was holding. Maybe he shouldn't have mouthed off at them so quickly. If they wanted to gun him down for refusing, there wasn't much cover in the area to hide behind.
Why not just try to steal the gun? Preferably without killing them. The gun would be handy though.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solomir. 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.
"So, Charlene. You think it'll be hard?"
"Hm?"
"College. You think it'll be hard?" Aaron Hicks was looking at her in the limo. Was he because he was speaking to her or just sizing her up? Charlene figured it didn't matter. She was kind of doing the same thing to him.
"My studies? Don't know just yet. I could go into anything. Tennis team is going to be pretty cool. You?" She gulped the glass of champagne in one gulp.
"Well, I've got football, but I'm not really thinking about school. I'll think about that in school. Doesn't matter much now." He laughed. Prompting a slight giggle from Charlene. Possibly the champagne. Didn't really matter much. They had a prom to enjoy ...
Charlene Norris woke up from her reverie, her eyes adjusting to the light as they took in the tennis court. Had this been a movie, one could have relished the irony that the school's star tennis player was starting her game on a tennis court. She got up groggily, as the effects of the gas wore off.
Whah? Was I drunk at a party again? As her mind returned to the real, she realized that that was not the case. For one, she didn't smell any different, and she was fully clothed. She stood up, knees bent, looking around as she rubbed the back of her neck and looked to the ground ...
Oh, no. The revelation hit her like a brick to the head. The metal band, coupled with the sight of Steven Digaetano's face on her sweatshirt gave her the full realization of her situation. Oh, no, no, no no. She was on SOTF. She didn't know much about it, but she did know one thing: people like her, the popular girls with bodies to die for, were rape targets. She looked down, panicked. About a meter away from her were two bags. As she walked towards them, she saw the regulation bag that all the students were given. She gave it a good look - "FEMALE STUDENT #31 - CHARLENE NORRIS." Yeah. That was her. She opened it , rummaging through everything, when she felt up something cold. She pulled it out, to find out she was holding a gun (specifically, an FN Browning HP - single-action semiautomatic pistol, weight one kilogram, holds thirteen 9 mm rounds per clip and one in the chamber - although Charlene had no idea about this). She looked it over, absentmindedly pushing a button on the grip - and the clip fell right out.
Shit. She picked it up, fiddling around with it, eventually putting it back in. She went back to her bag, finding and picking up the other two clips and putting them into her pocket (giving her forty bullets total - unbeknownst to her, there was also a bullet in the chamber as well as a full thirteen round clip). She noticed a small switch at the rear of the gun - it was the safety, although it wasn't until she flicked it and saw the red dot did she realize that there was something wrong with that, immediately flicking it back (she had never used a weapon, but she had seen movies. She knew safeties existed.). Charlene just closed her mismatched eyes and tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants, under her sweatshirt and tank top. She looked around, finally paying attention to her surroundings, and found three people slightly ahead and to her left. She walked around, eventually finding the gate out, her bags on her back, walking towards the three (whom she now recognized as being all male) there. When she got about ten meters from them, she called out in as calm a voice as she could muster (she actually did it pretty decently, given the circumstances):
"Hey, guys. Pretty fucked up, huh?" Please don't kill me ...
"Hm?"
"College. You think it'll be hard?" Aaron Hicks was looking at her in the limo. Was he because he was speaking to her or just sizing her up? Charlene figured it didn't matter. She was kind of doing the same thing to him.
"My studies? Don't know just yet. I could go into anything. Tennis team is going to be pretty cool. You?" She gulped the glass of champagne in one gulp.
"Well, I've got football, but I'm not really thinking about school. I'll think about that in school. Doesn't matter much now." He laughed. Prompting a slight giggle from Charlene. Possibly the champagne. Didn't really matter much. They had a prom to enjoy ...
Charlene Norris woke up from her reverie, her eyes adjusting to the light as they took in the tennis court. Had this been a movie, one could have relished the irony that the school's star tennis player was starting her game on a tennis court. She got up groggily, as the effects of the gas wore off.
Whah? Was I drunk at a party again? As her mind returned to the real, she realized that that was not the case. For one, she didn't smell any different, and she was fully clothed. She stood up, knees bent, looking around as she rubbed the back of her neck and looked to the ground ...
Oh, no. The revelation hit her like a brick to the head. The metal band, coupled with the sight of Steven Digaetano's face on her sweatshirt gave her the full realization of her situation. Oh, no, no, no no. She was on SOTF. She didn't know much about it, but she did know one thing: people like her, the popular girls with bodies to die for, were rape targets. She looked down, panicked. About a meter away from her were two bags. As she walked towards them, she saw the regulation bag that all the students were given. She gave it a good look - "FEMALE STUDENT #31 - CHARLENE NORRIS." Yeah. That was her. She opened it , rummaging through everything, when she felt up something cold. She pulled it out, to find out she was holding a gun (specifically, an FN Browning HP - single-action semiautomatic pistol, weight one kilogram, holds thirteen 9 mm rounds per clip and one in the chamber - although Charlene had no idea about this). She looked it over, absentmindedly pushing a button on the grip - and the clip fell right out.
Shit. She picked it up, fiddling around with it, eventually putting it back in. She went back to her bag, finding and picking up the other two clips and putting them into her pocket (giving her forty bullets total - unbeknownst to her, there was also a bullet in the chamber as well as a full thirteen round clip). She noticed a small switch at the rear of the gun - it was the safety, although it wasn't until she flicked it and saw the red dot did she realize that there was something wrong with that, immediately flicking it back (she had never used a weapon, but she had seen movies. She knew safeties existed.). Charlene just closed her mismatched eyes and tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants, under her sweatshirt and tank top. She looked around, finally paying attention to her surroundings, and found three people slightly ahead and to her left. She walked around, eventually finding the gate out, her bags on her back, walking towards the three (whom she now recognized as being all male) there. When she got about ten meters from them, she called out in as calm a voice as she could muster (she actually did it pretty decently, given the circumstances):
"Hey, guys. Pretty fucked up, huh?" Please don't kill me ...
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
"There are patrols in the water. There's probably air surveillance. And then there's these fucking collars. Tracking device, heartbeat monitor, microphone, and remote detonated explosives. This isn't just Danya you're trying to escape from. There's an entire organization behind it, with scientists, engineers, technicians, businessmen, and other experts. How do you plan on beating an organization with just a handful of kids?"
Alex had to frown. Peter had a point. "That's what they want you to think. They want you to think that you're powerless to change the situation. I disagree. I think, from what I've seen of this damn show, that every year something new happens that forces them to revise their design. They believe that we'll follow their parameters and directions. In essence, they underestimate us. They revise their design each time they do but regardless, they underestimate us."
"Look, you already screwed your chances by talking about an escape plan. They're probably on to you now. Do you know what happened last time someone thought rebelling against Danya was a good idea? People died. Innocent people died. Neil Sinclair. You remember him right? He thought it would be a great idea to whack any camera he could see. Four girls, unrelated to him, died for that. Jazzalyn Creed, Wednesday Ryan, Trinity Sparks, and Melissa Diaz. People will die, but it shouldn't be like that."
"As opposed to what?" he said. "Yes, four innocent people lost their lives. But they were dead the moment Danya chose their bus. Just like us. Everyone on this island is dead bar one person, whoever happens to be lucky enough to win this fucked up game. We're all dead Peter. We're just waiting for it to catch up to us... unless we find a way out."
He looked over as another joined their group, a girl. He didn't know her. She was one of the cadre of popular kids who didn't associate with his lot.
"Hey, guys. Pretty fucked up, huh?"
He smiled slightly and nodded. "Unbelievably so. I don't suppose you have a lighter on you?" he said.
"There's a way out. There has to be. Something they haven't noticed. Something they didn't think we would do. We just have to figure it out. But you're right. The way out isn't obvious. There's no means of escape." he said.
"But I have one idea." he said. He took off his daypack and crouched down, beneath the tall grass, and took a notebook out of his bag. He took out the pen they'd given him with the map and started to write.
"It doesn't matter that they know we're trying to escape. Because we're not. We're trying to get a message out. Take a disadvantage, make an advantage out of it. We're constantly under camera watch. Especially if we keep talking about escape. You think the microphone thing hasn't occurred to me? What do you think all the speechmakings about? If they think we're planning something dramatic, they'll keep watching us, keep broadcasting us. Rebels are good ratings draws, right? With all eyes on us, waiting for us to do something, we can communicate with the rest of the world. If we can figure out where we are, we can get the message out. With a little luck, we can get rescued."
He tore the piece of paper off and held it out to Peter, keeping it under the grass. "Pass it around." he said. "If you think it's a good idea, come with us. If you don't, good luck, we'll go our seperate ways. I'll trust you not to shoot me in the back, you can trust me to do the same." he said to the small group.
Alex had to frown. Peter had a point. "That's what they want you to think. They want you to think that you're powerless to change the situation. I disagree. I think, from what I've seen of this damn show, that every year something new happens that forces them to revise their design. They believe that we'll follow their parameters and directions. In essence, they underestimate us. They revise their design each time they do but regardless, they underestimate us."
"Look, you already screwed your chances by talking about an escape plan. They're probably on to you now. Do you know what happened last time someone thought rebelling against Danya was a good idea? People died. Innocent people died. Neil Sinclair. You remember him right? He thought it would be a great idea to whack any camera he could see. Four girls, unrelated to him, died for that. Jazzalyn Creed, Wednesday Ryan, Trinity Sparks, and Melissa Diaz. People will die, but it shouldn't be like that."
"As opposed to what?" he said. "Yes, four innocent people lost their lives. But they were dead the moment Danya chose their bus. Just like us. Everyone on this island is dead bar one person, whoever happens to be lucky enough to win this fucked up game. We're all dead Peter. We're just waiting for it to catch up to us... unless we find a way out."
He looked over as another joined their group, a girl. He didn't know her. She was one of the cadre of popular kids who didn't associate with his lot.
"Hey, guys. Pretty fucked up, huh?"
He smiled slightly and nodded. "Unbelievably so. I don't suppose you have a lighter on you?" he said.
"There's a way out. There has to be. Something they haven't noticed. Something they didn't think we would do. We just have to figure it out. But you're right. The way out isn't obvious. There's no means of escape." he said.
"But I have one idea." he said. He took off his daypack and crouched down, beneath the tall grass, and took a notebook out of his bag. He took out the pen they'd given him with the map and started to write.
"It doesn't matter that they know we're trying to escape. Because we're not. We're trying to get a message out. Take a disadvantage, make an advantage out of it. We're constantly under camera watch. Especially if we keep talking about escape. You think the microphone thing hasn't occurred to me? What do you think all the speechmakings about? If they think we're planning something dramatic, they'll keep watching us, keep broadcasting us. Rebels are good ratings draws, right? With all eyes on us, waiting for us to do something, we can communicate with the rest of the world. If we can figure out where we are, we can get the message out. With a little luck, we can get rescued."
He tore the piece of paper off and held it out to Peter, keeping it under the grass. "Pass it around." he said. "If you think it's a good idea, come with us. If you don't, good luck, we'll go our seperate ways. I'll trust you not to shoot me in the back, you can trust me to do the same." he said to the small group.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler nowave. 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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gambit508†
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:25 am
Jon rolled his eyes as Peter listed off reasons why this wouldn't work. Alex responded to him with some point about how they had targets already on them when a new figure entered the field and a feminine voice spoke.
""Hey, guys. Pretty fucked up, huh?" she said as Jon smacked his forehead, he knew that girl, her chest made it obvious. Last thing he needed right now was Charlene Norris to come over. He ignored her as he trained the gun on her, just in case, her type usually made it hard on people like them.
Jon watched as Alex started to write, with his height, he was able to look over the shorter student's shoulder very easily. He nodded as he watched what Alex wrote, made sense as the paper was passed to Peter as Jon sized up the group.
"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to be ready for players, somebody is going to be playing. Shit, according to Alex's doohickey, we already lost one, probaly more. I got a gun, which I should point out to you guys is loaded and armed, just in case you think of taking me out." Jon sighed, "sorry, I don't trust you, granted I didn't trust you guys back at Bayview, so yeah. Alex here got some GPS with the locations of everyone else, and you got that sword Pete." turning to Charlene Norris, "I don't know what you got, but I honestly hope you are more than the dumb bitch you seem to be, if you would excuse my bluntness.
Jon sighed as he looked at the trio, "Sorry for pointing it out, we may not escape, in fact we probaly won't escape, however there's people here I want off this island, I'm sure the same holds true for all of you as well"
""Hey, guys. Pretty fucked up, huh?" she said as Jon smacked his forehead, he knew that girl, her chest made it obvious. Last thing he needed right now was Charlene Norris to come over. He ignored her as he trained the gun on her, just in case, her type usually made it hard on people like them.
Jon watched as Alex started to write, with his height, he was able to look over the shorter student's shoulder very easily. He nodded as he watched what Alex wrote, made sense as the paper was passed to Peter as Jon sized up the group.
"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to be ready for players, somebody is going to be playing. Shit, according to Alex's doohickey, we already lost one, probaly more. I got a gun, which I should point out to you guys is loaded and armed, just in case you think of taking me out." Jon sighed, "sorry, I don't trust you, granted I didn't trust you guys back at Bayview, so yeah. Alex here got some GPS with the locations of everyone else, and you got that sword Pete." turning to Charlene Norris, "I don't know what you got, but I honestly hope you are more than the dumb bitch you seem to be, if you would excuse my bluntness.
Jon sighed as he looked at the trio, "Sorry for pointing it out, we may not escape, in fact we probaly won't escape, however there's people here I want off this island, I'm sure the same holds true for all of you as well"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler gambit508.
Alexander Campbell, Peter had deduced, was one of those smart aleck kids that thought the world would bow under their feet. If he really believed he could outsmart Danya's people, then there wasn't much Peter could do to convince him otherwise. This argument was not something he was going to come out on top of, because the other was too blinded by the carrot being dangled for him to see the facts.
Hard to beat someone that has a gun, when all I have is a sword.
Fucking idiots.
Peter would've said something particularly nasty at this point if they hadn't been interrupted by the appearance of a girl rustling her way through the tall grass. Charlene Norris. Peter could recognize those tits from anywhere. She'd been flashing those things around school since the day he'd started, and that didn't get into the more ridiculous things she'd do at some of the parties he'd seen her at. She also wasn't particularly bright, from what Peter could remember. Not somebody he'd want to get involved in a discussion about escaping. He gave her a glance acknowledging her presence.
Gotta admit, she IS hot. Also stupid.
At least her interruption had given him time to rethink what he was about to say. Acting like an insufferable prick to an insufferable idiot when guns were involved was definitely not... tactful.
And then Alexander Campbell had gone on and on about how there might be a way out, presumably his inspired master plan. If he was going to just keep talking about it, Peter was just going to leave. He dug the island map out from its hiding spot in his pocket. There was a building not too far in the distance, so he was probably at the greens. He could at least store his sleeping bag and some of his heavier clothes away there, so it would be his next destination.
Also, there might be fresh meat there to carve. Guns are such a killjoy.
A piece of paper flitting in the gentle breeze drew Peter's attention back to the two guys in front of him. Well, at least he had smartened up a little and stopped using nearly as easily trackable ways of communication. He took the paper and held it up to read.
For the record, I think they were trying to keep the paper covert. Nice job breaking it.
It was still a flawed idea, but it had a better chance of working than an escape. Relatively, a 1% increase from 0 was an amazing increase in odds, but it was still objectively 1% odds. "This is a stupid plan," Peter started, but understanding hit him. These guys had already felt the fear of the game, and were trying to cling on to the one thing positive they had left: hope.
False hope. They're still going to die and it's gonna suck for them.
As long as they had that, they wouldn't play. In a way, Peter would be protecting them from some of the horrors of the game. They needed that hope, and Peter was about to just blow the whole thing up in their faces. But there was still time to recover.
Ooooh. How about ninjas? That'll keep them from gunning you down.
"I have no idea how you plan on finding the tank you need for this plan. Do you guys even know how to drive a tank? Jeez...." It wasn't the best of misinformation campaigns, but hopefully Alexander and Jonathan would get that he wasn't totally against their plan. "There might still be some cars around. Hopefully one of you guys know how to hotwire." He passed the sheet of paper back to Alexander, when Jonathan made a comment that made Peter scowl. A kid like that wasn't doing Alexander's plan any favors. Still, Peter had to give them whatever hope they could find. "Also, make good use of your maps. Make sure everyone you find studies it carefully. If there's any way off the island, your first hint will be there."
Wow. Could I be any less clear? Nobody's going to get it because nobody picks apart sentences like me.
Maybe they wouldn't understand it. Peter sometimes put way too much subtlety into his words, which were offset by the times he'd say something without thinking. If they could find somebody to recognize the map and dispatch help....
Peter shook the idea out of his head. He wasn't going to get suckered into it like some others. He needed to stay focused on what was real and in front of him.
Real: three people that are also in a kill or be killed situation. If I get lucky, I can kill all three. Starting with the gun.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder with a grunt. "Good luck with your plan. You'll need it." Peter started walking, taking large steps over the annoying tall grass. It didn't look like a particularly short walk over to the building. There'd be some time to think while he walked.
Boooooring. I hope there's someone to cut up in that building.
Hard to beat someone that has a gun, when all I have is a sword.
Fucking idiots.
Peter would've said something particularly nasty at this point if they hadn't been interrupted by the appearance of a girl rustling her way through the tall grass. Charlene Norris. Peter could recognize those tits from anywhere. She'd been flashing those things around school since the day he'd started, and that didn't get into the more ridiculous things she'd do at some of the parties he'd seen her at. She also wasn't particularly bright, from what Peter could remember. Not somebody he'd want to get involved in a discussion about escaping. He gave her a glance acknowledging her presence.
Gotta admit, she IS hot. Also stupid.
At least her interruption had given him time to rethink what he was about to say. Acting like an insufferable prick to an insufferable idiot when guns were involved was definitely not... tactful.
And then Alexander Campbell had gone on and on about how there might be a way out, presumably his inspired master plan. If he was going to just keep talking about it, Peter was just going to leave. He dug the island map out from its hiding spot in his pocket. There was a building not too far in the distance, so he was probably at the greens. He could at least store his sleeping bag and some of his heavier clothes away there, so it would be his next destination.
Also, there might be fresh meat there to carve. Guns are such a killjoy.
A piece of paper flitting in the gentle breeze drew Peter's attention back to the two guys in front of him. Well, at least he had smartened up a little and stopped using nearly as easily trackable ways of communication. He took the paper and held it up to read.
For the record, I think they were trying to keep the paper covert. Nice job breaking it.
It was still a flawed idea, but it had a better chance of working than an escape. Relatively, a 1% increase from 0 was an amazing increase in odds, but it was still objectively 1% odds. "This is a stupid plan," Peter started, but understanding hit him. These guys had already felt the fear of the game, and were trying to cling on to the one thing positive they had left: hope.
False hope. They're still going to die and it's gonna suck for them.
As long as they had that, they wouldn't play. In a way, Peter would be protecting them from some of the horrors of the game. They needed that hope, and Peter was about to just blow the whole thing up in their faces. But there was still time to recover.
Ooooh. How about ninjas? That'll keep them from gunning you down.
"I have no idea how you plan on finding the tank you need for this plan. Do you guys even know how to drive a tank? Jeez...." It wasn't the best of misinformation campaigns, but hopefully Alexander and Jonathan would get that he wasn't totally against their plan. "There might still be some cars around. Hopefully one of you guys know how to hotwire." He passed the sheet of paper back to Alexander, when Jonathan made a comment that made Peter scowl. A kid like that wasn't doing Alexander's plan any favors. Still, Peter had to give them whatever hope they could find. "Also, make good use of your maps. Make sure everyone you find studies it carefully. If there's any way off the island, your first hint will be there."
Wow. Could I be any less clear? Nobody's going to get it because nobody picks apart sentences like me.
Maybe they wouldn't understand it. Peter sometimes put way too much subtlety into his words, which were offset by the times he'd say something without thinking. If they could find somebody to recognize the map and dispatch help....
Peter shook the idea out of his head. He wasn't going to get suckered into it like some others. He needed to stay focused on what was real and in front of him.
Real: three people that are also in a kill or be killed situation. If I get lucky, I can kill all three. Starting with the gun.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder with a grunt. "Good luck with your plan. You'll need it." Peter started walking, taking large steps over the annoying tall grass. It didn't look like a particularly short walk over to the building. There'd be some time to think while he walked.
Boooooring. I hope there's someone to cut up in that building.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solomir. 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.
((Eiko Haraguchi START))
The same door that Peter headed towards opened, revealing Eiko as few had seen her. Normally in school, she would dress impeccably, with high-class outfits that seemed just a bit out of place at school. But lately she'd been loosening up at school, dressing like she wasn't at the office. Thus she currently wore a green polo shirt and khakis, though she kept her shoes, purse, and glasses, naturally.
But even when she'd loosened her wardrobe, she's always made sure to wear them in a formal fashion, neat and professional. Such was not the case here. Eiko was a mess. She wore her glasses askew and her makeup was beginning to run. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was ashamed to admit that she'd cracked her facade when the truth of the matter sank in.
But really, how could she not? All her life, her parents had made sure that their darling daughter was ready for anything that had come her way, for any challenge that she could meet on the way to success. Her life was a carefully calculated balance, scheduled on a minute-by-minute basis. The studious, hardworking world of Japan necessitated that she work hard and intelligently. She kept on top of her studies, earning only the best grades, and even managed to make a few friends in the meantime.
Moving to Minnesota was a bit of a stumbling block, but she'd come out of it well, since she was already fluent in the language before she came. The relaxed academic standards at the school meant that she could concentrate more on a social life. She'd been open, talking to many people and hitting it off with some of them. She was well on track to graduating with honors, with plenty of contacts to network with during her college years.
Then this bombshell hit her, and none of it mattered. There were two options available to her: die and waste all of her efforts thus far, or kill her way out of the island, ruining her reputation and preventing her from ever going to college or holding a job for the rest of her life. No murderer had ever gone on to be an executive. Not one. The worst part was, she could have avoided this. She could have taken precautions like she always did. The odds were slim that this would happen to her, true, but she could have easily reduced them to zero!
As she stumbled out of the mansion in shock, she noticed Peter Siu walking towards her. She stepped back before remembering who she was thinking of. Peter was a good, kind person, a member of the Christian club, which she visited once out of curiosity. Unlike so many religious Americans she'd seen, he was genuinely concerned with the well-being of other people and his mannerisms didn't reek of insincerity like some people thought hers did.
That was a painful thought.
"Peter," she said, gathering her breath and thinking of what to say to him.
The same door that Peter headed towards opened, revealing Eiko as few had seen her. Normally in school, she would dress impeccably, with high-class outfits that seemed just a bit out of place at school. But lately she'd been loosening up at school, dressing like she wasn't at the office. Thus she currently wore a green polo shirt and khakis, though she kept her shoes, purse, and glasses, naturally.
But even when she'd loosened her wardrobe, she's always made sure to wear them in a formal fashion, neat and professional. Such was not the case here. Eiko was a mess. She wore her glasses askew and her makeup was beginning to run. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was ashamed to admit that she'd cracked her facade when the truth of the matter sank in.
But really, how could she not? All her life, her parents had made sure that their darling daughter was ready for anything that had come her way, for any challenge that she could meet on the way to success. Her life was a carefully calculated balance, scheduled on a minute-by-minute basis. The studious, hardworking world of Japan necessitated that she work hard and intelligently. She kept on top of her studies, earning only the best grades, and even managed to make a few friends in the meantime.
Moving to Minnesota was a bit of a stumbling block, but she'd come out of it well, since she was already fluent in the language before she came. The relaxed academic standards at the school meant that she could concentrate more on a social life. She'd been open, talking to many people and hitting it off with some of them. She was well on track to graduating with honors, with plenty of contacts to network with during her college years.
Then this bombshell hit her, and none of it mattered. There were two options available to her: die and waste all of her efforts thus far, or kill her way out of the island, ruining her reputation and preventing her from ever going to college or holding a job for the rest of her life. No murderer had ever gone on to be an executive. Not one. The worst part was, she could have avoided this. She could have taken precautions like she always did. The odds were slim that this would happen to her, true, but she could have easily reduced them to zero!
As she stumbled out of the mansion in shock, she noticed Peter Siu walking towards her. She stepped back before remembering who she was thinking of. Peter was a good, kind person, a member of the Christian club, which she visited once out of curiosity. Unlike so many religious Americans she'd seen, he was genuinely concerned with the well-being of other people and his mannerisms didn't reek of insincerity like some people thought hers did.
That was a painful thought.
"Peter," she said, gathering her breath and thinking of what to say to him.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
-
Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
[[Hayley Kelly continued from We're All Guilty Anyways]]
Hayley made a face.
Fuck, maybe me and Maddy would have been better off planning a bit more, first? Where the fuck are we even going? Rescue mission my ass, we don't even know where Ema is...we don't know where anything is. Shit, don't we have a map? Why the fuck aren't we- oh yeah, that won't help seeing as we DON'T KNOW WHERE WE'RE TRYING TO GO. Fuck this fucking game, fuck all of it, ugh...I need a fucking cigarette...
She held her sword tight under her armpit as she pulled the second cigarette from her pack, lighting it and taking a long, steady pull before exhaling. She took a look at Maddy, to make sure the other girl was okay, before continuing to walk.
The cottage they'd been in seemed to be quite close to a giant, gorgeous mansion. They'd considered taking it as their next destination, but they figured holing up in a mansion was just as bad as holing up in a cottage. Besides, they'd be at all sorts of tactical disadvantages going in. So that was out. They'd kept going, and found themselves...well...here. It's like fucking Club Med up in this shit. A tennis court? A putting green? Wonder how they got whatever rich asshole that lived here to leave...probably blew his head off. Heh...
Hayley sighed. There was something hilarious about winding up on a rich man's 'fitness center' in the middle of fucking Survival of the Fittest, but she was too tired to laugh. Right now their goal was to find people...people...
Oh look, people. Fuck, well, Ema's not there, maybe we should just-holy fuck!
"ALEX!" Hayley shouted, spotting him amongst the other students. She grinned- he was the perfect person to have on her side. Loyal to a fault. She motioned to Madelyn to follow as she ran towards him, cigarette held tight in her hand-
She slowed. He was standing with another boy, and he had a gun. Someone else was there too...Charlene. Hayley knew her by reputation.
But more urgently- there was a boy with a gun.
Hayley stopped in her tracks about ten feet away with them. "Hey, uh, I don't know who you are, but I'm not here to, like, kill you or anything. Just here to bother this asshole," she said, motioning towards Alex. Even as she said so, she didn't loosen her hold on her sword.
Fuck...please don't do anything stupid, man...
Hayley made a face.
Fuck, maybe me and Maddy would have been better off planning a bit more, first? Where the fuck are we even going? Rescue mission my ass, we don't even know where Ema is...we don't know where anything is. Shit, don't we have a map? Why the fuck aren't we- oh yeah, that won't help seeing as we DON'T KNOW WHERE WE'RE TRYING TO GO. Fuck this fucking game, fuck all of it, ugh...I need a fucking cigarette...
She held her sword tight under her armpit as she pulled the second cigarette from her pack, lighting it and taking a long, steady pull before exhaling. She took a look at Maddy, to make sure the other girl was okay, before continuing to walk.
The cottage they'd been in seemed to be quite close to a giant, gorgeous mansion. They'd considered taking it as their next destination, but they figured holing up in a mansion was just as bad as holing up in a cottage. Besides, they'd be at all sorts of tactical disadvantages going in. So that was out. They'd kept going, and found themselves...well...here. It's like fucking Club Med up in this shit. A tennis court? A putting green? Wonder how they got whatever rich asshole that lived here to leave...probably blew his head off. Heh...
Hayley sighed. There was something hilarious about winding up on a rich man's 'fitness center' in the middle of fucking Survival of the Fittest, but she was too tired to laugh. Right now their goal was to find people...people...
Oh look, people. Fuck, well, Ema's not there, maybe we should just-holy fuck!
"ALEX!" Hayley shouted, spotting him amongst the other students. She grinned- he was the perfect person to have on her side. Loyal to a fault. She motioned to Madelyn to follow as she ran towards him, cigarette held tight in her hand-
She slowed. He was standing with another boy, and he had a gun. Someone else was there too...Charlene. Hayley knew her by reputation.
But more urgently- there was a boy with a gun.
Hayley stopped in her tracks about ten feet away with them. "Hey, uh, I don't know who you are, but I'm not here to, like, kill you or anything. Just here to bother this asshole," she said, motioning towards Alex. Even as she said so, she didn't loosen her hold on her sword.
Fuck...please don't do anything stupid, man...
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.
[[ Madelyn Prowers continued from We're All Guilty Anyways ]]
Madelyn was beginning to regret leaving the groundskeeper's cabin. For one thing, she hadn't really thought about how exactly they were going to find Ema in the first place. The other thing was that she hadn't realized just how big the island probably was. They had seen the mansion in the distance as they left the cabin and decided against going there, since it just lead to the same problem they had at the hut, except more rooms for people to hide in and possibly get the jump on them. Instead, they decided to go the opposite way, which ended up leading them to a particularly well kept area that made Madelyn feel like she'd just wandered into a country club.
"Heh, I feel like we should be watching out for someone yelling 'Fore!' more than kids with guns right now." Madelyn joked as Hayley lit up a cigarette and checked on her. She was fine now. She was on an adventure... at least that's what she kept telling herself. As long as she was able to stay positive, she felt like she could take on the world.
The makeshift spear (which was better than just calling it a sharp pointy stick) was nice to have, for more reasons than the obvious one. It was tall enough that she could use it as a walking stick as well, digging the blunt end into the ground to help her keep her footing. Her Chuck Taylors weren't exactly the most comfortable shoes in the world to be walking around in, but she'd forgotten to switch them out for her hiking boots back at the cabin. Ahh well, I'll just have to do that later. Right now, it's more important that we find Ema.
It wasn't long before the duo spotted a few people in the distance. At first, Madelyn didn't recognize a single person there, and Ema definitely wasn't with them, but sure enough, Hayley spotted someone she apparently knew quite well. Alex. One of the people on their short list of the Trusted. Madelyn smiled as Hayley motioned for her to follow her, breaking off into a run. Before long, the duo had joined the group... and then suddenly realized that there was a boy with a gun there as well, someone that neither of them had ever met.
The only person she had recognized was now off in the distance, heading towards a building; Peter. They had talked occasionally at school about religion and homosexuality, and how they both agreed that it shouldn't be something that the church should frown upon. Granted, they both had a vested interest in the outcome of the argument, seeing as how they were both... more sexually free than some of the more conservative members of the clergy preferred. Unfortunately, he had already begun to wander off before Hayley and her reached the group. Things were looking pretty grim so far.
"Hey, uh, I don't know who you are, but I'm not here to, like, kill you or anything. Just here to bother this asshole," she said as she motioned towards Alex. Madelyn smiled as she stood with her 'spear' at her side, hoping that everyone would be cool.
Madelyn was beginning to regret leaving the groundskeeper's cabin. For one thing, she hadn't really thought about how exactly they were going to find Ema in the first place. The other thing was that she hadn't realized just how big the island probably was. They had seen the mansion in the distance as they left the cabin and decided against going there, since it just lead to the same problem they had at the hut, except more rooms for people to hide in and possibly get the jump on them. Instead, they decided to go the opposite way, which ended up leading them to a particularly well kept area that made Madelyn feel like she'd just wandered into a country club.
"Heh, I feel like we should be watching out for someone yelling 'Fore!' more than kids with guns right now." Madelyn joked as Hayley lit up a cigarette and checked on her. She was fine now. She was on an adventure... at least that's what she kept telling herself. As long as she was able to stay positive, she felt like she could take on the world.
The makeshift spear (which was better than just calling it a sharp pointy stick) was nice to have, for more reasons than the obvious one. It was tall enough that she could use it as a walking stick as well, digging the blunt end into the ground to help her keep her footing. Her Chuck Taylors weren't exactly the most comfortable shoes in the world to be walking around in, but she'd forgotten to switch them out for her hiking boots back at the cabin. Ahh well, I'll just have to do that later. Right now, it's more important that we find Ema.
It wasn't long before the duo spotted a few people in the distance. At first, Madelyn didn't recognize a single person there, and Ema definitely wasn't with them, but sure enough, Hayley spotted someone she apparently knew quite well. Alex. One of the people on their short list of the Trusted. Madelyn smiled as Hayley motioned for her to follow her, breaking off into a run. Before long, the duo had joined the group... and then suddenly realized that there was a boy with a gun there as well, someone that neither of them had ever met.
The only person she had recognized was now off in the distance, heading towards a building; Peter. They had talked occasionally at school about religion and homosexuality, and how they both agreed that it shouldn't be something that the church should frown upon. Granted, they both had a vested interest in the outcome of the argument, seeing as how they were both... more sexually free than some of the more conservative members of the clergy preferred. Unfortunately, he had already begun to wander off before Hayley and her reached the group. Things were looking pretty grim so far.
"Hey, uh, I don't know who you are, but I'm not here to, like, kill you or anything. Just here to bother this asshole," she said as she motioned towards Alex. Madelyn smiled as she stood with her 'spear' at her side, hoping that everyone would be cool.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Lawther. 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.
"Unbelievably so. I don't suppose you have a lighter on you?"
Charlene smirked as the black haired blazer boy jokingly asked for a lighter before he went into some spiel about how it was possible to get out of the game so long as they exposed themselves (Which seemed weird. Wouldn't you want to keep an escape plan secret?), and then started writing on a piece of notebook paper, passing it around. It was then that the tall guy with the scars started to speak.
"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to be ready for players, somebody is going to be playing. Shit, according to Alex's doohickey, we already lost one, probably more. I got a gun, which I should point out to you guys is loaded and armed, just in case you think of taking me out." Jon sighed, "sorry, I don't trust you, granted I didn't trust you guys back at Bayview, so yeah. Alex here got some GPS with the locations of everyone else, and you got that sword Pete." It was then that he turned to Charlene, gun pointed at her.
"I don't know what you got, but I honestly hope you are more than the dumb bitch you seem to be, if you would excuse my bluntness. Sorry for pointing it out, we may not escape, in fact we probably won't escape, however there's people here I want off this island, I'm sure the same holds true for all of you as well." Then the guy with the sword, presumably Pete, started to speak about tanks and cars or something. As he passed the note back to Alex, Charlene reached out and read the note, cocking her eyebrow as she did so.
What the ... is he really expecting us to pull this off?
Charlene started writing on the paper. The thing that nobody (not even Charlene herself) knew was that Charlene wasn't as dumb as she was made out to be. In reality, all the partying she did subjected her to a sort of mental atrophy. As she never applied herself, she never did that well in class. However, she was prone to flashes of intelligence.
Tell me how we can get our coordinates. As far as I know, that thing only shows where people are. And even if we find out where we are, how to we tell anyone who's watching? As she gave back the paper, she spoke to Jon, annoyed.
"Well, I'm so glad for the vote of confidence in my abilities. It's only too bad that I have this." She reached into her jeans and pulled out the pistol, waving it around so that the two of them could see it (she had only just now realized that Pete had left). "So yeah, Alex, I guess if I use this right, I do have a lighter."
Charlene smirked as the black haired blazer boy jokingly asked for a lighter before he went into some spiel about how it was possible to get out of the game so long as they exposed themselves (Which seemed weird. Wouldn't you want to keep an escape plan secret?), and then started writing on a piece of notebook paper, passing it around. It was then that the tall guy with the scars started to speak.
"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to be ready for players, somebody is going to be playing. Shit, according to Alex's doohickey, we already lost one, probably more. I got a gun, which I should point out to you guys is loaded and armed, just in case you think of taking me out." Jon sighed, "sorry, I don't trust you, granted I didn't trust you guys back at Bayview, so yeah. Alex here got some GPS with the locations of everyone else, and you got that sword Pete." It was then that he turned to Charlene, gun pointed at her.
"I don't know what you got, but I honestly hope you are more than the dumb bitch you seem to be, if you would excuse my bluntness. Sorry for pointing it out, we may not escape, in fact we probably won't escape, however there's people here I want off this island, I'm sure the same holds true for all of you as well." Then the guy with the sword, presumably Pete, started to speak about tanks and cars or something. As he passed the note back to Alex, Charlene reached out and read the note, cocking her eyebrow as she did so.
What the ... is he really expecting us to pull this off?
Charlene started writing on the paper. The thing that nobody (not even Charlene herself) knew was that Charlene wasn't as dumb as she was made out to be. In reality, all the partying she did subjected her to a sort of mental atrophy. As she never applied herself, she never did that well in class. However, she was prone to flashes of intelligence.
Tell me how we can get our coordinates. As far as I know, that thing only shows where people are. And even if we find out where we are, how to we tell anyone who's watching? As she gave back the paper, she spoke to Jon, annoyed.
"Well, I'm so glad for the vote of confidence in my abilities. It's only too bad that I have this." She reached into her jeans and pulled out the pistol, waving it around so that the two of them could see it (she had only just now realized that Pete had left). "So yeah, Alex, I guess if I use this right, I do have a lighter."
Survivor: UCONN - Seriously, it's awesome!
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
Version 8
Kaede Tsurumi: "Eeep! I-I'm so sorry! I-I'll try not to get in your w-way next time!"
Morgan Whitney
Tyler Slomkowski
Victor Grail: "I didn't give you the lead so that you could lose it! I guess it's up to me to carry us after all."
He watched Peter leave with a certain sadness in his eyes. He knew not everyone would agree with him but he had to try. What were the other options? Walk around the island and wait to die? Play?
Fuck that. This was the best plan he had right now. It probably wouldn't work. But he had to try.
Tell me how we can get our coordinates. As far as I know, that thing only shows where people are. And even if we find out where we are, how to we tell anyone who's watching?
Ouch. Kick two in as many minutes. Good questions both. He wished he had a better answer than the one he had to write down.
"I don't know yet."
He rubbed his eyes with his hands. Did he smell smoke? Some lucky bastard must have got to keep their lighter. He checked the GPS unit as Jonathon and Charlene began to argue. Two people were coming towards their group. At this rate they'd find them at each others throats.
Fuck.
He stood up, standing between the two of them as Charlene drew her pistol. "Put your guns away." he said, looking between the two of them. If looks could kill, both of them would turn into greasy stains. "You two are not going to kill each other. No one is killing anyone." he said. "Look, here's how it is. You can either play, die or take a third option." he said. "It's not the best plan in the world. It probably won't work. But it's all I've got for now. The more people we can pull together, the more likely it is to work." he said. He was always careful with his words, cautious not to give those watching the camera a hint of his true intent. "My boat may be full of holes, but the martians are invading and it's the last one out of England." he said.
He winced at his own tortured metaphor.
"Jon, we all have people we care about here." he held up the GPS. "We'll find people with this, try and recruit them, rescue them when necessary. We've got no way of knowing till we find them. But we'll try. There are people that are dear to me as well on this island." he said.
Jasper, Jay, Ethan, Hermione... Hayl--
"ALEX!"
He looked over. The two others had arrived and one of them was Hayley. He was smiling wider than he had since he'd gotten on the island.
"Hey, uh, I don't know who you are, but I'm not here to, like, kill you or anything. Just here to bother this asshole,"
He looked over at Jonathan and Charlene. "We're all cool, aren't we?" he said, looking between the two of them. He went over to Hayley and embraced her, hugging her close to him. He didn't say a word, couldn't say anything that wouldn't break his code of honor. So he couldn't tell her that the one person on the island he'd wanted to see more than anyone was her. But the hug was enough.
Then something clicked.
"Holy shit, you're smoking!" he said. "You have a lighter!"
Alex made grabby hands towards it. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie." He snatched the lighter away and took a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, taking a long draw. Slowly, with each draw, the effects of nicotine withdrawal began to slowly wear off.
He smiled widely before looking at the GPS screen. "Hayley, I think I have an idea for how to get off the island. I'll explain in a bit, but right now I'm starting to feel a little exposed here. You and your friend should come with us" he said. He didn't mention that he'd seen a couple more lights blinking out.
Fuck that. This was the best plan he had right now. It probably wouldn't work. But he had to try.
Tell me how we can get our coordinates. As far as I know, that thing only shows where people are. And even if we find out where we are, how to we tell anyone who's watching?
Ouch. Kick two in as many minutes. Good questions both. He wished he had a better answer than the one he had to write down.
"I don't know yet."
He rubbed his eyes with his hands. Did he smell smoke? Some lucky bastard must have got to keep their lighter. He checked the GPS unit as Jonathon and Charlene began to argue. Two people were coming towards their group. At this rate they'd find them at each others throats.
Fuck.
He stood up, standing between the two of them as Charlene drew her pistol. "Put your guns away." he said, looking between the two of them. If looks could kill, both of them would turn into greasy stains. "You two are not going to kill each other. No one is killing anyone." he said. "Look, here's how it is. You can either play, die or take a third option." he said. "It's not the best plan in the world. It probably won't work. But it's all I've got for now. The more people we can pull together, the more likely it is to work." he said. He was always careful with his words, cautious not to give those watching the camera a hint of his true intent. "My boat may be full of holes, but the martians are invading and it's the last one out of England." he said.
He winced at his own tortured metaphor.
"Jon, we all have people we care about here." he held up the GPS. "We'll find people with this, try and recruit them, rescue them when necessary. We've got no way of knowing till we find them. But we'll try. There are people that are dear to me as well on this island." he said.
Jasper, Jay, Ethan, Hermione... Hayl--
"ALEX!"
He looked over. The two others had arrived and one of them was Hayley. He was smiling wider than he had since he'd gotten on the island.
"Hey, uh, I don't know who you are, but I'm not here to, like, kill you or anything. Just here to bother this asshole,"
He looked over at Jonathan and Charlene. "We're all cool, aren't we?" he said, looking between the two of them. He went over to Hayley and embraced her, hugging her close to him. He didn't say a word, couldn't say anything that wouldn't break his code of honor. So he couldn't tell her that the one person on the island he'd wanted to see more than anyone was her. But the hug was enough.
Then something clicked.
"Holy shit, you're smoking!" he said. "You have a lighter!"
Alex made grabby hands towards it. "Gimmie gimmie gimmie." He snatched the lighter away and took a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, taking a long draw. Slowly, with each draw, the effects of nicotine withdrawal began to slowly wear off.
He smiled widely before looking at the GPS screen. "Hayley, I think I have an idea for how to get off the island. I'll explain in a bit, but right now I'm starting to feel a little exposed here. You and your friend should come with us" he said. He didn't mention that he'd seen a couple more lights blinking out.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler nowave. 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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gambit508†
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:25 am
Jon watched as Peter left, following the catholic until he was far enough away that Jon felt he wouldn't do anything. He was about to say something to Alex when Charlene replied to his insult by pulling out a gun from her pants, (If Jonathan was of the immature short, he would make a joke about that.) and started waving it. Jonathan kept the gun trained on her, if she tried to shoot either of them, then he would retaliate. Course since Jonathan knew nothing about this gun, he would probably just end up shooting the tennis court or something.
"Watch it Charlene, don't want to blow off anything important while it's down there"
Alex told the two to quit it, so Jonathan lowered his gun as two more people entered the greens, specifically girls, both of which were armed. The nearest one, some dark-haired chick with lit cigarette, had some weird sword, while the other one, some orange and pink haired girl, was wielding what seemed to be a spear. The former seemed to be a friend of Alex's, given the way she ran over to him and then said she wasn't going to kill Jon.
"Oh good, one person isn't going to kill me about of two hundred and seventy five, what a relief" Jon deadpanned as he turned back to Alex, who was quickly getting his cigarette fix. The leader of their dysfunctional group then said they had to keep moving. Jon nodded as he looked at the small group and chuckled.
"Well" Jon said, standing behind Alex like the second in command of some rebel leader, which in some way he was. "We ain't no Intrepid Six, I'll tell you that much, but they all ended up dead so that might be a good thing. I don't know most of you, some of you" Jon glared pointedly at Charlene on that line, "I don't care to know. We want out, we want our friends out, so the sooner we get off this fuckhole and go back home, the better." Jon said as he started moving towards the woods, he stopped halfway and turned back to Alex.
"You coming? After all, someone has to be the leader"
"Watch it Charlene, don't want to blow off anything important while it's down there"
Alex told the two to quit it, so Jonathan lowered his gun as two more people entered the greens, specifically girls, both of which were armed. The nearest one, some dark-haired chick with lit cigarette, had some weird sword, while the other one, some orange and pink haired girl, was wielding what seemed to be a spear. The former seemed to be a friend of Alex's, given the way she ran over to him and then said she wasn't going to kill Jon.
"Oh good, one person isn't going to kill me about of two hundred and seventy five, what a relief" Jon deadpanned as he turned back to Alex, who was quickly getting his cigarette fix. The leader of their dysfunctional group then said they had to keep moving. Jon nodded as he looked at the small group and chuckled.
"Well" Jon said, standing behind Alex like the second in command of some rebel leader, which in some way he was. "We ain't no Intrepid Six, I'll tell you that much, but they all ended up dead so that might be a good thing. I don't know most of you, some of you" Jon glared pointedly at Charlene on that line, "I don't care to know. We want out, we want our friends out, so the sooner we get off this fuckhole and go back home, the better." Jon said as he started moving towards the woods, he stopped halfway and turned back to Alex.
"You coming? After all, someone has to be the leader"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler gambit508.
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
He's okay. Thank fucking Jesus or Buddha or WHOEVER THE FUCK, I DON'T EVEN CARE ANYMORE, he's fucking alive and okay and holy shit everything's going so fucking good right now-
Hayley's mind screamed with joy as she embraced Alex, as tightly as she could. Something about this- something about finding the people she loved, still alive, still okay- and especially now, with Alex, still being himself- made the situation a whole lot less fucking terrifying. Things were normal. Well, except for the sword clenched in her hand, and the gun in that other boy's hand, and- what was Alex holding? looked like some weird Gameboy, or something- and the fact that...well, it was fucking Survival of the Fittest and all of them were gonna have their brains blown out at some point in the next few days.
But besides all that. Just another day in the magical life of Hayley Kelly.
She felt Alex release her, and his first words-
"Holy shit, you're smoking! You have a lighter!"
"You fucking dickhead!" she said, laughing and punching Alex in the shoulder as he stole her lighter. "That's the first thing you say to me? I could have been dead and you're all ohmygod NICOTINE!? Love you too, bitch!" She grinned a wide grin. It wasn't like she couldn't relate- she took a long pull of her own cigarette.
Hayley motioned over towards Madelyn. "This is Madelyn. You've...have you two met? I dunno. Whatever, you're friends now, 'kay? So be cool. And..."
She looked over at the other two. The first, the other boy whose name she still didn't know, had spouted off some sarcastic bullshit in response to her attempt to keep him from shooting her. So good news: he wasn't shooting her. Bad news: he was apparently kind of a dick. Whatever. And the girl- Charlene- apparently she had a gun too.
Did everyone get a goddamn gun EXCEPT ME and MY friends? What the FUCK, Danya. Way to be a dick.
Hayley returned her attention to Alex, who was once again speaking.
"Hayley, I think I have an idea for how to get off the island. I'll explain in a bit, but right now I'm starting to feel a little exposed here. You and your friend should come with us."
And before Hayley had the chance to respond, the other boy spoke-
"Well. We ain't no Intrepid Six, I'll tell you that much, but they all ended up dead so that might be a good thing. I don't know most of you, some of you I don't care to know. We want out, we want our friends out, so the sooner we get off this fuckhole and go back home, the better." He started walking away, but stopped and turned back to Alex.
"You coming? After all, someone has to be the leader."
Hayley blinked. It was somewhat odd, seeing this boy refer to the apparently weaponless Alex as a leader. She also noted, yet again, that this other boy was clearly a complete dick. But then she backtracked mentally to what Alex had said first-
"Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. An escape plan?"
She sighed. She SO should have expected this. This was Alex, after all. Idealistic to a motherfucking fault. Out to be the hero, rescue all of his friends, all of that jazz. Of COURSE that's what Alex was doing. Hayley, on the other hand, had no such visions of glory. Her current idea of a good outcome for all of this was that she'd die with her friends by her side, and hopefully with one of them being that one person to live. That was what she was hoping for.
Escape? Not going to fucking happen. Christ, Alex, what are you thinking?
"Alex...kid, you know I love you and all that, but...fuck, haven't you ever watched this show? Shit, smarter kids than us have tried to escape and you know what happens? They die. They don't even have a chance. Think we can do better? Do you really? Stupid fucking question, actually, I know you, boo, you totally think we have a shot, but I don't. I don't know what your plan is and I'm still pretty damn sure it's not gonna work. No offense, kid. But, like...right now I'm prioritizing finding the people that I don't want to die. Like you. We've gotta find the others, man! Like, what about Jay? I have this mental image of him bugging out somewhere without us and are we just gonna fucking leave him so we can plan our amazing magic escape? Fuck, man. I love you, and I wanna stick with you through this shit, but like...priorities, man. Priorities."
Hayley stopped, surprised by how much she'd said.
But hell-her point had DEFINITELY been fucking made.
Hayley's mind screamed with joy as she embraced Alex, as tightly as she could. Something about this- something about finding the people she loved, still alive, still okay- and especially now, with Alex, still being himself- made the situation a whole lot less fucking terrifying. Things were normal. Well, except for the sword clenched in her hand, and the gun in that other boy's hand, and- what was Alex holding? looked like some weird Gameboy, or something- and the fact that...well, it was fucking Survival of the Fittest and all of them were gonna have their brains blown out at some point in the next few days.
But besides all that. Just another day in the magical life of Hayley Kelly.
She felt Alex release her, and his first words-
"Holy shit, you're smoking! You have a lighter!"
"You fucking dickhead!" she said, laughing and punching Alex in the shoulder as he stole her lighter. "That's the first thing you say to me? I could have been dead and you're all ohmygod NICOTINE!? Love you too, bitch!" She grinned a wide grin. It wasn't like she couldn't relate- she took a long pull of her own cigarette.
Hayley motioned over towards Madelyn. "This is Madelyn. You've...have you two met? I dunno. Whatever, you're friends now, 'kay? So be cool. And..."
She looked over at the other two. The first, the other boy whose name she still didn't know, had spouted off some sarcastic bullshit in response to her attempt to keep him from shooting her. So good news: he wasn't shooting her. Bad news: he was apparently kind of a dick. Whatever. And the girl- Charlene- apparently she had a gun too.
Did everyone get a goddamn gun EXCEPT ME and MY friends? What the FUCK, Danya. Way to be a dick.
Hayley returned her attention to Alex, who was once again speaking.
"Hayley, I think I have an idea for how to get off the island. I'll explain in a bit, but right now I'm starting to feel a little exposed here. You and your friend should come with us."
And before Hayley had the chance to respond, the other boy spoke-
"Well. We ain't no Intrepid Six, I'll tell you that much, but they all ended up dead so that might be a good thing. I don't know most of you, some of you I don't care to know. We want out, we want our friends out, so the sooner we get off this fuckhole and go back home, the better." He started walking away, but stopped and turned back to Alex.
"You coming? After all, someone has to be the leader."
Hayley blinked. It was somewhat odd, seeing this boy refer to the apparently weaponless Alex as a leader. She also noted, yet again, that this other boy was clearly a complete dick. But then she backtracked mentally to what Alex had said first-
"Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. An escape plan?"
She sighed. She SO should have expected this. This was Alex, after all. Idealistic to a motherfucking fault. Out to be the hero, rescue all of his friends, all of that jazz. Of COURSE that's what Alex was doing. Hayley, on the other hand, had no such visions of glory. Her current idea of a good outcome for all of this was that she'd die with her friends by her side, and hopefully with one of them being that one person to live. That was what she was hoping for.
Escape? Not going to fucking happen. Christ, Alex, what are you thinking?
"Alex...kid, you know I love you and all that, but...fuck, haven't you ever watched this show? Shit, smarter kids than us have tried to escape and you know what happens? They die. They don't even have a chance. Think we can do better? Do you really? Stupid fucking question, actually, I know you, boo, you totally think we have a shot, but I don't. I don't know what your plan is and I'm still pretty damn sure it's not gonna work. No offense, kid. But, like...right now I'm prioritizing finding the people that I don't want to die. Like you. We've gotta find the others, man! Like, what about Jay? I have this mental image of him bugging out somewhere without us and are we just gonna fucking leave him so we can plan our amazing magic escape? Fuck, man. I love you, and I wanna stick with you through this shit, but like...priorities, man. Priorities."
Hayley stopped, surprised by how much she'd said.
But hell-her point had DEFINITELY been fucking made.
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.