((Jennifer Perez continued from Spelunking))
It was unreal. Entirely impossible to believe. The announcements had come and gone once more, and Jennifer realized that, with the exception of the killing she had witnessed, none of the names would connect to faces. Sure, they made impressions. She could grasp at straws (Eve? Didn't she have a kid or something?), but she couldn't really bring herself to care. People were dying. Too fucking bad, but not everyone was gone yet. The living had to take priority. Yes. Don't think of the dead. They're nothing now.
Jennifer and Phil had been traveling towards the Eastern side of the island. They had passed by the House of Mirrors, but had seen nothing to imply the presence of Maf, and the place did not seem a wise area to stick around too long, with the potential for ambushes and chaos. It was, all things considered, a terrible place to suggest a meeting. The central location, sheer slope backing, and presumably-confusing interior combined to make the building a likely deathtrap. And that's where she had told Bill to have Maf meet her. Fuck.
After that, they had headed further east. The thought had been to search the infirmary to replenish their first aid kits, assuming it hadn't already been ransacked by other students or looted by the terrorists, and then scope out the mansion as a temporary resting place. Danya's announcement, coming as it did right as they neared the area, had put an end to both plans, as well as proving pretty disheartening for Jennifer.
For a time, they hadn't been quite sure what to do. Finally, they had made their way back West, figuring that, if Danya wanted to get students moving from central eastern areas, it would be best to be far away from the ensuing chaos. They had, once again, passed the House of Mirrors. Jennifer was starting to hope that Bill never met up with Maf after all, that they'd all just stumble into each other and things would be perfect, or at least as perfect as they could be with everyone doomed to die terribly in the next few days or weeks.
Around forty dead. It was almost unthinkable. Not the deaths, not really, but that Jennifer had somehow managed to live this long. She'd been within feet of a killing. Been in multiple tense situations with guns. By all rights, she should have faced some sort of serious threat to her health, but everyone seemed to simply ignore her or actively go out of their way to avoid hurting her. She had screamed into the face of a killer, and he had encouraged her, had told her she was better than him, had done everything he could to help her.
It made no sense. It was almost as if she was living a charmed existence. Phil was proof that people could get seriously hurt without dying, though he'd been holding up quite well, considering. Jennifer wondered how many uninjured, well-rested people were on the island.
It didn't matter now, though. What mattered was that they'd been on their feet for a long, long time. True, they'd had a lot of rest the day before. Jennifer was pretty sure she could keep going for a long time, but she didn't want to push it. It was time for a break. They were in the forest where Jennifer had spent her first night. It was relatively quiet and calm, with the sounds of insects and animals the only disruption of the still air. Jennifer said, "Hey, um, you mind if we take a quick rest here?"
Then, that done, she sat against a tree, popping out her water bottle. She was starting to run low. That wasn't good, not at all. They'd have to find somewhere to refill soon.
She looked over at Phil and said, "Hey, um, I'm really sorry to have, um, dragged you around everywhere. Thanks for putting up with me."
Still Going Strong
Open - Day 3, early afternoon
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MurderWeasel
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((Phillip Ward continued from Spelunking))
Phil murmured softly back to Jen. "uh... nah. No problems. It's kinda nice actually."
He didn't really know what to say. His mood had become sullen during the second group of announcements. Having missed the first he was surprised to her Jen tell him that one of the Kronwell's had been mentioned in Danya's early morning speech. Unfortunately she couldn't recall which one, or whether they had killed or been killed. This shock to his system; that one of the invincible twins had either fallen victim to another student or had turned in to a killer; combined with the fact this this was now the longest time Phil had ever spent with a girl alone made him withdrawn and cautious.
He knew he should be trying somewhat to keep himself at least a little upbeat but after the things he had witnessed so far it that mood was unattainable. Instead during the trek Phil had mostly kept to himself, answering Jen's questions best he could and trying to keep conversation, but failing miserably the majority of the time.
The reality of the game hadn't fully sunk in quite yet either. Phil had yet to have seen a dead body or anyone actually kill another, although he had come close multiple times now. Still, this disconnect allowed him to retain a semblance of determination that the whole thing was unreal. He could, to an extent distance himself from the reality of his situation and instead focus more on the feeling of anxious enjoyment of being around a girl who he had tasked himself to look out for. Ever step they took Phil had become more and more determined to ensure the safety of Jennifer as best he could and although he knew she was on the look out for Maf Phil was intent on playing the role of the white knight for as long as possible.
Phil took a gulp of his water as well. There wasn't much left in his bottle either and more than once he had felt the first stirrings of lack of fluids: the lack of need to piss, the cracking of dry lips and the dryness in his breath. He didn't say anything though. Nor did he mention his wounds and when Jen inquired he simply said that they were healing. He had to retain the facade of the strong and staunch defender and not just for Jennifer's sake either. Still after having seen almost no one he had slumped next to Jen, weary and spoken up.
"So, um we've been walking for some time now - where are we going?"
Phil murmured softly back to Jen. "uh... nah. No problems. It's kinda nice actually."
He didn't really know what to say. His mood had become sullen during the second group of announcements. Having missed the first he was surprised to her Jen tell him that one of the Kronwell's had been mentioned in Danya's early morning speech. Unfortunately she couldn't recall which one, or whether they had killed or been killed. This shock to his system; that one of the invincible twins had either fallen victim to another student or had turned in to a killer; combined with the fact this this was now the longest time Phil had ever spent with a girl alone made him withdrawn and cautious.
He knew he should be trying somewhat to keep himself at least a little upbeat but after the things he had witnessed so far it that mood was unattainable. Instead during the trek Phil had mostly kept to himself, answering Jen's questions best he could and trying to keep conversation, but failing miserably the majority of the time.
The reality of the game hadn't fully sunk in quite yet either. Phil had yet to have seen a dead body or anyone actually kill another, although he had come close multiple times now. Still, this disconnect allowed him to retain a semblance of determination that the whole thing was unreal. He could, to an extent distance himself from the reality of his situation and instead focus more on the feeling of anxious enjoyment of being around a girl who he had tasked himself to look out for. Ever step they took Phil had become more and more determined to ensure the safety of Jennifer as best he could and although he knew she was on the look out for Maf Phil was intent on playing the role of the white knight for as long as possible.
Phil took a gulp of his water as well. There wasn't much left in his bottle either and more than once he had felt the first stirrings of lack of fluids: the lack of need to piss, the cracking of dry lips and the dryness in his breath. He didn't say anything though. Nor did he mention his wounds and when Jen inquired he simply said that they were healing. He had to retain the facade of the strong and staunch defender and not just for Jennifer's sake either. Still after having seen almost no one he had slumped next to Jen, weary and spoken up.
"So, um we've been walking for some time now - where are we going?"
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MurderWeasel
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Phil didn't mind taking a break. Good. They could just take a few moments, maybe an hour at most, and pull themselves together again. Then they could... could... actually, Jennifer didn't really know what came next. She'd been operating on the theory that the best thing to do was to keep moving whenever possible, resting when necessary or convenient. There was no real rhyme or reason behind the method. She simply walked when she was stressed. On a tactical scale, it was probably not a great choice, at least, when it came to avoiding trouble. It increased their chances of stumbling across stationary groups, and did nothing to make encounters with other moving groups less likely.
Then again, if they were really trying to find Maf and the others from Phil's team, maybe maximizing the potential for encounters was a wise move. It meant more risk, but also a greater possibility of success. All that, though, was justification. Jennifer really just liked walking.
The problem was, that wasn't at all fair to Phil. He was wounded, and probably wasn't so set on keeping on the move. She hadn't been thinking about him enough. Hadn't been factoring his wellbeing into the equation, since he seemed to be doing better. That would have to change, right away.
The first step was to answer his question honestly.
"Um, I, uh, I don't really know. I figured we should, um, get clear of all the people on the East of the island, since, um, that's where most of the buildings and danger zones are. But, um, I'm not really sure where we should go now. I, uh, I don't know where anyone we're looking for would be."
There. That was good. Getting it all off her chest helped a lot. She had an ally now. It meant she had to readjust herself to working with others. It meant she couldn't keep going around doing whatever she wanted without thinking through the consequences.
It was a simple revelation, an easy adjustment. A few days of freedom had felt nice, but it was good to have someone again. Phil was a sort of grounding presence, forcing her not to let go again. No more mistakes like in the tunnels. No. In fact, maybe it was best to give Phil more of a say.
"Um, do you have anywhere you want to go?"
Then again, if they were really trying to find Maf and the others from Phil's team, maybe maximizing the potential for encounters was a wise move. It meant more risk, but also a greater possibility of success. All that, though, was justification. Jennifer really just liked walking.
The problem was, that wasn't at all fair to Phil. He was wounded, and probably wasn't so set on keeping on the move. She hadn't been thinking about him enough. Hadn't been factoring his wellbeing into the equation, since he seemed to be doing better. That would have to change, right away.
The first step was to answer his question honestly.
"Um, I, uh, I don't really know. I figured we should, um, get clear of all the people on the East of the island, since, um, that's where most of the buildings and danger zones are. But, um, I'm not really sure where we should go now. I, uh, I don't know where anyone we're looking for would be."
There. That was good. Getting it all off her chest helped a lot. She had an ally now. It meant she had to readjust herself to working with others. It meant she couldn't keep going around doing whatever she wanted without thinking through the consequences.
It was a simple revelation, an easy adjustment. A few days of freedom had felt nice, but it was good to have someone again. Phil was a sort of grounding presence, forcing her not to let go again. No more mistakes like in the tunnels. No. In fact, maybe it was best to give Phil more of a say.
"Um, do you have anywhere you want to go?"
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
((Marco Stonecastle continued from Watch Your Step))
Marco stopped and checked the compass, holding it steady and eyeing the needle carefully as it spun around. It eventually settled down and pointed to his right, causing Marco to smile briefly; he was still heading in the right direction away from that... mess back at the hall of mirrors. It was all behind him now, the former hockey player currently standing in the middle of the woods.
Along the way from his former location, he'd skirted past an unoccupied gazebo, looking scarily similar to the one on the Bayview School grounds. There was a rush of nostalgia as he remembered the students - freshmen, seniors and everyone in between hanging around the structure during lunch break. Good memories, good times, something to cheer him up at least.
Like all good things, it wasn't to last. That blast from the past had come to an abrupt end when he came across a charred body lurking behind the building. It had freaked him out and caused him to duck into a nearby bush and purge the half-digested contents of his stomach.
Even hours after the initial discovery, it still nauseated him. It was something he wasn't going to forget in a hurry; skin burnt away to nothing, blackened bones, ashes, the mere thought of the body's condition made him feel like throwing up again. Fortunately he was able to hold his lunch down... just.
Marco forced the thought to the back of his head, put the compass away and continued walking straight ahead. Some minutes later he could see the deep blue of the ocean in the distance through the gaps in the trees. And in between him and the shore stood two people. Marco stopped and tried to position himself behind one of the trees, poking his head out to the side to see if he could recognise either of them.
'That's Phil from the school hockey team, right?' Marco thought, glancing at the male. He knew that the boy tended to be a bit of a bully on and off the ice, but he hadn't killed anyone on the island yet, at least according to the announcements. And he had someone with him, surely that meant he was trustworthy, definitely not a player... right?
'It's worth a shot, and at least there aren't ten of them this time,' he thought, stepping out from behind the trunk. "Hey, Phil," he called out. "Don't worry, I'm friendly," he said, aware that his sudden presence may have possibly spooked Phil and his companion.
Marco stopped and checked the compass, holding it steady and eyeing the needle carefully as it spun around. It eventually settled down and pointed to his right, causing Marco to smile briefly; he was still heading in the right direction away from that... mess back at the hall of mirrors. It was all behind him now, the former hockey player currently standing in the middle of the woods.
Along the way from his former location, he'd skirted past an unoccupied gazebo, looking scarily similar to the one on the Bayview School grounds. There was a rush of nostalgia as he remembered the students - freshmen, seniors and everyone in between hanging around the structure during lunch break. Good memories, good times, something to cheer him up at least.
Like all good things, it wasn't to last. That blast from the past had come to an abrupt end when he came across a charred body lurking behind the building. It had freaked him out and caused him to duck into a nearby bush and purge the half-digested contents of his stomach.
Even hours after the initial discovery, it still nauseated him. It was something he wasn't going to forget in a hurry; skin burnt away to nothing, blackened bones, ashes, the mere thought of the body's condition made him feel like throwing up again. Fortunately he was able to hold his lunch down... just.
Marco forced the thought to the back of his head, put the compass away and continued walking straight ahead. Some minutes later he could see the deep blue of the ocean in the distance through the gaps in the trees. And in between him and the shore stood two people. Marco stopped and tried to position himself behind one of the trees, poking his head out to the side to see if he could recognise either of them.
'That's Phil from the school hockey team, right?' Marco thought, glancing at the male. He knew that the boy tended to be a bit of a bully on and off the ice, but he hadn't killed anyone on the island yet, at least according to the announcements. And he had someone with him, surely that meant he was trustworthy, definitely not a player... right?
'It's worth a shot, and at least there aren't ten of them this time,' he thought, stepping out from behind the trunk. "Hey, Phil," he called out. "Don't worry, I'm friendly," he said, aware that his sudden presence may have possibly spooked Phil and his companion.
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((Rhory Anne Broderick continued from Behold this compost! behold it well!))
Rhory had run and run, until finally, mercifully, sleep had come to ease her senses. With it came the dreams. Skin, bones, muscles, from all animals imaginable, surrounded her. They reached out, called to her- only to run away if she turned her head. Not one little incomplete monster allowed her near it. They were too scared. She was too scared.
What happened in those first dull minutes of consciousness? Eyes, ears, nose surveyed the area around her makeshift bed. Beings of intestines and eyeballs found themselves replaced with trees, trees, the smell of a nearby ocean, the voices of people nearby-
Voices.
It took several eternal seconds to piece together that she was not alone. Flash. The mine. A cart. Shreds and shreds of flesh piled on top of the creature who created them. The meat she could do nothing but run from. The stagnant chill of night air in the tunnels. Don't look at it. Don't listen to it. Don't let it sink in.
Secretly, ignorant of her purposes, she moved through the trees. She stumbled, held on to any wooden arm that would hold her. Voices. People.
She was not alone. Three people. A girl. Several athletes. Her mind stumbled in search of names it could not find. And then, her mouth- It had been days since Rhory had spoken. Her lips stuck like trees planted too close together, her tongue exploring a dry, almost salty fuzziness along the walls of her cheeks and her throat. She coughed, evicting the mucus that clung so desperately to the deepest recesses of her mouth, sticking, trying to prevent her from continuing- coughs became hacks, hacks became dry heaves. The force doubled her over at the hips, brought her to all fours, mucus and saliva dripping helplessly from her mouth. She crouched, suffocating until the battle subsided and chokes turned to heavy gasps to normal, if labored breathing, gasping out her first word in days-
"Water..."
Rhory had run and run, until finally, mercifully, sleep had come to ease her senses. With it came the dreams. Skin, bones, muscles, from all animals imaginable, surrounded her. They reached out, called to her- only to run away if she turned her head. Not one little incomplete monster allowed her near it. They were too scared. She was too scared.
What happened in those first dull minutes of consciousness? Eyes, ears, nose surveyed the area around her makeshift bed. Beings of intestines and eyeballs found themselves replaced with trees, trees, the smell of a nearby ocean, the voices of people nearby-
Voices.
It took several eternal seconds to piece together that she was not alone. Flash. The mine. A cart. Shreds and shreds of flesh piled on top of the creature who created them. The meat she could do nothing but run from. The stagnant chill of night air in the tunnels. Don't look at it. Don't listen to it. Don't let it sink in.
Secretly, ignorant of her purposes, she moved through the trees. She stumbled, held on to any wooden arm that would hold her. Voices. People.
She was not alone. Three people. A girl. Several athletes. Her mind stumbled in search of names it could not find. And then, her mouth- It had been days since Rhory had spoken. Her lips stuck like trees planted too close together, her tongue exploring a dry, almost salty fuzziness along the walls of her cheeks and her throat. She coughed, evicting the mucus that clung so desperately to the deepest recesses of her mouth, sticking, trying to prevent her from continuing- coughs became hacks, hacks became dry heaves. The force doubled her over at the hips, brought her to all fours, mucus and saliva dripping helplessly from her mouth. She crouched, suffocating until the battle subsided and chokes turned to heavy gasps to normal, if labored breathing, gasping out her first word in days-
"Water..."
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Phil smiled for the first time since he had been on the island. Someone he recognised, someone from on the team. "Marco. Good to see you bro," he called out gruffly in response to the greeting he received. His heart had jumped slightly when Marco had called out but after recognising him and hearing that he was friendly his pulse returned to normal. He still hadn't quite got his head around what he saw to be his new 'mission' of sorts. Which was to look after Jennifer. Plus he would of been very torn if it came down to fighting one of his team mates.
"Where is the rest of the team? I've been looking but I ain't seen nobody." Phil glanced at Jennifer and then back at Marco. "You know Jen right Marco? Perez not Romita" he added after a moment's thought. The two probably knew each other but he thought it best to make sure that everything was out in the clear rather than do something stupid. "She patched me up real good after Guthrie attacked me." A look of confusion crossed Phil's face for a moment. "You never told me what happened there anyway?" he said off-handedly to Jennifer as he continued to face Marco.
With a new face he could relax a little. Marco was friendly, calm and most importantly reliable. He was the one who always showed up to practice and would make sure all the doors were locked when they finished. He would know what to do - or at the very least know how to find the captains. As Phil waited for a response a figure burst from the undergrowth collapsing, pleading for water. He would of been more cautious with his reply but the girl already looked so pathetic he wasn't worried. Plus, they didn't have much to spare.
"Shove off." Phil said. "We got none."
"Where is the rest of the team? I've been looking but I ain't seen nobody." Phil glanced at Jennifer and then back at Marco. "You know Jen right Marco? Perez not Romita" he added after a moment's thought. The two probably knew each other but he thought it best to make sure that everything was out in the clear rather than do something stupid. "She patched me up real good after Guthrie attacked me." A look of confusion crossed Phil's face for a moment. "You never told me what happened there anyway?" he said off-handedly to Jennifer as he continued to face Marco.
With a new face he could relax a little. Marco was friendly, calm and most importantly reliable. He was the one who always showed up to practice and would make sure all the doors were locked when they finished. He would know what to do - or at the very least know how to find the captains. As Phil waited for a response a figure burst from the undergrowth collapsing, pleading for water. He would of been more cautious with his reply but the girl already looked so pathetic he wasn't worried. Plus, they didn't have much to spare.
"Shove off." Phil said. "We got none."
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MurderWeasel
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Thank goodness for positive moments, however small. A new boy turned up, bulky enough to be mildly menacing, with long blond hair and a beard, but he didn't want trouble. In fact, he was one of Phil's teammates. One of the people they had been looking for. As Phil greeted him and introduced Jennifer, thankfully clarifying her identity and sparing any potential embarrassment, she watched the two. They seemed instantly at ease. Comrades. Comfortable with each other. It was strange that bonds from the past could hold true even at a time like this. Jennifer wondered whether anyone would trust her based on her actions at school. Probably not. Maybe Maf, but certainly no one else.
Didn't matter. Phil was explaining how he and Jennifer had come to travel together. And, more than that, he was asking about Guthrie. She swallowed, buying a second to collect herself before responding.
"Um, well, uh, Nick... killed him. He, um, beat him, and, uh, and I moved the body out... outside, because it was smelling, but, um, but it didn't really help much."
That was a pretty fucking awkward thing to say, wasn't it? While you were passed out, a boy beat another boy to death. I hid the body. Lovely. No way to frame it to sound better now, though. And, one thing this entire experience was teaching Jennifer was that people weren't nearly as quick to judge as she'd always imagined. Bill hadn't shot her. The boys in the bar hadn't attacked her. Even Bounce had been no more than wary.
Was she the only one who had knee jerk negative reactions? Or was everyone else just keeping them down too? That was actually not a very reassuring thought, not after she'd lost control.
Further musings were cut off by the sudden appearance of another person. A girl, stumbling towards them. Jennifer squinted. The newcomer looked unarmed. Also looked to be in pretty bad shape, judging by her use of trees for support and her uneven gait. Rhory, that was her name. And Rhory wanted water. Didn't everyone? It was the thing Jennifer and Phil were going to have to deal with here soon. They'd be forced to find a stream or a well or something of the sort. If Rhory was in this bad condition, maybe that wouldn't be so easy.
So Phil told her to beat it. Jennifer blinked. It was the smart call. The right call. The choice that would help them survive. But she couldn't back it.
"Um, hang on," she said, digging into her pack. "I think, um, I may have a bit left. And, uh, it's okay, Phil. She won't hurt us."
Time to hope, to hope with all her heart, that she had spoken the truth.
Jennifer took her last remaining water bottle, barely half full, and walked over to Rhory, holding it out. She hoped this wouldn't upset Phil. Hoped this wouldn't end their alliance. After all, he now had Marco. He didn't really need Jennifer anymore, and she couldn't fault him for ditching her, especially after the fucking idiotic choice she had just made.
It would happen or it wouldn't, though. Nothing could change it now, short of yanking the bottle away from Rhory and laughing in her face, and Jennifer wouldn't do that.
"Um, once you're done, we can all, um, look for more together, maybe. I'm sure we could all use a refill."
That's the way. Unite everyone with a common goal. Teamwork would bridge the shaky beginnings.
At least, that was the hope.
Didn't matter. Phil was explaining how he and Jennifer had come to travel together. And, more than that, he was asking about Guthrie. She swallowed, buying a second to collect herself before responding.
"Um, well, uh, Nick... killed him. He, um, beat him, and, uh, and I moved the body out... outside, because it was smelling, but, um, but it didn't really help much."
That was a pretty fucking awkward thing to say, wasn't it? While you were passed out, a boy beat another boy to death. I hid the body. Lovely. No way to frame it to sound better now, though. And, one thing this entire experience was teaching Jennifer was that people weren't nearly as quick to judge as she'd always imagined. Bill hadn't shot her. The boys in the bar hadn't attacked her. Even Bounce had been no more than wary.
Was she the only one who had knee jerk negative reactions? Or was everyone else just keeping them down too? That was actually not a very reassuring thought, not after she'd lost control.
Further musings were cut off by the sudden appearance of another person. A girl, stumbling towards them. Jennifer squinted. The newcomer looked unarmed. Also looked to be in pretty bad shape, judging by her use of trees for support and her uneven gait. Rhory, that was her name. And Rhory wanted water. Didn't everyone? It was the thing Jennifer and Phil were going to have to deal with here soon. They'd be forced to find a stream or a well or something of the sort. If Rhory was in this bad condition, maybe that wouldn't be so easy.
So Phil told her to beat it. Jennifer blinked. It was the smart call. The right call. The choice that would help them survive. But she couldn't back it.
"Um, hang on," she said, digging into her pack. "I think, um, I may have a bit left. And, uh, it's okay, Phil. She won't hurt us."
Time to hope, to hope with all her heart, that she had spoken the truth.
Jennifer took her last remaining water bottle, barely half full, and walked over to Rhory, holding it out. She hoped this wouldn't upset Phil. Hoped this wouldn't end their alliance. After all, he now had Marco. He didn't really need Jennifer anymore, and she couldn't fault him for ditching her, especially after the fucking idiotic choice she had just made.
It would happen or it wouldn't, though. Nothing could change it now, short of yanking the bottle away from Rhory and laughing in her face, and Jennifer wouldn't do that.
"Um, once you're done, we can all, um, look for more together, maybe. I'm sure we could all use a refill."
That's the way. Unite everyone with a common goal. Teamwork would bridge the shaky beginnings.
At least, that was the hope.
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
Marco shook his head. "I haven't seen any of the team either," he replied sadly. "Though I'm avoiding Alex and Staffan, for obvious reasons..." He could leave the rest up for Phil to figure out. Surely he'd have heard over the announcements that Alex and Staffan had murdered some of their fellow students. Alex had killed TWICE, for goodness sake.
'Who else is there, though?' Marco thought, wondering who else on the team had been abducted. He knew he saw Trent, Nik and Garry on the coach before blacking out and waking up in the auditorium, and he was certain he saw Dustin and Dan ('is he even considered part of the team anymore?') just before they boarded.
He looked to the Hispanic girl whom Phil introduced and gave her a brief smile. She looked familiar, obviously he'd seen her around school before but he hadn't gotten to know her name. 'Jennifer Perez, huh? Oh right, Romita, the slut. Yeah, no wonder you don't want to be associated with her,' Marco thought, knowing full well about the other girl's exploits. Hell, the whole school most likely knew about them.
Phil went on and talked about how she'd helped him when Guthrie had attacked them. 'Wait, Guthrie... wasn't he on the announcement?' Marco wondered, the guy's first name escaping him for a moment. Jennifer spoke up and confirmed his suspicions; they'd been around when Tom Guthrie ('that's his name') had been killed by Nick Reid. 'Damn... what the hell happened? Did they help Nick kill him? Was it self defense?'
Marco's mind was buzzing with questions to ask Jennifer and Phil, but he didn't get much of a chance to reply, for another girl had suddenly come crashing through the vegetation, crying out for water. Phil had immediately blurted out, quite harshly in Marco's opinion, that they had none. Jennifer was more sympathetic to the girl's plight and produced half a bottle to give to her.
"Jennifer, save that for yourself, I have a full bottle here," Marco said, pulling it out of his bag and offering it to the girl. The condition this girl was in, she looked in no fit state to do anything, let alone attack them. Jennifer stated that they ought to go for a refill and Marco immediately piped up. "Hey, I know where we can go for that!" he spoke excitedly. "I crossed a stream on the way here, the water looked pretty good, it's where I topped up that bottle. It's just in that direction." Marco turned and pointed to the east, the direction he'd just travelled from.
'Who else is there, though?' Marco thought, wondering who else on the team had been abducted. He knew he saw Trent, Nik and Garry on the coach before blacking out and waking up in the auditorium, and he was certain he saw Dustin and Dan ('is he even considered part of the team anymore?') just before they boarded.
He looked to the Hispanic girl whom Phil introduced and gave her a brief smile. She looked familiar, obviously he'd seen her around school before but he hadn't gotten to know her name. 'Jennifer Perez, huh? Oh right, Romita, the slut. Yeah, no wonder you don't want to be associated with her,' Marco thought, knowing full well about the other girl's exploits. Hell, the whole school most likely knew about them.
Phil went on and talked about how she'd helped him when Guthrie had attacked them. 'Wait, Guthrie... wasn't he on the announcement?' Marco wondered, the guy's first name escaping him for a moment. Jennifer spoke up and confirmed his suspicions; they'd been around when Tom Guthrie ('that's his name') had been killed by Nick Reid. 'Damn... what the hell happened? Did they help Nick kill him? Was it self defense?'
Marco's mind was buzzing with questions to ask Jennifer and Phil, but he didn't get much of a chance to reply, for another girl had suddenly come crashing through the vegetation, crying out for water. Phil had immediately blurted out, quite harshly in Marco's opinion, that they had none. Jennifer was more sympathetic to the girl's plight and produced half a bottle to give to her.
"Jennifer, save that for yourself, I have a full bottle here," Marco said, pulling it out of his bag and offering it to the girl. The condition this girl was in, she looked in no fit state to do anything, let alone attack them. Jennifer stated that they ought to go for a refill and Marco immediately piped up. "Hey, I know where we can go for that!" he spoke excitedly. "I crossed a stream on the way here, the water looked pretty good, it's where I topped up that bottle. It's just in that direction." Marco turned and pointed to the east, the direction he'd just travelled from.
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Lord_Shadow†
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 7:15 am
((Alexander Seymour continued from If That Looking Glass Gets Broke))
Alex kept moving after dealing with Dom. He hadn't stopped for anything. He'd already taken one caffeine pill to stay somewhat alert, but after going who knows how long without rest things were starting to take a toll on his body. He was slow, tired, weary. He had tried to wash off Dom's blood from his hands and clothes, tried to erase the evidence of his actions. Not out of disgust or revulsion at what he had done, but in order not to convince anyone he came across that he was a threat.
His mind was still debating whether or not he should play the game. Everyone was out to get each other. They all had to watch out. Anyone could spell out demise for whoever they came across. But then again, they were still just kids. Students from the same school. To think that they were being forced to fight and kill each other, and for what?
That's a stupid question. To survive. Survival is the only thing that matters. Everyone is either a hunter or the hunted.
That was it. That was the way to make it in this place. But he had been too careless. Too reckless. Tried to acquire a weapon and failed miserably. Tried to convince himself he was fine around people when his mind was still reeling trying to figure out how this had happened and what changed so much. Injured someone who was unarmed, defenseless, had done nothing to him. This wasn't the self that Alex knew.
It was the self that this place was making him into. Or was it the exhaustion and the confusion that was doing that? Either way, it was bad to continue that way. He had to collect himself, calm down, and figure out what to do. He couldn't let his anger issue and reckless behavior continue lest he get killed. So he had decided to retrace his steps. He had woken up in the coastal woods, gone inland, and was now returning back to where he had started.
It was during this trek that he heard voices. From the sound of them, quite close. He froze. He hadn't expected to run into anyone. Why would anyone come here anyway? There was nothing. Then again, why was he coming back here if there really was nothing?
Stay calm Alex. Think. Be rational. Control yourself. He who loses his composure will only find failure and death.
He went over the situation in his mind. Voices, plural. At least two people. No way to tell if they were armed from where he was. No line of sight due to the trees. Possible that his movements had been heard. Completely unarmed, defenseless against any attack that might come if he revealed himself. Covered in dirt and, despite his best efforts, blood. Blood not his own, which would perhaps be his greatest problem now.
His mind took in all that information, came to the conclusion that it would be unwise to reveal himself. Yet it would be more unwise to be discovered. And it was likely that he was to be discovered. The voices sounded like they were in the direction he was heading.
So my choices are: come out and die, hide and die, or run and die. There's no vantage point to be had here. What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into Alex.
He rubbed his eyes. Being tired wasn't helping. Or might it? If he used his weariness to his advantage...
He decided to come out. He'd pretend to be dazed and confused, just a passerby who was no danger to anyone. He didn't even have a weapon, which should help reinforce that thought. The blood was an issue, though he was sure he could convince whoever he came across that he got that blood on himself in self-defense. Then again, it wouldn't hurt to have some blood of his own. He took a small rock from the ground, and struck himself in the cheek as hard as he could muster.
He stumbled from the blow. It hurt. Pain surged through his face. He coughed. Gave himself away no doubt. But it should help. He was no threat, not yet. If he could convince whoever he was about to meet about that, then he'd be fine.
You're not crazy Alex. You're smart. Who else would be smart enough to be weak in order to be strong?
He smirked for a second, and made his way out to meet the people the voices belonged to. He had a plan, and hopefully they'd be stupid enough to follow it. "Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone help me?" He came out with his hands up. "My name is Alexander Seymour. I'm unarmed." Flawless, perfect. One way or another, he'd survive this encounter. Survival of the Fittest was the name of the game. And he intended to play.
Alex kept moving after dealing with Dom. He hadn't stopped for anything. He'd already taken one caffeine pill to stay somewhat alert, but after going who knows how long without rest things were starting to take a toll on his body. He was slow, tired, weary. He had tried to wash off Dom's blood from his hands and clothes, tried to erase the evidence of his actions. Not out of disgust or revulsion at what he had done, but in order not to convince anyone he came across that he was a threat.
His mind was still debating whether or not he should play the game. Everyone was out to get each other. They all had to watch out. Anyone could spell out demise for whoever they came across. But then again, they were still just kids. Students from the same school. To think that they were being forced to fight and kill each other, and for what?
That's a stupid question. To survive. Survival is the only thing that matters. Everyone is either a hunter or the hunted.
That was it. That was the way to make it in this place. But he had been too careless. Too reckless. Tried to acquire a weapon and failed miserably. Tried to convince himself he was fine around people when his mind was still reeling trying to figure out how this had happened and what changed so much. Injured someone who was unarmed, defenseless, had done nothing to him. This wasn't the self that Alex knew.
It was the self that this place was making him into. Or was it the exhaustion and the confusion that was doing that? Either way, it was bad to continue that way. He had to collect himself, calm down, and figure out what to do. He couldn't let his anger issue and reckless behavior continue lest he get killed. So he had decided to retrace his steps. He had woken up in the coastal woods, gone inland, and was now returning back to where he had started.
It was during this trek that he heard voices. From the sound of them, quite close. He froze. He hadn't expected to run into anyone. Why would anyone come here anyway? There was nothing. Then again, why was he coming back here if there really was nothing?
Stay calm Alex. Think. Be rational. Control yourself. He who loses his composure will only find failure and death.
He went over the situation in his mind. Voices, plural. At least two people. No way to tell if they were armed from where he was. No line of sight due to the trees. Possible that his movements had been heard. Completely unarmed, defenseless against any attack that might come if he revealed himself. Covered in dirt and, despite his best efforts, blood. Blood not his own, which would perhaps be his greatest problem now.
His mind took in all that information, came to the conclusion that it would be unwise to reveal himself. Yet it would be more unwise to be discovered. And it was likely that he was to be discovered. The voices sounded like they were in the direction he was heading.
So my choices are: come out and die, hide and die, or run and die. There's no vantage point to be had here. What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into Alex.
He rubbed his eyes. Being tired wasn't helping. Or might it? If he used his weariness to his advantage...
He decided to come out. He'd pretend to be dazed and confused, just a passerby who was no danger to anyone. He didn't even have a weapon, which should help reinforce that thought. The blood was an issue, though he was sure he could convince whoever he came across that he got that blood on himself in self-defense. Then again, it wouldn't hurt to have some blood of his own. He took a small rock from the ground, and struck himself in the cheek as hard as he could muster.
He stumbled from the blow. It hurt. Pain surged through his face. He coughed. Gave himself away no doubt. But it should help. He was no threat, not yet. If he could convince whoever he was about to meet about that, then he'd be fine.
You're not crazy Alex. You're smart. Who else would be smart enough to be weak in order to be strong?
He smirked for a second, and made his way out to meet the people the voices belonged to. He had a plan, and hopefully they'd be stupid enough to follow it. "Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone help me?" He came out with his hands up. "My name is Alexander Seymour. I'm unarmed." Flawless, perfect. One way or another, he'd survive this encounter. Survival of the Fittest was the name of the game. And he intended to play.
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"Shove off. We got none."
Rhory managed to find it in her capabilities to roll her eyes at his comment. She could fend for herself, thank you very much, some spit just went down the wrong tube or someth-
But before she could clear her throat enough to speak again, Rhory was suddenly surrounded by people offering water. What the fuck? She wasn't sure what to react to more- the foolishly instinctive kindness or the blatant lie spouted by the large jock. But then again, it made sense- she shamelessly grabbed the boy's bottle and took small, careful sips, not enough to heal but enough not to step on toes- water was limited. They barely had enough for themselves. Remembering her own bags only feet away, Rhory felt a pang of shame. Oh well. Not my loss.
As consciousness (the full, rational kind) returned to her body and the boy who'd given her the water began talking about getting some from a stream or whatever (oh jeez, play the hero why don't you), Rhory finally examined the faces that surrounded her. Two of them, the jock and the hero, she recognized. They were both on the hockey team- either that or she'd seen them with hockey paraphernalia at school for no reason. The jerk one appeared to be wounded- suddenly, his actions made a lot more sense. The girl was... fuck, it was on the tip of her tongue. Jennifer. Right. (She handed back the bottle and thanked them) They'd talked once or twice. Didn't she make her own clothes? Right, that was it. Nice girl. A little too nice for her own good sometimes, but a nice girl all the same.
And then someone else appeared. Blonde boy. Rhory didn't know him. He stumbled through the trees and asked the group for help, sending throbs of guilt down Rhory's spine and into her stomach. If he needed help more than she did and they turned him down now... It wasn't like they could afford to be giving out assistance to anyone who stumbled through in the first place, but Rhory could easily have just grabbed her own water.
But then again... there was something off about this boy. Rhory tried to sweep it aside as paranoia, but her intuition continued to tuck at her ribs. Her body stiffened, the way a deer does when it knows you've seen it. Careful... Rhory observed, watching for reactions and ready to book it at the first sign of trouble.
Rhory managed to find it in her capabilities to roll her eyes at his comment. She could fend for herself, thank you very much, some spit just went down the wrong tube or someth-
But before she could clear her throat enough to speak again, Rhory was suddenly surrounded by people offering water. What the fuck? She wasn't sure what to react to more- the foolishly instinctive kindness or the blatant lie spouted by the large jock. But then again, it made sense- she shamelessly grabbed the boy's bottle and took small, careful sips, not enough to heal but enough not to step on toes- water was limited. They barely had enough for themselves. Remembering her own bags only feet away, Rhory felt a pang of shame. Oh well. Not my loss.
As consciousness (the full, rational kind) returned to her body and the boy who'd given her the water began talking about getting some from a stream or whatever (oh jeez, play the hero why don't you), Rhory finally examined the faces that surrounded her. Two of them, the jock and the hero, she recognized. They were both on the hockey team- either that or she'd seen them with hockey paraphernalia at school for no reason. The jerk one appeared to be wounded- suddenly, his actions made a lot more sense. The girl was... fuck, it was on the tip of her tongue. Jennifer. Right. (She handed back the bottle and thanked them) They'd talked once or twice. Didn't she make her own clothes? Right, that was it. Nice girl. A little too nice for her own good sometimes, but a nice girl all the same.
And then someone else appeared. Blonde boy. Rhory didn't know him. He stumbled through the trees and asked the group for help, sending throbs of guilt down Rhory's spine and into her stomach. If he needed help more than she did and they turned him down now... It wasn't like they could afford to be giving out assistance to anyone who stumbled through in the first place, but Rhory could easily have just grabbed her own water.
But then again... there was something off about this boy. Rhory tried to sweep it aside as paranoia, but her intuition continued to tuck at her ribs. Her body stiffened, the way a deer does when it knows you've seen it. Careful... Rhory observed, watching for reactions and ready to book it at the first sign of trouble.
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A lot had happened, real quick too. He spoke too quickly again and everyone had rebuffed him. Phil felt ashamed. Especially when both Jennifer and Marco offered their water, so freely, without compunction. Even then it was shame he felt, not an overwhelming sense of helplessness. It was only when Alex appeared from the bushes that this new was of emotion washed over him.
He had been playing in his head up until now. That everything would be alright, that once he found his teammates they would know what to do. There were so many people around him now, he wasn't sure who to listen to, where to turn. Marco was his team mate, he should know what to do, and then there was Jennifer - whom he had sworn (at least to himself) to protect. That in itself was fine but what happens if Marco wanted to leave Jennifer, what happened if Jennifer didn't trust Marco. It was too much for him to handle right now. He retreated in to his shell, like he always did.
Shrinking to the back he stood taut and morose next to Jennifer, his hands, his limbs all felt like they did before a game. He could almost smell it in the air. Something was about to happen and Phil was not ready.
He tried to grab Jens hand. It was a rough move and he might of squeezed too tight. He mumbled to her, his hand tightening around hers.
"We should go."
He had been playing in his head up until now. That everything would be alright, that once he found his teammates they would know what to do. There were so many people around him now, he wasn't sure who to listen to, where to turn. Marco was his team mate, he should know what to do, and then there was Jennifer - whom he had sworn (at least to himself) to protect. That in itself was fine but what happens if Marco wanted to leave Jennifer, what happened if Jennifer didn't trust Marco. It was too much for him to handle right now. He retreated in to his shell, like he always did.
Shrinking to the back he stood taut and morose next to Jennifer, his hands, his limbs all felt like they did before a game. He could almost smell it in the air. Something was about to happen and Phil was not ready.
He tried to grab Jens hand. It was a rough move and he might of squeezed too tight. He mumbled to her, his hand tightening around hers.
"We should go."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Wow. Yet again, Jennifer managed to fuck up pretty spectacularly and put her foot in her mouth. Marco had plenty of water to share, more than enough to give to Rhory, so Jennifer had just put Phil in an awkward spot without a good reason. At least Marco knew where they could go, so they wouldn't die of dehydration. That was good, or at least a little comfort.
Rhory drank some of the water, and seemed to perk up. That was a relief. Seeing someone else die in front of her was not exactly on Jennifer's list of priorities for the day. Sure, she could tell herself that corpses were just objects, that it made no difference in the long run, but that did nothing to erase the sickening sounds of skull on stone. Where was Nick now? Had he come to terms with his actions? Was he really going to follow through on his plans, and go after the other killers? Did it even matter? Jennifer found herself wishing, once again, that she had made different choices.
Then, the other guy came crashing out of nowhere. Alexander Seymour. British fellow. Rich, overprivileged guy, if Jennifer could recall correctly. She'd always had a negative bias towards him back at school, but she was so far past that here. He was a fellow human being, and he needed help. So, of course she would—
Phil grabbed her hand, before she could do anything. Grabbed it hard. It hurt, not badly, but it definitely hurt. Jennifer flinched for a second, entirely unprepared for the rough move. Had she done something wrong? Was Phil going to kill her?
The answers came quickly: yes to the first question, no to the second. Of course she'd done something wrong. She'd taken the lead at a bad time, had endangered herself and Phil, and had made an offer without consulting him. More than that, she was about to do so again, about to dive headlong into somebody else's problems, without a thought in the world for Phil, who was, after all, still injured. How fucking selfish could she be? A quick look around showed that there were more than enough people to help Alex. Marco had proved willing to be nice already. Jennifer could leave the newcomer safely with the others. Phil knew what he was doing. He'd seen way more of the ugly side of this game than she had. She just had to stick with him, and follow his lead. Let him make the decisions, and try to keep everyone as happy as possible.
She whispered back to him, "O-okay. You're, um, right. Sorry."
Rhory drank some of the water, and seemed to perk up. That was a relief. Seeing someone else die in front of her was not exactly on Jennifer's list of priorities for the day. Sure, she could tell herself that corpses were just objects, that it made no difference in the long run, but that did nothing to erase the sickening sounds of skull on stone. Where was Nick now? Had he come to terms with his actions? Was he really going to follow through on his plans, and go after the other killers? Did it even matter? Jennifer found herself wishing, once again, that she had made different choices.
Then, the other guy came crashing out of nowhere. Alexander Seymour. British fellow. Rich, overprivileged guy, if Jennifer could recall correctly. She'd always had a negative bias towards him back at school, but she was so far past that here. He was a fellow human being, and he needed help. So, of course she would—
Phil grabbed her hand, before she could do anything. Grabbed it hard. It hurt, not badly, but it definitely hurt. Jennifer flinched for a second, entirely unprepared for the rough move. Had she done something wrong? Was Phil going to kill her?
The answers came quickly: yes to the first question, no to the second. Of course she'd done something wrong. She'd taken the lead at a bad time, had endangered herself and Phil, and had made an offer without consulting him. More than that, she was about to do so again, about to dive headlong into somebody else's problems, without a thought in the world for Phil, who was, after all, still injured. How fucking selfish could she be? A quick look around showed that there were more than enough people to help Alex. Marco had proved willing to be nice already. Jennifer could leave the newcomer safely with the others. Phil knew what he was doing. He'd seen way more of the ugly side of this game than she had. She just had to stick with him, and follow his lead. Let him make the decisions, and try to keep everyone as happy as possible.
She whispered back to him, "O-okay. You're, um, right. Sorry."
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
((Gah, my apologies for holding this up!))
Marco took the bottle back from the girl, took a couple of sips himself to quench his thirst, and stowed it back in his bag. She could have drunk a lot more if she wanted to, going back to refill it would have been no skin off his back. Ah well, if she wanted any more later on, she was more than welcome to have some, if she was planning on sticking around with him that was. He had no idea what her plans were. Hell he had no idea what his own plans were.
A cough alerted Marco the presence of another boy heading their way. As he came closer, Marco saw that he was caked in blood with a gash on his cheek. "Holy crud, what the hell happened to you?" he exclaimed as the newcomer asked for their assistance and gave them his name. The cut on his cheek was still bleeding... which meant it had to have been made not long ago. 'Was he attacked recently?'
That didn't bode well if someone was going around attacking people close to their position. Looking at Alex, Marco saw something was slightly off; the blood on his clothes wasn't fresh at all. It was faded and more of a brown colour than red. It had to have been on his clothes for a reasonable amount of time. 'What... what had happened to him then? Did he get badly injured or something? Is that even his own blood?'
Well that last thought made him a lot more unnerved by the boy's sudden arrival. He could have just come his way straight after butchering someone else. He glanced briefly at Jennifer and Phil for some kind of reassurance, noticing his former team mate tightly clutching her hand. He was mumbling something to her, she whispered something back, but Marco couldn't hear what either of them said exactly.
"Um... how did you get that blood down you?" Marco asked Alex, wanting to get to the bottom this. He took a step back just to be sure.
Marco took the bottle back from the girl, took a couple of sips himself to quench his thirst, and stowed it back in his bag. She could have drunk a lot more if she wanted to, going back to refill it would have been no skin off his back. Ah well, if she wanted any more later on, she was more than welcome to have some, if she was planning on sticking around with him that was. He had no idea what her plans were. Hell he had no idea what his own plans were.
A cough alerted Marco the presence of another boy heading their way. As he came closer, Marco saw that he was caked in blood with a gash on his cheek. "Holy crud, what the hell happened to you?" he exclaimed as the newcomer asked for their assistance and gave them his name. The cut on his cheek was still bleeding... which meant it had to have been made not long ago. 'Was he attacked recently?'
That didn't bode well if someone was going around attacking people close to their position. Looking at Alex, Marco saw something was slightly off; the blood on his clothes wasn't fresh at all. It was faded and more of a brown colour than red. It had to have been on his clothes for a reasonable amount of time. 'What... what had happened to him then? Did he get badly injured or something? Is that even his own blood?'
Well that last thought made him a lot more unnerved by the boy's sudden arrival. He could have just come his way straight after butchering someone else. He glanced briefly at Jennifer and Phil for some kind of reassurance, noticing his former team mate tightly clutching her hand. He was mumbling something to her, she whispered something back, but Marco couldn't hear what either of them said exactly.
"Um... how did you get that blood down you?" Marco asked Alex, wanting to get to the bottom this. He took a step back just to be sure.
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Lord_Shadow†
- Posts: 26
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 7:15 am
Alex took a few mental notes of the situation before him. There were four people, two boys and two girls. One of the girls seemed a bit weak, and had taken water from the boy in front of him. So, someone who wasn't much of a threat and someone who stupidly looked out for others besides himself. Excellent. The other two didn't seem like they would be of much help to him. The boy looked a bit spooked... and wounded. Strike another one from the large threat list. That only left the 'good Samaritan' and the other girl who could potentially make things bad.
And the 'Samaritan' was asking about the blood. It was a question Alex had anticipated, but was unsure of how he would respond to it. He decided to fabricate a scenario. A plausible one, something they could all believe. "Oh, yeah. I guess I look pretty intimidating like this. I was attacked. Some crazy kid snapped or something and came after me. I managed to get the upper hand. I was scared, really frightened. I beat him up to protect myself. He was already injured a bit, so he bled on me. I didn't kill him though, I'm not like those others. We're still people right? I only defended myself. Maybe a little too much, I don't know. I ran away as quick as I could, tried to get away and clear my head. Try and get the fear out so I don't start to lose it like that guy did."
He brushed his cheek, trying to seem as if he had absentmindedly forgotten about it. "Ah, this. It still hurts but I completely forgot about it. I fell while I was running away, must have cut myself on some rock or something. I don't know, I didn't try to find out. Just had to keep running. That is, until I got back here. See, this is near where I woke up in this nightmare. I figured I should be careful, just in case I run into more psychos. I swear I thought I was a goner when I coughed. But I figured I should show myself. I don't have anything to lose after all. Thank god you didn't attack me. You don't know how good it is to see people who haven't let this place get to them."
He smiled, thinking to himself how brilliant he was.
That should work nicely. It's foolproof. Ha! There's no way a crazy person could have come up with this plan. This place hasn't gotten to me. And it never will. I'll survive, I'll use everyone I can to do so. I won't go crazy, I won't snap and die like everyone else will. I'm not crazy. No, you're not crazy Alex. You're the last sane man in this place. Your plan is proof of your sanity. Yes, proof.
He lowered his hands slowly. "If I promise not to slow you guys down, do you mind if I stick with your group for a moment? I would feel a lot safer traveling with a group than alone. I don't want to run into someone crazy with an actual weapon."
And the 'Samaritan' was asking about the blood. It was a question Alex had anticipated, but was unsure of how he would respond to it. He decided to fabricate a scenario. A plausible one, something they could all believe. "Oh, yeah. I guess I look pretty intimidating like this. I was attacked. Some crazy kid snapped or something and came after me. I managed to get the upper hand. I was scared, really frightened. I beat him up to protect myself. He was already injured a bit, so he bled on me. I didn't kill him though, I'm not like those others. We're still people right? I only defended myself. Maybe a little too much, I don't know. I ran away as quick as I could, tried to get away and clear my head. Try and get the fear out so I don't start to lose it like that guy did."
He brushed his cheek, trying to seem as if he had absentmindedly forgotten about it. "Ah, this. It still hurts but I completely forgot about it. I fell while I was running away, must have cut myself on some rock or something. I don't know, I didn't try to find out. Just had to keep running. That is, until I got back here. See, this is near where I woke up in this nightmare. I figured I should be careful, just in case I run into more psychos. I swear I thought I was a goner when I coughed. But I figured I should show myself. I don't have anything to lose after all. Thank god you didn't attack me. You don't know how good it is to see people who haven't let this place get to them."
He smiled, thinking to himself how brilliant he was.
That should work nicely. It's foolproof. Ha! There's no way a crazy person could have come up with this plan. This place hasn't gotten to me. And it never will. I'll survive, I'll use everyone I can to do so. I won't go crazy, I won't snap and die like everyone else will. I'm not crazy. No, you're not crazy Alex. You're the last sane man in this place. Your plan is proof of your sanity. Yes, proof.
He lowered his hands slowly. "If I promise not to slow you guys down, do you mind if I stick with your group for a moment? I would feel a lot safer traveling with a group than alone. I don't want to run into someone crazy with an actual weapon."
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Too many people.
Wounded Jock over there didn't want Rhory around anyway, the other two were too nice for their own good, and then this guy comes in trying to get in on it as well. If someone dangerous showed up they would get picked off like flies.
Rhory was feeling better now. She was able to get up, able to breathe. Her mouth felt clean. It was time to leave again.
"Thanks... I'm, uh, meeting someone. So I think I'll be out of here."
She didn't wait for a response. She didn't want one. She didn't want to hear that they were all going to be friends and beat this game and everything would be fine. She just wanted to... honestly, she could use a good shower right now. Or a meal. Or a movie. Whatever it was, these people weren't giving it to her.
She gave the group one final wave before walking back to her makeshift bed and picking up her stuff. It was back to the hunt for Rhory Anne.
[[Rhory Anne Broderick continued in The Most Important Meal of the Day]]
Wounded Jock over there didn't want Rhory around anyway, the other two were too nice for their own good, and then this guy comes in trying to get in on it as well. If someone dangerous showed up they would get picked off like flies.
Rhory was feeling better now. She was able to get up, able to breathe. Her mouth felt clean. It was time to leave again.
"Thanks... I'm, uh, meeting someone. So I think I'll be out of here."
She didn't wait for a response. She didn't want one. She didn't want to hear that they were all going to be friends and beat this game and everything would be fine. She just wanted to... honestly, she could use a good shower right now. Or a meal. Or a movie. Whatever it was, these people weren't giving it to her.
She gave the group one final wave before walking back to her makeshift bed and picking up her stuff. It was back to the hunt for Rhory Anne.
[[Rhory Anne Broderick continued in The Most Important Meal of the Day]]
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