((Anna Chase continued from Break Up And Break Down))
She sat with her back against a tree, resting as calmly as she could.
Of course, "calm" here meant "not freaking out as much". Each time she closed her eyes, she could see Robert, or rather, what was left of him. By god, she still wondered what was going on in Mr. Mystic's head to get the idea to eviscerate someone with a chainsaw. And by the sound of things, he didn't do anything to actually deserve it, as far as she could tell. He could have been just innocently walking along, minding his own business! Sure, there was shouting, but Chase couldn't make it out, or at least couldn't remember what was said or who was saying it.
Yesterday was a bit of a blur, now that she thought of it. She knew that Nancy had held her hostage and taken her daypack, and she could remember Robert and the sound of the chainsaw more than she would have liked to. But, everything seemed to blur together. Did she blank out at some point? How long was she on the ground hiding?
But oh god damn everything to hell, her neck hurt. Of course it would, after Nancy pulled her hair and how she was on the ground for god only knows how long, both before she woke up and during when she was hiding. Chase lifted her hand to massage the back of her neck, only to touch something metallic.
Her hand lifted away as quickly as possible once she realized what it was. Her collar.
Even though Chase really wasn't into SOTF in the first place, she had heard from people who were that these would explode if you tamper with them or go someplace you shouldn't. And this was confirmed by... Danya? Was that his name? Anyways, he said that not only if you go into a "danger zone" or if you mess with them, but also if you attempted an escape, they will take your head off.
Escape wasn't an option, it seemed.
But, there had to be a way out somehow. Danya seemed pretty confident that escape wasn't possible, but there had to be a loophole here somewhere. After all, it was always the confident men that would overlook major details. Chase however, wasn't even going to think about removing that thing like that one guy did.
So, for now, attempt to survive rather than escape. That meant three things she needed to find. One, food and water. Presumably the bag Nancy took had such things in it. But, since it was with her, that meant Chase needed to find such things. She had looked inside her remaining bag, and found a water bottle and a small lunch, consisting of a tuna sandwich and what appeared to be a cupcake, packed for the bus ride. She could remember her dad telling her that it was a good idea to keep water on you when you're off camping, so he insisted on her packing water. It had been full when she opened the bag previously, but by the time she rested here, the contents, along with the sandwich, had disappeared down her throat. What could she say? She was hungry and thirsty. But, since she was going to be like that again soon, it was a good idea to find food and water. Chase wasn't some camel, after all.
The second thing she needed to find was a weapon. Nancy had left her pretty much weaponless, for the most part. But, to be honest, you could kill someone with anything. If there was any lesson she received from all those graphically violent movies she watched, it was that one. She had heard stories of someone on the program attacking people with a dagger made out of a dildo and toothbrush, for example. On the "shank" line, Chase could remember seeing a website about how people in prison would make knives out of various objects they could find in prison. It didn't even have to be a knife! She could just find a large, thick stick, like a walking-type stick, and use it as a bludgeon for a while. This place seemed woody enough, she could probably find such a thing quickly. Chase could also easily get a weapon off someone else, either someone handing it off to her, or taking from those who... couldn't use it.
Oh god, her mind was turning to what could easily be described as grave robbing, wasn't it?
Chase shook her head. What was up with this game? It made people chainsaw others and consider stealing from the dead. She hugged her arms around herself and shuddered.
She just wanted to go home. Home was warm, with a soft bed that had her name on it. A nice shower was only a few steps away, and she could easily wash up and soak her body with her favorite strawberry body wash and shampoo. She could rest on her own bed, hugging Howell, her favorite plush Husky from when she was a kid, and going to sleep in her own room. Mom and Dad would be downstairs, talking to each other about various events and clattering around the kitchen and living room. Then once she was rested, she would go downstairs, chat with her parents, and watch some horror movie or anime. Or maybe she would talk to a friend on the phone.
Oh god, she was never going to experience that ever again, wasn't she?
No, don't think like that.
She had vowed to stay alive as long as possible, after all. But, what about Jon, Dawne, and Brendan?
Which lead into the third thing she needed; allies.
Chase could remember what had happened at the fair. Kitty had acted like she wanted to help Chase. But, once trouble kicked in? She and that other person had just left her to die. Left her. All they did while Nancy had her grip on her was talk. In the end, they couldn't help her. And it was almost as if they didn't even want her to live.
Did anyone want her to live?
Normally, she would say "Of course! Brendan, Dawne, Jon, Lexie, my parents..." and continue on that list. But, ever since prom, things had taken a turn for the worse in her relationships with most of them. Lexie wasn't the only one who disapproved of her dating Jon. Brendan, although not as severe as Lexie, had shown his displeasure in the past. Apparently he thought Jon was going to beat her or something. And let's not even get started on Dawne. God, Chase could barely look at her as normal nowadays.
But, here's the thing. She had to find them. It was really the right thing to do, after all. Jon in particular wasn't exactly popular. As far as she could tell, everyone knew him as the creepy kid who liked gory movies. Of course, everyone viewed Chase the same way. Jon, however, was a loner and admittedly had a snarky streak. Not many people thought highly of him, so someone could easily take his life without thinking. And some supposedly "Christian" fundamentalist could find Brendan, remember that he was gay (well, actually he was bisexual, but the "bi" part wasn't common knowledge), and decide he needs to die. And what about Dawne? Oh god... Dawne...
Chase pulled her knees up towards her chest. She had to find them soon. Any number of things could happen to them. None of the mental images popping up in her head about how each of them could die were very pleasant. There had to be a way to prevent each of their deaths. Hopefully Jon, Dawne, and Brendan were holding up well. Maybe Dawne found Rekka. But what then? Oh god, that was another person who needed to live. He had the capability to do so. The outdoors was always his forte. Unlike Chase, who hated the outdoors with a burning passion and preferred indoor activities, though she wasn't exactly a couch potato. And now she was going to pay for it.
Plus, she was so tiny and skinny, with no fighting skill whatsoever. She was no match for someone like Craig Hoyle, who as far as she could tell was on the football team and was a giant.
And that's when, in spite of everything, she burst into laughter. Not the kind of laughter crazy people would make, but the kind of laughter you would make when you had a funny mental image. And this mental image was Craig wearing a hockey mask and chasing Rosa Fiametta and Jen Romita, while they were in their bra and panties, with a machete. She had no clue why that popped in there when she was thinking about her friends dying, but it did out of the blue.
As she calmed down from her laughter, she sighed. God, it was strange, wasn't it? Even after seeing her classmate's organs splattered all over the ground, she still had the ability to laugh over the things she normally would. Maybe it was her way of coping with it. Some people drank, some smoked, some went crazy... and Anna Chase laughed over the mental image of Craig Hoyle as a slasher villain. And maybe this is why people thought she was weird.
But, maybe everything was going to turn out all right, after all. That image of Robert Lerger wasn't getting out of her head very quickly. However, it gave her a good reason to survive. Thing is, though, surviving meant fighting, and fighting meant killing.
Could she do that?
Chase had always been seen as a creepy weird kid by the rest of Bayview, judging by what things people said about and to her. But she wasn't the type to just kill someone so easily. Heck, people would probably expect her to want to play with Robert's organs or something, for some reason, even though it wasn't true. But, even now, even just the mental image made her upset. Again, it provided a good reason why she had to live.
She had to survive at any cost. Any? Did that mean murder?
Chase had to defend herself, at least.
Sighing again, she laid down, placing her head on her bag like a makeshift pillow. Chase hadn't gotten much of actual rest since she woke up at the Fun Fair, and combined with all that walking, it meant that she was pooped. Maybe she would allow herself to doze off, but what if some weirdo like Nancy or Rasputin would show up and attack her while she is sleeping? Maybe she could try not to fall asleep completely, and if someone approached, she could make a run for it. Hopefully, though, she would find something of actual shelter by nightfall. She wasn't going to spent the night on the ground, not at all. Did this place have any buildings aside from the stalls at the fairground, if those count?
Maybe a cave, but judging by the announcement that wasn't a good idea. Apparently, there were bears here. Great, not only crazed students out to get you, but bears as well. Chase had to be careful, which meant keeping a close eye on her food once she had some, and making sure she doesn't upset the wildlife. After all, that meant her death if she upset a bear. Chase could remember a horror movie about a bear. Heck, "a" horror movie? There were lots of them.
As she stared up at the trees' canopy as she laid on her back, she couldn't help but notice it was a nice day out. Sure, she was the one person who hated the outdoors, but everything looked so pretty. It was a shame that it had to be ruined by death and destruction. Maybe, though, if it rained, she could catch the water in her bottle so she wouldn't go thirsty. It didn't look like it was going to rain anytime soon, however. And even if it did, it pushed the shelter issue just a bit more.
God, her life had been rough recently. But right now she needed to rest for a little bit.
So What Do We Do Now?
((Ben Powell continued from Conquistador))
Ben was talking to himself again.
It was a small thing. He used to do it when he was young, talk to his annoying brain about ideas and questions that probably didn't matter. The doctors had shrugged it off as a stress relief function. Had he been bullied at school, had he been getting along well with others, blah de blah de blah. After a year of it, he finally stopped doing it. Apparently. Well, at least taking to yourself in your mind was probably better than out loud. That marked you as going slightly off the beaten track.
With a glance at the trees, he gave a sigh. Woodlands. More and more and more woodlands. According to the map, it stretched through almost a quarter of the whole island, possibly more. It was even more annoying that it was near impossible to navigate through it. No tracks were explicitly marked on the thing at that kind of detail. All he could do was strike off the dangerzones and make sure he was walking away from them.
Sleeping for Ben was easy. He just laid out on the dirt, pack at his head, and started to sleep. The problem is where he slept. In the end, he decided that some sort of hiding spot would be needed, but hiding in a forest? In the dark? He was better off just staying on the ground in the first place. Every few hours, his eyes shot open. Was that a twig snap? Wind rustling the leaves? Oh what he would have given to sleep in even a tent.
And now he was up. Blerry eyed, paintball gun glued to his hand. No friends. Because they were all either dead, ran away or goddamn killers now, weren't they? Oh, the choices. And where did he fit into all this?
Do you want to be the hero for these next few days? Or do you want to be a killer for the rest of your life?
Ben gave an almost creepy laugh. "I still hadn't figured that out yet."
And then he heard an echo in the distance. Someone else was laughing.
Ben swished the marker up in the general direction of the sound, before realising that it wasn't aimed at him. It was a random person in the middle of nowhere. What to do, what to do? His body shook in both fear and anticipation. After seeing Paige... well, you can't see much worse, can you?
You're going to have to make the decision very soon, Ben.
"Not this soon... I don't..."
This soon. Make a choice.
And then he blinked.
"Are you a player?"
"ARE YOU A PLAYER?!"
Ben was talking to himself again.
It was a small thing. He used to do it when he was young, talk to his annoying brain about ideas and questions that probably didn't matter. The doctors had shrugged it off as a stress relief function. Had he been bullied at school, had he been getting along well with others, blah de blah de blah. After a year of it, he finally stopped doing it. Apparently. Well, at least taking to yourself in your mind was probably better than out loud. That marked you as going slightly off the beaten track.
With a glance at the trees, he gave a sigh. Woodlands. More and more and more woodlands. According to the map, it stretched through almost a quarter of the whole island, possibly more. It was even more annoying that it was near impossible to navigate through it. No tracks were explicitly marked on the thing at that kind of detail. All he could do was strike off the dangerzones and make sure he was walking away from them.
Sleeping for Ben was easy. He just laid out on the dirt, pack at his head, and started to sleep. The problem is where he slept. In the end, he decided that some sort of hiding spot would be needed, but hiding in a forest? In the dark? He was better off just staying on the ground in the first place. Every few hours, his eyes shot open. Was that a twig snap? Wind rustling the leaves? Oh what he would have given to sleep in even a tent.
And now he was up. Blerry eyed, paintball gun glued to his hand. No friends. Because they were all either dead, ran away or goddamn killers now, weren't they? Oh, the choices. And where did he fit into all this?
Do you want to be the hero for these next few days? Or do you want to be a killer for the rest of your life?
Ben gave an almost creepy laugh. "I still hadn't figured that out yet."
And then he heard an echo in the distance. Someone else was laughing.
Ben swished the marker up in the general direction of the sound, before realising that it wasn't aimed at him. It was a random person in the middle of nowhere. What to do, what to do? His body shook in both fear and anticipation. After seeing Paige... well, you can't see much worse, can you?
You're going to have to make the decision very soon, Ben.
"Not this soon... I don't..."
This soon. Make a choice.
And then he blinked.
"Are you a player?"
"ARE YOU A PLAYER?!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dropbear. 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.
Her eyes slowly closed.
Hopefully no psycho was going to interrupt her dozing. Chase knew very well that she had sleeping problems when she was stressed out, and that this island probably wasn't going to let her rest for very long. It was probably a good idea to rest while she could. Maybe once it got dark, she could check for that shelter thing. Again, maybe a building of some kind.
Soon enough, she was clearly to some extent in a light doze, her chest lowering and raising in a slow rhythm. Yes... sleep was good...
However, said sleep only lasted... oh, about five seconds.
"ARE YOU A PLAYER?!"
Chase's eyes opened right away at the extremely loud screeching sound. Okay, what was that? Clearly, someone was nearby, and they were shouting things, of course. So, why did they have to interrupt her well-needed rest? Were they some sort of psycho, too? Not another one, hopefully. Chase was really getting tired of this already. She did not need Meredith Hemmings shooting a gun while shouting "Death is totally goth!" or some other psychotic-acting student right now.
She lifted herself back up into a standing position, and looked around her.
No one.
Either that, or that other person (people?) was very well-hidden. Which wasn't a good sign, at all. They could be literally anywhere at anytime.
Was it worth talking to them?
On one hand, they could be someone actually helpful, and not just talk while she is being attacked. On the other, it could be... well, someone like Mr. Russian Mystic. Hopefully it was the former, and not the latter. She could still remember what Robert looked like... the way his eyes looked... and Chase didn't want to join him, either. It was a miracle of god that she didn't throw up or something.
So, what was the right thing to do, then? There were multiple choices here. She could run, hide, fight, or try to talk to them. All of which could result in her death if she wasn't careful.
She hesitated, and then shouted back, cupping her hands around her mouth just like yesterday.
"Who is this? Person shouting about the... uh, playing? It's Anna Chase!"
A brief pause. Should she say it?
Yes, maybe she should.
"I'm not planning on doing anything like that, promise! Iwasjustsleeping!"
So there. There were multiple outcomes here. One, it turned out to be some sort of psycho that would promptly rip her to shreds, slice her skin off, use her skull as a drinking cup, and have sex with what's left. Two, it was someone she knew very well and trusted. Three, it was someone she didn't know, but would be willing to be an ally. Four, said person just goes about their business, leaving her be. Five, it was a hallucination or something like that. And six... damn, she couldn't think of any more outcomes.
In which case... then what?
She looked back at her backpack, wondering if it would make a good makeshift bludgeon in the scenario that it turned out to be the skull cup using kind of student here. She wasn't planning on being a skull cup, no siree. So she lifted it up, and held it to her chest. Sure, it might damage the contents inside it (she never really completely checked the contents just yet), but it was something. Plus, it might prevent a Nancy type scenario in the future.
All this to prevent becoming... Robert.
God, even if people didn't get her up, just that alone would keep her awake. She could vaguely remember the distant smell, the whirring sound of the chainsaw, the sound of shouting. It was still vague and a blur, but she could remember what Robert looked like very vividly. It continued to bring chills down her spine, even just picturing it. But, she kept reminding herself that it provided a good reason to live.
Please not Rasputin. Please not Nancy. Please not... oh hell...
Hopefully no psycho was going to interrupt her dozing. Chase knew very well that she had sleeping problems when she was stressed out, and that this island probably wasn't going to let her rest for very long. It was probably a good idea to rest while she could. Maybe once it got dark, she could check for that shelter thing. Again, maybe a building of some kind.
Soon enough, she was clearly to some extent in a light doze, her chest lowering and raising in a slow rhythm. Yes... sleep was good...
However, said sleep only lasted... oh, about five seconds.
"ARE YOU A PLAYER?!"
Chase's eyes opened right away at the extremely loud screeching sound. Okay, what was that? Clearly, someone was nearby, and they were shouting things, of course. So, why did they have to interrupt her well-needed rest? Were they some sort of psycho, too? Not another one, hopefully. Chase was really getting tired of this already. She did not need Meredith Hemmings shooting a gun while shouting "Death is totally goth!" or some other psychotic-acting student right now.
She lifted herself back up into a standing position, and looked around her.
No one.
Either that, or that other person (people?) was very well-hidden. Which wasn't a good sign, at all. They could be literally anywhere at anytime.
Was it worth talking to them?
On one hand, they could be someone actually helpful, and not just talk while she is being attacked. On the other, it could be... well, someone like Mr. Russian Mystic. Hopefully it was the former, and not the latter. She could still remember what Robert looked like... the way his eyes looked... and Chase didn't want to join him, either. It was a miracle of god that she didn't throw up or something.
So, what was the right thing to do, then? There were multiple choices here. She could run, hide, fight, or try to talk to them. All of which could result in her death if she wasn't careful.
She hesitated, and then shouted back, cupping her hands around her mouth just like yesterday.
"Who is this? Person shouting about the... uh, playing? It's Anna Chase!"
A brief pause. Should she say it?
Yes, maybe she should.
"I'm not planning on doing anything like that, promise! Iwasjustsleeping!"
So there. There were multiple outcomes here. One, it turned out to be some sort of psycho that would promptly rip her to shreds, slice her skin off, use her skull as a drinking cup, and have sex with what's left. Two, it was someone she knew very well and trusted. Three, it was someone she didn't know, but would be willing to be an ally. Four, said person just goes about their business, leaving her be. Five, it was a hallucination or something like that. And six... damn, she couldn't think of any more outcomes.
In which case... then what?
She looked back at her backpack, wondering if it would make a good makeshift bludgeon in the scenario that it turned out to be the skull cup using kind of student here. She wasn't planning on being a skull cup, no siree. So she lifted it up, and held it to her chest. Sure, it might damage the contents inside it (she never really completely checked the contents just yet), but it was something. Plus, it might prevent a Nancy type scenario in the future.
All this to prevent becoming... Robert.
God, even if people didn't get her up, just that alone would keep her awake. She could vaguely remember the distant smell, the whirring sound of the chainsaw, the sound of shouting. It was still vague and a blur, but she could remember what Robert looked like very vividly. It continued to bring chills down her spine, even just picturing it. But, she kept reminding herself that it provided a good reason to live.
Please not Rasputin. Please not Nancy. Please not... oh hell...
Not a player. Anna Chase. Bit of an oddball. Nerd?
"Shut up, brain."
She's not going to kill you. Are you going to kill her?
Slowly, very slowly, Ben walked forwards.
There she was. Black hair ran down her scared face. Glasses, or just lines around her eyes. Short. Slightly bony. Pale like a ghost. Black garb on her body. He never really noticed her at school that much. She was into that cartoon anime thing, wasn't she? That was the only thing he could remember from her. A slightly dark oddball.
"Ben Powell."
He didn't realise that he was pointing the paintball gun at her for a few seconds. Almost as if she was an animal. Something to shoot. His enemy. Now was the time. He didn't have a choice, did he? Play or die. Kill or be killed. There wasn't any point in being a hero, was there? Go on. Shoot her in the eyeballs. Blind the bitch and choke her. Succumb to the game. Go on. Do it. His chest heaved at the thought, blood running through him, heart beating. You ain't the hero.
"I... I'm not playing."
And he pried his shaking hands off the gun, forcing them to his sides.
You think you can defend this person? Like Jacob? Paige?
Exhaling, he shook his head. "Fuck... you scared me. I... well, I'm kinda edgy right now. Can I sit? I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
Wimp.
Shut up, brain. I'm going to get everyone off this island. I can. Somehow.
"Shut up, brain."
She's not going to kill you. Are you going to kill her?
Slowly, very slowly, Ben walked forwards.
There she was. Black hair ran down her scared face. Glasses, or just lines around her eyes. Short. Slightly bony. Pale like a ghost. Black garb on her body. He never really noticed her at school that much. She was into that cartoon anime thing, wasn't she? That was the only thing he could remember from her. A slightly dark oddball.
"Ben Powell."
He didn't realise that he was pointing the paintball gun at her for a few seconds. Almost as if she was an animal. Something to shoot. His enemy. Now was the time. He didn't have a choice, did he? Play or die. Kill or be killed. There wasn't any point in being a hero, was there? Go on. Shoot her in the eyeballs. Blind the bitch and choke her. Succumb to the game. Go on. Do it. His chest heaved at the thought, blood running through him, heart beating. You ain't the hero.
"I... I'm not playing."
And he pried his shaking hands off the gun, forcing them to his sides.
You think you can defend this person? Like Jacob? Paige?
Exhaling, he shook his head. "Fuck... you scared me. I... well, I'm kinda edgy right now. Can I sit? I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
Wimp.
Shut up, brain. I'm going to get everyone off this island. I can. Somehow.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dropbear. 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.
Chase could vaguely hear some mumblings. "Shut up brain"? God, and people always went on about how she was weird.
But, it seemed as if time slowed down as the speaker approached. At first it was just the crunching of twigs, branches, and god knows what else. But, the footsteps got louder. It seemed as if they were trying to quietly pad along, but every sense seemed to be amplified for her once more. It was like back at the carnival. It seemed as if she had separated from her body again, and was only watching what was happening, unable to act.
The figure grew closer, and soon Chase could tell it was a male. A skinny male, but threatening all the less. The gun he was holding was pointed straight at her. A gun. Oh great, another whackjob. Why were they always attracted to her? Was this some sort of karma here or something?
But, she just stood still.
Chase, run. He's going to attack you.
Her legs did not respond, despite the fact that she wanted to run. Oh, how she wanted to run.
MOVE IT! Moveitmoveitmoveitmoveitmoveit!
The boy continued to approach, gun still in tow. But, he stopped, and lowered the gun. Saying he wasn't going to play.
Chase continued to stare, clutching the bag to her chest. Everything seemed so surreal right now, like a dream or nightmare. It was just like yesterday, as she had remembered. Blood was pounding in her ears, and for all the world, she looked like a scared mouse just an inch away from a cat.
The gun boy's name was Ben Powell, apparently. She could somewhat remember that name and face, now that she thought of it.
Again, he wasn't playing, or at least he claimed. Was this some sort of lie? He was the one going around shouting things, muttering to himself, and pointing guns at people! Chase had the feeling there was something completely and utterly wrong with him.
And then he had the nerve to say that she was the one who scared him. Again, this was a guy who was shouting things at the top of his lungs, pointing guns at people, and talking to himself. That usually wasn't a good indicator of mental health, from what she knew of the topic.
After he asked if he could sit down, Chase tried her best to smile and answer as best as she could. "Uh... sure. But, could you mind... y'know... keeping the g... the gun on the ground? Because you kind of frightened me there..."
If he left his gun on the ground in plain view, it would help significantly. One, he would have to reach for it, giving Chase enough time to escape. Two, she could grab it if he did indeed get violent. Three, she could end up with a weapon if she did indeed grab it. It would be stealing, of course (she was the first person to know what that was like), but if he was like Rasputin, it was better than getting shot and having god knows what happen to her. She had no clue what type of gun it was, but she was sure it would be a help. And if he turned out to be nice, heck, she just might have an ally. Sure, he had frightened her, but maybe he knew something she didn't. And maybe she could get supplies off of him that she lost in the scuffle with Nancy.
So, for right now she was going to try to be civil with him. Be polite, ask him questions, make light conversation, see if he didn't think he was Hannibal Lecter or something, you know, interact with him like she would at school. Okay, so she didn't interact with Ben much at school. But, just talk to him like they had been paired up for a project or bumped into each other in the hallways, spilling paper and things everywhere. God, that was like some romantic comedy, was it? But now wasn't the time to think about movies and such.
"Hey... uh... Ben?" she looked at the new person. "Are you... y'know... alright?"
Mental health check is go! It wouldn't right away tell her if he was some sort of sicko that would skin her alive, but hey. If he was indeed a psychotic maniac, he would probably answer in a way that clearly indicated that. But, what then? How would she get away from someone like that? Just run and hide?
Oh, what a mess, what a mess.
But, it seemed as if time slowed down as the speaker approached. At first it was just the crunching of twigs, branches, and god knows what else. But, the footsteps got louder. It seemed as if they were trying to quietly pad along, but every sense seemed to be amplified for her once more. It was like back at the carnival. It seemed as if she had separated from her body again, and was only watching what was happening, unable to act.
The figure grew closer, and soon Chase could tell it was a male. A skinny male, but threatening all the less. The gun he was holding was pointed straight at her. A gun. Oh great, another whackjob. Why were they always attracted to her? Was this some sort of karma here or something?
But, she just stood still.
Chase, run. He's going to attack you.
Her legs did not respond, despite the fact that she wanted to run. Oh, how she wanted to run.
MOVE IT! Moveitmoveitmoveitmoveitmoveit!
The boy continued to approach, gun still in tow. But, he stopped, and lowered the gun. Saying he wasn't going to play.
Chase continued to stare, clutching the bag to her chest. Everything seemed so surreal right now, like a dream or nightmare. It was just like yesterday, as she had remembered. Blood was pounding in her ears, and for all the world, she looked like a scared mouse just an inch away from a cat.
The gun boy's name was Ben Powell, apparently. She could somewhat remember that name and face, now that she thought of it.
Again, he wasn't playing, or at least he claimed. Was this some sort of lie? He was the one going around shouting things, muttering to himself, and pointing guns at people! Chase had the feeling there was something completely and utterly wrong with him.
And then he had the nerve to say that she was the one who scared him. Again, this was a guy who was shouting things at the top of his lungs, pointing guns at people, and talking to himself. That usually wasn't a good indicator of mental health, from what she knew of the topic.
After he asked if he could sit down, Chase tried her best to smile and answer as best as she could. "Uh... sure. But, could you mind... y'know... keeping the g... the gun on the ground? Because you kind of frightened me there..."
If he left his gun on the ground in plain view, it would help significantly. One, he would have to reach for it, giving Chase enough time to escape. Two, she could grab it if he did indeed get violent. Three, she could end up with a weapon if she did indeed grab it. It would be stealing, of course (she was the first person to know what that was like), but if he was like Rasputin, it was better than getting shot and having god knows what happen to her. She had no clue what type of gun it was, but she was sure it would be a help. And if he turned out to be nice, heck, she just might have an ally. Sure, he had frightened her, but maybe he knew something she didn't. And maybe she could get supplies off of him that she lost in the scuffle with Nancy.
So, for right now she was going to try to be civil with him. Be polite, ask him questions, make light conversation, see if he didn't think he was Hannibal Lecter or something, you know, interact with him like she would at school. Okay, so she didn't interact with Ben much at school. But, just talk to him like they had been paired up for a project or bumped into each other in the hallways, spilling paper and things everywhere. God, that was like some romantic comedy, was it? But now wasn't the time to think about movies and such.
"Hey... uh... Ben?" she looked at the new person. "Are you... y'know... alright?"
Mental health check is go! It wouldn't right away tell her if he was some sort of sicko that would skin her alive, but hey. If he was indeed a psychotic maniac, he would probably answer in a way that clearly indicated that. But, what then? How would she get away from someone like that? Just run and hide?
Oh, what a mess, what a mess.
Ben slipped his pack off and rested it against a blackened stump. OK, so she wanted to have him not pointing things at her. Fair enough. With a sigh, he moved to attach the marker back onto his pacHispaintballgunwascrudelyshovedonastraponthebackpackSHUTTHEFUCKUPIAMNOTAFUCKINGNA
Gasping, his grip on the plastic went rock solid, making his hand go white from the pressure. "I'd... prefer to have something in my hands. Just in case. Don't worry, paintballs ain't toxic. It's a paintball gun."
Sliding down, he crossed his legs on the lumpy ground, clicking the safety back on the marker and resting it in his legs. The same situation wouldn't happen twice. No, he wasn't going to let go of his little bit of safety against people who thought his friends would be easy. That he would be an easy kill. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Are you... y'know... alright?"
With pain, he opened them again. Alright? Alright. Right. Well. Correct. Not bad. Giving a twitch, he thought. Was he... OK? Maybe he should just say yes. But that would mean... no. Looking into Chase's eyes, he started to spill.
"Well. I just had my best friend's girlfriend killed before my very eyes, my best friend's run off into the wilderness with a fucked up leg, my ex-girlfriend's is one of the top killers on the island, another friend who I cared for died, I've slept for about 6 hours on and off trying to convince myself that no-one was going to kill me in my sleep, and I've got about two days worth of water left before I'm empty."
He swallowed down air before continuing, his emotions flowing like a river. "I've... I spent an hour yesterday wondering whether I should kill myself to save the trouble. And you know what? I couldn't think of one reason why I shouldn't pull this fucking collar and blow my head off! I actually thought about committing suicide and it was an actual logical choice!. I... I never thought I would ever try to fucking kill myself! And... and you know what I wanted to do on this trip? All I wanted to do is to sit down with my friends and play fucking UNO!"
And then he blinked.
"...that's what I forgot. The uno cards. Of course. Fuck."
Gasping, his grip on the plastic went rock solid, making his hand go white from the pressure. "I'd... prefer to have something in my hands. Just in case. Don't worry, paintballs ain't toxic. It's a paintball gun."
Sliding down, he crossed his legs on the lumpy ground, clicking the safety back on the marker and resting it in his legs. The same situation wouldn't happen twice. No, he wasn't going to let go of his little bit of safety against people who thought his friends would be easy. That he would be an easy kill. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Are you... y'know... alright?"
With pain, he opened them again. Alright? Alright. Right. Well. Correct. Not bad. Giving a twitch, he thought. Was he... OK? Maybe he should just say yes. But that would mean... no. Looking into Chase's eyes, he started to spill.
"Well. I just had my best friend's girlfriend killed before my very eyes, my best friend's run off into the wilderness with a fucked up leg, my ex-girlfriend's is one of the top killers on the island, another friend who I cared for died, I've slept for about 6 hours on and off trying to convince myself that no-one was going to kill me in my sleep, and I've got about two days worth of water left before I'm empty."
He swallowed down air before continuing, his emotions flowing like a river. "I've... I spent an hour yesterday wondering whether I should kill myself to save the trouble. And you know what? I couldn't think of one reason why I shouldn't pull this fucking collar and blow my head off! I actually thought about committing suicide and it was an actual logical choice!. I... I never thought I would ever try to fucking kill myself! And... and you know what I wanted to do on this trip? All I wanted to do is to sit down with my friends and play fucking UNO!"
And then he blinked.
"...that's what I forgot. The uno cards. Of course. Fuck."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dropbear. 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.
-
AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Please not Rasputin.
Please not Rasputin.
Not Rasputin.
On a small dirt path a short distance from where Chase and Ben had met, a large figure stumbled through the forest. Exhausted, he dragged his feet and a bloodied chainsaw behind him.
((Alex Rasputin continued from Break Up And Break Down))
Alex had sworn he had been in this exact place before - walking down a road, unsure of where to go or what to do, still fearing for his life. Bloodied, and exhausted from the run through the island. This time, the road narrowed into a forest, and he could only keep walking down it because... what else was there to do? As long as he avoided people, he would be fine.
Look how well that turned out when you weren't marked for death.
Just as he had reached the forest, loudspeakers from - who knows where - crackled to life and the uncomfortably familiar voice of the terrorist leader announced the day's deaths. Alex could only imagine the man's plump face beaming at the carnage he had, once again, unleashed. It was only a bit reassuring that Alex wasn't the first person to lose his shit and... do what he did... in the program. This was the fourth "game."
...Eric Lorenz.... Robert Lerger...
Their names... hell, even their faces seemed to just stick in his mind. Like some kind of scar on his soul. He knew exactly what he could say to himself that would be comforting. Alex was a victim just like everyone else. He didn't mean to do what he did.
But he knew, it didn't quite work that way. Anyone on the island with half a mind to survive and a gun would shoot him, maybe even hunt him down if they saw him walking around the island. They'd throw him in with all of the psychos and loner kids that probably spent most of their free time wishing they got the chance to do some of the crazy shit they'd been doing on the island. They were just rabid dogs, let off the leash. Alex wasn't like them, but nobody else would be able to see that.
Even so, could he really say he DIDN'T mean to do any of the stuff he did? Eric Lorenz was hunted down and knocked off the back-side of a cliff; Robert Lerger was gutted with a fucking chainsaw. What was his defense? How do you say you don't deserve to die after THAT? Who in their right mind would believe that?
Especially the way he looked right now. The gash on his face opened up again, and bits of Robert Lerger still clung to his clothing. Mostly blood, but a few chunks of bone and sinew were clinging to his shirt. Both his shirt and pants were completely drenched in blood, and even his duffel bag had a few flecks on it, though they weren't too noticeable. There was still the chainsaw, which was more or less soaked a sickening sanguine. The chainsaw USED to be yellow, but it was now probably permanently stained. There was no way anyone was going to even remotely listen to a single plea he might had looking like this. He looked like - well, he looked like he'd just killed someone with a chainsaw.
Perhaps it was the particularly Russian brand of pragmatism he'd grown up with, or maybe even just a desire to be able to go back home, but as much as he went over the murders in his head, there was no way he could bring them back, or undo the damage he had done. They were the two single greatest mistakes in his life short of going on this fucking trip, and he would regret them until the day he died. Which for all he knew, could be today. So... all he could do was move on. Shed the past he'd created for himself on the island.
Bringing himself to a larger tree, he leaned against it and dropped the chainsaw and his duffel bag. First, he had to get rid of these clothes. He wasn't sure he could clean all of the blood off, but he could try. There was a pair of track pants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie in his bag, he'd left them there when he had gotten rid of most of his things near the fairground. How far off it seemed, that it was only a day ago. Alex hadn't slept the entire time he'd gotten here, and dark circles were starting to show around his eyes. As if he didn't look scary enough.
He started to feel nauseous when he had to peel the shirt off his chest, the bloody fabric brushing past his face. It was sopping with Lerger's blood, and it hit the ground with a discomforting *flop.* The pants followed, and they weren't as bad. The jeans had mostly dried while he was running, but they were still noticeably crimson. The boxers went too, as they too, were bloody. The blood had seeped through his clothing and somewhat "stained" his chest and legs, and it was sticky to the touch. Sticky. His chest was stic-
Without warning, Alex immediately threw up. Mostly water, and the crackers he'd eaten on the island a short while earlier. Something about the blood on his skin... felt disgusting. After dry heaving for almost a minute, Alex wiped his mouth with the bloodless end of his jeans, and got off of the ground.
Not hesitating for a moment (judging from the distance to the coast and some of the noises he'd heard, he probably didn't have many spare moments) he grabbed one of the water bottles from his daypack and opened it up over his head. The lukewarm water turned red as it washed some of the blood out of his hair and off of his chest. By the time he'd gone through the bottle, the blood still wasn't completely gone, but he was as far as he could define, clean. As fast as he could, he put the black track pants on, a green Minnesota Wild T-Shirt, and the nondescript grey hoodie. Alex didn't bother to tie his laces, and just slid his shoes back on. They were still slightly bloody, but they were black runners to begin with and he doubted anyone would notice. Hopefully he didn't look as obviously like who people thought he was, but if anyone recognized him (which they would) he'd be shot, or they'd run away.
Then there was the chainsaw. It still sat on the ground, still bloody. It was his only weapon, and it could still probably help him in a pinch, or at least deter someone from hurting him with anything short of a gun. With the few drops of water still in the bottle, he cleaned off the handle and the operational parts of the saw - the pull cord, the choke, the blade and the gas cap. In case he found any gas, and if he really ran out.
Not wanting to stay around a puddle of bloody clothes and vomit much longer, Alex picked up the now-mostly clean chainsaw and his duffel bag and slung them over his shoulder. He was able to tie the chainsaw to the bag with one of it's straps so he didn't have to carry it, and it was only a bit heavier.
---
A few minutes and a few hundred yards passed, and Alex still hadn't a clue what to do with himself. There were only two dangerzones, and he hadn't ran into anyone in the forest quite yet. Finding some kind of food would be nice, but that would mean he would have to go back into the island's settlements. And that meant people. There wasn't too much wildlife on the island and it wasn't like he was going to be able to catch anything with a chainsaw. Apparently there was a bear on the island, but it wasn't like Alex was going to go out hunting for a bear to kill with his... well, "bare" hands. He wasn't THAT Russian.
Amidst the endless green and brown of the forest, Alex soon found himself baring down on two students he didn't quite recognize. It didn't really occur to him to stop, and he was walking at a brisk enough pace to not notice them until he was very clearly in their view.
With one hand still on his daypack, he could only stare at them blankly.
Well...?
Alex waved, and speaking only quietly enough for them to hear, spoke up.
"...hi?"
Please not Rasputin.
Not Rasputin.
On a small dirt path a short distance from where Chase and Ben had met, a large figure stumbled through the forest. Exhausted, he dragged his feet and a bloodied chainsaw behind him.
((Alex Rasputin continued from Break Up And Break Down))
Alex had sworn he had been in this exact place before - walking down a road, unsure of where to go or what to do, still fearing for his life. Bloodied, and exhausted from the run through the island. This time, the road narrowed into a forest, and he could only keep walking down it because... what else was there to do? As long as he avoided people, he would be fine.
Look how well that turned out when you weren't marked for death.
Just as he had reached the forest, loudspeakers from - who knows where - crackled to life and the uncomfortably familiar voice of the terrorist leader announced the day's deaths. Alex could only imagine the man's plump face beaming at the carnage he had, once again, unleashed. It was only a bit reassuring that Alex wasn't the first person to lose his shit and... do what he did... in the program. This was the fourth "game."
...Eric Lorenz.... Robert Lerger...
Their names... hell, even their faces seemed to just stick in his mind. Like some kind of scar on his soul. He knew exactly what he could say to himself that would be comforting. Alex was a victim just like everyone else. He didn't mean to do what he did.
But he knew, it didn't quite work that way. Anyone on the island with half a mind to survive and a gun would shoot him, maybe even hunt him down if they saw him walking around the island. They'd throw him in with all of the psychos and loner kids that probably spent most of their free time wishing they got the chance to do some of the crazy shit they'd been doing on the island. They were just rabid dogs, let off the leash. Alex wasn't like them, but nobody else would be able to see that.
Even so, could he really say he DIDN'T mean to do any of the stuff he did? Eric Lorenz was hunted down and knocked off the back-side of a cliff; Robert Lerger was gutted with a fucking chainsaw. What was his defense? How do you say you don't deserve to die after THAT? Who in their right mind would believe that?
Especially the way he looked right now. The gash on his face opened up again, and bits of Robert Lerger still clung to his clothing. Mostly blood, but a few chunks of bone and sinew were clinging to his shirt. Both his shirt and pants were completely drenched in blood, and even his duffel bag had a few flecks on it, though they weren't too noticeable. There was still the chainsaw, which was more or less soaked a sickening sanguine. The chainsaw USED to be yellow, but it was now probably permanently stained. There was no way anyone was going to even remotely listen to a single plea he might had looking like this. He looked like - well, he looked like he'd just killed someone with a chainsaw.
Perhaps it was the particularly Russian brand of pragmatism he'd grown up with, or maybe even just a desire to be able to go back home, but as much as he went over the murders in his head, there was no way he could bring them back, or undo the damage he had done. They were the two single greatest mistakes in his life short of going on this fucking trip, and he would regret them until the day he died. Which for all he knew, could be today. So... all he could do was move on. Shed the past he'd created for himself on the island.
Bringing himself to a larger tree, he leaned against it and dropped the chainsaw and his duffel bag. First, he had to get rid of these clothes. He wasn't sure he could clean all of the blood off, but he could try. There was a pair of track pants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie in his bag, he'd left them there when he had gotten rid of most of his things near the fairground. How far off it seemed, that it was only a day ago. Alex hadn't slept the entire time he'd gotten here, and dark circles were starting to show around his eyes. As if he didn't look scary enough.
He started to feel nauseous when he had to peel the shirt off his chest, the bloody fabric brushing past his face. It was sopping with Lerger's blood, and it hit the ground with a discomforting *flop.* The pants followed, and they weren't as bad. The jeans had mostly dried while he was running, but they were still noticeably crimson. The boxers went too, as they too, were bloody. The blood had seeped through his clothing and somewhat "stained" his chest and legs, and it was sticky to the touch. Sticky. His chest was stic-
Without warning, Alex immediately threw up. Mostly water, and the crackers he'd eaten on the island a short while earlier. Something about the blood on his skin... felt disgusting. After dry heaving for almost a minute, Alex wiped his mouth with the bloodless end of his jeans, and got off of the ground.
Not hesitating for a moment (judging from the distance to the coast and some of the noises he'd heard, he probably didn't have many spare moments) he grabbed one of the water bottles from his daypack and opened it up over his head. The lukewarm water turned red as it washed some of the blood out of his hair and off of his chest. By the time he'd gone through the bottle, the blood still wasn't completely gone, but he was as far as he could define, clean. As fast as he could, he put the black track pants on, a green Minnesota Wild T-Shirt, and the nondescript grey hoodie. Alex didn't bother to tie his laces, and just slid his shoes back on. They were still slightly bloody, but they were black runners to begin with and he doubted anyone would notice. Hopefully he didn't look as obviously like who people thought he was, but if anyone recognized him (which they would) he'd be shot, or they'd run away.
Then there was the chainsaw. It still sat on the ground, still bloody. It was his only weapon, and it could still probably help him in a pinch, or at least deter someone from hurting him with anything short of a gun. With the few drops of water still in the bottle, he cleaned off the handle and the operational parts of the saw - the pull cord, the choke, the blade and the gas cap. In case he found any gas, and if he really ran out.
Not wanting to stay around a puddle of bloody clothes and vomit much longer, Alex picked up the now-mostly clean chainsaw and his duffel bag and slung them over his shoulder. He was able to tie the chainsaw to the bag with one of it's straps so he didn't have to carry it, and it was only a bit heavier.
---
A few minutes and a few hundred yards passed, and Alex still hadn't a clue what to do with himself. There were only two dangerzones, and he hadn't ran into anyone in the forest quite yet. Finding some kind of food would be nice, but that would mean he would have to go back into the island's settlements. And that meant people. There wasn't too much wildlife on the island and it wasn't like he was going to be able to catch anything with a chainsaw. Apparently there was a bear on the island, but it wasn't like Alex was going to go out hunting for a bear to kill with his... well, "bare" hands. He wasn't THAT Russian.
Amidst the endless green and brown of the forest, Alex soon found himself baring down on two students he didn't quite recognize. It didn't really occur to him to stop, and he was walking at a brisk enough pace to not notice them until he was very clearly in their view.
With one hand still on his daypack, he could only stare at them blankly.
Well...?
Alex waved, and speaking only quietly enough for them to hear, spoke up.
"...hi?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
Chase could only sit there, watching and listening as the boy rambled on about ex-girlfriends and friends and Uno and things like that.
Really, what was the right thing to say here?
All Chase had to deal with was the fact that she hadn't exactly been on good terms with her friends for a variety of reasons, getting robbed, and then the Russian monk person doing... that. Here, this guy had to deal with his friends dying in front of him and his ex being a murderer.
And suddenly, the numb feeling of fear was replaced with awkwardness.
Chase never saw herself as being good at consoling people. Really, there were too many things that could go wrong here, especially since he was holding a gun. A "paintball gun", apparently. Chase didn't know what that meant exactly or what it was capable of. To her, paintball was something she only heard about at school from time to time, but had little to no idea what it actually was. Could a "bullet" still kill someone? It would probably hurt somewhat, at the very least. It only made things more awkward, knowing that he had a weapon, even if it was just paint, and she didn't. Chase was going to have to improvise a weapon, and fast.
But, in any case, she really had no clue what exactly to say. It wasn't like she didn't care about him. In fact, some part of her wanted to say something, especially since he was apparently considering suicide. But, what? What would make him feel better?
"I'm... I'm sorry. I had no clue... and... uh..."
She could only stare at Ben.
What was it like, having someone close to you die only a few feet away?
Chase did not want to experience that. Heck, if Jon, Dawne, Brendan, and Rekka all managed to survive, that would be peachy. The last thing she wanted was the death of her friends. But this guy had watched his own friends get attacked and die. And his ex... god, no wonder he was acting so weird just a few seconds ago.
She frowned, and looked towards the ground.
"I'm not sure w-what is the right thing to say. I mean, I kinda got mugged and... uh... that guy on the announcement who got attacked by a chainsaw? I was kinda... well, I was there. T-trust me, I didn't get to see the murder, but... I saw the body... but... uh... nothing like..."
She gulped a bit of air, then looked up.
"Look. If you want, I c-could stay with you. You know, help each other out? I mean... we're in this together, right? It's probably a good idea to... y'know... uh... safety in numbers? So we won't get killed or lose our minds as easy?"
Chase placed herself on the ground next to Ben, staring at him like he was some mysterious new life form. One thing she couldn't help but wonder was if he needed a hug or something like that. In most cases it would be considered weird to randomly hug people you barely knew, but this guy was clearly distressed. In fact, she was already feeling kind of bad that she was seriously considering taking his weapon only just recently, even if in an attempt to get away from a psychopath.
And once more, she stared at the ground again, and softly sighed as she placed the bag to her left.
God, she wasn't sure what was worse. Dealing with a complete psycho like Rasputin apparently was, or dealing with someone as frightened as Ben or... herself. Fighting a psychopath with no redeeming factors was one thing, but fighting someone just as scared as she was another. Things with Ben seemed awkward as of this moment, but what if she had to fight him after knowing this?
And what if he just left her to die, just like what Kitty did? Would he do that?
It didn't help that she had been woken up, either. Otherwise she would have said something smart, or be able to figure things out a bit more.
Chase looked up, and saw someone approaching. Whoever it was, they looked huge and athletic even from here. She could only once more stare at the man approached, clearly lost in his thoughts. Who was it now? Another scared student, or one of the sickos? Eventually he stopped, and gave them both a confused expression and a quiet greeting. This guy here looked vaguely familiar. Chase might had seen him around at school a couple of times. Heck, she might had shared a class with him.
Her eyes quickly looked over his body. Yup, he was definitely huge and muscular. Probably on a sports team of some kind. He still had two bags, so he still had the majority of his supplies. There was something attached to the straps of one of his bag, as well. What was that? Was that his weapon? Chase looked at it for a few seconds, before noticing what it was.
Right at that moment, the memory of the sounds she heard at the Fun Fair kicked in. Inside her mind, she could almost hear the chainsaw's roar again, and Robert's face the morning after.
Oh god.... hehasachainsawhehasachainsawhehasaCHAINSAWHEHASACHAINSAW.
Chase started to tremble again, and found herself frozen to the ground once more. What could she do? He was huge! She couldn't fight against this man! What if he used it? What was left of Robert kept coming up in her mind insistently, and wouldn't go away.
"N-no..." she mumbled quietly.
She kept telling herself that she wouldn't end up like Robert. But, here was someone with a chainsaw. Multiple people could have had one here, but what if it was... oh god.
Should she run?
Her legs had turned to jello once more, and she couldn't move. Oh god, please not be him! Out of here, she needed to run now. Ben had something closer to a weapon, but would it stop him? It was paint apparently, but if chainsaw guy thought it was a gun with actual bullets, he could be scared away. But what if he wasn't?
Really, what was the right thing to say here?
All Chase had to deal with was the fact that she hadn't exactly been on good terms with her friends for a variety of reasons, getting robbed, and then the Russian monk person doing... that. Here, this guy had to deal with his friends dying in front of him and his ex being a murderer.
And suddenly, the numb feeling of fear was replaced with awkwardness.
Chase never saw herself as being good at consoling people. Really, there were too many things that could go wrong here, especially since he was holding a gun. A "paintball gun", apparently. Chase didn't know what that meant exactly or what it was capable of. To her, paintball was something she only heard about at school from time to time, but had little to no idea what it actually was. Could a "bullet" still kill someone? It would probably hurt somewhat, at the very least. It only made things more awkward, knowing that he had a weapon, even if it was just paint, and she didn't. Chase was going to have to improvise a weapon, and fast.
But, in any case, she really had no clue what exactly to say. It wasn't like she didn't care about him. In fact, some part of her wanted to say something, especially since he was apparently considering suicide. But, what? What would make him feel better?
"I'm... I'm sorry. I had no clue... and... uh..."
She could only stare at Ben.
What was it like, having someone close to you die only a few feet away?
Chase did not want to experience that. Heck, if Jon, Dawne, Brendan, and Rekka all managed to survive, that would be peachy. The last thing she wanted was the death of her friends. But this guy had watched his own friends get attacked and die. And his ex... god, no wonder he was acting so weird just a few seconds ago.
She frowned, and looked towards the ground.
"I'm not sure w-what is the right thing to say. I mean, I kinda got mugged and... uh... that guy on the announcement who got attacked by a chainsaw? I was kinda... well, I was there. T-trust me, I didn't get to see the murder, but... I saw the body... but... uh... nothing like..."
She gulped a bit of air, then looked up.
"Look. If you want, I c-could stay with you. You know, help each other out? I mean... we're in this together, right? It's probably a good idea to... y'know... uh... safety in numbers? So we won't get killed or lose our minds as easy?"
Chase placed herself on the ground next to Ben, staring at him like he was some mysterious new life form. One thing she couldn't help but wonder was if he needed a hug or something like that. In most cases it would be considered weird to randomly hug people you barely knew, but this guy was clearly distressed. In fact, she was already feeling kind of bad that she was seriously considering taking his weapon only just recently, even if in an attempt to get away from a psychopath.
And once more, she stared at the ground again, and softly sighed as she placed the bag to her left.
God, she wasn't sure what was worse. Dealing with a complete psycho like Rasputin apparently was, or dealing with someone as frightened as Ben or... herself. Fighting a psychopath with no redeeming factors was one thing, but fighting someone just as scared as she was another. Things with Ben seemed awkward as of this moment, but what if she had to fight him after knowing this?
And what if he just left her to die, just like what Kitty did? Would he do that?
It didn't help that she had been woken up, either. Otherwise she would have said something smart, or be able to figure things out a bit more.
Chase looked up, and saw someone approaching. Whoever it was, they looked huge and athletic even from here. She could only once more stare at the man approached, clearly lost in his thoughts. Who was it now? Another scared student, or one of the sickos? Eventually he stopped, and gave them both a confused expression and a quiet greeting. This guy here looked vaguely familiar. Chase might had seen him around at school a couple of times. Heck, she might had shared a class with him.
Her eyes quickly looked over his body. Yup, he was definitely huge and muscular. Probably on a sports team of some kind. He still had two bags, so he still had the majority of his supplies. There was something attached to the straps of one of his bag, as well. What was that? Was that his weapon? Chase looked at it for a few seconds, before noticing what it was.
Right at that moment, the memory of the sounds she heard at the Fun Fair kicked in. Inside her mind, she could almost hear the chainsaw's roar again, and Robert's face the morning after.
Oh god.... hehasachainsawhehasachainsawhehasaCHAINSAWHEHASACHAINSAW.
Chase started to tremble again, and found herself frozen to the ground once more. What could she do? He was huge! She couldn't fight against this man! What if he used it? What was left of Robert kept coming up in her mind insistently, and wouldn't go away.
"N-no..." she mumbled quietly.
She kept telling herself that she wouldn't end up like Robert. But, here was someone with a chainsaw. Multiple people could have had one here, but what if it was... oh god.
Should she run?
Her legs had turned to jello once more, and she couldn't move. Oh god, please not be him! Out of here, she needed to run now. Ben had something closer to a weapon, but would it stop him? It was paint apparently, but if chainsaw guy thought it was a gun with actual bullets, he could be scared away. But what if he wasn't?
His chest felt lighter as the silence went through the woods. Ben just stared at Chase, listening to her. Maybe they were more alike than he first thought. Although he didn't get mugged, or see a chainsawed body. No, he was lucky, he just saw a shot, a bullet wound. And he didn't... wait, mugged? Like... Ben shuddered. No, not like that. Just had her bag or something taken away. Ben felt delusional. He didn't get enough sleep last night, for sure.
"Look. If you want, I c-could stay with you. You know, help each other out?"
The words rang through his mind. Stay with her. Just for a while. Until the end. Wouldn't that be fine? Look after each other until the end. That's what he had promised Jacob. He should have ran after him. But no, he had to just stand aside.
I still say we shoot-
We're not shooting anyone. We're not murderers. I'm not a murderer.
What do you call shooting someone in the chest? An accident?
No. He was... he had a different way of trying to survive.
...I hope you're right.
Swallowing, he tried to speak. "I... I'd think... I..."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Looking around, he saw a shadow come out into the light. He looked as if he had been through hell and came out the other side a different man. More scared. More sad. More... something... not human. And on his hands, a red, bloody chainsaw.
He felt Anna tense up next to him at the sight. This was the person she was talking about, right? The person who had killed her friend. Unconsciously, he clicked the safety button off on the marker. A killer? What should they do? Run? Fight? Live? Die? Slowly, he slipped his backpack shoulder straps back on.
"So. Did you have a nice day one, stranger?"
With shaky hands, he rose the paintball gun, aiming it at the human mass, sliding between it and Anna.
Oh, yay. Hero time. Bets on how long you last.
Shaking his head, he glanced at Chase. "Do you want to leave, partner? I'll follow."
"Look. If you want, I c-could stay with you. You know, help each other out?"
The words rang through his mind. Stay with her. Just for a while. Until the end. Wouldn't that be fine? Look after each other until the end. That's what he had promised Jacob. He should have ran after him. But no, he had to just stand aside.
I still say we shoot-
We're not shooting anyone. We're not murderers. I'm not a murderer.
What do you call shooting someone in the chest? An accident?
No. He was... he had a different way of trying to survive.
...I hope you're right.
Swallowing, he tried to speak. "I... I'd think... I..."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Looking around, he saw a shadow come out into the light. He looked as if he had been through hell and came out the other side a different man. More scared. More sad. More... something... not human. And on his hands, a red, bloody chainsaw.
He felt Anna tense up next to him at the sight. This was the person she was talking about, right? The person who had killed her friend. Unconsciously, he clicked the safety button off on the marker. A killer? What should they do? Run? Fight? Live? Die? Slowly, he slipped his backpack shoulder straps back on.
"So. Did you have a nice day one, stranger?"
With shaky hands, he rose the paintball gun, aiming it at the human mass, sliding between it and Anna.
Oh, yay. Hero time. Bets on how long you last.
Shaking his head, he glanced at Chase. "Do you want to leave, partner? I'll follow."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dropbear. 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.
A quick glance at Ben told her that he was also starting to tense up, to the point of taking the safety off his paint gun. He must had realized what she did; this was more than likely this Alex Rasputin. He and Ben had a weapon, she didn't. Which meant she was... oh god... going to have to get out of here as quickly as possible. She couldn't leave Ben behind, though. She knew what that was like. But what could she do? She couldn't fight someone like Rasputin, especially if he had a chainsaw.
Chase, stay calm. Try to act normal.
Ben seemed to have it under control, however. He- seemingly sarcastically- asked Rasputin (?) how his day one went. And soon enough, she was asked if she wanted to leave.
Leave? To where? Chase had no clue. All she knew was that where they were currently in a forest that seemed endless, and that she was scared out of her wits. Oh, and there was a guy with a paintball gun and a guy with a chainsaw. God, this has been a weird month. Maybe there was shelter nearby. Proper shelter, like an actual building. But, one thing that her mind was focused on was that she had to get away from Rasputin, or at least someone who she thought was him.
Now.
She turned and jogged away for a few feet, but then spun around. "This way, Ben!" she shouted behind her, though unintentionally in a panicked manner.
And so, she turned back and ran, hoping Ben was indeed following and not Rasputin. But what if Rasputin did follow? What would they do? What if he got Ben? What if Ben ended up staying where he was and they ended up separated? But could she trust Ben? Just a few minutes ago he was pointing a gun at her! He had frightened her when they first met up. The only reason why she wasn't scared of him now was because admittedly she was worried about him. But what if he was... you know... just trying to get her trust? But for now, she had to get the hell away.
She wasn't going to be another Robert Lerger.
The memory of the chainsaw's roar seemed stronger than ever. So was Robert's face and those dull, lifeless eyes. It was a reminder of what she could become if she let Rasputin catch up to her. But was it really Rasputin? In her state of mind, Chase wasn't going to take any chances here. It was better to get the hell out rather than stick around to see if it really was him.
And so Chase ran, praying to god that Ben was following, and that Chainsaw Guy would leave them alone.
((Anna Chase continued in Life is a Beach))
Chase, stay calm. Try to act normal.
Ben seemed to have it under control, however. He- seemingly sarcastically- asked Rasputin (?) how his day one went. And soon enough, she was asked if she wanted to leave.
Leave? To where? Chase had no clue. All she knew was that where they were currently in a forest that seemed endless, and that she was scared out of her wits. Oh, and there was a guy with a paintball gun and a guy with a chainsaw. God, this has been a weird month. Maybe there was shelter nearby. Proper shelter, like an actual building. But, one thing that her mind was focused on was that she had to get away from Rasputin, or at least someone who she thought was him.
Now.
She turned and jogged away for a few feet, but then spun around. "This way, Ben!" she shouted behind her, though unintentionally in a panicked manner.
And so, she turned back and ran, hoping Ben was indeed following and not Rasputin. But what if Rasputin did follow? What would they do? What if he got Ben? What if Ben ended up staying where he was and they ended up separated? But could she trust Ben? Just a few minutes ago he was pointing a gun at her! He had frightened her when they first met up. The only reason why she wasn't scared of him now was because admittedly she was worried about him. But what if he was... you know... just trying to get her trust? But for now, she had to get the hell away.
She wasn't going to be another Robert Lerger.
The memory of the chainsaw's roar seemed stronger than ever. So was Robert's face and those dull, lifeless eyes. It was a reminder of what she could become if she let Rasputin catch up to her. But was it really Rasputin? In her state of mind, Chase wasn't going to take any chances here. It was better to get the hell out rather than stick around to see if it really was him.
And so Chase ran, praying to god that Ben was following, and that Chainsaw Guy would leave them alone.
((Anna Chase continued in Life is a Beach))
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Alex looked at the two of them, as almost immediately after he spoke they realized who he was and were then on the train of thought of getting away from him as soon as possible. It wasn't really the reaction he wanted, but he expected worse. At least they didn't try and hurt him. That wouldn't have ended well. Alex could only help but feel a sense of disappointment with the fact that he was now seen as somewhat of a monster.
I killed two people... that kind of makes me a monster. I didn't enjoy it, but they don't know that.
Did he enjoy it? After the first one, Alex did note a certain sense of relief. But he only really meant to hurt Eric badly, not to kill him. It just happened to be that Eric landed on something pointy, and... well, the rest is history. But killing Robert Lerger... that was....
A mistake.
As the one girl turned to start to run away, Alex spoke up. Rushed, but not in a harsh way.
"Wait... I didn't mean... I'm not going to hurt you! I know I've done some bad shit, just let me explain!"
But she was already gone. No amount of pleading could convince her that Alex was anything short of the worst person she'd would ever lay eyes upon. Hands at his sides, he was a little bit hopeless. A few rays of sunlight beamed into the corner of his eye. It was pretty bright at... dawn? Sunset? Where the hell was he anymore?
Alex hadn't had more than ten minutes of rest in the past... three days. It was starting to wear on him, and he could imagine the dark circles under his eyes did nothing to make him look anything short of menacing. The chainsaw was mostly clean, but it still wasn't really a good indication of his intentions. The blood was literally off his hands... metaphorically anyone he'd run into now, from what he could see, was going to run away or try to kill him.
Beyond that... fuck, TWO? Alex could maybe see not really meaning to kill one person, but two? How the fuck does that happen?
He looked at the boy in front of him with helpless glance.
I'm not a bad person... I just want to survive.
I killed two people... that kind of makes me a monster. I didn't enjoy it, but they don't know that.
Did he enjoy it? After the first one, Alex did note a certain sense of relief. But he only really meant to hurt Eric badly, not to kill him. It just happened to be that Eric landed on something pointy, and... well, the rest is history. But killing Robert Lerger... that was....
A mistake.
As the one girl turned to start to run away, Alex spoke up. Rushed, but not in a harsh way.
"Wait... I didn't mean... I'm not going to hurt you! I know I've done some bad shit, just let me explain!"
But she was already gone. No amount of pleading could convince her that Alex was anything short of the worst person she'd would ever lay eyes upon. Hands at his sides, he was a little bit hopeless. A few rays of sunlight beamed into the corner of his eye. It was pretty bright at... dawn? Sunset? Where the hell was he anymore?
Alex hadn't had more than ten minutes of rest in the past... three days. It was starting to wear on him, and he could imagine the dark circles under his eyes did nothing to make him look anything short of menacing. The chainsaw was mostly clean, but it still wasn't really a good indication of his intentions. The blood was literally off his hands... metaphorically anyone he'd run into now, from what he could see, was going to run away or try to kill him.
Beyond that... fuck, TWO? Alex could maybe see not really meaning to kill one person, but two? How the fuck does that happen?
He looked at the boy in front of him with helpless glance.
I'm not a bad person... I just want to survive.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
"Ex- Explain?" Ben blinked twice, trying to get those words into his mind.
He's a killer! He's lying!
What is he lying about?
OH FOR GODS SAKES-
Ben mentally kicked his voice into it's office and locked the door. For once, he wanted answers. Then again, he didn't really have a lot of questions. Shrugging off that thought, he started to rise up, pack on back, gun shaking like a leaf.
"Look. You've killed. She told me. Why the fuck should I trust someone who's killed? Self defence? Because it was either you or him?"
Breathing deeper through his nose, his emotions burst forth, anger running through his veins. Would it be justice to exact revenge?
"Come on, mate, tell me."
It wouldn't get their bodies back.
But it would make him feel better.
"How did it feel to remove their lives?"
He's a killer! He's lying!
What is he lying about?
OH FOR GODS SAKES-
Ben mentally kicked his voice into it's office and locked the door. For once, he wanted answers. Then again, he didn't really have a lot of questions. Shrugging off that thought, he started to rise up, pack on back, gun shaking like a leaf.
"Look. You've killed. She told me. Why the fuck should I trust someone who's killed? Self defence? Because it was either you or him?"
Breathing deeper through his nose, his emotions burst forth, anger running through his veins. Would it be justice to exact revenge?
"Come on, mate, tell me."
It wouldn't get their bodies back.
But it would make him feel better.
"How did it feel to remove their lives?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dropbear. 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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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Alex Rasputin's hopeless, slightly pathetic stance quickly gave way to a tall, defensive exterior shell. Not to appear close-minded or insincere, but simply to keep a personal integrity throughout the thoughts and recollections he was about to spew forth.
In layman's terms, he looked up towards the other boy and rose to speak at eye level.
"How did it feel to remove their lives?"
The normally unflinching Russian winced when the boy asked him that particularly scathing question. It didn't really... feel... at all. When Alex thought of someone "feeling" something he always imagined normal emotions. There was nothing normal about killing someone, and no real emotion to describe it. The emotions after were what fucked you up. Regret is never a nice emotional state. One Alex couldn't see himself leaving for as long as he lived. (Note that his estimated life-span is, however, very short at the moment.)
"To be honest... I can't really describe it. It's not like I liked it. I did what I had to do to survive. The first time... Some fuckin' nerdalinger decides to cut me across my face - "
Alex points out the fresh slash running from the upper right to lower left corners of his face.
"- and I knew he'd do worse to others. In Robert's case... If it wasn't a chainsaw, it would be a stick or a rock or a knife or a bat. My life was in danger, and he had to die."
The last few words felt slightly empty in Alex's mind. He didn't believe them. Those two boys didn't have to die. None of the students did. They didn't deserve any of this. Alex seemed to almost deflate following the last words, as he sunk into blank regret.
"I regret what I did. I don't want to kill anyone. I never did. I also won't lay down and die for anyone. I wanna live... And it seems like too much to ask these days. I don't even know if I deserve the luxury of not dying at some point in the near future."
"I don't really think there's any way I can make you trust me, but I know that I won't last too long out here on my own. People who... well, who want to justify their own murders by saying that they 'killed the bad guys' will hunt me down. I don't really like admitting it but... For everything I've got going for me in the "scary and large" department, I'm lacking in the "people who don't want to kill me" department."
He took a breath. Typically Alex rarely has that much to say in an entire day, and for some reason being confronted about it let loose a whole lot more than he imagined.
"Can... can you help me? I don't want to die. I don't think I want anything to do with... death... anytime soon."
In layman's terms, he looked up towards the other boy and rose to speak at eye level.
"How did it feel to remove their lives?"
The normally unflinching Russian winced when the boy asked him that particularly scathing question. It didn't really... feel... at all. When Alex thought of someone "feeling" something he always imagined normal emotions. There was nothing normal about killing someone, and no real emotion to describe it. The emotions after were what fucked you up. Regret is never a nice emotional state. One Alex couldn't see himself leaving for as long as he lived. (Note that his estimated life-span is, however, very short at the moment.)
"To be honest... I can't really describe it. It's not like I liked it. I did what I had to do to survive. The first time... Some fuckin' nerdalinger decides to cut me across my face - "
Alex points out the fresh slash running from the upper right to lower left corners of his face.
"- and I knew he'd do worse to others. In Robert's case... If it wasn't a chainsaw, it would be a stick or a rock or a knife or a bat. My life was in danger, and he had to die."
The last few words felt slightly empty in Alex's mind. He didn't believe them. Those two boys didn't have to die. None of the students did. They didn't deserve any of this. Alex seemed to almost deflate following the last words, as he sunk into blank regret.
"I regret what I did. I don't want to kill anyone. I never did. I also won't lay down and die for anyone. I wanna live... And it seems like too much to ask these days. I don't even know if I deserve the luxury of not dying at some point in the near future."
"I don't really think there's any way I can make you trust me, but I know that I won't last too long out here on my own. People who... well, who want to justify their own murders by saying that they 'killed the bad guys' will hunt me down. I don't really like admitting it but... For everything I've got going for me in the "scary and large" department, I'm lacking in the "people who don't want to kill me" department."
He took a breath. Typically Alex rarely has that much to say in an entire day, and for some reason being confronted about it let loose a whole lot more than he imagined.
"Can... can you help me? I don't want to die. I don't think I want anything to do with... death... anytime soon."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
Was he telling the truth?
Of course he isn't, everyone will paint themselves as the good guy, the person that "had to do what they had to do".
Yeah, but that didn't rule out the fact that he probably was attacked. In that sort of situation, shoot first and ask questions later would keep you alive.
In a game like this, it's practically encouraged. Face it, you'd probably do it as well.
...wait, who's side are you on now?
Yours.
And you just said something that would make me try to help him.
Wait, really? Goddamnit, get the fuck out of here, Mr. Nice Bunny, you're not needed here.
So, what are we doing?
I dunno, it's your call.
...and here I was thinking you had gone evil on me.
Looking into Alex's eyes, he nodded. "Three conditions. One: You follow my rules. Run, hide, defend, whatever. And two: Get rid of the goddamn chainsaw, you look like a crappy horror villain." Getting up, he buckled his backpack back on. "And three: you have to convince Chase as well."
Without another word, he started to walk, following Anna's tracks.
[[Ben Powell continued in Wind in the Willow]]
Of course he isn't, everyone will paint themselves as the good guy, the person that "had to do what they had to do".
Yeah, but that didn't rule out the fact that he probably was attacked. In that sort of situation, shoot first and ask questions later would keep you alive.
In a game like this, it's practically encouraged. Face it, you'd probably do it as well.
...wait, who's side are you on now?
Yours.
And you just said something that would make me try to help him.
Wait, really? Goddamnit, get the fuck out of here, Mr. Nice Bunny, you're not needed here.
So, what are we doing?
I dunno, it's your call.
...and here I was thinking you had gone evil on me.
Looking into Alex's eyes, he nodded. "Three conditions. One: You follow my rules. Run, hide, defend, whatever. And two: Get rid of the goddamn chainsaw, you look like a crappy horror villain." Getting up, he buckled his backpack back on. "And three: you have to convince Chase as well."
Without another word, he started to walk, following Anna's tracks.
[[Ben Powell continued in Wind in the Willow]]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dropbear. 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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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Alex looked at Ben with a blank expression. He was holding in various impulses to tell the kid to stop being such a prick, but under the circumstances it was understandable why he was a bit uptight. Yeah, it did probably make sense to drop the chainsaw. He was more or less unarmed either way, because the giant power tool was really no use as a weapon to pull out very quickly. For the time being, Alex would have to defend himself hand-to-hand.
Well, it wasn't like he hadn't been doing that for most of his life. His fists weren't made of steel, and he couldn't profess to be any kind of martial artist, but when it came to physical confrontations he was very rarely matched. Firearms were really the concern at this point.
Before he could respond, Ben took off. Feeling a bit groggy, Alex unclipped the chainsaw from his daypack and held it in front of him, almost as if it were something dirty that needed to be disposed of. Really, Alex didn't want to be responsible for arming anyone else who managed to stroll by and notice the chainsaw. Alex looked around the forest. The trees were fairly dense, and he could only just barely see Ben Powell from this distance.
Weaponless... The idea didn't sit well with him. If only he had a knife, or a bat, or even just a big, sharp stick. There had to be something around...
Suddenly, a thought clicked into Alex's mind. He was holding a chainsaw, used for cutting wood apart. There was a roll of hockey tape in his daypack: Alex had left it in his bag one night after hockey, and forgot to empty it out when he used the bag on the senior trip. It could be some form of makeshift grip.
Wasting no time, Alex revved the chainsaw once more and looked for the nearest appropriately sized tree. There was a smaller one - only a few years old, he guessed. Swiftly he cut the top of the tree off, where it fell and suspended itself upon a gathering of nearby trees. He then took a four-foot section out of the tree, where it fell idly to the ground. The chainsaw sputtered and churned out smoke - it was going to attract attention, and Alex had to move quickly. The saw seemed to be able to shave off a small section of the tree where Alex was going to tape the handle. It was messy and sharp, but Alex didn't really have the time to be a perfectionist. As soon as there was a considerable dent in the bottom end of the log. It was satisfying somewhat, but Alex's MacGuyver moment was quickly shattered by the sudden death of the chainsaw motor. Without a second thought, he tossed the saw blade-first onto a nearby rock, picked up the sawed-down log, and started walking in the same direction as Ben.
As he taped the end of the stick, Alex could only reflect on the ridiculousness of his situation. He was taping a handle onto a makeshift wooden club, while following a boy who he didn't even know he could trust, on an island covered in armed, sleep-deprived and psychotic high school students.
"....Fuck"
((Alex Rasputin continued elsewhere))
Well, it wasn't like he hadn't been doing that for most of his life. His fists weren't made of steel, and he couldn't profess to be any kind of martial artist, but when it came to physical confrontations he was very rarely matched. Firearms were really the concern at this point.
Before he could respond, Ben took off. Feeling a bit groggy, Alex unclipped the chainsaw from his daypack and held it in front of him, almost as if it were something dirty that needed to be disposed of. Really, Alex didn't want to be responsible for arming anyone else who managed to stroll by and notice the chainsaw. Alex looked around the forest. The trees were fairly dense, and he could only just barely see Ben Powell from this distance.
Weaponless... The idea didn't sit well with him. If only he had a knife, or a bat, or even just a big, sharp stick. There had to be something around...
Suddenly, a thought clicked into Alex's mind. He was holding a chainsaw, used for cutting wood apart. There was a roll of hockey tape in his daypack: Alex had left it in his bag one night after hockey, and forgot to empty it out when he used the bag on the senior trip. It could be some form of makeshift grip.
Wasting no time, Alex revved the chainsaw once more and looked for the nearest appropriately sized tree. There was a smaller one - only a few years old, he guessed. Swiftly he cut the top of the tree off, where it fell and suspended itself upon a gathering of nearby trees. He then took a four-foot section out of the tree, where it fell idly to the ground. The chainsaw sputtered and churned out smoke - it was going to attract attention, and Alex had to move quickly. The saw seemed to be able to shave off a small section of the tree where Alex was going to tape the handle. It was messy and sharp, but Alex didn't really have the time to be a perfectionist. As soon as there was a considerable dent in the bottom end of the log. It was satisfying somewhat, but Alex's MacGuyver moment was quickly shattered by the sudden death of the chainsaw motor. Without a second thought, he tossed the saw blade-first onto a nearby rock, picked up the sawed-down log, and started walking in the same direction as Ben.
As he taped the end of the stick, Alex could only reflect on the ridiculousness of his situation. He was taping a handle onto a makeshift wooden club, while following a boy who he didn't even know he could trust, on an island covered in armed, sleep-deprived and psychotic high school students.
"....Fuck"
((Alex Rasputin continued elsewhere))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.