((Kimberly Nguyen continued from The Long Road Home))
Choices. Right? Wrong? Who gave a fuck anymore?
Certainly not Kimberly.
She'd left the group like she'd left everything she didn't need, discarded them much the same as she'd discarded her spare clothing back on the beach. It wasn't that she didn't care. It was that she couldn't afford to let anything get in her way and slow her down. She was going to find Kris. She was going to find the bitch and make her pay. It was a fixation. A dangerous one. The odds were actually pretty damn good she was going to die attempting to get her payback.
Thing was, she was going to die no matter what. No way around that. No point pretending otherwise. A girl with one good arm, wielding a grappling hook? Yeah, not really a prime contender there.
She was trying to tell herself she didn't care. Trying to tell herself it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Push the fear back. Push the yearning for life to the bottom. It was too much to confront now. Mortality could wait 'til she was well and truly doomed. Angst was a damn fine way to waste a life when it wasn't in danger, but now that any second could bring a bullet through the skull, Kimberly found she couldn't bring herself to care about some dumb lines of melodramatic poetry.
And she'd never been that good at the whole scene anyways. Never had the right sort of exaggerated sadness and self-pity. Kimberly had never in her life cut or otherwise intentionally injured herself. She had never contemplated suicide except when she thought it was what she was supposed to do to get in the right mood for writing, and even then she hadn't taken it too seriously.
The hilarious thing was, Hermione Miller, preppy model girl, had gone and one-upped Kimberly, queen of the dark. She'd actually worked up the guts to blow her fucking head clean off. That was some real street cred there. Kimberly thought back to that day, the lunch room, the disgusting non-fat cake she'd shared with the girl who no longer existed. Remembered the awkward exchanges, the ride to the party, the detour. Remembered her glimpse into Hermione's life, into the world she inhabited, a world where fatless cake was a fucking treat. Remembered the creeps and the weirdness and the pressure. Wondered if maybe Hermione had always had the grimmer existence.
Not like it really mattered. Kimberly hadn't cried when she heard of her friend's death.
She was not going to cry now, either, no way. No reflections would bring her tears. She found herself lighting her cigarette, though, the same one she'd been fiddling with for over a day now, saving for a moment like this.
Well, Hermione, at least you're done now. At least you left on your terms. Best fucking way out of this game. Made your own choice for once. I hope it didn't hurt too much.
An exhalation: smoke winding its way skywards from her mouth, its haze blurring the stars. Friends dead and friends alive, and still Kimberly lived, and still the game went on.
And still she hungered for a little bit of closure.
Yes, because Kris still lived too, and they had a bit of a score to settle, didn't they? Kimberly flexed the fingers of her left hand, just slightly. She could move them again—just the tiniest bit, not even making a fist—and avoid engulfing her arm in complete agony. Maybe it was the low-grade painkillers from her first aid kit that she'd started taking. Maybe she was actually healing a little bit. It didn't matter. Kris had hurt more than her arm.
Another drag on the cigarette.
She was on the mountain. The sun had set some time ago. The climb had been somewhat difficult, but now she was at a spot where it seemed safe to rest. Kimberly glanced around for a seat, found a promising rock, and sat down, the few chains on her skinny jeans jangling and clinking against the rock, her improvised cape hanging loosely, hiding her injury. She looked around, at the trees, the stars, the glowing ember hovering in front of her face.
She was going to live the fuck out of her last few days, and spending a little time appreciating the scenery seemed a good enough way to get a jump on that.
But I Might Die Tonight
Open, Early Evening Day 4
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
-
ZombiexCreame†
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
((Josie Vernon continued from It's hard to walk tall when you're small
Note: There will be a bit of time advancement in this post as I try to get up to the speed of the early evening of day four.))
More walking. A lot of the same. Josie's legs hurt a little from all the travel. She wasn't used to this much walking -- never was much of an athlete. A few times as she walked, she wondered why. Why was she traveling so much? Why was there any purpose to this? Why couldn't she just sit still and wait for whatever to happen. Que Sera Sera, right? Whatever will be, will be. But, as much as she would much rather sit around and rest, the thought of Janet's corpse floating somewhere upstream didn't sit well with her. It just made her want to flee and never again see bloated, drowned body of that poor girl. Done and wasted over a vibrating dildo.
Josie kept close to Sierra, her eyes constantly darting around to make sure no one was following them or creeping in the nearby shadows. Lucky for her, no one ever approached them. She considered this very lucky because neither Josie or Sierra were well-equipped to deal with any attackers. It almost made her want to meet up with Omar down the line. Forget that he was a murderer and assume that he was well in the head. Assume that he still loved Sierra and considered Josie a friend. He could protect them with that stolen gun of his.
No! Josie immediately shied away from that thought! She didn't want Omar to do the protecting. Josie was the protector, and it was her self-appointed duty to keep Sierra safe. She wouldn't let herself go on without Sierra. She couldn't..
Alone once again, the two girls followed the river southward. There was a large mountain just ahead, and Josie thought it would be the perfect place to hole up for awhile. Better than that wood-less forest or some building were immediate escape would be utterly impossible. The mountain was undoubtedly large, and she was sure that there was somewhere to hide. Somewhere to stay with Sierra, just the two of them. But... other company wouldn't be bad either. As long as they weren't the dangerous, psychopathic-type. As much as Josie disliked most company in the past, she would gladly welcome it now. She felt so alone, as melodramatic as it sounded.
Hours passed. The ground beneath the girl's feet began to slowly roll into hills, and those hills became rocky ledges. Just ahead was the mountain, several trails leading deeper into the depths of it. With a glance in Sierra's direction, Josie took her hand and wandered along the dirt path.
More walking. The sun was setting, so Josie stopped in a sunken area surrounded by trees and rocky hills. The path was just to the right of her, so there wasn't much possibility of her getting lost up her. This area was safe from immediately view, so that, combined with the darkness, should guarantee an okay place to rest. A mild rest, anyway. Josie doubted she would sleep more than five minutes tonight, but she would try. She needed her strength if she was going to protect Sierra. The girls passed few words amongst each other, and as the sky grew darker around them, Josie laid her head against a tree and shut her eyes. Just a short rest, and she would spend the rest of the night keeping look-out. She couldn't protect Sierra if she was asleep. She could.. She couldn't.. She..
--
Birds singing, a breeze softly whispering through the branches of the overhanging trees, the sun twinkling from above, and the crackling of something bursting to life. It reminded Josie of a radio. Had she left her radio on when she fell asleep? She raised a hand to lazily rub her left eye, which smudged the remainder of her eyeliner. She should really start to remove her makeup before bed! It's bad for the skin. She looked around, almost startled at her surroundings. This wasn't home, it was.. it was..
"Ladies and gentlemen, as of this, the third announcement, a further twenty-three of your peers have bitten the dust. Outstanding, kiddies. Simply outstanding."
Josie blinked as it all came crashing down. And, really, she realized that she never truly believed she was back in her bedroom. As much as she wished it, she knew all along that she was here. This island was her reality. She sat back to listen to the announcements. It didn't mean much to her, as sociopathic as that sounded. Sure, it saddened her, and she had attended school with most of these people, but she wasn't close with nearly anyone. The only person she could possibly care about was right here beside her.
The only name that caught her utmost attention was Omar Burton's, and it took her a moment to figure out if was a killer or a killed. The way Danya stated it, it almost sounded as if.. Omar was dead. Her throat tightened a little, and she slowly looked over at Sierra. Dead? She'd almost be more relieved if he had ended up killing someone. Then she could at least have another nail to pound into his coffin. Another piece of proof that he really was a killer. Was that something appropriate to say after his death? Probably not, but Josie didn't care.
However... Omar hadn't killed. He had been killed, which meant he was no longer around. Which meant Josie wouldn't have to watch out for him, which meant she wouldn't have to pretend to look around for him, which meant.. She stole another glance in Sierra's direction. There was nothing to say, and she felt no pity for Omar. Sure, he had been a nice guy and everything. She rather liked him; he treated her right. But on this island? Josie preferred him dead. And now he was. No grief, no guilt, no pity. He was dead. Josie didn't care.
[I'll edit more into this when I actually get Sierra's reaction.]
The sun was setting, or at least dipping lower into the sky. Josie couldn't believe she had spent a better part of the day, resting here at the mountain. She had barely moved from her spot, only a few times to use the bathroom. Sierra didn't want to move, which was absolutely understandable. Josie had been the perfect best friend after Omar's death was announced. She patted Sierra's hand, dried any tears, and lent her shoulder in the most literal sense. It just felt so fake. Because, while Sierra's feelings of grief pained Josie, she didn't really care that Omar had died. It was just another problem dealt with early. She wouldn't have to deal with some future confrontation, because, as anyone knew, Josie wasn't one to just let things sit quietly with Omar. She would have accused him of being a killer, and if things escalated from there, she would have gladly let it. She just wanted to see Sierra safe. Did that mean she wanted to see Sierra sobbing and solemn? No. But sacrifices had to be made.
She had to pee again. "Bathroom break," she told Sierra, standing up and briskly walking behind the nearest tree. She did her business and peered back at that sunken area where Sierra sat. She should go back immediately, it would do no good to leave her there, but.. It wouldn't hurt to see what was around the area, right? Then again, it was getting dark.. She would have to be quick about it, or she'd never find Sierra.
Josie was met with an eyeful of hills, mountains, and trees. It was really rather pretty, but nothing worthy of note. Nothing dangerous that could impede her process. Just.. a mountain with not a soul on it. But.. wait. Was someone out there? She saw something glimmer for a moment, and squinted her eyes to see. No, it wasn't a glimmer.. It was something glowing. An orange-ish glow, just hovering there. As her eyes adjusted a bit, she realized the glow was attached to a cigarette, which was attached to a person. Not wanting to attract much attention from this person in the dark (who knows if they were armed), Josie turned around and quickly tried to make her getaway. But, not being a graceful person, she slipped on a wet pile of leaves and went down on one knee. This type of thing only happens to people in movies! Not teenagers trying to stay under the radar from other teenagers!
But Josie couldn't force herself to say anything. She knew that the figure was probably aware of her presence, and it would be dangerous to just stand here and do nothing/say nothing. But.. she couldn't force words out of her throat. Not a, "Howdy neighbor" or a, "I'm not armed." She just stood there, biting her tongue, eyes squeezed shut. Like a little girl pretending she didn't exist.
She really had to get back to Sierra. But her legs wouldn't move either.
Note: There will be a bit of time advancement in this post as I try to get up to the speed of the early evening of day four.))
More walking. A lot of the same. Josie's legs hurt a little from all the travel. She wasn't used to this much walking -- never was much of an athlete. A few times as she walked, she wondered why. Why was she traveling so much? Why was there any purpose to this? Why couldn't she just sit still and wait for whatever to happen. Que Sera Sera, right? Whatever will be, will be. But, as much as she would much rather sit around and rest, the thought of Janet's corpse floating somewhere upstream didn't sit well with her. It just made her want to flee and never again see bloated, drowned body of that poor girl. Done and wasted over a vibrating dildo.
Josie kept close to Sierra, her eyes constantly darting around to make sure no one was following them or creeping in the nearby shadows. Lucky for her, no one ever approached them. She considered this very lucky because neither Josie or Sierra were well-equipped to deal with any attackers. It almost made her want to meet up with Omar down the line. Forget that he was a murderer and assume that he was well in the head. Assume that he still loved Sierra and considered Josie a friend. He could protect them with that stolen gun of his.
No! Josie immediately shied away from that thought! She didn't want Omar to do the protecting. Josie was the protector, and it was her self-appointed duty to keep Sierra safe. She wouldn't let herself go on without Sierra. She couldn't..
Alone once again, the two girls followed the river southward. There was a large mountain just ahead, and Josie thought it would be the perfect place to hole up for awhile. Better than that wood-less forest or some building were immediate escape would be utterly impossible. The mountain was undoubtedly large, and she was sure that there was somewhere to hide. Somewhere to stay with Sierra, just the two of them. But... other company wouldn't be bad either. As long as they weren't the dangerous, psychopathic-type. As much as Josie disliked most company in the past, she would gladly welcome it now. She felt so alone, as melodramatic as it sounded.
Hours passed. The ground beneath the girl's feet began to slowly roll into hills, and those hills became rocky ledges. Just ahead was the mountain, several trails leading deeper into the depths of it. With a glance in Sierra's direction, Josie took her hand and wandered along the dirt path.
More walking. The sun was setting, so Josie stopped in a sunken area surrounded by trees and rocky hills. The path was just to the right of her, so there wasn't much possibility of her getting lost up her. This area was safe from immediately view, so that, combined with the darkness, should guarantee an okay place to rest. A mild rest, anyway. Josie doubted she would sleep more than five minutes tonight, but she would try. She needed her strength if she was going to protect Sierra. The girls passed few words amongst each other, and as the sky grew darker around them, Josie laid her head against a tree and shut her eyes. Just a short rest, and she would spend the rest of the night keeping look-out. She couldn't protect Sierra if she was asleep. She could.. She couldn't.. She..
--
Birds singing, a breeze softly whispering through the branches of the overhanging trees, the sun twinkling from above, and the crackling of something bursting to life. It reminded Josie of a radio. Had she left her radio on when she fell asleep? She raised a hand to lazily rub her left eye, which smudged the remainder of her eyeliner. She should really start to remove her makeup before bed! It's bad for the skin. She looked around, almost startled at her surroundings. This wasn't home, it was.. it was..
"Ladies and gentlemen, as of this, the third announcement, a further twenty-three of your peers have bitten the dust. Outstanding, kiddies. Simply outstanding."
Josie blinked as it all came crashing down. And, really, she realized that she never truly believed she was back in her bedroom. As much as she wished it, she knew all along that she was here. This island was her reality. She sat back to listen to the announcements. It didn't mean much to her, as sociopathic as that sounded. Sure, it saddened her, and she had attended school with most of these people, but she wasn't close with nearly anyone. The only person she could possibly care about was right here beside her.
The only name that caught her utmost attention was Omar Burton's, and it took her a moment to figure out if was a killer or a killed. The way Danya stated it, it almost sounded as if.. Omar was dead. Her throat tightened a little, and she slowly looked over at Sierra. Dead? She'd almost be more relieved if he had ended up killing someone. Then she could at least have another nail to pound into his coffin. Another piece of proof that he really was a killer. Was that something appropriate to say after his death? Probably not, but Josie didn't care.
However... Omar hadn't killed. He had been killed, which meant he was no longer around. Which meant Josie wouldn't have to watch out for him, which meant she wouldn't have to pretend to look around for him, which meant.. She stole another glance in Sierra's direction. There was nothing to say, and she felt no pity for Omar. Sure, he had been a nice guy and everything. She rather liked him; he treated her right. But on this island? Josie preferred him dead. And now he was. No grief, no guilt, no pity. He was dead. Josie didn't care.
[I'll edit more into this when I actually get Sierra's reaction.]
The sun was setting, or at least dipping lower into the sky. Josie couldn't believe she had spent a better part of the day, resting here at the mountain. She had barely moved from her spot, only a few times to use the bathroom. Sierra didn't want to move, which was absolutely understandable. Josie had been the perfect best friend after Omar's death was announced. She patted Sierra's hand, dried any tears, and lent her shoulder in the most literal sense. It just felt so fake. Because, while Sierra's feelings of grief pained Josie, she didn't really care that Omar had died. It was just another problem dealt with early. She wouldn't have to deal with some future confrontation, because, as anyone knew, Josie wasn't one to just let things sit quietly with Omar. She would have accused him of being a killer, and if things escalated from there, she would have gladly let it. She just wanted to see Sierra safe. Did that mean she wanted to see Sierra sobbing and solemn? No. But sacrifices had to be made.
She had to pee again. "Bathroom break," she told Sierra, standing up and briskly walking behind the nearest tree. She did her business and peered back at that sunken area where Sierra sat. She should go back immediately, it would do no good to leave her there, but.. It wouldn't hurt to see what was around the area, right? Then again, it was getting dark.. She would have to be quick about it, or she'd never find Sierra.
Josie was met with an eyeful of hills, mountains, and trees. It was really rather pretty, but nothing worthy of note. Nothing dangerous that could impede her process. Just.. a mountain with not a soul on it. But.. wait. Was someone out there? She saw something glimmer for a moment, and squinted her eyes to see. No, it wasn't a glimmer.. It was something glowing. An orange-ish glow, just hovering there. As her eyes adjusted a bit, she realized the glow was attached to a cigarette, which was attached to a person. Not wanting to attract much attention from this person in the dark (who knows if they were armed), Josie turned around and quickly tried to make her getaway. But, not being a graceful person, she slipped on a wet pile of leaves and went down on one knee. This type of thing only happens to people in movies! Not teenagers trying to stay under the radar from other teenagers!
But Josie couldn't force herself to say anything. She knew that the figure was probably aware of her presence, and it would be dangerous to just stand here and do nothing/say nothing. But.. she couldn't force words out of her throat. Not a, "Howdy neighbor" or a, "I'm not armed." She just stood there, biting her tongue, eyes squeezed shut. Like a little girl pretending she didn't exist.
She really had to get back to Sierra. But her legs wouldn't move either.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZombiexCreame. 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.
[[Sierra Manning continued from It's hard to walk tall when you're small]]
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Unheard words that danced on her lips, a recurring confession her larynx didn't dare repeat. It'd be true. If she could hear it, it'd be true and he'd be gone. She'd be too late and he'd be gone and she'd never see him again, never hold his hand again, never hug him again, never kiss him again, never talk to him again.
He was gone.
He was gone and she never even got to say good-bye, or tell him how much she loved him. No last words, no warning, no closure. Just gone. Just another name on a list, a name done in by an 'act of justice'. A besmirched name. The name of a killer.
But he was so much more than that, so much more than people gave him credit for. He was so sweet, sweeter then he liked to admit. 'Guys aren't supposed to be 'sweet'' he'd say, but she'd tell him that was her favorite thing about him, he'd laugh it off but she knew how much it meant to him. He knew he always had her in his corner, she'd always have his back and she knew that meant the world to him. Or at least that's what he thought.
What killed her most was knowing that she had doubted him, thought him to be the killer the announcements claimed he was. Immediately she doubted him, taking the first chance she had to think the worst. She didn't know if it was an accident or what, but she should've believed in him. Maybe if she had, things would've ended differently.
Anything could have happened.
"I'm tho—" She choked on her words, desperate sobs colliding against her fever-enhanced gag reflex leading way to a series of dry heaves. She buried her head into her knees, the warmth of her face breaking through even the thick denim of her jeans. The throbbing in her head was welcomed, she relished it, let it take over for pain that had latched around her heart.
Take anything, whatever you want, but please God give her back her Omar.
She emptied the recesses of her mind, trying desperately to cling to her memories. How did his laugh sound? His voice? How did he smell, feel? It was as if her brain had been wiped clean, barely able to remember the things about him that made her love him. Taken from her, just ripped from her. Why couldn't she remember? More than anything, she wanted to remember him, but everything was gone.
Her nails burrowed into the bare flesh on her ankles, sparks of pain running up her back. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her, wished that she'd jumped back then, wished that people who wanted to live could take her spot, but why would God make it easy now?
Part of her wondered if this was her punishment. If her penalty for her over-dependence was the loss of everything she loved.
The other part reprimanded her. She was just a selfish, whiny brat. Other kids were losing their lives, kids who would've done something with their lives. Why couldn't she just deal with it, be glad that she was alive?
Why couldn't she be better?
Noxious cigarette odor etched into her nostrils, a pied piper luring her out from the depth of her shell. She hadn't even realized Josie had left, didn't realize the warmth had left.
"J-Joze?"
She was glad. Josie would be better off without her, she'd be able to get off the island if she didn't have to drag along dead weight.
"Joze?!"
Ignore her, don't come back. Stop being scared, Sierra, stop expecting people to carry you through life.
You're a waste of space.
Just die already.
"Jothie, wh-where are you!?"
She hated herself.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Unheard words that danced on her lips, a recurring confession her larynx didn't dare repeat. It'd be true. If she could hear it, it'd be true and he'd be gone. She'd be too late and he'd be gone and she'd never see him again, never hold his hand again, never hug him again, never kiss him again, never talk to him again.
He was gone.
He was gone and she never even got to say good-bye, or tell him how much she loved him. No last words, no warning, no closure. Just gone. Just another name on a list, a name done in by an 'act of justice'. A besmirched name. The name of a killer.
But he was so much more than that, so much more than people gave him credit for. He was so sweet, sweeter then he liked to admit. 'Guys aren't supposed to be 'sweet'' he'd say, but she'd tell him that was her favorite thing about him, he'd laugh it off but she knew how much it meant to him. He knew he always had her in his corner, she'd always have his back and she knew that meant the world to him. Or at least that's what he thought.
What killed her most was knowing that she had doubted him, thought him to be the killer the announcements claimed he was. Immediately she doubted him, taking the first chance she had to think the worst. She didn't know if it was an accident or what, but she should've believed in him. Maybe if she had, things would've ended differently.
Anything could have happened.
"I'm tho—" She choked on her words, desperate sobs colliding against her fever-enhanced gag reflex leading way to a series of dry heaves. She buried her head into her knees, the warmth of her face breaking through even the thick denim of her jeans. The throbbing in her head was welcomed, she relished it, let it take over for pain that had latched around her heart.
Take anything, whatever you want, but please God give her back her Omar.
She emptied the recesses of her mind, trying desperately to cling to her memories. How did his laugh sound? His voice? How did he smell, feel? It was as if her brain had been wiped clean, barely able to remember the things about him that made her love him. Taken from her, just ripped from her. Why couldn't she remember? More than anything, she wanted to remember him, but everything was gone.
Her nails burrowed into the bare flesh on her ankles, sparks of pain running up her back. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her, wished that she'd jumped back then, wished that people who wanted to live could take her spot, but why would God make it easy now?
Part of her wondered if this was her punishment. If her penalty for her over-dependence was the loss of everything she loved.
The other part reprimanded her. She was just a selfish, whiny brat. Other kids were losing their lives, kids who would've done something with their lives. Why couldn't she just deal with it, be glad that she was alive?
Why couldn't she be better?
Noxious cigarette odor etched into her nostrils, a pied piper luring her out from the depth of her shell. She hadn't even realized Josie had left, didn't realize the warmth had left.
"J-Joze?"
She was glad. Josie would be better off without her, she'd be able to get off the island if she didn't have to drag along dead weight.
"Joze?!"
Ignore her, don't come back. Stop being scared, Sierra, stop expecting people to carry you through life.
You're a waste of space.
Just die already.
"Jothie, wh-where are you!?"
She hated herself.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
It seemed like peace was not on the menu tonight. Seemed like the world had just decided to toss one curve ball after another at Kimberly, like every little pleasure would be systematically stripped away and ground beneath the wheels of destiny. Fuck, she had to catch up with Kris. Nothing else would make this worthwhile. Nothing else would bring her any amount of satisfaction. She had lived her entire life, over seventeen years, all building to this one task, this one mission. You didn't fuck with that sort of purpose. You certainly didn't sneak up on it while it was having a smoke.
Someone had tripped. Someone had been fucking around behind Kimberly and had made the mistake of doing it noisily. She spun, glaring through the dim evening, blowing a puff of smoke from the corner of her mouth. If it was an ambusher, a killer, lord help them.
But no. It was not one of the past killers. It was a girl. A girl frozen like a deer in the headlights. Was she planning to kill Kimberly, get a late start on the murderer's game? Was she scared? A thief? So many possibilities, but, for that one moment, Kimberly didn't give a damn. No, the other girl wasn't moving. Hard to tell if she was even breathing. And the reason for this, the reason behind her terror or shock or whatever, was that Kimberly might, just might, have noticed her.
Damn, that felt sweet.
So she didn't say a thing, just stood there for a second. Just the two of them, alone, the scenery forgotten, Kimberly's initial irritation at being interrupted forgotten, her hatred of Kris forgotten. Just the two of them, having their little moment. Words would ruin it. They would break the magic spell. It had to end sooner or later, but Kimberly was hoping for later, oh how she was hoping for later, because right now she felt about a hundred feet tall. So what if she wasn't all that strong? So what if her weapon was shit? So what if wiggling her fingers was her pathetic little victory? Right now, she was in control, one step ahead of the game, and it felt fucking awesome.
Then someone was calling from elsewhere. Calling for this girl. Joze? Josie, perhaps? A name that rung bells, carried a face, but that was all. And the caller, that lisp. Kimberly had heard that before, somewhere. It was the most annoying speech impediment imaginable, and she couldn't even begin to comprehend how the lisper got out of bed in the morning, how she made it through another day knowing that even by the very act of communicating she was being a pain in the ass to everyone else.
"Over here," Kimberly called. "Come over here. Maybe we should talk. I won't hurt you."
Yes, perfect. Take the initiative on the answer. Leave the possibility of a threat later, but don't break it out yet. What was that line that got quoted so much? An iron fist in a velvet glove?
Yeah. Have a talk, and if these girls weren't dangerous, and if they were weak, then maybe steal their shit or something. Maybe talk 'em into coming along. Maybe see if they'd seen Kris.
And then, out of nowhere, the speakers crackled, at the wrong time, not announcement time, so something was up, something was wrong, and then a voice boomed out from everywhere, and Kimberly froze and listened in horror.
Someone had tripped. Someone had been fucking around behind Kimberly and had made the mistake of doing it noisily. She spun, glaring through the dim evening, blowing a puff of smoke from the corner of her mouth. If it was an ambusher, a killer, lord help them.
But no. It was not one of the past killers. It was a girl. A girl frozen like a deer in the headlights. Was she planning to kill Kimberly, get a late start on the murderer's game? Was she scared? A thief? So many possibilities, but, for that one moment, Kimberly didn't give a damn. No, the other girl wasn't moving. Hard to tell if she was even breathing. And the reason for this, the reason behind her terror or shock or whatever, was that Kimberly might, just might, have noticed her.
Damn, that felt sweet.
So she didn't say a thing, just stood there for a second. Just the two of them, alone, the scenery forgotten, Kimberly's initial irritation at being interrupted forgotten, her hatred of Kris forgotten. Just the two of them, having their little moment. Words would ruin it. They would break the magic spell. It had to end sooner or later, but Kimberly was hoping for later, oh how she was hoping for later, because right now she felt about a hundred feet tall. So what if she wasn't all that strong? So what if her weapon was shit? So what if wiggling her fingers was her pathetic little victory? Right now, she was in control, one step ahead of the game, and it felt fucking awesome.
Then someone was calling from elsewhere. Calling for this girl. Joze? Josie, perhaps? A name that rung bells, carried a face, but that was all. And the caller, that lisp. Kimberly had heard that before, somewhere. It was the most annoying speech impediment imaginable, and she couldn't even begin to comprehend how the lisper got out of bed in the morning, how she made it through another day knowing that even by the very act of communicating she was being a pain in the ass to everyone else.
"Over here," Kimberly called. "Come over here. Maybe we should talk. I won't hurt you."
Yes, perfect. Take the initiative on the answer. Leave the possibility of a threat later, but don't break it out yet. What was that line that got quoted so much? An iron fist in a velvet glove?
Yeah. Have a talk, and if these girls weren't dangerous, and if they were weak, then maybe steal their shit or something. Maybe talk 'em into coming along. Maybe see if they'd seen Kris.
And then, out of nowhere, the speakers crackled, at the wrong time, not announcement time, so something was up, something was wrong, and then a voice boomed out from everywhere, and Kimberly froze and listened in horror.
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
((Maxwell Crowe continued from The Mercenary))
(One day earlier, in the woods)
Max wandered around the forest aimlessly. His great plan to find Maria and learn what the hell was wrong with her, had one, glaring like a thousand suns, hole: He didn't even know where to start looking for her. He looked at the map a few times, but honestly, how could it really help? It only told the blonde, that the island was big, which discouraged him even further. Even if Maria made a house from sticks and pure craziness somewhere on the island (which actually COULD BE a possibility with her) and barricaded herself inside, it still meant Max had at least 30 different places to check. And since she was most likely a moving target, it looked like Max faced the mission impossible.
Oh, and there was the case of Max not even knowing himself where exactly he was. All he could see were trees, and that meant he could be anywhere. But even though the frustration was eating his usual happy-go-lucky attitude he managed to retrieve after resting in the warehouse, Max only clenched his teeth and and moved forward. Finding Maria was more important. At least for him, since knowing Maria, she either thought about her being a killer, or about Robo-Bear or something similar.
Then, after about half an hour, Maxwell managed to see something else rather than yet another tree. Max looked upwards, and suddenly, an old saying came to his mind:
Well, if the mountain will not come to Mohammad, Mohammad will go to the mountain...
Of course, there was only a slim chance, that Maria would be there (Maria climbing a mountain was one of those few things he couldn't really imagine), but it was a place to start. It also wasn't a part of a FUCKING forest. Without a second of hesitation, Max started marching toward his new destination.
----------
(present time)
Damn... It really would ease things up if that Mountain would come to me instead...
Despite the fact, he had the best possible footwear to hitchhike, the trek was still far from pleasurable. First of all, Maxwell's energy was only half-recovered, and a long trip through the woods didn't help to change that state in any (favorable) way. Second thing, it started getting dark and cold. And finally, even though he was moving on a nice trail, he still had to help himself with his hands on a few occasions, and since they were both occupied (flashlight in one hand, and pistol in the other), it wasn't really that easy.
Finally, a lot of huffs and puffs later, Max reached the top. The prize: Speakers coming up to life again. It surprised him a bit, as it was still far from dawn, and it would be weird for Danya to make another announcement so soon, but after hearing what he heard, he actually regretted it wasn't one. True, it was refreshing to hear that Mr. Kwong was still alive, and terrorist's concern about that Liz Polanski girl meant, she was on the right track with collar removing, but it also proved, that Danya kept his hand on the pulse, and if Liz won't reveal her tricks to everyone real soon, they're all going to have some serious trouble. And there was also the case of Mr. Kwong being forced to blow off the collar of some (apparently) Japanese kid.
Max shuddered as he heard the word 'eliminated'. While climbing the mountain, he could at least replace the thoughts about Maria and the game with cursing at the trail, but now, all of his concerns came back. Seconds later, he had a new one to add.
As he noticed, after the speakers went off again, his flashlight actually pointed at a silhouette this whole time, as he stared dumbfounded during the 'special announcement'. The girl. Blonde. Just sitting there, and looking quite depressed. Max had a knack for guessing the mood of his family and friends, and this girl's face clearly shown the feeling, Max only managed to taste once, during the miserable times of his junior high - despair.
"Oh my God..."
Max quickly went toward the girl and put his hand on her shoulder. Closer look revealed, it was no one else but Sierra Manning. Maxwell was never good at recognizing faces, and he always kept the safe distance from every possible rumor mill, but even HE recognized her, which meant she had to be quite popular back at school. The problem was, she was as far away from the extremely outgoing attitude he remembered her for - as possible at that point.
"Are you all right?"
Dumb question, but Maxwell's head was so filled with thoughts and questions, he couldn't think of anything better. In fact, he was so confused at that moment, he didn't even notice, there were two more girls standing nearby.
(One day earlier, in the woods)
Max wandered around the forest aimlessly. His great plan to find Maria and learn what the hell was wrong with her, had one, glaring like a thousand suns, hole: He didn't even know where to start looking for her. He looked at the map a few times, but honestly, how could it really help? It only told the blonde, that the island was big, which discouraged him even further. Even if Maria made a house from sticks and pure craziness somewhere on the island (which actually COULD BE a possibility with her) and barricaded herself inside, it still meant Max had at least 30 different places to check. And since she was most likely a moving target, it looked like Max faced the mission impossible.
Oh, and there was the case of Max not even knowing himself where exactly he was. All he could see were trees, and that meant he could be anywhere. But even though the frustration was eating his usual happy-go-lucky attitude he managed to retrieve after resting in the warehouse, Max only clenched his teeth and and moved forward. Finding Maria was more important. At least for him, since knowing Maria, she either thought about her being a killer, or about Robo-Bear or something similar.
Then, after about half an hour, Maxwell managed to see something else rather than yet another tree. Max looked upwards, and suddenly, an old saying came to his mind:
Well, if the mountain will not come to Mohammad, Mohammad will go to the mountain...
Of course, there was only a slim chance, that Maria would be there (Maria climbing a mountain was one of those few things he couldn't really imagine), but it was a place to start. It also wasn't a part of a FUCKING forest. Without a second of hesitation, Max started marching toward his new destination.
----------
(present time)
Damn... It really would ease things up if that Mountain would come to me instead...
Despite the fact, he had the best possible footwear to hitchhike, the trek was still far from pleasurable. First of all, Maxwell's energy was only half-recovered, and a long trip through the woods didn't help to change that state in any (favorable) way. Second thing, it started getting dark and cold. And finally, even though he was moving on a nice trail, he still had to help himself with his hands on a few occasions, and since they were both occupied (flashlight in one hand, and pistol in the other), it wasn't really that easy.
Finally, a lot of huffs and puffs later, Max reached the top. The prize: Speakers coming up to life again. It surprised him a bit, as it was still far from dawn, and it would be weird for Danya to make another announcement so soon, but after hearing what he heard, he actually regretted it wasn't one. True, it was refreshing to hear that Mr. Kwong was still alive, and terrorist's concern about that Liz Polanski girl meant, she was on the right track with collar removing, but it also proved, that Danya kept his hand on the pulse, and if Liz won't reveal her tricks to everyone real soon, they're all going to have some serious trouble. And there was also the case of Mr. Kwong being forced to blow off the collar of some (apparently) Japanese kid.
Max shuddered as he heard the word 'eliminated'. While climbing the mountain, he could at least replace the thoughts about Maria and the game with cursing at the trail, but now, all of his concerns came back. Seconds later, he had a new one to add.
As he noticed, after the speakers went off again, his flashlight actually pointed at a silhouette this whole time, as he stared dumbfounded during the 'special announcement'. The girl. Blonde. Just sitting there, and looking quite depressed. Max had a knack for guessing the mood of his family and friends, and this girl's face clearly shown the feeling, Max only managed to taste once, during the miserable times of his junior high - despair.
"Oh my God..."
Max quickly went toward the girl and put his hand on her shoulder. Closer look revealed, it was no one else but Sierra Manning. Maxwell was never good at recognizing faces, and he always kept the safe distance from every possible rumor mill, but even HE recognized her, which meant she had to be quite popular back at school. The problem was, she was as far away from the extremely outgoing attitude he remembered her for - as possible at that point.
"Are you all right?"
Dumb question, but Maxwell's head was so filled with thoughts and questions, he couldn't think of anything better. In fact, he was so confused at that moment, he didn't even notice, there were two more girls standing nearby.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.
(David Meramac continued from Fountain of Youth)
If you run hard enough, you cease to think.
It was a truth David Meramac had learned when he was very young, when his mother had left and David had been with his father--his poor, sweet, damaged father, his father who'd given him the jacket David wore even now.
This is my father's jacket. He's safely away from here, maybe watching me on screen, wondering what's gonna get me, who's waiting, why am I even trying I'll just get beaten or shot or stabbed, they'll break me like they break everyone, I can't escape there isn't any-
The thoughts would bubble and boil, threaten him, threaten to remind him of how weak he was and how little power he had over his own destiny (they gave me a box of FUCKING KLEENEX) and he would run harder, run until his legs twitched with effort, still each breath clawed its laborious, painful way into his throat and until his legs turned to jelly beneath him and he could run no more, and then through the haze of pain he would begin to think again.
The mountain was the latest in his attempts to erase thought from his brain. There was a trail, of course, but David had foregone the trail--there were places (rocky, miserably, treacherous places) where he could scramble his way up, cutting at his palms, skinning his knees, feeling already-weak legs tremble with the new demands he'd place on them, and in this sense of inadvertent, reckless danger he could forget, for a little while, that he was going to die.
Until the announcement came on, and David, scrambling his way up around a copse of loose shale, froze. It was the wrong time for an Announcement--he'd figured that out by now. So...
So...
Someone's been interfering with their collar.
In the past few days--in the course of struggle and violence, in the course of fear and terror and the unflinching sensation of despair--David had almost forgotten about the thing around his neck, the construct that threatened him, the construct that constricted him and kept him here. His concern had been on the other students. But...
But if they didn't have a reason to be here...
We can get out.
David's muscles quivered a final time, and he slipped backwards, scraping his hands and fingertips, jarring his shin once he got back to relatively stable ground. The pain meant nothing, however; it was an idle distraction barely worth his consideration or thought.
"We can get out?" he said aloud, and hope blazed in him with the force of a wildfire.
If you run hard enough, you cease to think.
It was a truth David Meramac had learned when he was very young, when his mother had left and David had been with his father--his poor, sweet, damaged father, his father who'd given him the jacket David wore even now.
This is my father's jacket. He's safely away from here, maybe watching me on screen, wondering what's gonna get me, who's waiting, why am I even trying I'll just get beaten or shot or stabbed, they'll break me like they break everyone, I can't escape there isn't any-
The thoughts would bubble and boil, threaten him, threaten to remind him of how weak he was and how little power he had over his own destiny (they gave me a box of FUCKING KLEENEX) and he would run harder, run until his legs twitched with effort, still each breath clawed its laborious, painful way into his throat and until his legs turned to jelly beneath him and he could run no more, and then through the haze of pain he would begin to think again.
The mountain was the latest in his attempts to erase thought from his brain. There was a trail, of course, but David had foregone the trail--there were places (rocky, miserably, treacherous places) where he could scramble his way up, cutting at his palms, skinning his knees, feeling already-weak legs tremble with the new demands he'd place on them, and in this sense of inadvertent, reckless danger he could forget, for a little while, that he was going to die.
Until the announcement came on, and David, scrambling his way up around a copse of loose shale, froze. It was the wrong time for an Announcement--he'd figured that out by now. So...
So...
Someone's been interfering with their collar.
In the past few days--in the course of struggle and violence, in the course of fear and terror and the unflinching sensation of despair--David had almost forgotten about the thing around his neck, the construct that threatened him, the construct that constricted him and kept him here. His concern had been on the other students. But...
But if they didn't have a reason to be here...
We can get out.
David's muscles quivered a final time, and he slipped backwards, scraping his hands and fingertips, jarring his shin once he got back to relatively stable ground. The pain meant nothing, however; it was an idle distraction barely worth his consideration or thought.
"We can get out?" he said aloud, and hope blazed in him with the force of a wildfire.
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
-
ZombiexCreame†
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Josie realized that she had her eyes clenched shut. She was still leaning on one knee in the moist leaves, her eyes shut tight and her lips zipped into a tight line. She was still a little child pretending she was invisible. Pretending that the person in front of her wasn't there. Pretending that she WASN'T begging to the gods for this person not to kill her. But she wasn't met with bullets or a slice to the jugular. She was only met with silence and darkness. And that scared her more than bullets or blades or tazers or whatever the hell.
She slowly opened one eye and stared back at the other girl. It was mostly dark, so Josie couldn't really tell who it was, let alone make out most of her features. But it was a girl, like her. Not that that mattered. Gender obviously wasn't a factor in who would kill and who wouldn't.
The staring contest was still on, apparently. Josie very slowly got off one knee and brushed off her clothing, not letting her eyes waver from the form of Kimberly. Not even once.
"Joze?!"
Josie cringed and something was tugged in the depths of her little heart. Hearing Sierra crying out for her made her feel bad for leaving her behind, even if it was for a slightly-extended bathroom break. Josie peered behind her very carefully and then turned to look back at Kimberly. "Shit," she whispered, too frozen to start backing up. She didn't want to make any sudden movements. Just running off could get her hurt. Josie couldn't protect Sierra if she had a bullet hole in her spine.
But finally the other girl spoke. Thank God, because Josie doubted that she would do so. She was never a very act-first person. The girl called her over and claimed that she wouldn't hurt Josie. Josie didn't immediately think, "Alright, she seems okay enough. Durrr, she'd never hurt me!" but she didn't exactly run for the hills either. She decided to go closer to the girl but keep a very firm clutch on her paranoia. She needed that paranoia. It kept her sharp.
Josie walked closer to Kimberly and nervously fidgeted with one of her snakebite piercings. She didn't even realize she was doing it, and as she walked into the presence of this mysterious gal, Josie dropped her hands and cautiously said, "A talk? I don't mind, but.." She offered a weary smile. "You heard that girl calling out for me. I don't want to keep her waiting.. She might wander off and get lost or something." Josie went quiet, afraid that she was blathering. What the fuck did this girl care if Sierra got lost and wound up on the dark side of the mountain?
"I'm Josie Vernon. It probably doesn't sound too familiar, since I haven't been on the announcements or anything..." More blather. She would have shut herself up, but the announcements did it for her. It wasn't announcement time, it was far too late. So why...?
The announcement was very strange. Josie could barely piece the parts together to try and figure out what happened. It seemed so distant from her own reality, this situation that wasn't supposed to happen. She sort of expected this whole Survival of the Fittest thing to go uneventfully. Kids kill each other, one person left, done. She'd never seen the show herself, and thus, she had no idea that escapes were attempted each season. That was dumb of her. Of course kids would try to escape! Who wouldn't? Well, Josie wouldn't, but she wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the tool shed. See?
But then some Mr. Kwong came into the picture. A teacher! A teacher that was very much alive and well. Josie had him for a class once, but only for a few months. After she realized how difficult the coursework was, she dropped it, but it was still quite shocking to hear his voice. Hear his voice say such ridiculous things and... apparently blow a boy's collar. My god.
Josie shook her head. "Jesus Christ." She peered back and could almost see Sierra through the trees. It was too dark to see, but she could swear there was another figure there. Someone else?! Josie looked over at Kimberly and motioned her head to where Sierra was. "We can keep talking, but I wanna make sure Sierra is alright. Is it just me or is there someone else over there?" she asked. Her protective instincts were burning through again. She had to get to Sierra, but she was also weary of this smoking girl.
She slowly opened one eye and stared back at the other girl. It was mostly dark, so Josie couldn't really tell who it was, let alone make out most of her features. But it was a girl, like her. Not that that mattered. Gender obviously wasn't a factor in who would kill and who wouldn't.
The staring contest was still on, apparently. Josie very slowly got off one knee and brushed off her clothing, not letting her eyes waver from the form of Kimberly. Not even once.
"Joze?!"
Josie cringed and something was tugged in the depths of her little heart. Hearing Sierra crying out for her made her feel bad for leaving her behind, even if it was for a slightly-extended bathroom break. Josie peered behind her very carefully and then turned to look back at Kimberly. "Shit," she whispered, too frozen to start backing up. She didn't want to make any sudden movements. Just running off could get her hurt. Josie couldn't protect Sierra if she had a bullet hole in her spine.
But finally the other girl spoke. Thank God, because Josie doubted that she would do so. She was never a very act-first person. The girl called her over and claimed that she wouldn't hurt Josie. Josie didn't immediately think, "Alright, she seems okay enough. Durrr, she'd never hurt me!" but she didn't exactly run for the hills either. She decided to go closer to the girl but keep a very firm clutch on her paranoia. She needed that paranoia. It kept her sharp.
Josie walked closer to Kimberly and nervously fidgeted with one of her snakebite piercings. She didn't even realize she was doing it, and as she walked into the presence of this mysterious gal, Josie dropped her hands and cautiously said, "A talk? I don't mind, but.." She offered a weary smile. "You heard that girl calling out for me. I don't want to keep her waiting.. She might wander off and get lost or something." Josie went quiet, afraid that she was blathering. What the fuck did this girl care if Sierra got lost and wound up on the dark side of the mountain?
"I'm Josie Vernon. It probably doesn't sound too familiar, since I haven't been on the announcements or anything..." More blather. She would have shut herself up, but the announcements did it for her. It wasn't announcement time, it was far too late. So why...?
The announcement was very strange. Josie could barely piece the parts together to try and figure out what happened. It seemed so distant from her own reality, this situation that wasn't supposed to happen. She sort of expected this whole Survival of the Fittest thing to go uneventfully. Kids kill each other, one person left, done. She'd never seen the show herself, and thus, she had no idea that escapes were attempted each season. That was dumb of her. Of course kids would try to escape! Who wouldn't? Well, Josie wouldn't, but she wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the tool shed. See?
But then some Mr. Kwong came into the picture. A teacher! A teacher that was very much alive and well. Josie had him for a class once, but only for a few months. After she realized how difficult the coursework was, she dropped it, but it was still quite shocking to hear his voice. Hear his voice say such ridiculous things and... apparently blow a boy's collar. My god.
Josie shook her head. "Jesus Christ." She peered back and could almost see Sierra through the trees. It was too dark to see, but she could swear there was another figure there. Someone else?! Josie looked over at Kimberly and motioned her head to where Sierra was. "We can keep talking, but I wanna make sure Sierra is alright. Is it just me or is there someone else over there?" she asked. Her protective instincts were burning through again. She had to get to Sierra, but she was also weary of this smoking girl.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZombiexCreame. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Since Kimberly's a ways from Sierra, and Mimi's been Away, I'm skipping here))
Someone had fucked with the collars. Someone had fucked with the cameras. Someone had died for it. All to be expected.
What was not to be expected was that the person who'd blown up was not the one who'd been monkeying the system. That made it pretty damn easy to tell what had happened. Someone had actually pulled it off. Someone, in this case, was Liz Polanski. A name with an attached face, nothing more. Not one of Sarah's group. So, this Liz Polanski had messed things up. Had gotten the terrorists all hot and bothered. Well, good for her, except for one little thing. She'd gotten someone else killed. There was a face for Daisuke, too. Kimberly didn't really give a fuck, though. Nah, what was eating at her was that it wasn't only Daisuke who'd been on the line. It was each and every one of them. There were what, a couple hundred people left alive? Say two hundred. That means there was a half a percent chance of Kimberly getting popped instead of Daisuke. A one-in-two-hundred shot of her exploding instantly, no chance to look her attacker in the face and spit at them, no chance to take Kris down with her. Bang. Gone. All because some bitch had to play hero.
Kimberly's anger was not hot. It was not cold. It simply was. She was wrapped up in it. Forgot where she was. Someone had risked her life. No opt-out like with Sarah. No chance to dive to the side like with Kris. No, just Liz Polanski treating Kimberly like an object, like some sort of fucking game piece. Yeah, Kimberly, fuck her, I wanna get off this island, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes. Fuck that. Fucking player, that's what she was. Do whatever it took to get off the island, and who cares how many people die? No better than Maxwell or Clio or Kris. No, worse. Worse than them. At least they'd had the guts to watch when they pulled the trigger. This girl, she was a coward, hiding behind some sort of moral high ground. She hadn't killed anyone, hadn't risked any lives. Oh no, it was that big nasty terrorist with the remote. He was to blame. If he'd just let poor little Liz fuck his system, none of this would've happened.
The only thing stopping Kimberly from taking off right at that second, from slipping into the night to find this Polanski and choke the life out of her, was that there were still people around. Still this girl she was menacing and shit. Drop the calm act, and any authority was lost. Any hope of controlling things, gone.
The girl in front of Kimberly had talked. Had introduced herself, blabbed and blabbed. Kimberly didn't say shit. Deal with a nervous talker, best bet's to just let 'em go. Let 'em dig themselves deeper and deeper and watch 'em squirm. Compulsive talkers, they just kept talking, even when it hurt them, even when they knew they shouldn't.
And hey, even better, there was someone over there by the girl's friend. Oh, this was gonna be good. This was gonna be real fucking good. Time to break the silence.
"I think maybe we should just chill, make sure there's nothing going on there that could be dangerous first," Kimberly said. Talking nice and quiet. All the authority she could muster in her voice. "I think it'd be real dangerous if you rushed off before we know that won't lead someone back to me. I mean, fuck, I've been quiet and all for a reason. If I'm gonna get spotted anyways, well..."—a shrug of her shoulders, emphasize the towel covering her left arm, remind this girl that there's no way to tell what the fuck was in that hidden hand—"no real reason to keep quiet."
Smile. Hey, girl, your choice. You wanna call my bluff? Go ahead. If you're gonna make it anywhere on this island, you've gotta be willing to take some risks, make some mistakes.
The night air was cool. Calm. All the panic from the announcement gone. Everything nice and peaceful again. So quiet. So serene. Just how Kimberly liked it.
Someone had fucked with the collars. Someone had fucked with the cameras. Someone had died for it. All to be expected.
What was not to be expected was that the person who'd blown up was not the one who'd been monkeying the system. That made it pretty damn easy to tell what had happened. Someone had actually pulled it off. Someone, in this case, was Liz Polanski. A name with an attached face, nothing more. Not one of Sarah's group. So, this Liz Polanski had messed things up. Had gotten the terrorists all hot and bothered. Well, good for her, except for one little thing. She'd gotten someone else killed. There was a face for Daisuke, too. Kimberly didn't really give a fuck, though. Nah, what was eating at her was that it wasn't only Daisuke who'd been on the line. It was each and every one of them. There were what, a couple hundred people left alive? Say two hundred. That means there was a half a percent chance of Kimberly getting popped instead of Daisuke. A one-in-two-hundred shot of her exploding instantly, no chance to look her attacker in the face and spit at them, no chance to take Kris down with her. Bang. Gone. All because some bitch had to play hero.
Kimberly's anger was not hot. It was not cold. It simply was. She was wrapped up in it. Forgot where she was. Someone had risked her life. No opt-out like with Sarah. No chance to dive to the side like with Kris. No, just Liz Polanski treating Kimberly like an object, like some sort of fucking game piece. Yeah, Kimberly, fuck her, I wanna get off this island, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes. Fuck that. Fucking player, that's what she was. Do whatever it took to get off the island, and who cares how many people die? No better than Maxwell or Clio or Kris. No, worse. Worse than them. At least they'd had the guts to watch when they pulled the trigger. This girl, she was a coward, hiding behind some sort of moral high ground. She hadn't killed anyone, hadn't risked any lives. Oh no, it was that big nasty terrorist with the remote. He was to blame. If he'd just let poor little Liz fuck his system, none of this would've happened.
The only thing stopping Kimberly from taking off right at that second, from slipping into the night to find this Polanski and choke the life out of her, was that there were still people around. Still this girl she was menacing and shit. Drop the calm act, and any authority was lost. Any hope of controlling things, gone.
The girl in front of Kimberly had talked. Had introduced herself, blabbed and blabbed. Kimberly didn't say shit. Deal with a nervous talker, best bet's to just let 'em go. Let 'em dig themselves deeper and deeper and watch 'em squirm. Compulsive talkers, they just kept talking, even when it hurt them, even when they knew they shouldn't.
And hey, even better, there was someone over there by the girl's friend. Oh, this was gonna be good. This was gonna be real fucking good. Time to break the silence.
"I think maybe we should just chill, make sure there's nothing going on there that could be dangerous first," Kimberly said. Talking nice and quiet. All the authority she could muster in her voice. "I think it'd be real dangerous if you rushed off before we know that won't lead someone back to me. I mean, fuck, I've been quiet and all for a reason. If I'm gonna get spotted anyways, well..."—a shrug of her shoulders, emphasize the towel covering her left arm, remind this girl that there's no way to tell what the fuck was in that hidden hand—"no real reason to keep quiet."
Smile. Hey, girl, your choice. You wanna call my bluff? Go ahead. If you're gonna make it anywhere on this island, you've gotta be willing to take some risks, make some mistakes.
The night air was cool. Calm. All the panic from the announcement gone. Everything nice and peaceful again. So quiet. So serene. Just how Kimberly liked it.
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
((I'll skip as well to keep Maxwell away from inactivity))
"Hey... Sierra?"
Max desperately tried to get any kind of reaction from the girl, but she just sat there, and apart from breathing, she gave no other signs of life. Max started panicking a bit. Was she just depressed and gave Max a signal that way, that she wants him to leave her alone? Or maybe she was sick? Or maybe she was all right, and he was the one in trouble?
Shut up...
Max quickly hushed his paranoid part of mind. No, that made no sense at all. There's no way, someone would've act so convincingly just to set up a trap on him. She just needed help. But before Maxwell could find a way to get her some, he suddenly heard two (or maybe even three?) voices from two different directions.
Ambush
Shut up!
Rational Max again won the quick battle in his mind. If it would be an ambush, no one would ever spoke from two directions, but simply attacked him, and that would be it. Besides, as far as he could hear (and he rarely was wrong in cases of hearing stuff), both voices were talking to themselves (or in one case, to someone fourth, as he could swear now he heard 2 different voices from one side), not giving a signal to themselves.
Finally, Max stopped mulling over all of the stupid scenario possibilities, and concentrated on something more important: One of the voices clearly asked if there's someone else over there. And by 'there', the voice probably meant 'the place where Max was standing right now'. Since there was no need to create even more paranoid climate, Max took his flashlight and waived his hand to give his position away to the voice.
"Max Crowe over here!" He shouted, purposely avoiding using his full name, so no one would mistake him for that Lombardi bastard by any chance. "Armed, but not dangerous! I'm here with Sierra! We're bot fine!" Max looked again at the sitting figure, and silently added without his tone of confidence anymore. "I think..."
"Hey... Sierra?"
Max desperately tried to get any kind of reaction from the girl, but she just sat there, and apart from breathing, she gave no other signs of life. Max started panicking a bit. Was she just depressed and gave Max a signal that way, that she wants him to leave her alone? Or maybe she was sick? Or maybe she was all right, and he was the one in trouble?
Shut up...
Max quickly hushed his paranoid part of mind. No, that made no sense at all. There's no way, someone would've act so convincingly just to set up a trap on him. She just needed help. But before Maxwell could find a way to get her some, he suddenly heard two (or maybe even three?) voices from two different directions.
Ambush
Shut up!
Rational Max again won the quick battle in his mind. If it would be an ambush, no one would ever spoke from two directions, but simply attacked him, and that would be it. Besides, as far as he could hear (and he rarely was wrong in cases of hearing stuff), both voices were talking to themselves (or in one case, to someone fourth, as he could swear now he heard 2 different voices from one side), not giving a signal to themselves.
Finally, Max stopped mulling over all of the stupid scenario possibilities, and concentrated on something more important: One of the voices clearly asked if there's someone else over there. And by 'there', the voice probably meant 'the place where Max was standing right now'. Since there was no need to create even more paranoid climate, Max took his flashlight and waived his hand to give his position away to the voice.
"Max Crowe over here!" He shouted, purposely avoiding using his full name, so no one would mistake him for that Lombardi bastard by any chance. "Armed, but not dangerous! I'm here with Sierra! We're bot fine!" Max looked again at the sitting figure, and silently added without his tone of confidence anymore. "I think..."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.
-
ZombiexCreame†
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Josie couldn't peel her eyes away from that second figure near her best friend. She squinted and squinted, but her eyes never adjusted too well to the darkness. She was just sure that there was someone else, and there was no way of knowing if this person was merely having a friendly chat or holding Sierra at gun point. The paranoia was eating Josie alive, and it took everything inside of her not to turn around and ditch the calm girl that stood at attention in front of her. Josie attempted to take a deep breath, but it just got caught in her throat, resulting in a cough. Good Lord, was she panicking? Josie never panicked. She was supposed to the calm and collected one. She was supposed to be quiet and composed and slightly menacing and intimidating. But now?
Her heart was beating way too fast, her eyes were freaking out, sweat was forming along her brow, her hands were shaking. Panic. It seemed so foreign to the red-headed girl, and she thought she might completely lose her head.
Kimberly's words brought her back to reality. She said something about just chilling, and Josie managed a slight nod and another deep breath. This breath didn't choke her and, in fact, filled her with a slight sense of calmness. She would be okay. She couldn't go into this situation with a panic-riddled head. Everything would be okay.
Paranoid glance in the direction of Sierra...
Yes, everything would be alright. That thing still hadn't done anything to her. That was okay, but Josie still didn't like it. She didn't want anyone invading her territory. Sierra was her's, all her's!
"You're acting like I go around screaming like a banshee. Sierra and I have been quiet, very quiet. Maybe moreso quiet than you, Josie muttered, her tone carrying its usual dark tone. There was a pause as she examined Kimberly's covered arm. Why was there a towel on her arm? She wasn't quite bright enough to realize that maybe there was a weapon under there, and so she decided to inquire. It couldn't hurt.
"You're right. I don't want to go storming over there. It could end up... badly. I just want to make sure Sierra isn't getting terrorized by some idiot. I'm not letting my little bathroom break fuck up any chance she had at life. She can't protect herself! She's little. That would be like a baby chick fighting a tiger or something." Remember your inquiry, Josie. Ask about that arm. "What's up with your arm?" she asked, trying to sound cool and casual. Kimberly had emphasized it, so maybe there really was a gun in her hand. But why hide a gun underneath a towel? Why not keep it in your pocket or tucked into your pants? Josie decided not to ask, and if Kimberly had a gun, more power to her. For Josie had nothing, not even something that could vaguely be considered a weapon. It was just a birthday card, something she liked to remind herself at any given moment. "Lucky," Josie commented, nodding at her covered-up arm.
"Max Crowe over here!"
Josie looked over at Kimberly and back over at the dark area where Sierra and that figure was. So the figure by Sierra, a boy named Max Crowe, apparently, was armed but not dangerous. He shouted that he was with Sierra, and he was fine. Josie was okay with that, she supposed. She sure as hell didn't want Max alone with her best friend, but she'd make her way over there sure enough. Josie gave a half-grin in the direction of Kimberly and said, "Double-lucky. Two people packing heat. I'm going over there."
It could be a trick. Max could have his gun to Sierra's head or his gun trained in the direction of Josie and Kimberly. He could kill them all without a bat of his lashes. But Josie didn't care. If that was the sad game Max would play with their lives, then so be it. She couldn't stand to be here, while Sierra was over there, possibly in danger. Josie hadn't made a promise for nothing.
Max's after-thought of "I think..." set Josie into a panic. "He thinks?! He thinks what? Is she okay or isn't she?!" Without another word, Josie had started sprinting through the forest and back to the area where she had left her dear Sierra. Upon entering the clearing, her heart beating and her eyes darting this way and that, she realized that there was no imminent danger. Sierra didn't look any different than how Josie had left her, and Max didn't seem like the most threatening guy out there.
She let out her breath in a loud "huff" and took a step forward, roughly pushing Max. She later realized that this wasn't so smart, as he had a gun (apparently), but she didn't care. "You scared me, you asshole! What do you mean 'I think...'? I thought she might have been hurt or, or, or.." She scoffed. "Never mind."
She crossed to Sierra's side, sat down beside her, and looked up into her grief-ridden face. "Are you okay? This guy didn't freak you out, did he? You know I'll tell him to take a hike if he did."
Josie looked up, her eyes staring at Max for a moment before flickering over to the edge of the clearing. She was waiting to see if Kimberly had followed. She wouldn't blame the girl if she had just decided to ditch (Josie WAS being quite loud after she had just claimed she was quiet!), but she felt a little bad for just running off back there, leaving Kimberly behind. But maybe that's what Kimberly wanted. Josie had no clue. That girl was much of a mystery to her. "You.. still out there?" Josie called, staring out into the trees. She would have called the girl by name, but she didn't receive a name.
Here Josie sat with two strangers in the vicinity, both with guns. Josie had nothing except her own best friend, too riddled with grief to do anything except be. It wasn't looking so stellar.
Her heart was beating way too fast, her eyes were freaking out, sweat was forming along her brow, her hands were shaking. Panic. It seemed so foreign to the red-headed girl, and she thought she might completely lose her head.
Kimberly's words brought her back to reality. She said something about just chilling, and Josie managed a slight nod and another deep breath. This breath didn't choke her and, in fact, filled her with a slight sense of calmness. She would be okay. She couldn't go into this situation with a panic-riddled head. Everything would be okay.
Paranoid glance in the direction of Sierra...
Yes, everything would be alright. That thing still hadn't done anything to her. That was okay, but Josie still didn't like it. She didn't want anyone invading her territory. Sierra was her's, all her's!
"You're acting like I go around screaming like a banshee. Sierra and I have been quiet, very quiet. Maybe moreso quiet than you, Josie muttered, her tone carrying its usual dark tone. There was a pause as she examined Kimberly's covered arm. Why was there a towel on her arm? She wasn't quite bright enough to realize that maybe there was a weapon under there, and so she decided to inquire. It couldn't hurt.
"You're right. I don't want to go storming over there. It could end up... badly. I just want to make sure Sierra isn't getting terrorized by some idiot. I'm not letting my little bathroom break fuck up any chance she had at life. She can't protect herself! She's little. That would be like a baby chick fighting a tiger or something." Remember your inquiry, Josie. Ask about that arm. "What's up with your arm?" she asked, trying to sound cool and casual. Kimberly had emphasized it, so maybe there really was a gun in her hand. But why hide a gun underneath a towel? Why not keep it in your pocket or tucked into your pants? Josie decided not to ask, and if Kimberly had a gun, more power to her. For Josie had nothing, not even something that could vaguely be considered a weapon. It was just a birthday card, something she liked to remind herself at any given moment. "Lucky," Josie commented, nodding at her covered-up arm.
"Max Crowe over here!"
Josie looked over at Kimberly and back over at the dark area where Sierra and that figure was. So the figure by Sierra, a boy named Max Crowe, apparently, was armed but not dangerous. He shouted that he was with Sierra, and he was fine. Josie was okay with that, she supposed. She sure as hell didn't want Max alone with her best friend, but she'd make her way over there sure enough. Josie gave a half-grin in the direction of Kimberly and said, "Double-lucky. Two people packing heat. I'm going over there."
It could be a trick. Max could have his gun to Sierra's head or his gun trained in the direction of Josie and Kimberly. He could kill them all without a bat of his lashes. But Josie didn't care. If that was the sad game Max would play with their lives, then so be it. She couldn't stand to be here, while Sierra was over there, possibly in danger. Josie hadn't made a promise for nothing.
Max's after-thought of "I think..." set Josie into a panic. "He thinks?! He thinks what? Is she okay or isn't she?!" Without another word, Josie had started sprinting through the forest and back to the area where she had left her dear Sierra. Upon entering the clearing, her heart beating and her eyes darting this way and that, she realized that there was no imminent danger. Sierra didn't look any different than how Josie had left her, and Max didn't seem like the most threatening guy out there.
She let out her breath in a loud "huff" and took a step forward, roughly pushing Max. She later realized that this wasn't so smart, as he had a gun (apparently), but she didn't care. "You scared me, you asshole! What do you mean 'I think...'? I thought she might have been hurt or, or, or.." She scoffed. "Never mind."
She crossed to Sierra's side, sat down beside her, and looked up into her grief-ridden face. "Are you okay? This guy didn't freak you out, did he? You know I'll tell him to take a hike if he did."
Josie looked up, her eyes staring at Max for a moment before flickering over to the edge of the clearing. She was waiting to see if Kimberly had followed. She wouldn't blame the girl if she had just decided to ditch (Josie WAS being quite loud after she had just claimed she was quiet!), but she felt a little bad for just running off back there, leaving Kimberly behind. But maybe that's what Kimberly wanted. Josie had no clue. That girl was much of a mystery to her. "You.. still out there?" Josie called, staring out into the trees. She would have called the girl by name, but she didn't receive a name.
Here Josie sat with two strangers in the vicinity, both with guns. Josie had nothing except her own best friend, too riddled with grief to do anything except be. It wasn't looking so stellar.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ZombiexCreame. 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.
The little flicker of hope David had felt faded a little when he heard a voice: more specifically, a shout. "MAX CROWE OVER HERE!" someone yelled from what sounded like surprisingly nearby, and at once David hurled himself to one side and threw a hand over his head. Like Cody, like them, chopped up, shot, gunned down, hurt.
Didn't want to think about that. Not right now. Not when he could get the hell out of this god damn place.
Besides, that guy sounded friendly. And so far the killers David had come across weren't particularly craft.
"D..." he started, and then he remembered. They weren't trapped anymore. There was a way out of this god damn place.
"DAVID MERAMAC OVER HERE!" he yelled back, scrambling to his feet. "Is...is everyone over there okay!"
Didn't want to think about that. Not right now. Not when he could get the hell out of this god damn place.
Besides, that guy sounded friendly. And so far the killers David had come across weren't particularly craft.
"D..." he started, and then he remembered. They weren't trapped anymore. There was a way out of this god damn place.
"DAVID MERAMAC OVER HERE!" he yelled back, scrambling to his feet. "Is...is everyone over there okay!"
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The girl ranted a bit, went on about being quiet and such, blah blah blah. Didn't matter. It wasn't like Kimberly actually gave a fuck about being noticed. It was like this girl was under the impression that there was an actual point to this exercise, that Kimberly wasn't just fucking with her in order to make her make a nasty choice. Damn, she was slow. Kimberly didn't even bother responding to the girl's question about her arm, just smiling and cocking an eyebrow. At least that worked. At least this person seemed to be assuming that Kimberly was a credible threat.
Didn't make it much better. Then, the guy over there had to go and start yelling, like it didn't matter at all if anyone knew they were here. Well, fuck him too. The girl waltzed off, completely ignoring the fact that, had Kimberly had a gun, she could've just blown her away. This whole situation was one huge mess, and it was seriously pissing her off. There had to be something more worthwhile to do. Something that would actually get her towards one of her goals—because yes, she had two goals now, didn't she? There was Kris, Kris with her gun and her kills, and Kris still needed her share of comeuppance. But there was also Liz, little innocent Liz going around getting Daisuke killed. Liz with a bounty on her head, with the potential to really fuck up Kimberly's day just by accident. All this going on, and yet here she was playing games with dumb people. And then, icing on the cake, someone else started screaming, too. Just what she needed. More people yelling. Make it another circus like the beach.
No way. She was so over this shit. So ready to be off and away and just plain doing something rather than going through yet another round of painful introductions among people who never gave a fuck about each other in school, yet another tense standoff while people assessed the truth of each other's statements, yet another awkward moment as the nerds and the jocks sat around singing fucking hippie songs or shit like that.
So Kimberly did not follow the girl. Instead, she grabbed her things again, huffed a sigh, and started walking. A part of her, a very petulant and angry part, wanted to shout something nasty over her shoulder, wanted to tell the last newcomer that he was stumbling into a den of psychos or something. But no, she was better than that. It wouldn't do to let her emotions run that far out of control. Quite simply, the best option was to leave and let 'em sweat about who she was, what she was doing. She hadn't given them her name, right? For all they knew, they'd just had a nice little chat with Clio Gabriella. For all they knew, she was off to grab her AK-47 so she could waste the lot of them. Yeah, let 'em stew about that. No point getting involved.
Not when there was work to do. Her life could end at any moment, no warning. At any second, she could just be gone. One thing Kimberly was sure of, though, was that when her time came, she didn't plan on having a single regret. And that...
That meant she had a few little visits to pay to a couple of phenomenally careless girls.
((Kimberly Nguyen continued in Blackout))
Didn't make it much better. Then, the guy over there had to go and start yelling, like it didn't matter at all if anyone knew they were here. Well, fuck him too. The girl waltzed off, completely ignoring the fact that, had Kimberly had a gun, she could've just blown her away. This whole situation was one huge mess, and it was seriously pissing her off. There had to be something more worthwhile to do. Something that would actually get her towards one of her goals—because yes, she had two goals now, didn't she? There was Kris, Kris with her gun and her kills, and Kris still needed her share of comeuppance. But there was also Liz, little innocent Liz going around getting Daisuke killed. Liz with a bounty on her head, with the potential to really fuck up Kimberly's day just by accident. All this going on, and yet here she was playing games with dumb people. And then, icing on the cake, someone else started screaming, too. Just what she needed. More people yelling. Make it another circus like the beach.
No way. She was so over this shit. So ready to be off and away and just plain doing something rather than going through yet another round of painful introductions among people who never gave a fuck about each other in school, yet another tense standoff while people assessed the truth of each other's statements, yet another awkward moment as the nerds and the jocks sat around singing fucking hippie songs or shit like that.
So Kimberly did not follow the girl. Instead, she grabbed her things again, huffed a sigh, and started walking. A part of her, a very petulant and angry part, wanted to shout something nasty over her shoulder, wanted to tell the last newcomer that he was stumbling into a den of psychos or something. But no, she was better than that. It wouldn't do to let her emotions run that far out of control. Quite simply, the best option was to leave and let 'em sweat about who she was, what she was doing. She hadn't given them her name, right? For all they knew, they'd just had a nice little chat with Clio Gabriella. For all they knew, she was off to grab her AK-47 so she could waste the lot of them. Yeah, let 'em stew about that. No point getting involved.
Not when there was work to do. Her life could end at any moment, no warning. At any second, she could just be gone. One thing Kimberly was sure of, though, was that when her time came, she didn't plan on having a single regret. And that...
That meant she had a few little visits to pay to a couple of phenomenally careless girls.
((Kimberly Nguyen continued in Blackout))
-
Yossarian†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:35 am
((Sorry for skipping Sierra again. See the Away topic for details))
What happened next was probably the last think Max expected. A girl emerged from the darkness, and instead of saying hi or anything, she just pushed him aside before yelling at him.
"Yeah, nice to meet you too." He responded. Max was used to assholes behaving like that way back in his junior high, and his overall friendly attitude he picked up later in the high school helped him to ignore that kind of situations, but right now he couldn't resist himself from using sarcasm. Seriously, what was she thinking? He didn't do anything wrong and tried to be helpful, and yet he received a shouting because... Because what exactly?
But she didn't stop at that, and started talking to Sierra, and asking if Max wasn't freaking her out. The boy only shook his head in amazement.
"Okay, now you got to be kidding me..."
The blond guy took a few steps back, as he suddenly felt an urge to keep the distance from the girl. That's when someone decided to follow Max's example and reveal his position. David Meramac. As far as Max remembered, he didn't appear in the announcements, and his voice didn't sound like a trouble, so Max invited him in.
"Yeah, come over here! Everything's okay!"
At least physically, because someone needs to check his attitude apparently...
As much as he was annoyed with the 'welcome' he was given, Max was at least happy to conclude, that it wasn't indeed a trap. It was just too bizarre, and if it was actually a part of an elaborate ambush plan, then both of the girls deserved an Oscar for their performance.
What happened next was probably the last think Max expected. A girl emerged from the darkness, and instead of saying hi or anything, she just pushed him aside before yelling at him.
"Yeah, nice to meet you too." He responded. Max was used to assholes behaving like that way back in his junior high, and his overall friendly attitude he picked up later in the high school helped him to ignore that kind of situations, but right now he couldn't resist himself from using sarcasm. Seriously, what was she thinking? He didn't do anything wrong and tried to be helpful, and yet he received a shouting because... Because what exactly?
But she didn't stop at that, and started talking to Sierra, and asking if Max wasn't freaking her out. The boy only shook his head in amazement.
"Okay, now you got to be kidding me..."
The blond guy took a few steps back, as he suddenly felt an urge to keep the distance from the girl. That's when someone decided to follow Max's example and reveal his position. David Meramac. As far as Max remembered, he didn't appear in the announcements, and his voice didn't sound like a trouble, so Max invited him in.
"Yeah, come over here! Everything's okay!"
At least physically, because someone needs to check his attitude apparently...
As much as he was annoyed with the 'welcome' he was given, Max was at least happy to conclude, that it wasn't indeed a trap. It was just too bizarre, and if it was actually a part of an elaborate ambush plan, then both of the girls deserved an Oscar for their performance.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Yossarian. 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.
-
lovebirdjo†
- Posts: 103
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:36 am
[Sorry about how short this post is, guys!]
Josie had not answered Sierra. Where was her friend, and why hadn't she answered? Sierra began to cry again, though she had exhausted her tears and the sobs came out dry and harsh. She hated herself for how damned dependent she was on Josie, a ball and chain shackled onto her friend. It was wrong for her to make Josie take care of her like this. Sierra had never felt so much hatred for herself in her life. Why was she so useless? If she had only helped her friend, they could have saved Omar from his death.
'Omar...'
Sierra's mind went wild. She could not see. She could not hear. She could not smell or taste. She only knew the pain of loss. As the waves of pain washed over her, a barrage of thoughts threatened to knock her down. Why was this happening to all of them? Why had God decided that their fate was to die like cattle? Why did she deserve to live now, as worthless as she was? Why had Omar, such a good person, been torn from this world like an insignificant doll? Why had Julian Avery killed him? Where did it happen? What had lead to his death? Was Julian coming for her next? Who would kill Sierra?
These questions struck the blond like the lashes of a whip, lacerating not her body but her heart. With each question, she lost some part of herself. She had been sobbing so much that she was hoarse. She couldn't even scream out. Sierra Manning lived, but she just wasn't alive anymore. How long she felt that numbing loss, she didn't know. It felt like hours that her heart was breaking piece by piece. It was probably mere moments.
Vaguely, in the crevices of her mind, she knew that someone had touched her. Despite this touch, she did not acknowledge whoever was trying to talk to her. She only knew it wasn't Josie, and that terrified her. Had Sierra's time to die come? No. Not yet. She had to get to Omar, at least what was left of him. She had to find her love and pay her respects. Despite her lack of will, the numbing sensation began to subside enough for her to become aware of her surroundings again. The blond heard voices. She heard her own name coming from a male's mouth. Was it Omar? For just a moment, she would swear that she heard his voice.
"I'm here with Sierra! We're both fine!"
She snapped out of her coma, eyes widely searching for her love. She felt another piece of her slide into the darkness when she saw that the boy was not Omar, but somehow, it almost relieved her. Sierra knew this boy wasn't Julian Avery, and that made her relax (if only a miniscule bit). She heard Josie before she saw her, coming over and yelling at the boy who was beside her. If there was a reason, the blond did not know what it was. Was he trying to attack her? That didn't make any sense. Surely this person would have put her out of her misery if he was playing the game. Whatever his motivations, the girl was fairly certain that she did not want him, or anyone else for that matter, around. She couldn't trust anyone except Josie anymore. She barely could trust herself.
With her friend asking her if she was alright, Sierra could only nod. She tried to croak out a response and failed, her voice was leaving her; just another woe to add to her growing list of pains. She shook her head 'no', that the boy had not hurt her. Just barely aware of what was even going on, she just stared at Josie. What were they going to do?
Josie had not answered Sierra. Where was her friend, and why hadn't she answered? Sierra began to cry again, though she had exhausted her tears and the sobs came out dry and harsh. She hated herself for how damned dependent she was on Josie, a ball and chain shackled onto her friend. It was wrong for her to make Josie take care of her like this. Sierra had never felt so much hatred for herself in her life. Why was she so useless? If she had only helped her friend, they could have saved Omar from his death.
'Omar...'
Sierra's mind went wild. She could not see. She could not hear. She could not smell or taste. She only knew the pain of loss. As the waves of pain washed over her, a barrage of thoughts threatened to knock her down. Why was this happening to all of them? Why had God decided that their fate was to die like cattle? Why did she deserve to live now, as worthless as she was? Why had Omar, such a good person, been torn from this world like an insignificant doll? Why had Julian Avery killed him? Where did it happen? What had lead to his death? Was Julian coming for her next? Who would kill Sierra?
These questions struck the blond like the lashes of a whip, lacerating not her body but her heart. With each question, she lost some part of herself. She had been sobbing so much that she was hoarse. She couldn't even scream out. Sierra Manning lived, but she just wasn't alive anymore. How long she felt that numbing loss, she didn't know. It felt like hours that her heart was breaking piece by piece. It was probably mere moments.
Vaguely, in the crevices of her mind, she knew that someone had touched her. Despite this touch, she did not acknowledge whoever was trying to talk to her. She only knew it wasn't Josie, and that terrified her. Had Sierra's time to die come? No. Not yet. She had to get to Omar, at least what was left of him. She had to find her love and pay her respects. Despite her lack of will, the numbing sensation began to subside enough for her to become aware of her surroundings again. The blond heard voices. She heard her own name coming from a male's mouth. Was it Omar? For just a moment, she would swear that she heard his voice.
"I'm here with Sierra! We're both fine!"
She snapped out of her coma, eyes widely searching for her love. She felt another piece of her slide into the darkness when she saw that the boy was not Omar, but somehow, it almost relieved her. Sierra knew this boy wasn't Julian Avery, and that made her relax (if only a miniscule bit). She heard Josie before she saw her, coming over and yelling at the boy who was beside her. If there was a reason, the blond did not know what it was. Was he trying to attack her? That didn't make any sense. Surely this person would have put her out of her misery if he was playing the game. Whatever his motivations, the girl was fairly certain that she did not want him, or anyone else for that matter, around. She couldn't trust anyone except Josie anymore. She barely could trust herself.
With her friend asking her if she was alright, Sierra could only nod. She tried to croak out a response and failed, her voice was leaving her; just another woe to add to her growing list of pains. She shook her head 'no', that the boy had not hurt her. Just barely aware of what was even going on, she just stared at Josie. What were they going to do?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler lovebirdjo. 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.
Everything's okay.
For some reason the phrase weakened David's resolve even further; his arms flew out and wrapped protectively around himself, as though trying to conserve warmth. The moment he'd heard the other voice call "everything's okay!" he'd seen in his head the fight over by the fountain; he'd seen Cody Jenkins fall as gunfire boomed around them.
Everything was not okay.
But the fact was that he was useless on his own; that all he could do was keep running and struggling to avoid death. And if there was a way off the island? If there was a way for him to avoid death altogether, to escape? If he was going to find this "Liz Polanski" and survive, he was going to need help.
He swallowed, and made his way in the direction of the voices. They were little more than dim, distant shapes when he finally came into view, but he ignored his mounting fear and, with a faint shudder, called, "O-over here."
Back with other people again. Back to the potential of pain and death. Back to fear.
For some reason the phrase weakened David's resolve even further; his arms flew out and wrapped protectively around himself, as though trying to conserve warmth. The moment he'd heard the other voice call "everything's okay!" he'd seen in his head the fight over by the fountain; he'd seen Cody Jenkins fall as gunfire boomed around them.
Everything was not okay.
But the fact was that he was useless on his own; that all he could do was keep running and struggling to avoid death. And if there was a way off the island? If there was a way for him to avoid death altogether, to escape? If he was going to find this "Liz Polanski" and survive, he was going to need help.
He swallowed, and made his way in the direction of the voices. They were little more than dim, distant shapes when he finally came into view, but he ignored his mounting fear and, with a faint shudder, called, "O-over here."
Back with other people again. Back to the potential of pain and death. Back to fear.
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”