((Robert Barron cont'd from Filling Prescriptions))
The pain in his knee was becoming too much for him to handle. He was still moving, but slower as he began to put more weight on his stronger leg, He had to stop. Surely he would be far enough away from the infirmary by now. He stopped and looked around. He had lost his bearings and his companions.
He was shamed by how he had abandoned them. He recalled the shouts he heard as he fled the danger zone, concerned only with his own life. This was what the terrorists wanted wasn't it. Put everybody in a situation where they were so concerned for themselves that they would be willing to do anything to their friends. Abandon them, or even deliberately hurt them. He decided there and then that he was done with that. He was going to help as many people as he could.
Sitting, stretching his knee out, he took in his surroundings. This was looking strangely familiar. He kicked himself as he realised exactly why. He was headed back down the road he had taken to reach the infirmary in the first place, back to the small cottage. It had been days and he was right back where he started. Oh well. He took the opportunity to attend to his knee brace, make sure that it was all tightened properly, trying to give himself some relief from the pain that was taking over, and to see if Neill and Ray were still with him, so that he could apologise for what he had done.
Going Round in Circles
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Killer_Moth†
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Going Round in Circles
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Sister Grimm†
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((Edward Belmont continued from Wants and Needs))
It might go without saying, but this was the singularly worst experience in Edward's relatively short life. He was tired, paranoid, jittery. It was a gradual shift from the daze he'd been in after leaving the scene of Jarocki's murder. Maybe he wasn't maintaining as much hope of rescue after that, but he hadn't completely given up hope. Just because it was too late for Jarocki didn't mean it was too late for the rest of the class. Madeleine would surely be forgiven, considering the circumstances. Jarocki had attacked them, after all, not the other way around. They would be rescued, and everything would be almost back to normal. Minus one loser who probably wouldn't be missed anyway.
The longer he spent on the island, the less sure of that he became. The glaring holes in his original plan became more and more apparent. If the government could save, why couldn't they have saved the students involved in the prior versions of the game? It was a possibility that they simply hadn't found them in time before, but that was naive. The network of satellites floating miles above everyone's heads had to be worth something, right? It seemed like every movie had someone high-up using them to spy on someone across the world. Shouldn't they be able to find one island? That felt, to him at least, iffy.
Nonetheless, he would hold out hope. He had to, because the alternative was much worse. Giving up and waiting to die? Now, that wasn't any way to conduct oneself. No, he might as well make a show of it. While he didn't condone the killing, he did condone staying alive. That meant, for him at least, finding someone in a better potion to fight and latching onto them. It was a shame he'd lost Imraan, and an ever bigger shame he lost Violet. Now that a girl he wouldn't mind playing the hero for.
Still, it couldn't be helped.
He was surprised himself that he'd made it to the third day on his own. Sure, he'd ran into a friend or two along the way, but he'd always gone on alone. He would listen to the announcements every morning, expecting to hear the name of a friend mentioned in passing. In the end, it wouldn't matter. Hopelessness in the face of inevitability was the order of the day on Survival of the Fittest. Of course, he still had the distant hope of running into someone he might consider a closer friend if everything else fell through.
The English boy eventually made his way to a small hut placed among a small copse of trees. Unassuming, but more then likely hiding someone inside or just out of sight. As if on cue, a boy wandered onto the scene. Robert something, maybe? No, that was right. He was on one of the lesser sports teams. Badminton or tennis, maybe. Better then a stranger, he guessed. It was enough to keep him from heading in the opposite direction. "Uh, hello there. " Edward waved, keeping both hands visible and empty as he drew closer. He hadn't heard his name on the announcements, so he was probably fine. Probably. "You're not one of those dreadful group playing along would you?"
It might go without saying, but this was the singularly worst experience in Edward's relatively short life. He was tired, paranoid, jittery. It was a gradual shift from the daze he'd been in after leaving the scene of Jarocki's murder. Maybe he wasn't maintaining as much hope of rescue after that, but he hadn't completely given up hope. Just because it was too late for Jarocki didn't mean it was too late for the rest of the class. Madeleine would surely be forgiven, considering the circumstances. Jarocki had attacked them, after all, not the other way around. They would be rescued, and everything would be almost back to normal. Minus one loser who probably wouldn't be missed anyway.
The longer he spent on the island, the less sure of that he became. The glaring holes in his original plan became more and more apparent. If the government could save, why couldn't they have saved the students involved in the prior versions of the game? It was a possibility that they simply hadn't found them in time before, but that was naive. The network of satellites floating miles above everyone's heads had to be worth something, right? It seemed like every movie had someone high-up using them to spy on someone across the world. Shouldn't they be able to find one island? That felt, to him at least, iffy.
Nonetheless, he would hold out hope. He had to, because the alternative was much worse. Giving up and waiting to die? Now, that wasn't any way to conduct oneself. No, he might as well make a show of it. While he didn't condone the killing, he did condone staying alive. That meant, for him at least, finding someone in a better potion to fight and latching onto them. It was a shame he'd lost Imraan, and an ever bigger shame he lost Violet. Now that a girl he wouldn't mind playing the hero for.
Still, it couldn't be helped.
He was surprised himself that he'd made it to the third day on his own. Sure, he'd ran into a friend or two along the way, but he'd always gone on alone. He would listen to the announcements every morning, expecting to hear the name of a friend mentioned in passing. In the end, it wouldn't matter. Hopelessness in the face of inevitability was the order of the day on Survival of the Fittest. Of course, he still had the distant hope of running into someone he might consider a closer friend if everything else fell through.
The English boy eventually made his way to a small hut placed among a small copse of trees. Unassuming, but more then likely hiding someone inside or just out of sight. As if on cue, a boy wandered onto the scene. Robert something, maybe? No, that was right. He was on one of the lesser sports teams. Badminton or tennis, maybe. Better then a stranger, he guessed. It was enough to keep him from heading in the opposite direction. "Uh, hello there. " Edward waved, keeping both hands visible and empty as he drew closer. He hadn't heard his name on the announcements, so he was probably fine. Probably. "You're not one of those dreadful group playing along would you?"
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Pigeon Army†
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((Rachel Gettys continued from Keeping the Faith))
Rachel had been walking for a long time.
Correction.
Rachel had been hobbling for a long time.
The stick had been good. It had helped. Her ankle was able to remain elevated, unused. Every now and then she had tried to walk on it, gingerly placing it on the ground and limping a few metres, but the pain always got too much. It was a problem, but she had full confidence in her abilities. With someone like Him to watch over her, it was hard not to.
She came upon a small hut in a small cluster of small trees. The word seemed to fit the area pretty well, small. She heard a voice - a Pohm making the first moves in the dangerous game of introductions. She didn't know any Pohms at Bayview, but her father had always taught her not to trust the British. "They still want our land, our families, our liberties," he'd say, without a hint of irony. "They're just waiting." Rachel had never believed her father - nobody would attack the United States, much less a superpower-cum-lapdog for American foreign policy - but he'd planted enough doubt in her mind that she never let her guard down around the English.
For a second, Rachel lost herself. Thinking about her father - her grand, jovial, wise father, a man she'd always deeply admired and loved; thinking about her father stopped Rachel in her tracks. How were her parents taking this? She'd killed a boy. The boy had attacked her, but she'd killed. Were her parents watching? They'd have to be. She was their little princess, they wouldn't just give her up for dead.
But they'd be...proud?
She recovered.
They'd be proud. She was doing His work.
Leaning on the stick, she lurched towards the front of the hut. There was a dead body in front of the door. A girl. Whoever the voice was, they hadn't noticed it. There was blood all over her chest. She thought about how the death was necessary. The girl was one less person getting in the way of the message. And, for a split second, Rachel thought about how sad it was that she had to die.
She continued her trudge. Looking up, she saw two people. One was still talking. British, definitely. The other, Rachel recognised immediately. He was facing Rachel - he'd notice her in a second. But he was going to notice her on her own terms this time.
"You."
It should have always been her own terms.
Rachel had been walking for a long time.
Correction.
Rachel had been hobbling for a long time.
The stick had been good. It had helped. Her ankle was able to remain elevated, unused. Every now and then she had tried to walk on it, gingerly placing it on the ground and limping a few metres, but the pain always got too much. It was a problem, but she had full confidence in her abilities. With someone like Him to watch over her, it was hard not to.
She came upon a small hut in a small cluster of small trees. The word seemed to fit the area pretty well, small. She heard a voice - a Pohm making the first moves in the dangerous game of introductions. She didn't know any Pohms at Bayview, but her father had always taught her not to trust the British. "They still want our land, our families, our liberties," he'd say, without a hint of irony. "They're just waiting." Rachel had never believed her father - nobody would attack the United States, much less a superpower-cum-lapdog for American foreign policy - but he'd planted enough doubt in her mind that she never let her guard down around the English.
For a second, Rachel lost herself. Thinking about her father - her grand, jovial, wise father, a man she'd always deeply admired and loved; thinking about her father stopped Rachel in her tracks. How were her parents taking this? She'd killed a boy. The boy had attacked her, but she'd killed. Were her parents watching? They'd have to be. She was their little princess, they wouldn't just give her up for dead.
But they'd be...proud?
She recovered.
They'd be proud. She was doing His work.
Leaning on the stick, she lurched towards the front of the hut. There was a dead body in front of the door. A girl. Whoever the voice was, they hadn't noticed it. There was blood all over her chest. She thought about how the death was necessary. The girl was one less person getting in the way of the message. And, for a split second, Rachel thought about how sad it was that she had to die.
She continued her trudge. Looking up, she saw two people. One was still talking. British, definitely. The other, Rachel recognised immediately. He was facing Rachel - he'd notice her in a second. But he was going to notice her on her own terms this time.
"You."
It should have always been her own terms.
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Killer_Moth†
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He looked up as the figure that cast its shadow over his face. "Hi Eddie". The English boy was doing his best to appear open and honest, so Bobby was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. There was no reason to fear the boy.
The pain in his knee wasn't going away, and was rapidly being joined by a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Neill and Ray had yet to show up. He worried that they'd followed a different path out. He hoped that they hadn't been too late, but thought that he might have heard any explosions. He looked up at Edward and smiled warmly at him.
"No. I'm not playing. You're going to have to trust me on that, but if you know anything about me, you'll know I'm not playing this game." He hoped that would be enough to put the newcomers' fears to rest for the moment. "You'll forgive me if I don't stand." He indicated the knee brace that he had just finished adjusting. He still needed time to let it recover before he would consider walking anywhere.
And then he heard a voice from behind Edward. One that he had most wanted to hear since he'd woken up 2 days ago to find himself next to this same hut. One that he couldn't help but remember the tone of the last time she had spoken to him, filled with contempt and disgust, the same tone that it held now.
Prom had been supposed to be the best night of any high-schoolers life. Instead he had lost his closest friend. Now she was here again. A lot had changed since that night. He was more comfortable with himself, and she had apparently killed one of their classmates.
"Rachel. I'm so glad to see you're OK. After what I heard-" No, not the path to go down right now. He was sure that she must have had reasons, but didn't want to come across as accusatory. He tried to stand to hug her, hold her close, recover the friendship, but winced in pain as he moved and promptly sat back down. Searching for the right words to say, he looked at her forlornly, emotion beginning to choke him.
The pain in his knee wasn't going away, and was rapidly being joined by a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Neill and Ray had yet to show up. He worried that they'd followed a different path out. He hoped that they hadn't been too late, but thought that he might have heard any explosions. He looked up at Edward and smiled warmly at him.
"No. I'm not playing. You're going to have to trust me on that, but if you know anything about me, you'll know I'm not playing this game." He hoped that would be enough to put the newcomers' fears to rest for the moment. "You'll forgive me if I don't stand." He indicated the knee brace that he had just finished adjusting. He still needed time to let it recover before he would consider walking anywhere.
And then he heard a voice from behind Edward. One that he had most wanted to hear since he'd woken up 2 days ago to find himself next to this same hut. One that he couldn't help but remember the tone of the last time she had spoken to him, filled with contempt and disgust, the same tone that it held now.
Prom had been supposed to be the best night of any high-schoolers life. Instead he had lost his closest friend. Now she was here again. A lot had changed since that night. He was more comfortable with himself, and she had apparently killed one of their classmates.
"Rachel. I'm so glad to see you're OK. After what I heard-" No, not the path to go down right now. He was sure that she must have had reasons, but didn't want to come across as accusatory. He tried to stand to hug her, hold her close, recover the friendship, but winced in pain as he moved and promptly sat back down. Searching for the right words to say, he looked at her forlornly, emotion beginning to choke him.
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Sister Grimm†
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It might not be Imraan, but it was a friendly, and better still, unarmed face. While he never really, you know, talked with Robert, they at least had the sports connection. If you wanted to call it that, anyway. Track certainly wasn't on the same low rung as badminton. But, again, a connection was a connection was a connection. It was, after all, better then nothing. Besides, the boy looked unarmed and injured at that. He probably wasn't a threat.
"Terribly glad to hear that!" Edward said with a broad smile. Then he had to ask himself how much he wanted Robert to know, or if he even wanted this to be more then a polite greeting. If he decided to ask him along or form some sort of group, he might as well tell him know that he was essentially unarmed. Then there was the school of thought that he would be better off alone. He'd played it that way so far, why change now? There was no reason to run off now, he could think about it while they talked.
The second voice from behind caught him by surprise. It wasn't terribly difficult to sneak up on him, but mistakes like that could be costly here. At least the person who snuck up on them didn't look too intimidating. Rachel Gettys, the leader of the resident Bible-thumping squad. Robert seemed to know her with some familiarity, judging by the way he greeted her. The name did strike him with a little trepidation. Had she been mentioned on the announcement? He really wished he had listened more closely.
Then Robert almost confirmed it, and Edward had to reevaluate his stance. If she was a killer, it was best to perhaps scare her off. Put up a brave front, make her back down. She'd killed at least once, something like friendship probably wouldn't stop her from killing gain. He squared his shoulders, standing straighter to make himself more imposing. "If you are playing, you may as well move along. You won't find an easy target here." Not exactly a Hollywood one-liner, but better then nothing.
"Terribly glad to hear that!" Edward said with a broad smile. Then he had to ask himself how much he wanted Robert to know, or if he even wanted this to be more then a polite greeting. If he decided to ask him along or form some sort of group, he might as well tell him know that he was essentially unarmed. Then there was the school of thought that he would be better off alone. He'd played it that way so far, why change now? There was no reason to run off now, he could think about it while they talked.
The second voice from behind caught him by surprise. It wasn't terribly difficult to sneak up on him, but mistakes like that could be costly here. At least the person who snuck up on them didn't look too intimidating. Rachel Gettys, the leader of the resident Bible-thumping squad. Robert seemed to know her with some familiarity, judging by the way he greeted her. The name did strike him with a little trepidation. Had she been mentioned on the announcement? He really wished he had listened more closely.
Then Robert almost confirmed it, and Edward had to reevaluate his stance. If she was a killer, it was best to perhaps scare her off. Put up a brave front, make her back down. She'd killed at least once, something like friendship probably wouldn't stop her from killing gain. He squared his shoulders, standing straighter to make himself more imposing. "If you are playing, you may as well move along. You won't find an easy target here." Not exactly a Hollywood one-liner, but better then nothing.
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Pigeon Army†
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Robert's reaction was not what Rachel had expected. She had expected fear or regret or snivelling or something else; not worry. Not relief. He had betrayed Rachel and everything she stood for, everything he stood for. Those two little words had ripped through her body like a lawnmower, and she was still well aware of the damage. On prom night, too, no less. It was hard for Rachel not to take it personally - it was inherently personal. It was an attack on Rachel's own self, on what she believed in and what she believed she was.
Of course, Robert's reaction was laced with trepidation. She'd heard what he said before he trailed off. There was that ounce of doubt, that worry that somehow, she'd done something terrible.
Had she done something terrible?
Rachel couldn't say.
She knew it was justified, though.
The limey began talking, his slimy, arrogant accent giving his snide remark a distasteful edge. "You won't find an easy target here." He thought she was hunting for targets. Now there was a way to misinterpret her intentions.
"I'm not here to kill you," she began. She had been thinking over the speech for a while. It had to win people over. She couldn't simply go in and ask them to join here. She had to be persuasive, or else they would just laugh at her. Disbelievers were prone to. "I have killed, yes, but he was trying to stop me from carrying out my mission."
She paused, going back over the speech in her head before continuing.
"I have a mission. I'm going to save everyone on the island."
She paused again, not to revise her mental notes, but for dramatic effect. Lure them in.
"When the boy attacked me, I had a vision. It told me that I had to survive for three days and three nights. When I did, people would know that He was coming, and that their souls would be saved - all that accepted the Sign of Jonah would be allowed into His kingdom. I was given the task of delivering the Sign by surviving, and drawing people in to help usher in the Second Coming."
Rachel had a feeling Robert would be on board. He was in need of salvation after prom night, he couldn't pass up such an opportunity.
"I was told to either recruit disciples in order to make this known, or strike down those who would stand in my way. His Word simply cannot be put at risk by the ignorance of disbelievers. This is too important.
"Which makes this your decision."
Of course, Robert's reaction was laced with trepidation. She'd heard what he said before he trailed off. There was that ounce of doubt, that worry that somehow, she'd done something terrible.
Had she done something terrible?
Rachel couldn't say.
She knew it was justified, though.
The limey began talking, his slimy, arrogant accent giving his snide remark a distasteful edge. "You won't find an easy target here." He thought she was hunting for targets. Now there was a way to misinterpret her intentions.
"I'm not here to kill you," she began. She had been thinking over the speech for a while. It had to win people over. She couldn't simply go in and ask them to join here. She had to be persuasive, or else they would just laugh at her. Disbelievers were prone to. "I have killed, yes, but he was trying to stop me from carrying out my mission."
She paused, going back over the speech in her head before continuing.
"I have a mission. I'm going to save everyone on the island."
She paused again, not to revise her mental notes, but for dramatic effect. Lure them in.
"When the boy attacked me, I had a vision. It told me that I had to survive for three days and three nights. When I did, people would know that He was coming, and that their souls would be saved - all that accepted the Sign of Jonah would be allowed into His kingdom. I was given the task of delivering the Sign by surviving, and drawing people in to help usher in the Second Coming."
Rachel had a feeling Robert would be on board. He was in need of salvation after prom night, he couldn't pass up such an opportunity.
"I was told to either recruit disciples in order to make this known, or strike down those who would stand in my way. His Word simply cannot be put at risk by the ignorance of disbelievers. This is too important.
"Which makes this your decision."
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((Raymond Dawson continued from Filling Prescriptions))
Ray didn't like running. Never did. Whenever the coach at Bayview wanted the wrestlers to do roadwork, Ray had to hide his irritation. Sometimes he wondered why wrestlers had to run, since the sport was about quick, explosive movements and was over in a short amount of time anyway.
Running after Robert wasn't too hard, encumbered though he was having to carry the late Jaclyn's spear in addition to his daypack, but damned if Ray was happy about it.
"Fucking goddammit, slow down or take a rest or something." Twice Ray thought he saw Robert, but it turned out to be a tree or a stump or something. The third time Ray actually caught sight of the cottage with the garden before he saw Robert, with two other people.
Ray recognized Edward among Robert's new group from seeing him running track,
fuck running
and thought he was pretty good. The girl was less familiar to Ray. He thought he might've known her to be one of them religified kids, maybe one of the abrasive ones.
Ray pulled in closer, happy to do something that didn't involve running, while holding his spear down to avoid appearing threatening. He didn't notice the tension that seemed to be about the group, not yet, anyway. He slowed his pace to a walk, figuring that Rob wouldn't be taking off again.
Ray didn't like running. Never did. Whenever the coach at Bayview wanted the wrestlers to do roadwork, Ray had to hide his irritation. Sometimes he wondered why wrestlers had to run, since the sport was about quick, explosive movements and was over in a short amount of time anyway.
Running after Robert wasn't too hard, encumbered though he was having to carry the late Jaclyn's spear in addition to his daypack, but damned if Ray was happy about it.
"Fucking goddammit, slow down or take a rest or something." Twice Ray thought he saw Robert, but it turned out to be a tree or a stump or something. The third time Ray actually caught sight of the cottage with the garden before he saw Robert, with two other people.
Ray recognized Edward among Robert's new group from seeing him running track,
fuck running
and thought he was pretty good. The girl was less familiar to Ray. He thought he might've known her to be one of them religified kids, maybe one of the abrasive ones.
Ray pulled in closer, happy to do something that didn't involve running, while holding his spear down to avoid appearing threatening. He didn't notice the tension that seemed to be about the group, not yet, anyway. He slowed his pace to a walk, figuring that Rob wouldn't be taking off again.
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Sister Grimm†
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((Sorry to skip you Moth, but Edward needs to go the way of the dinosaurs.))
Was this girl serious? He was actually hearing this, yes? This wasn't him, oh, going into hysterics? No, this girl was actually serious. That was both incredibly amusing and terribly disconcerting. A mission? A holy mission at that? No no, his time on the island would be rough enough without some madwoman preaching about a mission from God. This was not something he had the time, nor the inclination to deal with. As nice as it may have been to see a friendly face, it wasn't worth putting up with this. After all, wasn't she Robert's girlfriend or something? Unless he was as disgusted by this as Edward was, you wouldn't get one without the other.
So, he decided, in less then eloquent terms, 'fuck it'. He wouldn't want to deal with her even were she acting normal. The fact she was on some sort of delusional crusade? No thank you, sir. Not for him. She was looking for recruits, was it? Well, he would be going in the opposite direction. Edward had always viewed religion as a huge waste of time. Countless people praying to some imagined deity while those who proclaimed themselves chosen ordered them about? That was the sort of activity reserved for those who couldn't think for themselves.
A crisis of faith in this situation was a fair point. Cast onto this giant bloody mess? It was almost expected. He couldn't fault her much for her faith, or her trying to preach her version of salvation. Maybe she honestly did believe it. Fair enough. She was a killer and she wanted some sort of salvation. Whatever, not his problem. But that 'you're with us or against us' bit? That was irritating. Who gave her that right?
While it would have no doubt been more prudent to simply walk away, he couldn't leave it be. Threatening people with her hokey religion, her sign of Jonah nonsense. Where the hell did she get off with that rubbish? It was a small and probably insignificant trigger, but it was enough. Starting with the murder of Jarocki a few days before and leading up to Rachel preaching damnation and salvation in the same breath.
"What the hell do you think this is, an act of God? A step in his grand scheme to usher in the glorious return of Whomever?You're wrong, dammit! This is all some twisted game created by some sick bastard, and I can almost guarantee you're God has nothing to do with it! This isn't the bloody rapture, and it isn't the sodding Second Coming!" By the time Edward finished, he was all but spitting the words at Rachel, frustration seeping into his voice. When he did start up again, he sounded more resigned then anything else. "Whatever 'mighty being' you worship, real or not, this is all the work of someone with an abundance of free time on his hands and a blood lust that could only be described as perverse. How about you drop your religious nonsense and help me with Robert?"
Was this girl serious? He was actually hearing this, yes? This wasn't him, oh, going into hysterics? No, this girl was actually serious. That was both incredibly amusing and terribly disconcerting. A mission? A holy mission at that? No no, his time on the island would be rough enough without some madwoman preaching about a mission from God. This was not something he had the time, nor the inclination to deal with. As nice as it may have been to see a friendly face, it wasn't worth putting up with this. After all, wasn't she Robert's girlfriend or something? Unless he was as disgusted by this as Edward was, you wouldn't get one without the other.
So, he decided, in less then eloquent terms, 'fuck it'. He wouldn't want to deal with her even were she acting normal. The fact she was on some sort of delusional crusade? No thank you, sir. Not for him. She was looking for recruits, was it? Well, he would be going in the opposite direction. Edward had always viewed religion as a huge waste of time. Countless people praying to some imagined deity while those who proclaimed themselves chosen ordered them about? That was the sort of activity reserved for those who couldn't think for themselves.
A crisis of faith in this situation was a fair point. Cast onto this giant bloody mess? It was almost expected. He couldn't fault her much for her faith, or her trying to preach her version of salvation. Maybe she honestly did believe it. Fair enough. She was a killer and she wanted some sort of salvation. Whatever, not his problem. But that 'you're with us or against us' bit? That was irritating. Who gave her that right?
While it would have no doubt been more prudent to simply walk away, he couldn't leave it be. Threatening people with her hokey religion, her sign of Jonah nonsense. Where the hell did she get off with that rubbish? It was a small and probably insignificant trigger, but it was enough. Starting with the murder of Jarocki a few days before and leading up to Rachel preaching damnation and salvation in the same breath.
"What the hell do you think this is, an act of God? A step in his grand scheme to usher in the glorious return of Whomever?You're wrong, dammit! This is all some twisted game created by some sick bastard, and I can almost guarantee you're God has nothing to do with it! This isn't the bloody rapture, and it isn't the sodding Second Coming!" By the time Edward finished, he was all but spitting the words at Rachel, frustration seeping into his voice. When he did start up again, he sounded more resigned then anything else. "Whatever 'mighty being' you worship, real or not, this is all the work of someone with an abundance of free time on his hands and a blood lust that could only be described as perverse. How about you drop your religious nonsense and help me with Robert?"
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Pigeon Army†
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((Post-skippin' to get this done; minor GM-ing pre-approved))
The British boy had made his decision. He would stand in her way.
She let the boy rant for a good minute or so, all the while bringing the stick out from under her arm and tenderly lowering her foot onto the ground, trying to place weight on her ankle. It still stung, but Rachel pushed through the pain. Others had weathered far worse storms in His service.
His shouting just wouldn't stop. He seemed to have willfully shut out any conception of the world that involved some kind of higher power, and it was shining through his speech. His assertions that God had no plan, that this was all just some crazy polock with too much free time - they weren't mutually exclusive things. She knew from studying the Bible that He could be violent, vindictive, cold, but He was always as such for a purpose. The purpose was obvious here. She was preparing everyone for the Second Coming.
She was prepping everyone, right? For a second, Rachel's confidence wavered. What if the boy was right? What if this was an anomaly in God's plan?
No. No, that couldn't be. Because then she would be going crazy, and He wouldn't exist. And she wasn't crazy. And He existed.
The boy finally let up in his torrent of self-righteous abuse. "How about you drop your religious nonsense and help me with Robert?" he asked her, turning back to the boy who had strayed from the path long before their arrival on the island.
"Gladly," she quietly replied. She brought the stick up in one smooth movement, focused on the pohm's head, and swung.
The British boy had made his decision. He would stand in her way.
She let the boy rant for a good minute or so, all the while bringing the stick out from under her arm and tenderly lowering her foot onto the ground, trying to place weight on her ankle. It still stung, but Rachel pushed through the pain. Others had weathered far worse storms in His service.
His shouting just wouldn't stop. He seemed to have willfully shut out any conception of the world that involved some kind of higher power, and it was shining through his speech. His assertions that God had no plan, that this was all just some crazy polock with too much free time - they weren't mutually exclusive things. She knew from studying the Bible that He could be violent, vindictive, cold, but He was always as such for a purpose. The purpose was obvious here. She was preparing everyone for the Second Coming.
She was prepping everyone, right? For a second, Rachel's confidence wavered. What if the boy was right? What if this was an anomaly in God's plan?
No. No, that couldn't be. Because then she would be going crazy, and He wouldn't exist. And she wasn't crazy. And He existed.
The boy finally let up in his torrent of self-righteous abuse. "How about you drop your religious nonsense and help me with Robert?" he asked her, turning back to the boy who had strayed from the path long before their arrival on the island.
"Gladly," she quietly replied. She brought the stick up in one smooth movement, focused on the pohm's head, and swung.
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Sister Grimm†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:38 am
((Skipping one more time, just to get this over with. Last time, I promise. Honest, I'll never skip over someone to post with Edward again.))
Edward had turned away from Rachel, content to let her puzzle things out on her own. For the most part, she seemed awful stoic during his rant. If she really believed all that garbage she was spouting, she wouldn't be much phased by him anyway. It was safe to say that he'd made it pretty clear where he stood. Whatever, he didn't plan on staying around much longer anyway. Maybe see if Robert wanted a hand, either to his feet or away from Rachel. Overall, this was probably an interaction he could have done without. It would serve as a fine reminder on why he had avoided people before this.
The English boy extended a hand toward Robert, started to say something when he heard Rachel speak up behind him. To his immense relief, it wasn't some psycho religious nonsense. It was, to some effect, confirmation that she'd help with Robert. Seeing how she'd already quieted down, he could hardly ask for more. He would have been happy with her just shutting up.
He heard the faint rustle of movement from behind him. For a brief second, he guessed it was Rachel moving to help. Then the branch connected with the back off his head and he didn't think much of anything. Suddenly, his vision comprised entirely of white light and stars, and he vaguely felt the world falling away underneath him. Fear, sharp and sudden coursed through him, followed quickly by pain that only briefly eclipsed his terror. He was falling, slowly, for what felt like an eternity.
He thought of his parents. His mother and father, probably watching at home by this point. His mother, probably crying into his fathers shoulder. His father putting on a tough face, grim and helpless. They weren't perfect, God no, but he loved them and he hoped that they loved him. They'd never been close, not really. He thought of his parents, seemingly living in a different world then he did. He thought of them watching him fall. Watching him-
And he really really hoped he wouldn't die.
Distantly, he felt the the ground rush up underneath him. Another stab of pain in his temple, new, fresh pain. A rock, placed in that specific spot hundreds of years before. Placed in that one spot, just close enough for his head to connect with as he touched down. Blood, pain, all-encompassing white. That damned rock.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be, no, not even close. Everyone was supposed to be saved, rescued by the cavalry. The army, air force, whoever, coming in low over the horizon, given away only by the tell-tale sign of the helicopter blades. Rescue, safety, home. But that wouldn't happen. Not for him, anyway. Probably not for anyone else, either. They were all going to die on the island, killed by each other, people they once considered friends. People like Rachel, people who were probably okay before all this.
He figured that he probably shouldn't blame her. She's snapped, probably. Stress, panic, whatever. It could happen to anyone. But he did blame her, wanted to scream at her, curse at her, claw out her eyes, hit her until there was nothing left to hit. That sort of hinged on him being able to move. By that point, anything beside bleeding and dying was probably beyond his power.
Dying. As in, dead. As in, gone forever. His thoughts seemed far off, foreign even. Still, he got the idea. The realization that he was, in fact, dying, didn't even seem that much of a terrible shock. It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. When you died, weren't you supposed to see your life flash before you? Some great tunnel of light? Something? Overall, death was certainly a disappointing experience and certainly not something he'd do given the choice. Understatement of the decade, probably. Personally, he was sort of hoping to see a skeleton in a cloak. He guessed fading away was nice too.
B096 - Edward Belmont - DECEASED
Edward had turned away from Rachel, content to let her puzzle things out on her own. For the most part, she seemed awful stoic during his rant. If she really believed all that garbage she was spouting, she wouldn't be much phased by him anyway. It was safe to say that he'd made it pretty clear where he stood. Whatever, he didn't plan on staying around much longer anyway. Maybe see if Robert wanted a hand, either to his feet or away from Rachel. Overall, this was probably an interaction he could have done without. It would serve as a fine reminder on why he had avoided people before this.
The English boy extended a hand toward Robert, started to say something when he heard Rachel speak up behind him. To his immense relief, it wasn't some psycho religious nonsense. It was, to some effect, confirmation that she'd help with Robert. Seeing how she'd already quieted down, he could hardly ask for more. He would have been happy with her just shutting up.
He heard the faint rustle of movement from behind him. For a brief second, he guessed it was Rachel moving to help. Then the branch connected with the back off his head and he didn't think much of anything. Suddenly, his vision comprised entirely of white light and stars, and he vaguely felt the world falling away underneath him. Fear, sharp and sudden coursed through him, followed quickly by pain that only briefly eclipsed his terror. He was falling, slowly, for what felt like an eternity.
He thought of his parents. His mother and father, probably watching at home by this point. His mother, probably crying into his fathers shoulder. His father putting on a tough face, grim and helpless. They weren't perfect, God no, but he loved them and he hoped that they loved him. They'd never been close, not really. He thought of his parents, seemingly living in a different world then he did. He thought of them watching him fall. Watching him-
And he really really hoped he wouldn't die.
Distantly, he felt the the ground rush up underneath him. Another stab of pain in his temple, new, fresh pain. A rock, placed in that specific spot hundreds of years before. Placed in that one spot, just close enough for his head to connect with as he touched down. Blood, pain, all-encompassing white. That damned rock.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be, no, not even close. Everyone was supposed to be saved, rescued by the cavalry. The army, air force, whoever, coming in low over the horizon, given away only by the tell-tale sign of the helicopter blades. Rescue, safety, home. But that wouldn't happen. Not for him, anyway. Probably not for anyone else, either. They were all going to die on the island, killed by each other, people they once considered friends. People like Rachel, people who were probably okay before all this.
He figured that he probably shouldn't blame her. She's snapped, probably. Stress, panic, whatever. It could happen to anyone. But he did blame her, wanted to scream at her, curse at her, claw out her eyes, hit her until there was nothing left to hit. That sort of hinged on him being able to move. By that point, anything beside bleeding and dying was probably beyond his power.
Dying. As in, dead. As in, gone forever. His thoughts seemed far off, foreign even. Still, he got the idea. The realization that he was, in fact, dying, didn't even seem that much of a terrible shock. It wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. When you died, weren't you supposed to see your life flash before you? Some great tunnel of light? Something? Overall, death was certainly a disappointing experience and certainly not something he'd do given the choice. Understatement of the decade, probably. Personally, he was sort of hoping to see a skeleton in a cloak. He guessed fading away was nice too.
B096 - Edward Belmont - DECEASED
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Killer_Moth†
- Posts: 259
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 8:22 am
She'd gone mad. That was the only explanation that fit. She had always been more devout in her beliefs than Bobby, but this was beyond even that. Spouting about saving everybody, and the Sign of Jonah, and of visions talking to her. Had she hit her head? That perhaps made most sense.
As he was considering how best to respond, he could see Eddie making his decision. It was somewhere between ill conceived and foolhardy, but Bobby admired him for taking a stand. That and for the way that he tried to help. Yes, there was much to be admired in Eddie, much that was destroyed by Rachel's next action.
He should have been paying more attention, tried to shout a warning, not just sat there mouth agape as he watched his oldest friend murder somebody in cold blood. Even as Eddie fell to the ground, hit the stone and bleed to death, Bobby could do nothing to help. It was as if the world had gone into slow motion, but he still couldn't move.
"Rachel, what have you done? He wasn't a threat, he was trying to help. He just disagreed with you! Is that what it's come to? Killing people? Does this really sound like the will of God to you?" He tried to stand, letting the adrenalin help him fight past the pain in his knee, as he took a few steps toward Rachel.
"Rachel, whatever's happened, whatever's gone on here, whatever's gone on between us in the past, you don't have to do this. Let me help you."
As he was considering how best to respond, he could see Eddie making his decision. It was somewhere between ill conceived and foolhardy, but Bobby admired him for taking a stand. That and for the way that he tried to help. Yes, there was much to be admired in Eddie, much that was destroyed by Rachel's next action.
He should have been paying more attention, tried to shout a warning, not just sat there mouth agape as he watched his oldest friend murder somebody in cold blood. Even as Eddie fell to the ground, hit the stone and bleed to death, Bobby could do nothing to help. It was as if the world had gone into slow motion, but he still couldn't move.
"Rachel, what have you done? He wasn't a threat, he was trying to help. He just disagreed with you! Is that what it's come to? Killing people? Does this really sound like the will of God to you?" He tried to stand, letting the adrenalin help him fight past the pain in his knee, as he took a few steps toward Rachel.
"Rachel, whatever's happened, whatever's gone on here, whatever's gone on between us in the past, you don't have to do this. Let me help you."
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Cursed. We must be fucking cursed.
Ray hadn't even got over to the group, hell, probably wasn't even seen by the group when that girl (Roberta? Racquel? Something with an R.) cracked the track star in the head with a stick or something. He didn't see the blood pouring out of the guy's head, but Ray could see from where he was that the kid wasn't moving. The sudden spurt of violence shocked his feet into moving faster again. He had to get there, stop the girl in case she wanted to put down Robert too. Ray wasn't friends with him, but so far him and Neill were the closest to acquaintances the wrestler had on the island.
Ray pushed himself into a sprint, trying to close the distance as fast as possible.
Seriously. Fuck running.
Ray hadn't even got over to the group, hell, probably wasn't even seen by the group when that girl (Roberta? Racquel? Something with an R.) cracked the track star in the head with a stick or something. He didn't see the blood pouring out of the guy's head, but Ray could see from where he was that the kid wasn't moving. The sudden spurt of violence shocked his feet into moving faster again. He had to get there, stop the girl in case she wanted to put down Robert too. Ray wasn't friends with him, but so far him and Neill were the closest to acquaintances the wrestler had on the island.
Ray pushed himself into a sprint, trying to close the distance as fast as possible.
Seriously. Fuck running.
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xylophonefairy†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:55 am
((Neill Robertson continued from Filling Prescriptions))
He'd been following Ray for a bit, having run out of steam quickly and getting cramp in his side. Still, he was determined not to lose the two people whom he had decided weren't insane, and that he got on okay with, even if it meant a bit of muscle pain to do it. Still, as Ray seemed to slow, Neill managed to pick out three people in the distance. One of them, he was fairly sure, was Robert. Then there was another guy and a girl with him, though he was too far away to recognise them. Seriously, how big is this shithole of an island?
But the important thing was, as Ray seemed to notice when he started sprinting towards them, that the girl had swung a stick at the boy who wasn't Robert's head, and he had dropped to the floor. From that distance he could see if he was moving, breathing, but he wasn't trying to get up, and nobody appeared to be moving to help him. That could only mean one thing. There was going to be another name on the next announcement. Another death witnessed that he could add to his list, and Neill didn't even know who the boy was. In a suddenly decisive movement Neill decided to follow Ray and go up to them, but he moved more slowly, more cautiously, he didn't want to startle the girl into swinging her bat at his head as well.
As he got closer, he recognised the girl. Rachel Gettys. Neill didn't know her personally, remembering names was something he prided himself on, and he had a vague feeling that she ran the Christian group, but dismissed that thought off the bat; no way was someone simultaneously the leader of Godspeed and a killer. The kid on the floor he still couldn't recognise. Ray was running towards them and he was walking, the gap between them opened quickly, and Neill appreciated it being that way.
He'd been following Ray for a bit, having run out of steam quickly and getting cramp in his side. Still, he was determined not to lose the two people whom he had decided weren't insane, and that he got on okay with, even if it meant a bit of muscle pain to do it. Still, as Ray seemed to slow, Neill managed to pick out three people in the distance. One of them, he was fairly sure, was Robert. Then there was another guy and a girl with him, though he was too far away to recognise them. Seriously, how big is this shithole of an island?
But the important thing was, as Ray seemed to notice when he started sprinting towards them, that the girl had swung a stick at the boy who wasn't Robert's head, and he had dropped to the floor. From that distance he could see if he was moving, breathing, but he wasn't trying to get up, and nobody appeared to be moving to help him. That could only mean one thing. There was going to be another name on the next announcement. Another death witnessed that he could add to his list, and Neill didn't even know who the boy was. In a suddenly decisive movement Neill decided to follow Ray and go up to them, but he moved more slowly, more cautiously, he didn't want to startle the girl into swinging her bat at his head as well.
As he got closer, he recognised the girl. Rachel Gettys. Neill didn't know her personally, remembering names was something he prided himself on, and he had a vague feeling that she ran the Christian group, but dismissed that thought off the bat; no way was someone simultaneously the leader of Godspeed and a killer. The kid on the floor he still couldn't recognise. Ray was running towards them and he was walking, the gap between them opened quickly, and Neill appreciated it being that way.
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Pigeon Army†
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
Robert was saying things, babbling, panicking, scared of her, but she didn't notice. Rachel knew why he was like that, but she couldn't make herself concerned. Obviously, Rachel cared, but the boy had it coming. He'd had it coming for a while, doubtless. He probably didn't know it, but anyone who held such strong opinions on Him not existing and refused to budge on them had marked out their fate long ago. She was just a vessel.
She eased the stick back under her armpit, drops of blood dotting the bottom of the wood, and finally turned to Robert. He was pleading with her, which was something she hadn't expected to see so early on. She knew he wouldn't be behind her one-hundred percent, but this was something else.
He clearly thought she was mad.
But Rachel wasn't crazy.
She knew that.
Rachel backed up a step, out of reach of the handsome, imploring boy who had taken her and destroyed her at the biggest night of her school life. It had been one thing to announce that he was...sinful, but to do it around so many people? To embarrass Rachel in front of everyone, to openly mock her beliefs and act like it wasn't a big thing? That hurt. That hurt Rachel. She wasn't going to let him do something like that again.
"I do." Her voice was cold, clipped. She was the one in the right here. "And if you're interested in repenting for your sins, you should be as well."
She eased the stick back under her armpit, drops of blood dotting the bottom of the wood, and finally turned to Robert. He was pleading with her, which was something she hadn't expected to see so early on. She knew he wouldn't be behind her one-hundred percent, but this was something else.
He clearly thought she was mad.
But Rachel wasn't crazy.
She knew that.
Rachel backed up a step, out of reach of the handsome, imploring boy who had taken her and destroyed her at the biggest night of her school life. It had been one thing to announce that he was...sinful, but to do it around so many people? To embarrass Rachel in front of everyone, to openly mock her beliefs and act like it wasn't a big thing? That hurt. That hurt Rachel. She wasn't going to let him do something like that again.
"I do." Her voice was cold, clipped. She was the one in the right here. "And if you're interested in repenting for your sins, you should be as well."
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Killer_Moth†
- Posts: 259
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 8:22 am
Bobby wasn't getting through to her. She'd flipped. What little remained of what had once been his closest friend was hidden within this crazed woman he saw in front of him. And it wasn't pretty. She had killed at least one boy in cold blood, and was threatening him as well. He couldn't help but feel at least partially responsible. Maybe if he had just let himself be her boyfriend, push down his own nature and let everybody else be-
No, that made no sense. That would have been the real sin. But he had to play this carefully. As he was formulating the best response, he saw something that simultaneously gave him hope and filled him with dread. Ray and Neill were both coming this way. Great, they hadn't been caught and killed in the exclusion zone, but they were entering an even more deadly situation.
He saw how this would go, and realised that no matter what choice he made, people were going to get hurt. If he did nothing, Ray would probably attack Rachel, which would undoubtedly mean that his friend would be lost forever. If he warned her, he'd be helping her, which would most likely lead to him being an accessory to murder. Neither option was looking pleasant to him.
Still, there was only one way that he could go and still allow him to be himself. "Rachel. I love you, and I always have. You're like a sister to me. But I'm not going to help you kill anybody." He looked over Rachel's shoulder to where Neill was rapidly approaching, and held up a hand, trying to signal to his new companion not to attack. "I've done some bad things, I'll admit that. I admit it each week in confession. And when I get off this island, I'm not going to confess that I killed, or helped my best friend kill anybody. But I'll be there for you.
"Rachel, is there anything you want to confess?"
No, that made no sense. That would have been the real sin. But he had to play this carefully. As he was formulating the best response, he saw something that simultaneously gave him hope and filled him with dread. Ray and Neill were both coming this way. Great, they hadn't been caught and killed in the exclusion zone, but they were entering an even more deadly situation.
He saw how this would go, and realised that no matter what choice he made, people were going to get hurt. If he did nothing, Ray would probably attack Rachel, which would undoubtedly mean that his friend would be lost forever. If he warned her, he'd be helping her, which would most likely lead to him being an accessory to murder. Neither option was looking pleasant to him.
Still, there was only one way that he could go and still allow him to be himself. "Rachel. I love you, and I always have. You're like a sister to me. But I'm not going to help you kill anybody." He looked over Rachel's shoulder to where Neill was rapidly approaching, and held up a hand, trying to signal to his new companion not to attack. "I've done some bad things, I'll admit that. I admit it each week in confession. And when I get off this island, I'm not going to confess that I killed, or helped my best friend kill anybody. But I'll be there for you.
"Rachel, is there anything you want to confess?"
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