[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued from Full Circle.]
It took all day. All fucking day, just to make it down here. On one hand, he could blame his leg and the searing pain he felt every time he put his full weight on it, but the addition of a walking stick about halfway through his trip made it a little easier. On the other hand, he could blame it on the placement of danger zones, but there hadn't been any new ones besides the beaches. But no matter what he blamed, Alex was mad, tired, sore, and felt as if his legs were going to fall off and he would be happy to be rid of them.
"Fucking put my prize on the other side of the fucking island. Make me walk all this way. Fucking... fuck."
He was spent. Didn't even know how to voice his frustration and annoyance. Just started spouting random curses every few minutes. Spat out long strings of them whenever he'd stumble and put his weight on his leg, and shout others at the top of his lungs when he fell. But he made it down there. Didn't quite care who heard him in his shouting along the way, because he made it down to the Mines.
To claim his prize.
"About fucking time."
Alex stumbled and limped his way over to the crate. Stared at it for the longest time, wondering if he even wanted to open it. It was his prize, his reward, for the horrible things he'd done to those girls. To that girl. His reward for ending the lives of those who were innocent. He could take what was inside that crate. It was as simple as opening it up, reaching inside, and taking it out. But did he really want that? Did he really want to accept a reward for doing what he did? A prize for his sentence to that very special hell?
He didn't know. He honestly did not know.
So he sat down. And he thought.
Stared at his hands, and thought.
Was this really what he wanted? To survive at all costs? To kill without second thought, to fight without quarter, to give no mercy and expect none? He'd done it before. Killed without thought. Killed solely out of reflex. Killed without hesitation. Made someone suffer. No matter what he did, he would not be able to take back his actions. No matter what he said, he wouldn't be able to make it right. He could try, but he would fail. He would get no forgiveness for what he did and there was no excuse for his actions. The families of the victims, of his victims, would not forgive him. His own family was likely to disown him. He could try to make things right, but he would fail.
Was that really what he wanted?
Alex sighed. Stared at the crate. Resigned himself to his fate.
He was a murderer, plain and simple. There was no taking that back. There was no excusing what he did. Trying to run from that, trying to hide, would have been useless. Alex shook his head, and took out a bottle of water. Took the bottle of pills out of his pocket, and took what he needed.
Time to get back to the game. No matter what he thought, no matter what the world thought or what his family thought, he still had to survive this. He still had to win this.
Alex put his hand on the crate.
"Here goes nothing."
Sympathy for the Devil
Forgiveness for the Damned
Sympathy for the Devil
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. 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.
Holy fucking shit.
Look at that thing. Just look at it. It was beautiful. Big and black and sleek. Alex reached into the crate and pulled out the Armsel Striker, not quite sure exactly what model it was, but still awestruck by it. He unfolded the stock and put his hands on the grips, staring down the sights. Tested how it felt in his hands. Aimed it at various things around him and made sure the sights were adjusted properly. Everything looked okay. It looked better than okay. It was downright beautiful.
"Should probably say thanks."
Alex muttered as he looked in the crate and pulled out the box of ammunition. Only 20 shells huh? Oh well. They were standard 12 gauge shells, so he should be able to find some poor fuck wandering around with a shotgun of their own and take the ammunition from them. Maybe find someone who was already dead and just take it from their corpse. It wasn't pleasant, god knows he knew that, but it was necessary sometimes. Hell, the clothes he was wearing, the cut off pants and sleeveless shirt, probably came from some dead boy's belongings. He did it before and could do it again.
Alex turned his attention back to the shotgun, and then back to the crate. He dug out the manual and sat there for well over an hour reading. He read the manual twice over with the gun sitting there in his lap, going over every last detail and making sure that he knew that gun like the back of his hand. Despite his misgivings over accepting the weapon as his prize, Alex was excited to have such a powerful weapon in his possession. But accepting it meant accepting his fate. Accepting the fact that he was nothing more than a murderer, that his family is likely to abandon and disown him. Accepting that death was going to be an all too common thing now, and he was going to have to continue on the path he'd chosen and accept his role as a monster.
But he had to do more than simply accept it to survive here. He had to embrace it. With as far as he had gone, he had to embrace everything he had become to survive this game and survive the world outside of it. The only ones who were left now were the ones like him, the murderers and the monsters, the people who had done whatever was necessary to survive. Who had killed when they needed to and when they didn't need to, much as he had. He was not the only monster on this island. Old monsters had died and new ones had taken their place. Alex had his own spot to claim among those monsters.
Perhaps he would welcome it and claim his place. Embrace who he'd become. Perhaps he would.
"You're going to see a lot of use in the next few days. Yes you are."
It was time to accept who he was. He was a monster. He was good at being a monster. And perhaps, just a little, he enjoyed it. So he loaded the shotgun and gathered his things. And left the mines, having accepted his place.
"Hell awaits you, boy. And there is no forgiveness for the damned, nor sympathy for the devil. I hope you know what you're doing. For hell awaits you in the end."
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued in Into the Pit I Stare.]
Look at that thing. Just look at it. It was beautiful. Big and black and sleek. Alex reached into the crate and pulled out the Armsel Striker, not quite sure exactly what model it was, but still awestruck by it. He unfolded the stock and put his hands on the grips, staring down the sights. Tested how it felt in his hands. Aimed it at various things around him and made sure the sights were adjusted properly. Everything looked okay. It looked better than okay. It was downright beautiful.
"Should probably say thanks."
Alex muttered as he looked in the crate and pulled out the box of ammunition. Only 20 shells huh? Oh well. They were standard 12 gauge shells, so he should be able to find some poor fuck wandering around with a shotgun of their own and take the ammunition from them. Maybe find someone who was already dead and just take it from their corpse. It wasn't pleasant, god knows he knew that, but it was necessary sometimes. Hell, the clothes he was wearing, the cut off pants and sleeveless shirt, probably came from some dead boy's belongings. He did it before and could do it again.
Alex turned his attention back to the shotgun, and then back to the crate. He dug out the manual and sat there for well over an hour reading. He read the manual twice over with the gun sitting there in his lap, going over every last detail and making sure that he knew that gun like the back of his hand. Despite his misgivings over accepting the weapon as his prize, Alex was excited to have such a powerful weapon in his possession. But accepting it meant accepting his fate. Accepting the fact that he was nothing more than a murderer, that his family is likely to abandon and disown him. Accepting that death was going to be an all too common thing now, and he was going to have to continue on the path he'd chosen and accept his role as a monster.
But he had to do more than simply accept it to survive here. He had to embrace it. With as far as he had gone, he had to embrace everything he had become to survive this game and survive the world outside of it. The only ones who were left now were the ones like him, the murderers and the monsters, the people who had done whatever was necessary to survive. Who had killed when they needed to and when they didn't need to, much as he had. He was not the only monster on this island. Old monsters had died and new ones had taken their place. Alex had his own spot to claim among those monsters.
Perhaps he would welcome it and claim his place. Embrace who he'd become. Perhaps he would.
"You're going to see a lot of use in the next few days. Yes you are."
It was time to accept who he was. He was a monster. He was good at being a monster. And perhaps, just a little, he enjoyed it. So he loaded the shotgun and gathered his things. And left the mines, having accepted his place.
"Hell awaits you, boy. And there is no forgiveness for the damned, nor sympathy for the devil. I hope you know what you're doing. For hell awaits you in the end."
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued in Into the Pit I Stare.]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. 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.