((Jennifer Perez continued from Leaving Me Lonely Still [This thread is okay, since terrorist threads don't count for the limit]))
The walk had been pleasant enough, once they got clear of the swamp. They'd picked up the logging road, looping towards the residential area, and, from there, hoping to cut towards the southern side of the island. Jennifer want to check the hall of mirrors, make sure Maf hadn't turned up. She hadn't shared this piece of information with Nick. Minimize conflict. She could patch up the issues the boys had with each other. She was sure. Worst case, she'd just fucking throw herself between them, count on them not to kill her. Maybe too optimistic, but no one had hurt her yet. Only Jimmy Brennan had even really tried. For having spent almost a week on Survival of the Fittest, Jennifer was doing pretty fucking well.
So they walked along the road, Jennifer scuffing her feet every now and then, kicking gravel and dirt around. She'd always loved walking. Now, though, she was finally starting to think maybe she'd had enough of it. She was tired and hungry. She'd heard somewhere, once upon a time, that you could eat pine needles, so she'd snagged a few handfuls from the trees between the swamp and the logging road. They hadn't killed her, and they'd made her feel a bit more full, but also had tasted pretty awful and hadn't really given her any sort of energy boost. She'd refilled her water bottles, and had a tiny bit of bread left, but she was almost running on empty now.
Funnily enough, she enjoyed having someone to walk with, never mind the fact that he'd killed four people. That seemed just as much another world as Saint Paul did, as lazy days browsing the mall did, as worrying about who was dating whom and whether she'd accidentally offended some underclassman.
She was almost ready to just sit down and spin out the rest of her time. Maybe, without Nick, she'd have fallen idle, fallen into apathy, made her way to the mirror house and just waited until it was made a danger zone or Maf turned up. He still hadn't been on the announcements, at least. Had Nick not mentioned him, she would have hoped he'd missed the bus, fallen ill or something. He didn't deserve to be here.
Neither did Nick. Neither did she.
The announcements were coming up again. Jennifer paused on the road, let her mind wander into that detached place it lived in during these moments. It would be more names. She would know some. One would be Nick's. As long as Maf's wasn't on there, she'd be fine. Nothing could shock her now. Nothing could break her.
She waited. Best to stand still, let Nick take notes if he wanted. She just listened as Danya started. Nick was right at the start. Good. She could stop paying attention now. Marco came up. That put a tiny chink in her armor. They... hadn't left on the best terms. Now there'd be no patching things up.
And then, everything was forgotten.
Jennifer heard her own name.
Only, it wasn't her name. It was the other Jennifer. Jennifer Romita.
"It's, uh, Jennifer. Perez not Romita."
How many times in her life had she spoken those words?
She blinked.
Jennifer Romita was dead. Gone. The end.
And before she knew it, she was sitting down on the road, crying through the rest of whatever Danya had to say.
Keep On Smiling
Open, shortly after the fifth announcement
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
((Harun Kemal continued from Gypsy Rap.))
Harun checked the number of bullets he had loaded inside his sword-revolver again.
Still six.
He had no idea why every few minutes he automatically paused and checked the number of bullets loaded into the chamber of his sword-gun. His grip on it was very tight and clingy and he was holding it at a distance from both the ground and his travelling companions, minimising the chances of any freak accidents. It wasn't like the bullets were just going to jump out of the chamber and go for a merry skip around the island. There was no reason to not trust the bullets to stay all snug in the gun where Harun had put them.
Still, the bullets were pretty important.
If any crazed psychopath or deranged player-in-training saw the large, (hopefully) intimidating group and came to the rather illogical conclusion that, just because Harun was a weakling and a crybaby back in Minnesota, that he hadn't morphed into a badass and the most dangerous person on the island and was instead an easy target...well, hopefully Harun's sword-gun and the six precious bullets within it would be enough to teach them a valuable lesson.
Hopefully.
Hopefully a situation like that could be postponed for as much as possible. Harun quite liked not having to fight for his life, thank you very much.
Harun was, to be frank, worrying more about food at the moment then the ever-present threat of a mentally unstable classmate or Liz Polanski provoking another random collar-popping from Danya. For Harun, it was still fairly easy for him to maintain the same viewpoint he had always had towards tragedies; sad, regrettable, tragic and deeply upsetting, but virtually no chance of it impacting you directly. Yes, he'd seen a few bodies. A few acquaintances and even friends had lost their lives, and a large majority of the names read out on the announcements brought a face to Harun's memory, so, emotionally, the game was causing him some distress.
Mentally and physically, he was fine. He had had a rather cushy time by island standards (didn't mean much, and it was still probably the worst time in Harun's life, but he was definitely in the better-off half of the class.) He was still able to view the growing list of deaths on the announcement as something largely distant, something that happened only to other people. Much like car crashes or terrorist attacks.
And at the moment, food was definitely a bigger problem. Harun was always a big eater, and he frequently greeted his mother when she returned from errands with an absent-minded cry of "Mom, I'm hungry", so adjusting to the rather strict diet of the island had been a challenge. And, now, the small quantities of food he had were rapidly running out (with all the food containing gluten having been distributed amongst his teammates), and the time when Harun would need to get his hands dirty and hunt for his food was rapidly approaching.
But, that was a long-term concern.
His short-term concern was that, as he idly walked up the logging road, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a girl crying. Ducking behind a damaged truck and motioning for his companions to join him behind cover, he waited to see if it was a voice he knew.
Harun checked the number of bullets he had loaded inside his sword-revolver again.
Still six.
He had no idea why every few minutes he automatically paused and checked the number of bullets loaded into the chamber of his sword-gun. His grip on it was very tight and clingy and he was holding it at a distance from both the ground and his travelling companions, minimising the chances of any freak accidents. It wasn't like the bullets were just going to jump out of the chamber and go for a merry skip around the island. There was no reason to not trust the bullets to stay all snug in the gun where Harun had put them.
Still, the bullets were pretty important.
If any crazed psychopath or deranged player-in-training saw the large, (hopefully) intimidating group and came to the rather illogical conclusion that, just because Harun was a weakling and a crybaby back in Minnesota, that he hadn't morphed into a badass and the most dangerous person on the island and was instead an easy target...well, hopefully Harun's sword-gun and the six precious bullets within it would be enough to teach them a valuable lesson.
Hopefully.
Hopefully a situation like that could be postponed for as much as possible. Harun quite liked not having to fight for his life, thank you very much.
Harun was, to be frank, worrying more about food at the moment then the ever-present threat of a mentally unstable classmate or Liz Polanski provoking another random collar-popping from Danya. For Harun, it was still fairly easy for him to maintain the same viewpoint he had always had towards tragedies; sad, regrettable, tragic and deeply upsetting, but virtually no chance of it impacting you directly. Yes, he'd seen a few bodies. A few acquaintances and even friends had lost their lives, and a large majority of the names read out on the announcements brought a face to Harun's memory, so, emotionally, the game was causing him some distress.
Mentally and physically, he was fine. He had had a rather cushy time by island standards (didn't mean much, and it was still probably the worst time in Harun's life, but he was definitely in the better-off half of the class.) He was still able to view the growing list of deaths on the announcement as something largely distant, something that happened only to other people. Much like car crashes or terrorist attacks.
And at the moment, food was definitely a bigger problem. Harun was always a big eater, and he frequently greeted his mother when she returned from errands with an absent-minded cry of "Mom, I'm hungry", so adjusting to the rather strict diet of the island had been a challenge. And, now, the small quantities of food he had were rapidly running out (with all the food containing gluten having been distributed amongst his teammates), and the time when Harun would need to get his hands dirty and hunt for his food was rapidly approaching.
But, that was a long-term concern.
His short-term concern was that, as he idly walked up the logging road, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a girl crying. Ducking behind a damaged truck and motioning for his companions to join him behind cover, he waited to see if it was a voice he knew.
((Sarah Tan continues from Gypsy Rap))
The most littlest girl on the island had been heaped with far too much to handle.
It's fair to say that Sarah wasn't very strongly willed and objective like her teammates when it came to the reality of the situation around them. Her little hopes of doing something good, doing something to help people feel better, well, those flew out the window as fast as it took see a dead body.
It was a boy with glasses. She didn't know many people at the school that well, but she knew his name. Omar Burton. His body was long since decayed and rotting, and the large red stain around his neck had attracted much unwanted attention in regards to rot, maggots, worms, and there was even a woodland animal of some kind tearing at the darker, deader skin. The moment that little thing just started nibbling away, in plain view of her no less, she stopped and tried not to start bawling again.
She clung to Stacy, hard. She never sugar coated the situation, just told her it would be okay. But...Sarah knew it wouldn't. There would be a lot more dead bodies soon. Everywhere. They wouldn't just be in the forests, they would be on the roads, in the buildings, like Charlotte and Jaclyn. And she couldn't save them. They were all lost, far too far gone for anyone to save them.
But she couldn't think about that now. No more tears.
Keep that smile on your face.
No more tears.
And what's worse was that it was like she was becoming weaker and weaker each day. Bread. Water. Crackers. Bread. Crackers. Bread. Water. It wasn't healthy. It did nothing to compare to her mother's cooking, no way, no how. It's like the bags, ever since her first day, had tiny little weights put in them, just a little, just a few. She could still carry them, but it was less like a shoulder bag and more like a weighted chain wrapped around her tiny shoulders.
The ocean of stumps finally came to an end, and Harun lead the group back onto that same road Brendan guided them only 3 days before. The island's logging road. Miles of desolate, sandy gravel and even worse, the occasional body.
But after a while, Harun suddenly stopped behind a truck. She'd passed this truck before, so what was different now?
The silence encompassing their team was broken by quiet sobs.
Unsure of what to do, she stood close behind Harun and wrapped her fingers in the front of her shirt.
Please be a nice person...please...
The most littlest girl on the island had been heaped with far too much to handle.
It's fair to say that Sarah wasn't very strongly willed and objective like her teammates when it came to the reality of the situation around them. Her little hopes of doing something good, doing something to help people feel better, well, those flew out the window as fast as it took see a dead body.
It was a boy with glasses. She didn't know many people at the school that well, but she knew his name. Omar Burton. His body was long since decayed and rotting, and the large red stain around his neck had attracted much unwanted attention in regards to rot, maggots, worms, and there was even a woodland animal of some kind tearing at the darker, deader skin. The moment that little thing just started nibbling away, in plain view of her no less, she stopped and tried not to start bawling again.
She clung to Stacy, hard. She never sugar coated the situation, just told her it would be okay. But...Sarah knew it wouldn't. There would be a lot more dead bodies soon. Everywhere. They wouldn't just be in the forests, they would be on the roads, in the buildings, like Charlotte and Jaclyn. And she couldn't save them. They were all lost, far too far gone for anyone to save them.
But she couldn't think about that now. No more tears.
Keep that smile on your face.
No more tears.
And what's worse was that it was like she was becoming weaker and weaker each day. Bread. Water. Crackers. Bread. Crackers. Bread. Water. It wasn't healthy. It did nothing to compare to her mother's cooking, no way, no how. It's like the bags, ever since her first day, had tiny little weights put in them, just a little, just a few. She could still carry them, but it was less like a shoulder bag and more like a weighted chain wrapped around her tiny shoulders.
The ocean of stumps finally came to an end, and Harun lead the group back onto that same road Brendan guided them only 3 days before. The island's logging road. Miles of desolate, sandy gravel and even worse, the occasional body.
But after a while, Harun suddenly stopped behind a truck. She'd passed this truck before, so what was different now?
The silence encompassing their team was broken by quiet sobs.
Unsure of what to do, she stood close behind Harun and wrapped her fingers in the front of her shirt.
Please be a nice person...please...
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
((Nick Reid continued from Leaving me Lonely Still))
Nick looked wearily around for the umpteenth time. Alex didn't come charging in with branch held high. He checked behind them. Maxwell failed to manifest. He returned his nervous gaze to the endless path in front of them. It definitely wasn't one of his favorite places on the island. The last time he'd ventured near their present location, he'd looked straight down the barrel of a gun. And if - when - someone finally decided to pull the trigger, he couldn't let himself be caught out in the open, helpless against a ranged threat. He looked around again.
To his bleary eyes and relentlessly ticking imagination, it seemed as if he and Jennifer were wandering right down the road to Hell. Oh, it was paved with dirt rather than the customary good intentions, but those were in ample supply as well. Good intentions, and paranoia. One corrupting the other. The story of his life. Or at least his new life, the million years he'd spent over the last week wandering corpse-strewn forgotten byways. How long this new well-intentioned endeavor would last, he couldn't tell.
He let his gaze rest on Jennifer for a couple seconds. Felt half the inclination to smile. Of course it was awkward, walking with her, semiconsciously correcting himself to fit her step, dancing around the four dead elephants in the room when they traded words. But he enjoyed the company, the sense of assurance (futile as it was), the way she'd tried snacking on some pine needles just as if it were a normal class trip and Survivorman had come up in conversation.
Whine.
Announcements. He stopped, put his bag down, fished out the battered green spiral and a pencil. He was going to do it right this time, darnit. Pressing graphite to paper, he prepared to make a downstroke for the first killer's name.
It was his.
He froze. Jennifer knew already. He'd told her before the blood was dry. He looked at her from his perch on his duffel bag. Just standing there, taking it all in. Hopefully not expecting him to produce anything more than the lopsided dot at the corner of his page. Names slid past. One snagged his heart as it did so. He forced himself not to take that reassuring look, to verify that it was indeed the other Jennifer who'd died and that he hadn't been traveling with a figment of his imagination. His eyes stared unmoving at the page while the remaining kills were rattled off. A pair of double kills. Clio offing Tabi. He felt glad, then immediately disgusted that he fe-
Wait, Tabi's got best kill? That means-
He felt that same horrible fear he felt when Jennifer had mentioned Jimmy. Ticking time bombs, the lot of them. Maybe it was just Clio's bad luck. She'd ran out of ammo or made a tactical mistake. He'd said that so many times, that it was just a matter of time before Clio picked the wrong fight, before Maxwell's luck ran out, before someone swatted Reiko like a bug. But now, even when the veracity of that line of thought was ostensibly proven, he found himself unable to break away from the more frightening option. Tabi had been a killer-in-waiting. And now she was a killer. A killer's killer. A BKA recipient. Had he done that? Had their little encounter set her off? He looked up - he couldn't let that thought consume him, as he knew it would if he let it. Clio was dead. That was worth a smile, an encouraging word to Jennifer. Heck, he half-expected to see a representative of the Lollipop guild standing in front of him.
Instead, there was Jennifer. Crying.
Nick stood up, walked over to her, felt more helpless than he ever had in his life. What, really, could he do? He was a scrawny little beat-up kid, stuck a thousand miles from home, bomb around his neck, with a gross of kids who wanted him dead, maybe a half-dozen of them that wanted to kill him specifically. He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to comfort her. He didn't even know why she was crying. A dead friend? The shock of her own name on the speakers? His heart was turning itself inside-out, but it had no suggestions for how to respond. Maybe Maf, he thought bitterly, would pick her up off the ground, hold her in his giant arms like a doll. Or maybe someone else, someone who really believed the things that he himself had thought and said, would find the strength to end the situation, walk away or do away with her.
He stared at the tip of his sword, examining that wicked point where four flat faces came together.
He looked at Jennifer.
He felt sick.
Slowly, uncertainly, distracted by the effort of shoving that thought from his mind's eye, dredging up days of disconsolate misery in the midst of his classmates where he yearned for a measure of comfort nobody would ever provide, he did the only thing he could. Ignoring his protesting legs, he squatted near her, still and silent, and laid one hand on her shoulder.
Nick looked wearily around for the umpteenth time. Alex didn't come charging in with branch held high. He checked behind them. Maxwell failed to manifest. He returned his nervous gaze to the endless path in front of them. It definitely wasn't one of his favorite places on the island. The last time he'd ventured near their present location, he'd looked straight down the barrel of a gun. And if - when - someone finally decided to pull the trigger, he couldn't let himself be caught out in the open, helpless against a ranged threat. He looked around again.
To his bleary eyes and relentlessly ticking imagination, it seemed as if he and Jennifer were wandering right down the road to Hell. Oh, it was paved with dirt rather than the customary good intentions, but those were in ample supply as well. Good intentions, and paranoia. One corrupting the other. The story of his life. Or at least his new life, the million years he'd spent over the last week wandering corpse-strewn forgotten byways. How long this new well-intentioned endeavor would last, he couldn't tell.
He let his gaze rest on Jennifer for a couple seconds. Felt half the inclination to smile. Of course it was awkward, walking with her, semiconsciously correcting himself to fit her step, dancing around the four dead elephants in the room when they traded words. But he enjoyed the company, the sense of assurance (futile as it was), the way she'd tried snacking on some pine needles just as if it were a normal class trip and Survivorman had come up in conversation.
Whine.
Announcements. He stopped, put his bag down, fished out the battered green spiral and a pencil. He was going to do it right this time, darnit. Pressing graphite to paper, he prepared to make a downstroke for the first killer's name.
It was his.
He froze. Jennifer knew already. He'd told her before the blood was dry. He looked at her from his perch on his duffel bag. Just standing there, taking it all in. Hopefully not expecting him to produce anything more than the lopsided dot at the corner of his page. Names slid past. One snagged his heart as it did so. He forced himself not to take that reassuring look, to verify that it was indeed the other Jennifer who'd died and that he hadn't been traveling with a figment of his imagination. His eyes stared unmoving at the page while the remaining kills were rattled off. A pair of double kills. Clio offing Tabi. He felt glad, then immediately disgusted that he fe-
Wait, Tabi's got best kill? That means-
He felt that same horrible fear he felt when Jennifer had mentioned Jimmy. Ticking time bombs, the lot of them. Maybe it was just Clio's bad luck. She'd ran out of ammo or made a tactical mistake. He'd said that so many times, that it was just a matter of time before Clio picked the wrong fight, before Maxwell's luck ran out, before someone swatted Reiko like a bug. But now, even when the veracity of that line of thought was ostensibly proven, he found himself unable to break away from the more frightening option. Tabi had been a killer-in-waiting. And now she was a killer. A killer's killer. A BKA recipient. Had he done that? Had their little encounter set her off? He looked up - he couldn't let that thought consume him, as he knew it would if he let it. Clio was dead. That was worth a smile, an encouraging word to Jennifer. Heck, he half-expected to see a representative of the Lollipop guild standing in front of him.
Instead, there was Jennifer. Crying.
Nick stood up, walked over to her, felt more helpless than he ever had in his life. What, really, could he do? He was a scrawny little beat-up kid, stuck a thousand miles from home, bomb around his neck, with a gross of kids who wanted him dead, maybe a half-dozen of them that wanted to kill him specifically. He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to comfort her. He didn't even know why she was crying. A dead friend? The shock of her own name on the speakers? His heart was turning itself inside-out, but it had no suggestions for how to respond. Maybe Maf, he thought bitterly, would pick her up off the ground, hold her in his giant arms like a doll. Or maybe someone else, someone who really believed the things that he himself had thought and said, would find the strength to end the situation, walk away or do away with her.
He stared at the tip of his sword, examining that wicked point where four flat faces came together.
He looked at Jennifer.
He felt sick.
Slowly, uncertainly, distracted by the effort of shoving that thought from his mind's eye, dredging up days of disconsolate misery in the midst of his classmates where he yearned for a measure of comfort nobody would ever provide, he did the only thing he could. Ignoring his protesting legs, he squatted near her, still and silent, and laid one hand on her shoulder.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
It was stupid. It was so fucking stupid to be breaking down now. Like the past five days hadn't meant anything? Like none of the other deaths had mattered? Like the people she'd actually knew were worth less than this other girl?
Thing was, they just didn't feel real. Nothing felt real, but Jennifer Romita... she was real. She'd been this awful nagging thorn in Jennifer's side for years now. Turned out, lots of people heard there was a slutty girl named Jennifer Romita who'd get with anyone, and they saw a Hispanic girl named Jennifer and just jumped to all the wrong conclusions. There was nothing more awkward than being hit on as a result of someone else's poor judgment, yet it had been a repeated element of Jennifer's Bayview experience.
She hadn't even known Romita. She'd seen the girl around sometimes. Maybe they'd been to some parties together or something, but they'd never talked or anything. Besides a name and an ethnicity, they had nothing in common. Romita slept with half the class, probably did drugs, and was a huge drama bomb, by all accounts. Jennifer had never even kissed a guy, had only been tipsy that one time, and was pretty much the bomb defusing squad when it came to social conflict. There weren't very many worse people to share a name with. Jennifer had always kind of resented Romita, always kind of felt like her identity had been stolen and her credit rating trashed.
She'd never have to worry about being mistaken for Romita again. That wasn't really such a big deal, though, because she'd be dead within the week.
If there was ever a time to cry, this was it. It wasn't even a quiet cry anymore, not the sort of silent flow of tears she'd experienced in the past. She was sobbing and wheezing, her nose running, everything just not making sense anymore, everything making too much sense as she realized just how out of her depth she was, how lost and alone and scared.
She didn't want to die.
When Nick placed his hand on her shoulder, she stiffened for a second, then turned and hugged him. He was a multiple murderer, but she didn't give a fuck. He was someone who'd been decent to her, someone who'd stuck with her even when she fucked up, someone who was just as lost and scared as she was, someone she could trust in this nightmare. Maybe not forever. Maybe he'd snap later on, kill her like that boy in the video at the start had done to that girl. She didn't care, though. It felt stupid and pathetic, but right now she just needed a friend, just needed someone to be there, someone to help her stay sane and just keep living, someone to help her see that there was still something worthwhile in the world.
She wanted to vocalize all of this. She wanted to thanks Nick for staying with her, to apologize for her meltdown and promise that she'd be better soon, really, honest, but she couldn't.
All she could do was sit there, holding onto Nick and sobbing.
Thing was, they just didn't feel real. Nothing felt real, but Jennifer Romita... she was real. She'd been this awful nagging thorn in Jennifer's side for years now. Turned out, lots of people heard there was a slutty girl named Jennifer Romita who'd get with anyone, and they saw a Hispanic girl named Jennifer and just jumped to all the wrong conclusions. There was nothing more awkward than being hit on as a result of someone else's poor judgment, yet it had been a repeated element of Jennifer's Bayview experience.
She hadn't even known Romita. She'd seen the girl around sometimes. Maybe they'd been to some parties together or something, but they'd never talked or anything. Besides a name and an ethnicity, they had nothing in common. Romita slept with half the class, probably did drugs, and was a huge drama bomb, by all accounts. Jennifer had never even kissed a guy, had only been tipsy that one time, and was pretty much the bomb defusing squad when it came to social conflict. There weren't very many worse people to share a name with. Jennifer had always kind of resented Romita, always kind of felt like her identity had been stolen and her credit rating trashed.
She'd never have to worry about being mistaken for Romita again. That wasn't really such a big deal, though, because she'd be dead within the week.
If there was ever a time to cry, this was it. It wasn't even a quiet cry anymore, not the sort of silent flow of tears she'd experienced in the past. She was sobbing and wheezing, her nose running, everything just not making sense anymore, everything making too much sense as she realized just how out of her depth she was, how lost and alone and scared.
She didn't want to die.
When Nick placed his hand on her shoulder, she stiffened for a second, then turned and hugged him. He was a multiple murderer, but she didn't give a fuck. He was someone who'd been decent to her, someone who'd stuck with her even when she fucked up, someone who was just as lost and scared as she was, someone she could trust in this nightmare. Maybe not forever. Maybe he'd snap later on, kill her like that boy in the video at the start had done to that girl. She didn't care, though. It felt stupid and pathetic, but right now she just needed a friend, just needed someone to be there, someone to help her stay sane and just keep living, someone to help her see that there was still something worthwhile in the world.
She wanted to vocalize all of this. She wanted to thanks Nick for staying with her, to apologize for her meltdown and promise that she'd be better soon, really, honest, but she couldn't.
All she could do was sit there, holding onto Nick and sobbing.
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
A stealth game, like Hitman or Multi Gear Solid. That was probably the best metaphor Harun could think up to describe the situation he was currently in. Not the best metaphor, but it suited his situation pretty damn well, and he silently invited anyone whom could think of a better one to fly to the island and tell him it.
Hiding around the corner of the truck, trying not to alert the potential hostiles just a short distance away, was pretty suspenseful, but not exactly comfortable or enjoyable. It was like an ultra-realistic but ultimately shit stealth game.
So, careful not to expose too much of himself, and trying his hardest not to tread on the fragments of sharp glass that were on the floor around the truck, he peeked around the vehicle, trying to catch a glimpse of who it was. He signalled to Sarah and the others to stay put; he had the sword-gun after all. Sure, he didn't necessarily know how to use it, but he had one.
The first thing that Harun noticed was not the crying girl, but her companion whom was crouching down next to her, consoling her. Nick Reid. Harun wasn't really close to any of his victims (in fact, as ashamed he would be to admit it, it took a short while to remember them), but Reid had one of those names which stuck out in every announcement he appeared in.
He had killed multiple times before, and presumably had no particular qualms about killing again.
Harun liked to think of himself as a tolerant, open-minded person, always willing to give people a go instead of letting overheard classroom gossip and first impressions permanently corrupt his image of someone. Most of the killers Danya listed during his announcements probably had, if not justifiable, at least understandable reasons for their offence, and he always believed that even the most hardened killer on the island may very well just be misunderstood and quite sympathetic and friendly if approached from the right angle. He wasn't one of those crazed vigilantes who were so far up their own asses that they believed every killer, whomever they are, deserved to be sponged and purged and blasted off the face of the Earth.
And going by the fact Reid was comforting this girl (Jennifer something. The one who hadn't died), he obviously wasn't a complete monster. Maybe approaching him wasn't the best idea, but instantly assuming that Reid would be hostile on sight was obviously unfair.
Then again, a dissenting mental voice of paranoia and survival instinct said, it might be a ploy.
Maybe this is how he gets all his victims. Acts all nice and comforting and protective. But maybe this girl was the next target on his hitlist?
Or maybe Jennifer was an accomplice. She acts all scared and terrified, and Nick Reid comforts her and gives the passers-by the impression that he is just a misunderstood, sympathetic soul undeserving of the demonisation Danya subjects him to.
And when the hypothetical passers-by gets close, BAM! Nick ends their lives, loots their corpse and he and Jennifer sprint off into the distance like a teenage Bonnie and Clyde.
Or maybe that was all bullshit and it was exactly what it looked like.
Still, Harun wasn't taking any chances. He didn't want to put his life at risk, and he definitely didn't want to jeopardise the lives of his new friends, not with a faint possibility of rescue still extant. So, he withdrew back safely behind cover, pretty sure he hadn't been spotted, before turning to Sarah and whispering in a hushed tone of voice.
"It's Nick Reid...multi-killer...comforting this girl...Jennifer" At this point, Harun, still unable to remember Jennifer's surname, mumbled something incomprehensible, hoping Sarah would know who he was talking about. "Jennifer's the one crying."
Hiding around the corner of the truck, trying not to alert the potential hostiles just a short distance away, was pretty suspenseful, but not exactly comfortable or enjoyable. It was like an ultra-realistic but ultimately shit stealth game.
So, careful not to expose too much of himself, and trying his hardest not to tread on the fragments of sharp glass that were on the floor around the truck, he peeked around the vehicle, trying to catch a glimpse of who it was. He signalled to Sarah and the others to stay put; he had the sword-gun after all. Sure, he didn't necessarily know how to use it, but he had one.
The first thing that Harun noticed was not the crying girl, but her companion whom was crouching down next to her, consoling her. Nick Reid. Harun wasn't really close to any of his victims (in fact, as ashamed he would be to admit it, it took a short while to remember them), but Reid had one of those names which stuck out in every announcement he appeared in.
He had killed multiple times before, and presumably had no particular qualms about killing again.
Harun liked to think of himself as a tolerant, open-minded person, always willing to give people a go instead of letting overheard classroom gossip and first impressions permanently corrupt his image of someone. Most of the killers Danya listed during his announcements probably had, if not justifiable, at least understandable reasons for their offence, and he always believed that even the most hardened killer on the island may very well just be misunderstood and quite sympathetic and friendly if approached from the right angle. He wasn't one of those crazed vigilantes who were so far up their own asses that they believed every killer, whomever they are, deserved to be sponged and purged and blasted off the face of the Earth.
And going by the fact Reid was comforting this girl (Jennifer something. The one who hadn't died), he obviously wasn't a complete monster. Maybe approaching him wasn't the best idea, but instantly assuming that Reid would be hostile on sight was obviously unfair.
Then again, a dissenting mental voice of paranoia and survival instinct said, it might be a ploy.
Maybe this is how he gets all his victims. Acts all nice and comforting and protective. But maybe this girl was the next target on his hitlist?
Or maybe Jennifer was an accomplice. She acts all scared and terrified, and Nick Reid comforts her and gives the passers-by the impression that he is just a misunderstood, sympathetic soul undeserving of the demonisation Danya subjects him to.
And when the hypothetical passers-by gets close, BAM! Nick ends their lives, loots their corpse and he and Jennifer sprint off into the distance like a teenage Bonnie and Clyde.
Or maybe that was all bullshit and it was exactly what it looked like.
Still, Harun wasn't taking any chances. He didn't want to put his life at risk, and he definitely didn't want to jeopardise the lives of his new friends, not with a faint possibility of rescue still extant. So, he withdrew back safely behind cover, pretty sure he hadn't been spotted, before turning to Sarah and whispering in a hushed tone of voice.
"It's Nick Reid...multi-killer...comforting this girl...Jennifer" At this point, Harun, still unable to remember Jennifer's surname, mumbled something incomprehensible, hoping Sarah would know who he was talking about. "Jennifer's the one crying."
As Harun started forward, Sarah clenched her eyes shut. No, don't think about what could happen, just focus on the now. Harun is okay, Stacy is okay, Sapphire is okay, Rashid is okay, Brendan and Erik and Ray and everyone else you met is still okay, so nothing is going to change that! Just believe it. Her fingers clenched tighter as they embroided themselves with her shirt, and she began to mutter a silent prayer.
Our father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth, as it is in heaven
Give us this day
Our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those
Who trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil...
Oh, she'd memorized this thing so many times. Over and over, she prayed for someone, something up there to help her on her way, just a little bit of guidance. It was all about the thought behind it, she didn't even know if there really was something up there. I mean, look at everything she was taught at school, and it told her she was hunting down a metaphorical snipe. No point in it. But it wasn't about worshipping a God, it was just all about being a nice person. The prayers and the words behind them were only consolation. Nothing was really gonna help Harun here, she was only hoping.
She wanted to hug Stacy once more. Just because. But she didn't. She stood closely by Harun, even though he told her to stay back. Sarah stood there, bags drooping down her figure, waiting for confirmation of their safety.
No, that wasn't coming soon, not at all. He came back with terrible news.
"Oh..." Sarah whispered to Harun, trying to think up what they should do. She'd never been this close to someone who was responsible for their situation before. Nick Reid. He'd killed 4 people, 4 people! That wasn't something they could just ignore!
"...we should leave. We need to leave now," Sarah whispered back to the Turk, before turning around to the rest of the group. Could they all get out of there silently? What would Nick and this other girl, Jennifer she was, do to them if they found out they were spying?
What should they do?
Our father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth, as it is in heaven
Give us this day
Our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those
Who trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil...
Oh, she'd memorized this thing so many times. Over and over, she prayed for someone, something up there to help her on her way, just a little bit of guidance. It was all about the thought behind it, she didn't even know if there really was something up there. I mean, look at everything she was taught at school, and it told her she was hunting down a metaphorical snipe. No point in it. But it wasn't about worshipping a God, it was just all about being a nice person. The prayers and the words behind them were only consolation. Nothing was really gonna help Harun here, she was only hoping.
She wanted to hug Stacy once more. Just because. But she didn't. She stood closely by Harun, even though he told her to stay back. Sarah stood there, bags drooping down her figure, waiting for confirmation of their safety.
No, that wasn't coming soon, not at all. He came back with terrible news.
"Oh..." Sarah whispered to Harun, trying to think up what they should do. She'd never been this close to someone who was responsible for their situation before. Nick Reid. He'd killed 4 people, 4 people! That wasn't something they could just ignore!
"...we should leave. We need to leave now," Sarah whispered back to the Turk, before turning around to the rest of the group. Could they all get out of there silently? What would Nick and this other girl, Jennifer she was, do to them if they found out they were spying?
What should they do?
((Melissa Li continued from Can't I Just Die A Disney Death?.))
Christ, she was tired. She had no clue where she was at the moment...she had thought she was going after Felicia but she apparently got all twisted and turned somewhere and now she was completely lost. Not like that was a bad thing at all, of course, since being lost was much better than being dead. A lot better than plenty of other people who had ended up on the island...Danya's last announcement still rang in her ears along with that infernal gunshot noise that she kept hearing. If Melissa wasn't already certain she was going at least slightly crazy already, the ringing gunshot would have sealed the deal. It kept pounding in her ears ever since she had left the Infirmary...a reminder, she guessed, of what death sounded like.
She had...become a lot more paranoid after that whole mess. Although cautious was really a better sounding word, paranoid was more correct. Every cracking branch, every rustle of the leaves around her...every bit just made her think that another person like Sebastian was going to try to kill her for her sword. Of course, it never was something like that and she silently scolded herself. But it really was scary, being alone. With others at your back, everything felt more...safe and secure. Alone it was like the very world itself wanted to squeeze you to pieces and remind you just what an insignificant speck you really were.
She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely even noticed her surroundings. She looked up to see a pair of people in the distance, pretty close to one another. Hugging, maybe? She wasn't sure, but she quickly walked up to take a closer look. It didn't seem like there was anything wrong going on but still...wait, no...that wasn't...
Holy shit, it was.
It was Jennifer Perez. Melissa knew she was alive and on the island somewhere and had planned on meeting her, but she didn't actually expect to see her this soon! But who was that she was with? Melissa didn't know most of Bayview's student body for...many reasons, so whoever it was wasn't really coming to mind. N...something. Well, Jennifer seemed to be okay with him and Melissa trusted her judgment.
So she gave the pair a wave, hoping that they'd be able to see it. In fact...why not give them a shout too? It wasn't like she didn't know Jennifer that well and she was certain she'd get introduced to the other person so...hopefully it wouldn't trigger some big disturbance. She almost felt bad for being so giddy about finding Jennifer...what with everything else that was going on but...well, she didn't really care.
"Hey Jen! Jennifer! It's me, Melissa!"
Christ, she was tired. She had no clue where she was at the moment...she had thought she was going after Felicia but she apparently got all twisted and turned somewhere and now she was completely lost. Not like that was a bad thing at all, of course, since being lost was much better than being dead. A lot better than plenty of other people who had ended up on the island...Danya's last announcement still rang in her ears along with that infernal gunshot noise that she kept hearing. If Melissa wasn't already certain she was going at least slightly crazy already, the ringing gunshot would have sealed the deal. It kept pounding in her ears ever since she had left the Infirmary...a reminder, she guessed, of what death sounded like.
She had...become a lot more paranoid after that whole mess. Although cautious was really a better sounding word, paranoid was more correct. Every cracking branch, every rustle of the leaves around her...every bit just made her think that another person like Sebastian was going to try to kill her for her sword. Of course, it never was something like that and she silently scolded herself. But it really was scary, being alone. With others at your back, everything felt more...safe and secure. Alone it was like the very world itself wanted to squeeze you to pieces and remind you just what an insignificant speck you really were.
She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely even noticed her surroundings. She looked up to see a pair of people in the distance, pretty close to one another. Hugging, maybe? She wasn't sure, but she quickly walked up to take a closer look. It didn't seem like there was anything wrong going on but still...wait, no...that wasn't...
Holy shit, it was.
It was Jennifer Perez. Melissa knew she was alive and on the island somewhere and had planned on meeting her, but she didn't actually expect to see her this soon! But who was that she was with? Melissa didn't know most of Bayview's student body for...many reasons, so whoever it was wasn't really coming to mind. N...something. Well, Jennifer seemed to be okay with him and Melissa trusted her judgment.
So she gave the pair a wave, hoping that they'd be able to see it. In fact...why not give them a shout too? It wasn't like she didn't know Jennifer that well and she was certain she'd get introduced to the other person so...hopefully it wouldn't trigger some big disturbance. She almost felt bad for being so giddy about finding Jennifer...what with everything else that was going on but...well, she didn't really care.
"Hey Jen! Jennifer! It's me, Melissa!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Tythanin. 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.
((Sapphrie McLeod continued from Gypsy Rap))
Leave now. And they just got on here. Wait, huh?
Ugh, something about a boy on the other side. Sapphire tried to stifle her yawn, just keeping quiet. She didn't sleep enough last night, even though it was probably the longest nap she'd had since landing in this place.
Running her fingers around her necklace, Sapphire made a motion with her head and hand. Go around- mine walking, pointing away from the truck- quietly- finger to lip in a shushing action- and leave whoever it is. Yeah, that was a good plan. I mean, if it was a killer, she really didn't want to seeing anybody dying here. Not Stacy, not Sarah. Nobody.
Picking up her bags, she held in another yawn. Let's go, please, nobody needs to fight. Pretty please...
Leave now. And they just got on here. Wait, huh?
Ugh, something about a boy on the other side. Sapphire tried to stifle her yawn, just keeping quiet. She didn't sleep enough last night, even though it was probably the longest nap she'd had since landing in this place.
Running her fingers around her necklace, Sapphire made a motion with her head and hand. Go around- mine walking, pointing away from the truck- quietly- finger to lip in a shushing action- and leave whoever it is. Yeah, that was a good plan. I mean, if it was a killer, she really didn't want to seeing anybody dying here. Not Stacy, not Sarah. Nobody.
Picking up her bags, she held in another yawn. Let's go, please, nobody needs to fight. Pretty please...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dropbear. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Rashid Hassan continued from Gypsy Rap))
Behind a truck wasn't exactly where he expected to find himself today. As much as life on the island always had its twists, the one place he was expecting to be less than this - apart from dead and rotting somewhere - was in the truck. But the island probably already had that covered as well, just with someone else.
But like any twists and coincidences, they all happened for a reason. The reason that Rashid Hassan and the group he'd been traveling with for the past few days found themselves hiding behind a truck at this time of day was because there were two people on the other side of that truck, one of whom had already killed several people and presumably would have no qualms of doing it again.
"It's Nick Reid...multi-killer...comforting this girl...Jennifer" his current travel buddy/best bro explained, "Jennifer's the one crying."
It was hard to remember all the names of the killers and killed, announced twice daily. But when one had time to not do much else but think, one also had time to listen. Which helped the name Nick Reid spring to mind...though not so much the kind of guy he'd remembered Nick Reid being before he apparently killed four people.
"Oh...we should leave. We need to leave now," Sarah Tan pleaded.
There was a time for rampant emotions like depression and rage, as well as a time for patience. The former had passed and for the first time in the 72 hours since he'd come to grips with the futility of his situation, the latter was starting to wane as well. What worried Rashid was that he didn't know what was going to come after that. It might as well have been that time for death he'd been waiting on for the better part of the last fucking week.
"Fuck him," Rashid began, the lack of moisture in his throat giving his words a gravelly tone as he tried to whisper, "We've got numbers...unless he's got a goddamn rocket launcher he can't take us all out at once."
It surprised him how aggressive he was talking, especially since he was still "armed" with the very same bottle of iodine pills he began the game with. The bottle was also half-full since one of those things he did beside think(, eat, pray and sleep) was read the pages printed from the internet that served as his "weapon's" instruction manual, giving him the knowledge needed to refill the group's water supply. But it wasn't a killing tool, and even if the iodine pills somehow made their way into someone's mouth raw they wouldn't exactly be lethal.
Maybe the chance to bring about his own death even faster was an incentive to suddenly have this sort of ambition, rather than the chance to bring about someone else's.
Behind a truck wasn't exactly where he expected to find himself today. As much as life on the island always had its twists, the one place he was expecting to be less than this - apart from dead and rotting somewhere - was in the truck. But the island probably already had that covered as well, just with someone else.
But like any twists and coincidences, they all happened for a reason. The reason that Rashid Hassan and the group he'd been traveling with for the past few days found themselves hiding behind a truck at this time of day was because there were two people on the other side of that truck, one of whom had already killed several people and presumably would have no qualms of doing it again.
"It's Nick Reid...multi-killer...comforting this girl...Jennifer" his current travel buddy/best bro explained, "Jennifer's the one crying."
It was hard to remember all the names of the killers and killed, announced twice daily. But when one had time to not do much else but think, one also had time to listen. Which helped the name Nick Reid spring to mind...though not so much the kind of guy he'd remembered Nick Reid being before he apparently killed four people.
"Oh...we should leave. We need to leave now," Sarah Tan pleaded.
There was a time for rampant emotions like depression and rage, as well as a time for patience. The former had passed and for the first time in the 72 hours since he'd come to grips with the futility of his situation, the latter was starting to wane as well. What worried Rashid was that he didn't know what was going to come after that. It might as well have been that time for death he'd been waiting on for the better part of the last fucking week.
"Fuck him," Rashid began, the lack of moisture in his throat giving his words a gravelly tone as he tried to whisper, "We've got numbers...unless he's got a goddamn rocket launcher he can't take us all out at once."
It surprised him how aggressive he was talking, especially since he was still "armed" with the very same bottle of iodine pills he began the game with. The bottle was also half-full since one of those things he did beside think(, eat, pray and sleep) was read the pages printed from the internet that served as his "weapon's" instruction manual, giving him the knowledge needed to refill the group's water supply. But it wasn't a killing tool, and even if the iodine pills somehow made their way into someone's mouth raw they wouldn't exactly be lethal.
Maybe the chance to bring about his own death even faster was an incentive to suddenly have this sort of ambition, rather than the chance to bring about someone else's.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.
((Stacy Hart continued from Gypsy Rap))
Stacy followed along with the group, still processing a little bit. She could barely remember waking up, but there she was. At one point she felt Sarah clinging to her as they walked. She had done her best to comfort her. She wasn't sure how much it had helped. It took her a little while to notice that Sarah had disconnected herself from her. She was a little lost in thought.
I have a gun now. Never thought I'd actually get my hands on one.
She still wasn't sure she'd use it. At least on another human. She might find herself using it on an animal though if she ran across one. She'd managed to conserve a little of the junk food from the first day. Even if it was just a little chocolate, it helped her stay sane, and she wanted to make it last as long as she needed it to.
She'd seen a few animals scurry about before, but nothing since she had her gun. Or at least nothing she could justify spending a bullet on. She imagined that most of the scavenging had been done by now, or if it hadn't, people would be getting the idea and wandering into formerly populated areas to look for food. Either way, she thought, that could get ugly.
There was some mention of Nick Reid the multi-killer, but her mind flashed to another Nick Reid. A Nick Reid that was intelligent, yet socially awkward. Stacy had indeed known Nick. Not well, but she knew of him. She had classes with him and had seen him around. She'd never had time to form a real opinion of him. For a moment she wondered what more there was to his story.
Guess I'll never know.
Stacy followed along with the group, still processing a little bit. She could barely remember waking up, but there she was. At one point she felt Sarah clinging to her as they walked. She had done her best to comfort her. She wasn't sure how much it had helped. It took her a little while to notice that Sarah had disconnected herself from her. She was a little lost in thought.
I have a gun now. Never thought I'd actually get my hands on one.
She still wasn't sure she'd use it. At least on another human. She might find herself using it on an animal though if she ran across one. She'd managed to conserve a little of the junk food from the first day. Even if it was just a little chocolate, it helped her stay sane, and she wanted to make it last as long as she needed it to.
She'd seen a few animals scurry about before, but nothing since she had her gun. Or at least nothing she could justify spending a bullet on. She imagined that most of the scavenging had been done by now, or if it hadn't, people would be getting the idea and wandering into formerly populated areas to look for food. Either way, she thought, that could get ugly.
There was some mention of Nick Reid the multi-killer, but her mind flashed to another Nick Reid. A Nick Reid that was intelligent, yet socially awkward. Stacy had indeed known Nick. Not well, but she knew of him. She had classes with him and had seen him around. She'd never had time to form a real opinion of him. For a moment she wondered what more there was to his story.
Guess I'll never know.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Zabriel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
Logically, there was absolutely no reason for Nick to doing this. He was standing completely exposed, out in the open with Jennifer's sobs making it impossible to hear any approaching threats. A good half dozen students wanted to kill him specifically, and there were dozens more who wouldn't mind taking him out. His lifeline, the weapon he had killed to get his hands on, lay forgotten on the ground. And worst of all, the thing that had his inner survivalist foaming at the mouth, he had closed his eyes, shutting out the world outside of himself and Jennifer. There was nothing good that would come of it, that survivalist mentality reminded him, when only one of them would ever see home again. In fact, there was every chance that they'd be unceremoniously blown away before he could open his eyes.
The thing was, he didn't really care.
When Jennifer embraced him, there was no awkward pause, no moment of uncertainty. He simply wrapped his arms around her, straightening up and lifting her almost off the ground, taking it in like a man dying of thirst might drink a glass of water. He didn't know how long they stood there. Probably not long - a minute? Thirty seconds? - but he wouldn't have been surprised - or disappointed - to find himself still there an eternity later.
He was breathing deeply (she didn't smell so bad for someone living outside for almost a week...), willing himself not to join her in crying, feeling the warmth and energy of the life that was literally in his hands. Letting five days of tension melt off his face, relaxing muscles he didn't even know he had. Pressing his cheek to hers, feeling only slightly self-conscious about jagged scabs running along his jaw and over his cheekbone. Feeling - and that was an accomplishment in itself - happy.
He hoped Jennifer wouldn't notice the tears squeezing themselves out of reluctant eyes as he considered for a moment what it meant to have forgotten what that felt like. He would really, he decided, have to try smiling before he died.
It ended. He opened his eyes, let Jennifer rest on her own feet again, stepped back into his world, the one that had replaced the real world almost a week ago. All of his doubts and misgivings and fears came flooding horribly back. Flicking his eyes across the ground, he located his weapon and was about to swoop down to retrieve it when a voice flipped his stomach into his throat.
Deep breath. Just one of Jennifer's friends.
...carrying a sword.
...see if I can pick this thing up without looking like I mean to use it...
The thing was, he didn't really care.
When Jennifer embraced him, there was no awkward pause, no moment of uncertainty. He simply wrapped his arms around her, straightening up and lifting her almost off the ground, taking it in like a man dying of thirst might drink a glass of water. He didn't know how long they stood there. Probably not long - a minute? Thirty seconds? - but he wouldn't have been surprised - or disappointed - to find himself still there an eternity later.
He was breathing deeply (she didn't smell so bad for someone living outside for almost a week...), willing himself not to join her in crying, feeling the warmth and energy of the life that was literally in his hands. Letting five days of tension melt off his face, relaxing muscles he didn't even know he had. Pressing his cheek to hers, feeling only slightly self-conscious about jagged scabs running along his jaw and over his cheekbone. Feeling - and that was an accomplishment in itself - happy.
He hoped Jennifer wouldn't notice the tears squeezing themselves out of reluctant eyes as he considered for a moment what it meant to have forgotten what that felt like. He would really, he decided, have to try smiling before he died.
It ended. He opened his eyes, let Jennifer rest on her own feet again, stepped back into his world, the one that had replaced the real world almost a week ago. All of his doubts and misgivings and fears came flooding horribly back. Flicking his eyes across the ground, he located his weapon and was about to swoop down to retrieve it when a voice flipped his stomach into his throat.
Deep breath. Just one of Jennifer's friends.
...carrying a sword.
...see if I can pick this thing up without looking like I mean to use it...
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Nick didn't shy away. For a second, she was so afraid he was going to pull away, was going to let her fall to the dirt. She was being useless. She was counting on someone she'd told to go die. But he didn't drop her, and she was glad. He didn't drop her, and he put his arms around her too, and he hoisted her up a bit. He hugged her, and their cheeks touched, and she felt happy about it, but also felt guilty, something unpleasant worming in her stomach, making her wonder if she was making a huge mistake. Nick was a killer. He wasn't who she'd been looking for.
He was a friend. That was all that mattered. She pushed her guilt aside.
Nick felt like he was relaxing, like he was loosening up, like maybe he was coming back to life. Maybe he was melting back into what he had been before, becoming human once more. Maybe they could all become people again. Maybe then this would end.
And then, from nowhere, an insidious little thought snuck into Jennifer's head. It was simple, really. It followed conventions of drama, not of common sense or reality, but it clung to her.
This is when he gets shot.
This is when a bullet comes out of nowhere and splatters his blood against you. As soon as you break this hug, this all ends. He's gone, and you're left standing over another dead friend, and this time it pushes you too far, this time you plummet off the edge and there's nothing to hold you back, nothing to stop you from putting that icepick through Jimmy's forehead.
But as long as she held Nick, that wouldn't happen.
And then Nick let her back to the ground, turned around, and Jennifer braced for the worst.
What happened was pretty much the opposite.
A voice called out. At first, Jennifer couldn't believe it. She didn't want to be let down. Didn't want to be disappointed. The voice identified itself, though, and it was enough for Jennifer, enough to finally put a halt to the flow of her tears.
"I don't think we've ever met before. My name's Melissa."
Back when there had been a real world. Something simple. Girls laughing outside the movie theatre. Strangers, but it didn't feel like it.
"I mean, if you want to be friends. It's kind of weird, huh? Asking to be friends when we just met."
They'd talked about superheroes and history class. The start of a friendship. Just another random meeting in a random world. Circumstances had now thrown them together once more. She hadn't really ever expected to see Melissa alive again. The other girl didn't seem like a survivor.
Then again, Jennifer wasn't exactly the sort who seemed likely to outlive half her classmates either.
Nick looked a bit nervous, so she quickly waved to Melissa, called out, "Over here," then said to Nick, "It's, um, it's alright. Melissa is, um, a friend of mine. She won't hurt us."
He was a friend. That was all that mattered. She pushed her guilt aside.
Nick felt like he was relaxing, like he was loosening up, like maybe he was coming back to life. Maybe he was melting back into what he had been before, becoming human once more. Maybe they could all become people again. Maybe then this would end.
And then, from nowhere, an insidious little thought snuck into Jennifer's head. It was simple, really. It followed conventions of drama, not of common sense or reality, but it clung to her.
This is when he gets shot.
This is when a bullet comes out of nowhere and splatters his blood against you. As soon as you break this hug, this all ends. He's gone, and you're left standing over another dead friend, and this time it pushes you too far, this time you plummet off the edge and there's nothing to hold you back, nothing to stop you from putting that icepick through Jimmy's forehead.
But as long as she held Nick, that wouldn't happen.
And then Nick let her back to the ground, turned around, and Jennifer braced for the worst.
What happened was pretty much the opposite.
A voice called out. At first, Jennifer couldn't believe it. She didn't want to be let down. Didn't want to be disappointed. The voice identified itself, though, and it was enough for Jennifer, enough to finally put a halt to the flow of her tears.
"I don't think we've ever met before. My name's Melissa."
Back when there had been a real world. Something simple. Girls laughing outside the movie theatre. Strangers, but it didn't feel like it.
"I mean, if you want to be friends. It's kind of weird, huh? Asking to be friends when we just met."
They'd talked about superheroes and history class. The start of a friendship. Just another random meeting in a random world. Circumstances had now thrown them together once more. She hadn't really ever expected to see Melissa alive again. The other girl didn't seem like a survivor.
Then again, Jennifer wasn't exactly the sort who seemed likely to outlive half her classmates either.
Nick looked a bit nervous, so she quickly waved to Melissa, called out, "Over here," then said to Nick, "It's, um, it's alright. Melissa is, um, a friend of mine. She won't hurt us."
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
Harun would like to say the group unanimously came up with a quick, appropriate response to their current dilemma without alerting anyone else to their presence.
Well, one objective achieved. None of the people beyond the truck seemed to have the faintest idea that an unorganised, large group stood just a few metres away, quietly debating on what to do.
Sarah seemed to have the most logical response; that is, immediately assuming Nick Reid will singlehandedly butcher them all, sadistically disembowelling them and systematically scatter their entrails all around the local area the moment he caught a whiff of their scent.
It was all downhill from there.
Sapphire looked like she couldn't care any less, and that she had just averted a loud, contagious yawn; Stacy (as much as he hated to admit it, Harun was somewhat resentful towards her because of the fact she seemed to possess a never-ending chocolate bar all for herself) was of no interest whatsoever, and Rashid had suddenly developed this mentality that just because they were in a group they: a) could take on a killer and his potential allies single-handedly despite the lack of proper planning and relatively small amounts of useful conventional weaponry, and b) should take on a killer and his potential allies single-handedly despite the lack of proper planning and relatively small amounts of useful conventional weaponry.
Speaking in a hushed tone, with his frustrated tone apparent to all watching, he muttered "Listen, Rashid, unless you can think of one good, legitimate reason, WE, emphasis on the we, are not attacking Nick. Feel free to kamikaze-rush him with your iodine pills of doom, but don't forget he has one..." A quick glance around the corner revealed his initial information was now outdated. "TWO girls that seem to be his allies." He was more open to the idea of leaving quickly before shit hit the fan, but truth be told, he found this perspective interesting. He was temporarily viewing SOTF how it should be viewed; as an impartial observer, not as an actual participant.
So, the Turk, who was internally a bit surprised to find himself in a leadership position and doing a good, confident job of it, waited for his comrades to reply.
Well, one objective achieved. None of the people beyond the truck seemed to have the faintest idea that an unorganised, large group stood just a few metres away, quietly debating on what to do.
Sarah seemed to have the most logical response; that is, immediately assuming Nick Reid will singlehandedly butcher them all, sadistically disembowelling them and systematically scatter their entrails all around the local area the moment he caught a whiff of their scent.
It was all downhill from there.
Sapphire looked like she couldn't care any less, and that she had just averted a loud, contagious yawn; Stacy (as much as he hated to admit it, Harun was somewhat resentful towards her because of the fact she seemed to possess a never-ending chocolate bar all for herself) was of no interest whatsoever, and Rashid had suddenly developed this mentality that just because they were in a group they: a) could take on a killer and his potential allies single-handedly despite the lack of proper planning and relatively small amounts of useful conventional weaponry, and b) should take on a killer and his potential allies single-handedly despite the lack of proper planning and relatively small amounts of useful conventional weaponry.
Speaking in a hushed tone, with his frustrated tone apparent to all watching, he muttered "Listen, Rashid, unless you can think of one good, legitimate reason, WE, emphasis on the we, are not attacking Nick. Feel free to kamikaze-rush him with your iodine pills of doom, but don't forget he has one..." A quick glance around the corner revealed his initial information was now outdated. "TWO girls that seem to be his allies." He was more open to the idea of leaving quickly before shit hit the fan, but truth be told, he found this perspective interesting. He was temporarily viewing SOTF how it should be viewed; as an impartial observer, not as an actual participant.
So, the Turk, who was internally a bit surprised to find himself in a leadership position and doing a good, confident job of it, waited for his comrades to reply.
Stacy had loaded her gun while off in the bushes during a private moment. She hadn't used it yet, or even showed it to anybody. She didn't think it seemed necessary. But then again they hadn't run into any big league hitters yet. She thought for a moment and with a shrug she reached into her bag and pulled out her revolver. She wasn't exactly sure, but she felt she had a pretty good grasp of how it worked. She'd seen these in a movies a few times.
Pull back the hammer...pull the trigger...
The concept still seemed alien to her. She slowly resigned herself to the harsh reality that she would have to kill somebody if she wanted to go home, but it was an unpleasant thought. Especially considering that once she killed, she'd be marked a killer, and she'd have to keep killing. She kind of wanted to wait until the end to do that. Travel in her group, get into a few fire fights, weep bitterly when Sarah got killed, then shoot Harun in the back of the head when they were confronting the last player outside their group.
She shook her head. She wasn't ready to think of the possibility that Sarah would die on that island. If that meant Stacy lost the game then so be it.
Stacy chuckled darkly to herself.
"Hey guys. I just lost the game."
Pull back the hammer...pull the trigger...
The concept still seemed alien to her. She slowly resigned herself to the harsh reality that she would have to kill somebody if she wanted to go home, but it was an unpleasant thought. Especially considering that once she killed, she'd be marked a killer, and she'd have to keep killing. She kind of wanted to wait until the end to do that. Travel in her group, get into a few fire fights, weep bitterly when Sarah got killed, then shoot Harun in the back of the head when they were confronting the last player outside their group.
She shook her head. She wasn't ready to think of the possibility that Sarah would die on that island. If that meant Stacy lost the game then so be it.
Stacy chuckled darkly to herself.
"Hey guys. I just lost the game."
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