((Enter Jennifer Perez))
Utter despondency was the best description for what was flowing through the mind of Jennifer Perez, tying her to the ground, keeping her sitting on the wet docks, the wood soaking through her yellow skirt, chilling her legs. Utter despondency, and mind-numbing terror.
What the fuck had gone wrong?
What had happened? They were on a trip. They were going to the Badlands. She clung to that, clung to it for her life. They were supposed to be going on a trip. A class trip. One last bit of time to be together, to have fun together. Now, though, they were all here. There had been that room, that man. Survival of the Fittest? She'd heard of it, of course. Never watched a single fucking bit in her life, though. Jennifer hated conflict. She loathed it so much, but now, here she was, thrown onto an island and told to kill her friends.
Like fuck she would. She started to laugh, rocking a little on the wood. She could smell the sea. It was funny, in a way. She'd never been to the ocean before. It didn't smell as fresh as she'd been told. No, if anything, it smelled a bit fishy. She could concentrate on that. The smell. The sounds. The waves, breaking against the docks, the docks where she sat.
She couldn't tell when she'd started crying. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fucking fair. Was she going to die here? Was she going to be killed by her classmates? By the people she never said a bad thing about, even if she maybe thought them sometimes? Was she going to have to fight, to try to carve her way to freedom? Hah. Laughable, that idea. Jennifer wasn't a fighter, and that wasn't because of anything physical. She just couldn't even imagine shooting somebody, or cutting them or something. She hadn't even looked in her bag. She'd been awake for half an hour, probably, and she hadn't looked in her bag. That was a fucking great way to start surviving.
No, whoever "won" this game, it would not be Jennifer Perez. She knew that. She opened her eyes, and looked at the water. It was turbulent, at least, to her. It was not clear. It was not a nice, flat blue, either. It was dirty, smelly. She didn't want to die in it. She didn't want to, yet it seemed the easiest option. The safest way out. The coward's choice, but who cared anymore? Who cared about anything?
She couldn't see the sea, now. She was crying again. Crying for everything she'd lost already. Her friends in the lower grades. Her family. She'd never be able to say goodbye. Fuck, this was broadcast on television, wasn't it? Fuck. Samuel and her parents could be watching her, right now. Could be watching her if she jumped. Watching her struggle in the water for a while, then just sink out of sight. The end. Anticlimax. Eighteen years of life, eighteen years of hopes and dreams and experiences wasted like that. She couldn't do that to them. Couldn't hurt them like that, even if it was what she wanted.
She was screaming now. Screaming in rage and in pain. Screaming incoherent anger. Fuck that. Fuck it all! Even out here, away from everything, with no rules, even now she couldn't do one selfish thing, because it would hurt someone. She couldn't even bring herself to swear aloud, so deeply was the thought of it being wrong ingrained. Fuck. Fuck.
Some time later, she wasn't sure how long, she had screamed and cried herself out, so she stood up and picked up the duffel bag. It just seemed the right thing to do. Inside, as promised, were food, a water bottle, a map and first aid kit, and a weapon. Hers was some sort of pickaxe thing. She turned it over in her hands. Glanced at it. She was supposed to kill people with this? No fucking way. She turned back to the sea.
Had her weapon been a gun, she would have hurled it away without hesitation. This, though, was a tool. It was something normal, sane, logical. It had been thrown into this situation, same as her, not because it deserved it or wanted it or anything, but just because someone happened to pick it out. No, she wouldn't discard it wantonly. It was just a tool. Just a tool. Finally, she managed to look around, realizing belatedly that she hadn't been quiet at all. Still, nobody had killed her yet.
Nobody had killed her, but that didn't mean she was safe.
Stay Sane Inside Insanity
G005 - Start
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
((Debut --> Bounce))
If Yelizaveta weren't quite so cold and calmly logical, she might have been tempted to call this all a dream. An awful spectre brought about by spending too long in front of the glowing computer screen for yet another night, until tired scratchy eyes finally couldn't stay propped open any longer. A different girl might have been telling herself that any second now, she was going to wake up with the shape of a keyboard imprinted into her face again.
But that wasn't Bounce. She wasn't one of the fangirls who charged onto the message boards saying 'OMMG DID U C THAT THING WITH STEVE!?!?!?1!/1', she didn't watch the show and chuckle at the over the top violence, or stay glued to it because of the steamy scenes. Bounce... well, Bounce couldn't say why she was drawn to SotF or why she followed it so fervantly.
Whatever those reasons were though, they fit well enough into her mindset for Bounce not to be dismissive, not to chalk this up to a late night and a little too much junk food. It was real.
Physical activity was an alien thing to Bounce and she was panting softly as she struggled to keep her footing on the slick boards of the dock. Her pack was heavy, feeling like a millstone on her back, draining her energy, which she knew in no small part was down to her weapon. Well, 'weapon'. As the issues went, there was worse.
And better. Much better. Sub machine guns. Pistols, maybe even an assault rifle like there'd been in the previous version, albeit with gun and ammunition separated. Bounce was sure that it trumped anything that could be used in hand to hand, though. Swords and axes... they weren't for somebody of Bounce's stature. The large can of gasoline wasn't anything that she'd be able to defend herself with conventionally... but she couldn't fight conventionally. It was a smart weapon, not a brute one. Still, she had a good idea of how to exploit the gas and if she could take somebody out and scavenge a pistol of sorts, she'd be...
Bounce stopped walking, looked up into the sky and laughed. It was genuine, not high or fearful, sounding as if she was honestly amused.
"Listen to that. Listen to that, will you not? Make plans, as if that will change a thing. Number one fan does not mean I'm suited for this. Not now, not in an eternity," Bounce shook her head. "I can't do it... I can't do it. I know all the tricks. I know what mistakes to avoid and what situations to back out of. I have the knowledge, all of it... and I don't have the ability to use it."
And it was true. Bounce didn't have the strength or the endurance, the popularity or the charisma, the skill or the luck. Most of all though, she didn't have the streak of ruthlessness, the chord within a person that resonated in a situation like this and said that yes, they would kill to survive. Bounce was just a socially awkward geek that held a morbid fascination with a sick reality show. Not a player. Not a winner.
Her head snapped around at the sound of yelling, screaming, crying. It echoed through the docks and it didn't take Bounce long to spy somebody sitting on the wet planks, some distance away. She paused, trying to think what to do. A voice like that didn't sound like one that was about to go on a wanton slaughter, but equally, hadn't watching SotF taught her that some of the biggest killers were those that just snapped? This early, there was no telling what somebody like that could do. The distance between them wasn't considerable, and Bounce didn't fancy trying her chances in a straight foot race, if it came to that. On the other hand, perhaps an ally...
No. This isn't basic strategy, this is you. Who would team up with you? Far from likely. Far from it.
Bounce had resolved to do the smart thing and avoid company, just slipping away into the morning daylight, when the figure on the dock looked around. It was a girl, Bounce could make out that much, but she utterly failed to put a name to the face of the other looking at her. At being spotted, Bounce simply froze, a deer in the headlights. She couldn't have cut an imposing figure, standing there on the dock. Small, frail, a pack bigger than she was on her back and not a weapon in her hand.
Don't say anything. Just wait. See what she does. Be ready. Be careful.
If Yelizaveta weren't quite so cold and calmly logical, she might have been tempted to call this all a dream. An awful spectre brought about by spending too long in front of the glowing computer screen for yet another night, until tired scratchy eyes finally couldn't stay propped open any longer. A different girl might have been telling herself that any second now, she was going to wake up with the shape of a keyboard imprinted into her face again.
But that wasn't Bounce. She wasn't one of the fangirls who charged onto the message boards saying 'OMMG DID U C THAT THING WITH STEVE!?!?!?1!/1', she didn't watch the show and chuckle at the over the top violence, or stay glued to it because of the steamy scenes. Bounce... well, Bounce couldn't say why she was drawn to SotF or why she followed it so fervantly.
Whatever those reasons were though, they fit well enough into her mindset for Bounce not to be dismissive, not to chalk this up to a late night and a little too much junk food. It was real.
Physical activity was an alien thing to Bounce and she was panting softly as she struggled to keep her footing on the slick boards of the dock. Her pack was heavy, feeling like a millstone on her back, draining her energy, which she knew in no small part was down to her weapon. Well, 'weapon'. As the issues went, there was worse.
And better. Much better. Sub machine guns. Pistols, maybe even an assault rifle like there'd been in the previous version, albeit with gun and ammunition separated. Bounce was sure that it trumped anything that could be used in hand to hand, though. Swords and axes... they weren't for somebody of Bounce's stature. The large can of gasoline wasn't anything that she'd be able to defend herself with conventionally... but she couldn't fight conventionally. It was a smart weapon, not a brute one. Still, she had a good idea of how to exploit the gas and if she could take somebody out and scavenge a pistol of sorts, she'd be...
Bounce stopped walking, looked up into the sky and laughed. It was genuine, not high or fearful, sounding as if she was honestly amused.
"Listen to that. Listen to that, will you not? Make plans, as if that will change a thing. Number one fan does not mean I'm suited for this. Not now, not in an eternity," Bounce shook her head. "I can't do it... I can't do it. I know all the tricks. I know what mistakes to avoid and what situations to back out of. I have the knowledge, all of it... and I don't have the ability to use it."
And it was true. Bounce didn't have the strength or the endurance, the popularity or the charisma, the skill or the luck. Most of all though, she didn't have the streak of ruthlessness, the chord within a person that resonated in a situation like this and said that yes, they would kill to survive. Bounce was just a socially awkward geek that held a morbid fascination with a sick reality show. Not a player. Not a winner.
Her head snapped around at the sound of yelling, screaming, crying. It echoed through the docks and it didn't take Bounce long to spy somebody sitting on the wet planks, some distance away. She paused, trying to think what to do. A voice like that didn't sound like one that was about to go on a wanton slaughter, but equally, hadn't watching SotF taught her that some of the biggest killers were those that just snapped? This early, there was no telling what somebody like that could do. The distance between them wasn't considerable, and Bounce didn't fancy trying her chances in a straight foot race, if it came to that. On the other hand, perhaps an ally...
No. This isn't basic strategy, this is you. Who would team up with you? Far from likely. Far from it.
Bounce had resolved to do the smart thing and avoid company, just slipping away into the morning daylight, when the figure on the dock looked around. It was a girl, Bounce could make out that much, but she utterly failed to put a name to the face of the other looking at her. At being spotted, Bounce simply froze, a deer in the headlights. She couldn't have cut an imposing figure, standing there on the dock. Small, frail, a pack bigger than she was on her back and not a weapon in her hand.
Don't say anything. Just wait. See what she does. Be ready. Be careful.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Jennifer turned, and saw the last thing she'd wanted to. Somebody was there. True, it could have been worse. It could have been a football player, armed with a gun or knife or something. This was a small girl. A small, unarmed girl. Not a threat.
What the fuck? Had she just thought that? Had she really just sized up a classmate as a threat? No. No, push it away. They're classmates. Not threats. Not enemies. Just scared. Scared and unprepared and lonely and sad. Looking at this girl in front of her, Jennifer was tempted once more to turn and jump. Die now. Avoid the pain. She was going to die in the end. Absolutely, positively guaranteed, but she couldn't kill herself. It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be fair to her friends, to her family, to herself. She just couldn't.
Last chance. If you back out of this, you don't get to go back. You're in for fucking serious.
And she was. She was going to live as long as she could, just as long as... as long as that didn't hurt anybody. As long as she wasn't robbing someone else of life. Because who was she to say she was more valuable than any of her classmates? Who was she to make that ultimate, arrogant decision and hurt somebody else, kill somebody, take away everything that they were? No. She would run. She would run, and hide, and there was still a girl in front of her and Jennifer for the life of her could not remember this short girl's fucking name. It was weird, she knew that, but...
Then she was laughing. Her laughter was slightly manic, slightly unhinged, but not unkind. Not at all. She was laughing because she was standing across from this girl, who was supposed to be her mortal enemy, and she'd seen her around for years but she didn't even have a name to match to the face.
Jennifer tucked the icepick into the back of her skirt. It wasn't comfortable. That wasn't important, though. She couldn't look threatening. She couldn't lose herself. She didn't even have to force a smile. Her bags were lying on the ground, somewhat damp. She was backed up, with nowhere to run. She was terrified. But she could still smile.
Finally, she managed to calm her laughter down, hoping she hadn't horrified the other girl. Then she spoke, slowly, carefully, like always.
"Um, hello. I'm, um, I'm so sorry, but I can't remember your name."
It was a little thing, but it was a change. It was a new situation, and, Jennifer realized, she'd just done something so scary, so bizarre, she could never have considered it at home. She'd just admitted to fucking up. She'd just admitted to not knowing someone. Well, what choice was there? She couldn't very well sit in the lunch line and wait for someone else to say it, could she? She couldn't be indirect and count on social norms to pull her through. There were no social norms here, at least, there didn't have to be. All they had left of civilization and society was what they brought with them.
Jennifer hoped it would be enough.
Then she realized that the other girl could be equally lost, equally unsure, and her instincts kicked in. She had to be kind. Had to try to help her.
Start with your name.
"I'm, um, Jennifer. Perez not Romita."
What the fuck? Had she just thought that? Had she really just sized up a classmate as a threat? No. No, push it away. They're classmates. Not threats. Not enemies. Just scared. Scared and unprepared and lonely and sad. Looking at this girl in front of her, Jennifer was tempted once more to turn and jump. Die now. Avoid the pain. She was going to die in the end. Absolutely, positively guaranteed, but she couldn't kill herself. It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be fair to her friends, to her family, to herself. She just couldn't.
Last chance. If you back out of this, you don't get to go back. You're in for fucking serious.
And she was. She was going to live as long as she could, just as long as... as long as that didn't hurt anybody. As long as she wasn't robbing someone else of life. Because who was she to say she was more valuable than any of her classmates? Who was she to make that ultimate, arrogant decision and hurt somebody else, kill somebody, take away everything that they were? No. She would run. She would run, and hide, and there was still a girl in front of her and Jennifer for the life of her could not remember this short girl's fucking name. It was weird, she knew that, but...
Then she was laughing. Her laughter was slightly manic, slightly unhinged, but not unkind. Not at all. She was laughing because she was standing across from this girl, who was supposed to be her mortal enemy, and she'd seen her around for years but she didn't even have a name to match to the face.
Jennifer tucked the icepick into the back of her skirt. It wasn't comfortable. That wasn't important, though. She couldn't look threatening. She couldn't lose herself. She didn't even have to force a smile. Her bags were lying on the ground, somewhat damp. She was backed up, with nowhere to run. She was terrified. But she could still smile.
Finally, she managed to calm her laughter down, hoping she hadn't horrified the other girl. Then she spoke, slowly, carefully, like always.
"Um, hello. I'm, um, I'm so sorry, but I can't remember your name."
It was a little thing, but it was a change. It was a new situation, and, Jennifer realized, she'd just done something so scary, so bizarre, she could never have considered it at home. She'd just admitted to fucking up. She'd just admitted to not knowing someone. Well, what choice was there? She couldn't very well sit in the lunch line and wait for someone else to say it, could she? She couldn't be indirect and count on social norms to pull her through. There were no social norms here, at least, there didn't have to be. All they had left of civilization and society was what they brought with them.
Jennifer hoped it would be enough.
Then she realized that the other girl could be equally lost, equally unsure, and her instincts kicked in. She had to be kind. Had to try to help her.
Start with your name.
"I'm, um, Jennifer. Perez not Romita."
Bounce almost took her chances with the treacherous footing when the girl she'd spotted burst out laughing for no apparent reason. That was far from a good sign. Was she already just nuts? Did she find Bounce's appearance somehow comic? Perhaps she looked so unthreatening that the other was laughing at how little a fight she'd put up if attacked.
Although edging back a little, which she thought prudent, Bounce didn't flee quite yet. She'd caught a glimpse of her... companion's weapon, which put her slightly more at ease. Oh Bounce didn't doubt that some serious damage could be done with the ice pick, but it was a cumbersome weapon, not one that could be produced quickly, especially after it had been stowed in such a way. Any attack would be long telegraphed.
Granted, I'd wager I would need the warning to avoid it...
The laughter stopped, which was a mercy, but Bounce's feelings of wariness did not, which was merely sensible. Bounce knew little about many of her classmates, and being on her guard wasn't anything more than common sense. There were only one or two people that she felt sure that she could truly rely on in such a situation, and this girl wasn't either of them.
Naturally, I should be wary of friendship. Trusts have been betrayed before. Bounce smirked to herself. Although it is not as if I stand a strong chance on my mighty lonesome.
"My name is-" there was the slightest note of hesitation, then she opted for the name everyone called her anyway. "Bounce. Well, that's what most call me, anyway," Bounce wasn't exasperated or annoyed that the girl didn't know her name. After all, it was a mutual arrangement, and a social butterfly Yelizaveta wasn't.
Finally, an introduction. Jennifer. Perez, as it happened, as if there was an important distinction to be made between that and Romita. Did the other Jennifer have a bad reputation? Bounce couldn't claim to know about that sort of gossip and rumour, given she had nobody to tell her such things.
No words really came to Bounce after Jennifer spoke though. What was there to say? 'Well this sucks'?, 'Planning on killing anyone'? It would all seem just a little bit innane.
She shifted awkwardly, then pitched a random topic. "Are you well? My landing wasn't the gentlest. I think I have a few bruises."
Oh wonderful, now you make the effort to socialise. Mother would be proud.
Although edging back a little, which she thought prudent, Bounce didn't flee quite yet. She'd caught a glimpse of her... companion's weapon, which put her slightly more at ease. Oh Bounce didn't doubt that some serious damage could be done with the ice pick, but it was a cumbersome weapon, not one that could be produced quickly, especially after it had been stowed in such a way. Any attack would be long telegraphed.
Granted, I'd wager I would need the warning to avoid it...
The laughter stopped, which was a mercy, but Bounce's feelings of wariness did not, which was merely sensible. Bounce knew little about many of her classmates, and being on her guard wasn't anything more than common sense. There were only one or two people that she felt sure that she could truly rely on in such a situation, and this girl wasn't either of them.
Naturally, I should be wary of friendship. Trusts have been betrayed before. Bounce smirked to herself. Although it is not as if I stand a strong chance on my mighty lonesome.
"My name is-" there was the slightest note of hesitation, then she opted for the name everyone called her anyway. "Bounce. Well, that's what most call me, anyway," Bounce wasn't exasperated or annoyed that the girl didn't know her name. After all, it was a mutual arrangement, and a social butterfly Yelizaveta wasn't.
Finally, an introduction. Jennifer. Perez, as it happened, as if there was an important distinction to be made between that and Romita. Did the other Jennifer have a bad reputation? Bounce couldn't claim to know about that sort of gossip and rumour, given she had nobody to tell her such things.
No words really came to Bounce after Jennifer spoke though. What was there to say? 'Well this sucks'?, 'Planning on killing anyone'? It would all seem just a little bit innane.
She shifted awkwardly, then pitched a random topic. "Are you well? My landing wasn't the gentlest. I think I have a few bruises."
Oh wonderful, now you make the effort to socialise. Mother would be proud.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Bounce. That was an odd name. Probably a nickname, but so what? It didn't matter now. This situation was so far beyond the realm of social graces and formality that any effort in those directions seemed totally futile, nearly comical. Not that that stopped Jennifer from trying. She could tell that Bounce was still nervous, maybe slightly scared of her. Scared? Of Jennifer? Now that was an odd thought. How could she possibly be intimidating, standing here in her soaked, homemade, bright yellow skirt and red tank top, for all the world barely able to keep herself from falling to the ground and crying her eyes out?
Luckily, Bounce seemed to recover somewhat. She asked after Jennifer's wellbeing, and said that she'd been bruised in the landing. Bruised? No, Jennifer wasn't bruised herself. Just a little damp, and starting to edge towards another nervous breakdown. She'd made Bounce worry. She had, albeit unintentionally, made someone else fear for their life. Some fucking do-gooder she was. No, she'd be lucky if she managed not to fuck things up too badly for anyone else, and if she just managed to hang on for a few days. Just a few days. Was that really so much to ask?
"I'm, um, not doing too well." The words slipped out, and Jennifer was horrified at them. She should have lied. Should have claimed that she was alright. Should have feigned control until she got somewhere safe. She wasn't good at deception when it wasn't necessary, though.
"I'm scared," she continued. "I'm scared, and I, um, I don't want to die. And... Uh, how are you?"
She giggled a little. Great conversation there. I don't want to die. What else was new? Nobody here could actually want to die, right? Well, comparatively, sure. Better, perhaps, to die quickly now than to bleed to death in a pit days later or something worse. But, the dying wasn't the goal there. The purpose of an early death would be to avoid pain. That was why Jennifer had resigned herself to living a little more. She could endure pain, she hoped. She could stick it out for the sake of everyone she cared about who wasn't here. They might have to watch her die, but at least they wouldn't be forced to see her lose all hope. They wouldn't have to see her spirits broken. Well, broken more than they already were, which wasn't saying much.
With a sigh, she sat down on the wet dock again, cross legged. "I don't want to, um, hurt anybody," she added. "You don't, um, have to be afraid."
Luckily, Bounce seemed to recover somewhat. She asked after Jennifer's wellbeing, and said that she'd been bruised in the landing. Bruised? No, Jennifer wasn't bruised herself. Just a little damp, and starting to edge towards another nervous breakdown. She'd made Bounce worry. She had, albeit unintentionally, made someone else fear for their life. Some fucking do-gooder she was. No, she'd be lucky if she managed not to fuck things up too badly for anyone else, and if she just managed to hang on for a few days. Just a few days. Was that really so much to ask?
"I'm, um, not doing too well." The words slipped out, and Jennifer was horrified at them. She should have lied. Should have claimed that she was alright. Should have feigned control until she got somewhere safe. She wasn't good at deception when it wasn't necessary, though.
"I'm scared," she continued. "I'm scared, and I, um, I don't want to die. And... Uh, how are you?"
She giggled a little. Great conversation there. I don't want to die. What else was new? Nobody here could actually want to die, right? Well, comparatively, sure. Better, perhaps, to die quickly now than to bleed to death in a pit days later or something worse. But, the dying wasn't the goal there. The purpose of an early death would be to avoid pain. That was why Jennifer had resigned herself to living a little more. She could endure pain, she hoped. She could stick it out for the sake of everyone she cared about who wasn't here. They might have to watch her die, but at least they wouldn't be forced to see her lose all hope. They wouldn't have to see her spirits broken. Well, broken more than they already were, which wasn't saying much.
With a sigh, she sat down on the wet dock again, cross legged. "I don't want to, um, hurt anybody," she added. "You don't, um, have to be afraid."
(George Leidman continued from All That I've Ever Known)
After leaving the Sawmill, George had been following the roads, hoping to find some sort of civilization. He was surprised to find himself here. From a distance, he could see two girls talking with one another, and he wondered whether he recognized either of them. With the last encounter with Cisco fresh in his mind, he considered just turning around and leaving them be. He was a big guy, and no matter what he did, he would be scary in this game. It didn't make Cisco's reaction hurt any less, because he had never intended to harm the man in the slightest, but the green-haired man had acted like...like he was a monster.
It's not fair! I want to help people. I can't help how I look!
Still, George figured that as long as he didn't act threatening and he kept everything in his daypack, the two ladies would realize that he meant them no harm. He approached slowly, with the pack zipped up and resting comfortably on his shoulder. There'd be no need to show them the wallet, as that obviously didn't work the last time. Instead, setting down the pack a short distance away, he walked up empty-handed and kept quiet.
Let them start the conversation. Don't act all eager, and things will be fine.
He hoped that it would be that easy.
After leaving the Sawmill, George had been following the roads, hoping to find some sort of civilization. He was surprised to find himself here. From a distance, he could see two girls talking with one another, and he wondered whether he recognized either of them. With the last encounter with Cisco fresh in his mind, he considered just turning around and leaving them be. He was a big guy, and no matter what he did, he would be scary in this game. It didn't make Cisco's reaction hurt any less, because he had never intended to harm the man in the slightest, but the green-haired man had acted like...like he was a monster.
It's not fair! I want to help people. I can't help how I look!
Still, George figured that as long as he didn't act threatening and he kept everything in his daypack, the two ladies would realize that he meant them no harm. He approached slowly, with the pack zipped up and resting comfortably on his shoulder. There'd be no need to show them the wallet, as that obviously didn't work the last time. Instead, setting down the pack a short distance away, he walked up empty-handed and kept quiet.
Let them start the conversation. Don't act all eager, and things will be fine.
He hoped that it would be that easy.
((Start Victoria Logan))
This isn't happening. I'm tripping, that's all. Or dreaming, one of those. Of course this isn't happening. Any second, I'll open my eyes and see Alice curled up next to me. I'll laugh about it and seeing how this isn't happening, no harm done. That shit, tied up in the chair, just part of some freaky fuckin' dream or something. I just need to wake up...now! Wake up...now! Now! Now?
Of course, Victoria Logan had to realize she wasn't dreaming. No matter how much she wanted it to be so, it wouldn't change a damn thing. Memories flashed through her mind, half-remembered, all in a mad jumble. Falling sleep on the bus, her head resting on Alice's shoulder. Waking up in a strange place, tied to a damn chair. The gunfire and the screams that followed. That voice...No, she knew what was going on, at least. She knew that much. A slow, protracted death on some Godforsaken spit of land. Fuckin' Survival of the Fittest. The very last place she ever would expect or want to be. Of course, that's an understatement if she'd ever heard one.
Vic opened her eyes to find herself staring into the sky. Everything before that was a blur. A terrible blur. She could hear the ocean, so she was probably on a beach or at least near one. That was...good? Hell, she didn't watch SOTF nearly enough to know if that was an advantage or what. As she sat up, she knew one thing and one thing only. That she was terrified. Survival of the Fittest, for God's sake! Vic pulled her knees to her chest and rocked gently back and forth. What the hell what she be able to do? She couldn't fight, she wasn't fast, agile, or even that clever. She didn't have what it took to survive on this damned island.
Maybe she could find Alice before one of them was killed. Or, more likely, someone would shoot her in the back while she stumbled through the forest. The important thing was not to panic. Ha, easier said then done. Vic was scared out of her mind. She was on her own, on an island where everyone was supposed to kill everyone. Kill or be killed, right? Maybe if she'd gotten a decent weapon it would be okay. At least until she could find Alice. Assuming Alice wasn't already dead. No, no, she couldn't think like that. Thinking like that just made things worse. All she needed to do was pull herself together and find Alice. After all, it wasn't like they had a whole island between them.
Now that she was thinking straight, Vic took the time to get an idea of her surroundings. A dock, not a beach. She had two bags on either side of her, one smaller to go with the larger bag she'd brought along to what was supposed to be a fun camp-out. She rummaged through the smaller bag first, seeing as how it was the more mysterious of the two. Food, a map and compass, a first aid kit, a flashlight, and...what some kind of grenade? Four of them, whatever they were. She stuffed them back in the bag, along with the rest. Vic didn't bother with her bag. It wasn't like she'd secreted along a switchblade or anything. Even if she had, it would no doubt be gone now. All she had packed was a change of clothes. No, that bag could probably be left behind.
When she finally climbed to her feet, it began to sink in how thoroughly screwed she was if she couldn't find someone who knew what they were doing to tag along with. Which, coincidentally, made her react the way she did when she finally became aware of voices, further along the docks. It might have been faulty reasoning, but she guessed since it was two people talking, she wouldn't be shot on sight. Vic paused only to throw and extra shirt or two into the smaller bag before starting down the dock. Imagine her relief when she realized that she recognized both. Bounce and Jen? Geez, that was pretty lucky. The biggest smile possible under the circumstances flashed across her face as she approached. Calling out while still a good distance away, she made it clear she wasn't armed, just in case. "Jen! Bounce!" It was only as she closed the distance did she notice the fourth person. Well, third really, considering he was there first. She didn't know him, but he looked unarmed. In the present situation, that was good enough. "Goddamn if it isn't good to see some friendly faces!"
This isn't happening. I'm tripping, that's all. Or dreaming, one of those. Of course this isn't happening. Any second, I'll open my eyes and see Alice curled up next to me. I'll laugh about it and seeing how this isn't happening, no harm done. That shit, tied up in the chair, just part of some freaky fuckin' dream or something. I just need to wake up...now! Wake up...now! Now! Now?
Of course, Victoria Logan had to realize she wasn't dreaming. No matter how much she wanted it to be so, it wouldn't change a damn thing. Memories flashed through her mind, half-remembered, all in a mad jumble. Falling sleep on the bus, her head resting on Alice's shoulder. Waking up in a strange place, tied to a damn chair. The gunfire and the screams that followed. That voice...No, she knew what was going on, at least. She knew that much. A slow, protracted death on some Godforsaken spit of land. Fuckin' Survival of the Fittest. The very last place she ever would expect or want to be. Of course, that's an understatement if she'd ever heard one.
Vic opened her eyes to find herself staring into the sky. Everything before that was a blur. A terrible blur. She could hear the ocean, so she was probably on a beach or at least near one. That was...good? Hell, she didn't watch SOTF nearly enough to know if that was an advantage or what. As she sat up, she knew one thing and one thing only. That she was terrified. Survival of the Fittest, for God's sake! Vic pulled her knees to her chest and rocked gently back and forth. What the hell what she be able to do? She couldn't fight, she wasn't fast, agile, or even that clever. She didn't have what it took to survive on this damned island.
Maybe she could find Alice before one of them was killed. Or, more likely, someone would shoot her in the back while she stumbled through the forest. The important thing was not to panic. Ha, easier said then done. Vic was scared out of her mind. She was on her own, on an island where everyone was supposed to kill everyone. Kill or be killed, right? Maybe if she'd gotten a decent weapon it would be okay. At least until she could find Alice. Assuming Alice wasn't already dead. No, no, she couldn't think like that. Thinking like that just made things worse. All she needed to do was pull herself together and find Alice. After all, it wasn't like they had a whole island between them.
Now that she was thinking straight, Vic took the time to get an idea of her surroundings. A dock, not a beach. She had two bags on either side of her, one smaller to go with the larger bag she'd brought along to what was supposed to be a fun camp-out. She rummaged through the smaller bag first, seeing as how it was the more mysterious of the two. Food, a map and compass, a first aid kit, a flashlight, and...what some kind of grenade? Four of them, whatever they were. She stuffed them back in the bag, along with the rest. Vic didn't bother with her bag. It wasn't like she'd secreted along a switchblade or anything. Even if she had, it would no doubt be gone now. All she had packed was a change of clothes. No, that bag could probably be left behind.
When she finally climbed to her feet, it began to sink in how thoroughly screwed she was if she couldn't find someone who knew what they were doing to tag along with. Which, coincidentally, made her react the way she did when she finally became aware of voices, further along the docks. It might have been faulty reasoning, but she guessed since it was two people talking, she wouldn't be shot on sight. Vic paused only to throw and extra shirt or two into the smaller bag before starting down the dock. Imagine her relief when she realized that she recognized both. Bounce and Jen? Geez, that was pretty lucky. The biggest smile possible under the circumstances flashed across her face as she approached. Calling out while still a good distance away, she made it clear she wasn't armed, just in case. "Jen! Bounce!" It was only as she closed the distance did she notice the fourth person. Well, third really, considering he was there first. She didn't know him, but he looked unarmed. In the present situation, that was good enough. "Goddamn if it isn't good to see some friendly faces!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Yvaine.
Keeping calm was becoming increasingly difficult. Bounce's breathing, which had slowed a little after she stopped walking, began picking up the pace again whilst the knuckles of her hands whitened, clenching the straps of her daypack tightly. It wasn't anything in particular that Jennifer was doing or saying that was having this effect on her. It was just a matter of it all... catching up.
Thinking of the game objectively was fine, even if ideal strategies and the 'Dos and Don'ts' kept getting eclipsed by her thoughts reminding her that good planning wasn't the only prerequisite for doing well in the game, it was almost like having a discussion on the boards. 'Okay so you've got this girl who starts out with gasoline, she's not too strong or popular. Perfect approach to the game? Go'
Except where it wasn't. Except where it wasn't a theoretical discussion, a nice little debate, and completely and utterly real. And that little fact, for all the distractions Bounce could throw in front of it, was making her start to lose her grip. That kind of wall could only stay intact for so long, and the mortar was beginning to crumble away.
Bounce inhaled deeply, long and shuddering, then tried to concentrate on things which didn't involve bloody death, particularly her own. Success was... minimal, but at least she managed to keep herself from breaking down for no apparent reason.
No apparent... Oh yes, because being no more than a week removed from your own death isn't an appropriate reason for distress.
At Jennifer's question though, her composure cracked a little. "As good as can be expected," Bounce said in a small voice. "Which is to say: terrible," her breath caught then and she let out something approaching a sob before she got ahold of herself again.
Not being afraid was just a joke. Was there a threat from Jennifer, specifically? No, that wasn't the case. That didn't mean there was none. Watching SOTF had taught Bounce that there were always people that set out to play. Always. She wasn't naive enough to think that this would suddenly turn out to be the first version where everyone refused to bow to the pressure.
Then suddenly, another voice. Astonishingly, it was actually familiar, and it addressed her by name. Well. Nickname. Bounce looked around and froze up a little. On the one hand, Bounce could now see who'd spoken, and as she'd suspected, it was somebody she knew. In fact, it was who she'd guessed the voice belonged to. Victoria Logan. Not precisely a friend of Bounce's, but as it happened a very close friend of Alice's, which was almost as good.
On the other, somebody else had approached without Bounce even noticing them. This was not a person that Bounce knew and whilst he didn't appear to be armed, Bounce was well aware that there were many things that could be easily concealed about somebody's person.
And he'd more or less snuck up on them. Alright, he was at a reasonable distance, but he'd come unannounced and Bounce hadn't even noticed him until Victoria made her look around.
"Good to see you," Bounce's tone was guarded, her mind sharper now and less concerned with holding herself together. There was a potential danger here now, she couldn't afford to be fighting back tears. "Not quite so much you," she looked at the other newcomer, the boy that might have been vaguely familiar but that she had no hope of naming. "What do you want?"
Thinking of the game objectively was fine, even if ideal strategies and the 'Dos and Don'ts' kept getting eclipsed by her thoughts reminding her that good planning wasn't the only prerequisite for doing well in the game, it was almost like having a discussion on the boards. 'Okay so you've got this girl who starts out with gasoline, she's not too strong or popular. Perfect approach to the game? Go'
Except where it wasn't. Except where it wasn't a theoretical discussion, a nice little debate, and completely and utterly real. And that little fact, for all the distractions Bounce could throw in front of it, was making her start to lose her grip. That kind of wall could only stay intact for so long, and the mortar was beginning to crumble away.
Bounce inhaled deeply, long and shuddering, then tried to concentrate on things which didn't involve bloody death, particularly her own. Success was... minimal, but at least she managed to keep herself from breaking down for no apparent reason.
No apparent... Oh yes, because being no more than a week removed from your own death isn't an appropriate reason for distress.
At Jennifer's question though, her composure cracked a little. "As good as can be expected," Bounce said in a small voice. "Which is to say: terrible," her breath caught then and she let out something approaching a sob before she got ahold of herself again.
Not being afraid was just a joke. Was there a threat from Jennifer, specifically? No, that wasn't the case. That didn't mean there was none. Watching SOTF had taught Bounce that there were always people that set out to play. Always. She wasn't naive enough to think that this would suddenly turn out to be the first version where everyone refused to bow to the pressure.
Then suddenly, another voice. Astonishingly, it was actually familiar, and it addressed her by name. Well. Nickname. Bounce looked around and froze up a little. On the one hand, Bounce could now see who'd spoken, and as she'd suspected, it was somebody she knew. In fact, it was who she'd guessed the voice belonged to. Victoria Logan. Not precisely a friend of Bounce's, but as it happened a very close friend of Alice's, which was almost as good.
On the other, somebody else had approached without Bounce even noticing them. This was not a person that Bounce knew and whilst he didn't appear to be armed, Bounce was well aware that there were many things that could be easily concealed about somebody's person.
And he'd more or less snuck up on them. Alright, he was at a reasonable distance, but he'd come unannounced and Bounce hadn't even noticed him until Victoria made her look around.
"Good to see you," Bounce's tone was guarded, her mind sharper now and less concerned with holding herself together. There was a potential danger here now, she couldn't afford to be fighting back tears. "Not quite so much you," she looked at the other newcomer, the boy that might have been vaguely familiar but that she had no hope of naming. "What do you want?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Good. Bounce was, well, not exactly calm, but not going crazy or anything. She was also honest enough not to keep up some facade. They both knew the score, Jennifer and Bounce. Neither of them was exactly likely to live through the next few days, never mind this whole experience.
There really wasn't any response to what Bounce had said, so Jennifer just sat there, thinking. She was not a pessimist by nature, at least, not completely, but she had no illusions about people participating. The one subject Jennifer had ever been notably talented in in school was psychology. She could study how people worked, and understand them, and empathize with them, even if she couldn't put that to any practical use. She usually had pretty good idea of how people would react to things, so she was good at heading off and resolving conflicts.
None of that was what she was thinking about, though. Jennifer was remembering something she'd heard about in class, something that had disturbed her terribly at the time, that she'd shoved out of her mind because of what it said about human nature. It was a pair of experiments, which had been taught together. The first was the Milgram Experiment, which had pretty well proved that many people would risk indirectly killing a stranger if an authority figure told them to do so and assured them that they weren't responsible. The experiment had involved administering electric shocks to someone when they failed to answer questions correctly, as a scientist stood by. Most people had been willing to push the shocks into the extreme danger zone, even while the victim (actually an actor) screamed and begged for mercy, claiming they were having heart problems.
The second, equally grim one was known as the Stanford Prison Experiment. In that one, a group of college volunteers had been assigned to roleplay prisoners and guards. Who was which was randomly determined. The experiment had been called off early, after both sides escalated for no reason, the guards abusing the prisoners, the prisoners rebelling against the guards, taking things beyond any semblance of safety or fun. The whole time, anyone could have left. Anyone could have called on the group to stop pretending, but nobody did. Nobody did anything.
And now, here she was. The only difference between Jennifer and one of the people in those experiments was that her fate rested not on her own ability to put the slide into insanity to stop and defy the authority of this game (and could she, really? She was no leader.), but on hundreds of her classmates doing so, all at once. It was hopeless. She knew what would happen. A few, at first only a few, would decide to play along. After all, authority said it was right. They would assume the roles of the guards, only, more like hunters in this situation. Everyone else would naturally become prey, and they would act the part. There would be fights, blood, and, if anyone had already been killed, it was too late to stop it from all going to hell. Not that Jennifer could have anyways. She was no hero. She was terrified. She was going to try to live as long as she could, as long as she didn't hurt anyone, and that didn't involve throwing her life away in the vain hope of stopping this.
And that was the worst of it. She knew what was happening, and why, and she couldn't do anything. In a way, she was back in the Varsity, watching Dustin Royal take advantage of an inebriated Rosa Fiametta, asking herself again and again, "Why doesn't somebody do something?" while not making a move herself. She was powerless. It was something she had become used to in life. That made it hurt less, but not by much.
Suddenly, someone was calling out. A voice Jennifer knew. She snapped her head up, in time to see Victoria Logan. They weren't best friends or anything, but Jennifer liked Vic. The girl was nice, a bit of a troublemaker, but then, that was who Jennifer hung around most of the time. People like Victoria needed her, needed someone to run interference and try to restore sanity and patch disputes. That was why Jennifer had spent so much time with the underclassmen.
What were those friends thinking right now, watching the person who'd always been a quiet older sister sort to them thrown up against her own impending death? They probably weren't taking it too hard. They were too self-centered to. That, at least, was a small comfort.
Bounce called out to Vic, and Jennifer waved too. Then Bounce addressed more words to... some other guy who'd showed up. Jennifer looked at him, surprised that she hadn't noticed him until now, scrabbling for a name. George. That was it. He was big, and in shape, and that was intimidating, but maybe he wasn't bad. He'd been sneaky, but maybe he was just scared, too. Maybe he was just looking for some acceptance, and by letting him stay here they could give what he needed, patch him together enough emotionally that he wouldn't break down and give in. They had to try. Wait, no, they didn't. Jennifer had to try.
"It's okay, Bounce," she said. "He, um, doesn't look like he's armed, and, um, I don't think George would kill us."
That was no strong statement of support. It was the weak ramblings of a weak girl struggling to say something positive, but what else was there? Some people said that being thrown into extreme situations showed them new sides of themselves, made them so much more, so much better. Her brief tenure on SOTF had just showed Jennifer the same sides of herself again and again, accentuating her overall incapability to do anything worthwhile on her own or pull herself together enough to be truly strong. So far, she'd managed to break even by not killing herself. That that was a victory was rather telling.
Jennifer turned to George and Victoria and said more loudly, "Um, why don't come over and we can all, uh, talk or... something. Just... just please don't, um, don't... don't come too close."
Such a hero, Jennifer. I'll help you, as long as I'm out of reach. I'll put in my best effort until it gets dangerous, and then I'm fucking gone.
There really wasn't any response to what Bounce had said, so Jennifer just sat there, thinking. She was not a pessimist by nature, at least, not completely, but she had no illusions about people participating. The one subject Jennifer had ever been notably talented in in school was psychology. She could study how people worked, and understand them, and empathize with them, even if she couldn't put that to any practical use. She usually had pretty good idea of how people would react to things, so she was good at heading off and resolving conflicts.
None of that was what she was thinking about, though. Jennifer was remembering something she'd heard about in class, something that had disturbed her terribly at the time, that she'd shoved out of her mind because of what it said about human nature. It was a pair of experiments, which had been taught together. The first was the Milgram Experiment, which had pretty well proved that many people would risk indirectly killing a stranger if an authority figure told them to do so and assured them that they weren't responsible. The experiment had involved administering electric shocks to someone when they failed to answer questions correctly, as a scientist stood by. Most people had been willing to push the shocks into the extreme danger zone, even while the victim (actually an actor) screamed and begged for mercy, claiming they were having heart problems.
The second, equally grim one was known as the Stanford Prison Experiment. In that one, a group of college volunteers had been assigned to roleplay prisoners and guards. Who was which was randomly determined. The experiment had been called off early, after both sides escalated for no reason, the guards abusing the prisoners, the prisoners rebelling against the guards, taking things beyond any semblance of safety or fun. The whole time, anyone could have left. Anyone could have called on the group to stop pretending, but nobody did. Nobody did anything.
And now, here she was. The only difference between Jennifer and one of the people in those experiments was that her fate rested not on her own ability to put the slide into insanity to stop and defy the authority of this game (and could she, really? She was no leader.), but on hundreds of her classmates doing so, all at once. It was hopeless. She knew what would happen. A few, at first only a few, would decide to play along. After all, authority said it was right. They would assume the roles of the guards, only, more like hunters in this situation. Everyone else would naturally become prey, and they would act the part. There would be fights, blood, and, if anyone had already been killed, it was too late to stop it from all going to hell. Not that Jennifer could have anyways. She was no hero. She was terrified. She was going to try to live as long as she could, as long as she didn't hurt anyone, and that didn't involve throwing her life away in the vain hope of stopping this.
And that was the worst of it. She knew what was happening, and why, and she couldn't do anything. In a way, she was back in the Varsity, watching Dustin Royal take advantage of an inebriated Rosa Fiametta, asking herself again and again, "Why doesn't somebody do something?" while not making a move herself. She was powerless. It was something she had become used to in life. That made it hurt less, but not by much.
Suddenly, someone was calling out. A voice Jennifer knew. She snapped her head up, in time to see Victoria Logan. They weren't best friends or anything, but Jennifer liked Vic. The girl was nice, a bit of a troublemaker, but then, that was who Jennifer hung around most of the time. People like Victoria needed her, needed someone to run interference and try to restore sanity and patch disputes. That was why Jennifer had spent so much time with the underclassmen.
What were those friends thinking right now, watching the person who'd always been a quiet older sister sort to them thrown up against her own impending death? They probably weren't taking it too hard. They were too self-centered to. That, at least, was a small comfort.
Bounce called out to Vic, and Jennifer waved too. Then Bounce addressed more words to... some other guy who'd showed up. Jennifer looked at him, surprised that she hadn't noticed him until now, scrabbling for a name. George. That was it. He was big, and in shape, and that was intimidating, but maybe he wasn't bad. He'd been sneaky, but maybe he was just scared, too. Maybe he was just looking for some acceptance, and by letting him stay here they could give what he needed, patch him together enough emotionally that he wouldn't break down and give in. They had to try. Wait, no, they didn't. Jennifer had to try.
"It's okay, Bounce," she said. "He, um, doesn't look like he's armed, and, um, I don't think George would kill us."
That was no strong statement of support. It was the weak ramblings of a weak girl struggling to say something positive, but what else was there? Some people said that being thrown into extreme situations showed them new sides of themselves, made them so much more, so much better. Her brief tenure on SOTF had just showed Jennifer the same sides of herself again and again, accentuating her overall incapability to do anything worthwhile on her own or pull herself together enough to be truly strong. So far, she'd managed to break even by not killing herself. That that was a victory was rather telling.
Jennifer turned to George and Victoria and said more loudly, "Um, why don't come over and we can all, uh, talk or... something. Just... just please don't, um, don't... don't come too close."
Such a hero, Jennifer. I'll help you, as long as I'm out of reach. I'll put in my best effort until it gets dangerous, and then I'm fucking gone.
As George expected, the two girls had been leery of him, understandably so. Still, at least they didn't run. Perhaps he could even join up with them and they could find a way to stay alive somehow. At Jennifer's request, he grabbed the shoulder strap of his daypack and slid it down the wood dock behind him as he walked up, painfully aware every time it caught on the splintering wood that he was potentially ripping a hole in his only chance for survival. Still, if the two ladies realized that his 'weapon' was too far away to reach, perhaps they'd be more at ease.
Actually, it wasn't two ladies anymore. When he wasn't looking, another one had come from a different end, and was being given a slightly warmer greeting than him. That made sense, as the two girls probably suspected that they could defeat her with force of numbers. Honestly speaking, they could probably defeat George right now, even if they only had a halfway decent weapon at their disposal, but he wouldn't want to point that out, just in case they were playing.
"Sorry to startle you," he said as he approached, still scraping his daypack along behind him. "My name's George Leidman. I was hoping to find a boat or something, but that doesn't seem to be happening. Do you mind if I stick around though? I've been walking for a while, and I need to sit down."
Truthfully, George wasn't too tired. His gear wasn't too heavy for him, given that he wasn't carrying around a gun or something like that, and he'd been swimming enough to have good endurance. However, he wanted to make sure not to alarm the girls, so appearing as relaxed as possible seemed like a good idea right now.
Actually, it wasn't two ladies anymore. When he wasn't looking, another one had come from a different end, and was being given a slightly warmer greeting than him. That made sense, as the two girls probably suspected that they could defeat her with force of numbers. Honestly speaking, they could probably defeat George right now, even if they only had a halfway decent weapon at their disposal, but he wouldn't want to point that out, just in case they were playing.
"Sorry to startle you," he said as he approached, still scraping his daypack along behind him. "My name's George Leidman. I was hoping to find a boat or something, but that doesn't seem to be happening. Do you mind if I stick around though? I've been walking for a while, and I need to sit down."
Truthfully, George wasn't too tired. His gear wasn't too heavy for him, given that he wasn't carrying around a gun or something like that, and he'd been swimming enough to have good endurance. However, he wanted to make sure not to alarm the girls, so appearing as relaxed as possible seemed like a good idea right now.
George, huh? Well, that cleared things up. She still didn't have any idea who he was, but still. At least he didn't seem like he was going to attack anyone. Of course, it didn't seem like any of this should be possible in the first place, let alone one student attacking another. C'mon, how can a whole senior class, some two hundred and fifty kids, go missing without the authorities doing something about it? It's the shit out of nightmares or bad horror movies.
That didn't change the fact she had four fuckin' grenades in her backpack and that she was expected to kill someone with them. This whole situation was surreal. She was suddenly supposed to see everyone as a target or a threat and would need to react accordingly. It didn't need to be said again, but this was all kinds of fucked up.
At least she found two people that she could trust. As far as that went, anyway. After all, Jen was the type that would watch out for those around her. Even if they felt they didn't need watching out for. Good and reliable. And there was Bounce. If anyone would know how to stay alive in this clusterfuck, it would be her. Then this George Leidman guy. He seemed okay, and if he was on the up and up, he would probably be of help. The only way she might've lucked out more would be if Alice was just around the corner.
Oh. Thinking about Alice sent a pang of anxiety straight to her gut. God, Vic wished she was here now. Not knowing if she was alive or dead, if she was bleeding to death alone in the middle of the jungle. What if Alice got hurt looking for her? What if she heard Alice's name on the morning announcements? Just the fact she was dead, but never knowing how or who did it? No! Dammit, don't think like that! If anyone on this island could make it on their own, it would be Alice. Vic would find her, and they'd figure out some way to escape, and they'd live happily ever after. Right? Yeah, right.
Maybe Bounce or Jen had seen her? No, that didn't make any sense either. She didn't know about Jen, but if Bounce had seen her, they'd still be together. They were best friends, if they ran into each other, they'd stick together. She just wished she had the slightest damn idea where to look for Alice at. All she could hope for is that she'd find her soon. Hopefully, you know, before one of them died. Maybe Alice got a decent weapon to protect herself with. She watched the show enough to get an idea of the range of weapons. Maybe Alice got a sword, or even better, a gun. Of course, Alice was tough enough that she'd manage. She had to. What would Vic do without Alice? All she needed to do was find Alice, and everything would be a-okay.
If only because she'd kick herself if she was wrong, Vic managed to stammer out a question. "H-hey, Bounce, stupid question but, I mean if you maybe, have you seen Alice? I-i, I've just been worrying about her. Well, not that she needs worrying about, but you haven't heard anything about her?"
That didn't change the fact she had four fuckin' grenades in her backpack and that she was expected to kill someone with them. This whole situation was surreal. She was suddenly supposed to see everyone as a target or a threat and would need to react accordingly. It didn't need to be said again, but this was all kinds of fucked up.
At least she found two people that she could trust. As far as that went, anyway. After all, Jen was the type that would watch out for those around her. Even if they felt they didn't need watching out for. Good and reliable. And there was Bounce. If anyone would know how to stay alive in this clusterfuck, it would be her. Then this George Leidman guy. He seemed okay, and if he was on the up and up, he would probably be of help. The only way she might've lucked out more would be if Alice was just around the corner.
Oh. Thinking about Alice sent a pang of anxiety straight to her gut. God, Vic wished she was here now. Not knowing if she was alive or dead, if she was bleeding to death alone in the middle of the jungle. What if Alice got hurt looking for her? What if she heard Alice's name on the morning announcements? Just the fact she was dead, but never knowing how or who did it? No! Dammit, don't think like that! If anyone on this island could make it on their own, it would be Alice. Vic would find her, and they'd figure out some way to escape, and they'd live happily ever after. Right? Yeah, right.
Maybe Bounce or Jen had seen her? No, that didn't make any sense either. She didn't know about Jen, but if Bounce had seen her, they'd still be together. They were best friends, if they ran into each other, they'd stick together. She just wished she had the slightest damn idea where to look for Alice at. All she could hope for is that she'd find her soon. Hopefully, you know, before one of them died. Maybe Alice got a decent weapon to protect herself with. She watched the show enough to get an idea of the range of weapons. Maybe Alice got a sword, or even better, a gun. Of course, Alice was tough enough that she'd manage. She had to. What would Vic do without Alice? All she needed to do was find Alice, and everything would be a-okay.
If only because she'd kick herself if she was wrong, Vic managed to stammer out a question. "H-hey, Bounce, stupid question but, I mean if you maybe, have you seen Alice? I-i, I've just been worrying about her. Well, not that she needs worrying about, but you haven't heard anything about her?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Yvaine.
Bounce regarded Jennifer out of the corner of her eye as the other girl gave her reassurance about the student that had appeared, George. Appearances and reality could often be quite different. It wouldn't be the first time that somebody that was seemingly harmless turned out to be a cold blooded killer. This early in the game though, would-be players were unlikely to be particularly sure of themselves or confident unless they were armed with a gun. Even so, there would be a lot of hesitation with regards to confronting any kind of group. They wouldn't want to try their luck.
The little Russian liked to look at scenarios whilst assuming an outside perspective. It helped distract her from the gravity of the true situation.
For all that, Bounce was taking Jennifer's words about George with a pinch of salt. How well did she know George? How truly and deeply to know that he would never kill anybody? Bounce couldn't claim to know a single member of her year well enough to say that for absolute certain. The best she could make was an educated guess, and she wasn't about to stake her life on the supposistions of somebody else.
My lifespan's short enough already... oddly enough I don't think setting out to slash it would be the best of ideas.
Bounce didn't respond to George's request in favour of listening to what Victoria had to say. Ideally, she'd be able to move on with only Victoria, hopefully to go on and locate Alice, but Bounce suspected that a compromise might be necessary. Bounce really didn't like the idea of having George around, because she couldn't even guess at his motives. Jennifer, at least, was as transparent as it could get... or an award-winning actress.
She might have guessed that the question would be about Alice, and Bounce had to stop herself from making a sarcastic remark to the tune that she would hardly leave her closest friend if they'd found one another. Of course Victoria was going to be worried about her girlfriend. She had to let irritation go. "I'm sorry but no. I haven't been further than this dock. I wouldn't have left her."
Bounce felt a sense of disquiet begin to build up within her at the thought of harm coming to Alice, one of the only people that actually got her. Had stuck up for her even in front of that neandarthal Pondsworth (who, last she had heard, had ended up in prison). If something were to... Bounce pushed the thought away by concentrating on what was happening now, not hypothesis.
"This is very exposed," she said, indicating there surroundings. "I'd suggest moving to somewhere a little less open if we intend to wait around."
The little Russian liked to look at scenarios whilst assuming an outside perspective. It helped distract her from the gravity of the true situation.
For all that, Bounce was taking Jennifer's words about George with a pinch of salt. How well did she know George? How truly and deeply to know that he would never kill anybody? Bounce couldn't claim to know a single member of her year well enough to say that for absolute certain. The best she could make was an educated guess, and she wasn't about to stake her life on the supposistions of somebody else.
My lifespan's short enough already... oddly enough I don't think setting out to slash it would be the best of ideas.
Bounce didn't respond to George's request in favour of listening to what Victoria had to say. Ideally, she'd be able to move on with only Victoria, hopefully to go on and locate Alice, but Bounce suspected that a compromise might be necessary. Bounce really didn't like the idea of having George around, because she couldn't even guess at his motives. Jennifer, at least, was as transparent as it could get... or an award-winning actress.
She might have guessed that the question would be about Alice, and Bounce had to stop herself from making a sarcastic remark to the tune that she would hardly leave her closest friend if they'd found one another. Of course Victoria was going to be worried about her girlfriend. She had to let irritation go. "I'm sorry but no. I haven't been further than this dock. I wouldn't have left her."
Bounce felt a sense of disquiet begin to build up within her at the thought of harm coming to Alice, one of the only people that actually got her. Had stuck up for her even in front of that neandarthal Pondsworth (who, last she had heard, had ended up in prison). If something were to... Bounce pushed the thought away by concentrating on what was happening now, not hypothesis.
"This is very exposed," she said, indicating there surroundings. "I'd suggest moving to somewhere a little less open if we intend to wait around."
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
[[B87 START WITH PEPPERONI]]
A wooden thud on the ground a short distance away signaled the arrival of Sebastian Decartes, carrying a piece of driftwood. He had only just arrived, and had only caught the last few bits of the conversation.
"I agree." He said. "If someone could sneak up on us with a gun, while we're out in the open like this, he could probably hit at least a couple of us." He wasn't doing a very good job of endearing himself to the group, but then again he was pretty bad at that to begin with.
He had woken up a few hours ago and had already gone through the initial shock. He had reacted mostly with anger; Shit like this wasn't supposed to happen to him, he was better than that, etc. The kind of things a self-centered person like himself would think. Eventually, he calmed down enough to open his back and see what he had.
In a way, he was better off than most students. From what he'd heard of past versions of the game, many people ended up with completely useless crap, only a few of them with any real practical value, and even then that would require a stretch of the imagination. He didn't get a weapon, but at least the chainmail shirt had some value. He quickly put it on under his shirt, and then threw on a jacket that he had in his pack, covering it up. It hoped that hid it well enough, and that nobody would hear the clinking noises underneath (or at least hear it and not go "HEY THAT GUY MUST BE WEARING CHAINMAIL!")
As he walked by the shoreline, he quickly came across a rather sizeable piece of driftwood. It was a bit on the heavy side, but he figured it would work well enough as a weapon, at least until he found something better.
What, like another person's weapon? That thought brought him right to the question of the day: Was he going to play the game? Honestly, he didn't know. He wasn't an absolute monster; He didn't really care for his classmates, didn't like much of them (and especially hated a select few,) but the thought of killing them didn't sit well with him, either. Not to mention having to kill people because some fat bastard he never met decided he should really pissed him off. If there was a serious escape effort, he could see himself latching onto it, if only because maybe it could get him the hell out of here.
And here he was at the present, his train of thought interrupted by the sighting of a group. He looked between them, seeing who he recognized. The big guy he didn't know by name, but at least remembered seeing him around Bayview. Two of the girls, however, he didn't recognize, with the exception pf Victoria Logan, the school slut (well, ONE of them, anyway.) It seemed like they were already teaming up for the time being, and though none of them seemed to have any proper weapons (none that he could see, anyway,) he decided he might as well tag along if they were smart enough to not just stand around waiting to get shot. If worst came to worst and they got attacked, he could always just use them as a distraction while he got the hell out.
A wooden thud on the ground a short distance away signaled the arrival of Sebastian Decartes, carrying a piece of driftwood. He had only just arrived, and had only caught the last few bits of the conversation.
"I agree." He said. "If someone could sneak up on us with a gun, while we're out in the open like this, he could probably hit at least a couple of us." He wasn't doing a very good job of endearing himself to the group, but then again he was pretty bad at that to begin with.
He had woken up a few hours ago and had already gone through the initial shock. He had reacted mostly with anger; Shit like this wasn't supposed to happen to him, he was better than that, etc. The kind of things a self-centered person like himself would think. Eventually, he calmed down enough to open his back and see what he had.
In a way, he was better off than most students. From what he'd heard of past versions of the game, many people ended up with completely useless crap, only a few of them with any real practical value, and even then that would require a stretch of the imagination. He didn't get a weapon, but at least the chainmail shirt had some value. He quickly put it on under his shirt, and then threw on a jacket that he had in his pack, covering it up. It hoped that hid it well enough, and that nobody would hear the clinking noises underneath (or at least hear it and not go "HEY THAT GUY MUST BE WEARING CHAINMAIL!")
As he walked by the shoreline, he quickly came across a rather sizeable piece of driftwood. It was a bit on the heavy side, but he figured it would work well enough as a weapon, at least until he found something better.
What, like another person's weapon? That thought brought him right to the question of the day: Was he going to play the game? Honestly, he didn't know. He wasn't an absolute monster; He didn't really care for his classmates, didn't like much of them (and especially hated a select few,) but the thought of killing them didn't sit well with him, either. Not to mention having to kill people because some fat bastard he never met decided he should really pissed him off. If there was a serious escape effort, he could see himself latching onto it, if only because maybe it could get him the hell out of here.
And here he was at the present, his train of thought interrupted by the sighting of a group. He looked between them, seeing who he recognized. The big guy he didn't know by name, but at least remembered seeing him around Bayview. Two of the girls, however, he didn't recognize, with the exception pf Victoria Logan, the school slut (well, ONE of them, anyway.) It seemed like they were already teaming up for the time being, and though none of them seemed to have any proper weapons (none that he could see, anyway,) he decided he might as well tag along if they were smart enough to not just stand around waiting to get shot. If worst came to worst and they got attacked, he could always just use them as a distraction while he got the hell out.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Just when everything had seemed clear, when everything had seemed to be going well and George had almost integrated into their group (well, as much as could be hoped for), Victoria went and threw a kink into everything. It was a simple thing, really. Vic just mentioned that she was looking for Alice, her girlfriend. Of course she was. Anyone in this situation would go looking for someone they cared about, at least, anyone who wasn't completely terrible would. Was Jennifer completely terrible?
She certainly felt like it right now. The reason was simple. In all the mess, the confusion, the fear, the everything, she'd forgotten one little important fact. True, her friends and family were safe at home, but there was one person she cared about who wasn't. One person who was here, in this nightmare. One person who was... well, she didn't know exactly what he was. Just that he was important to her. He was important, and she wanted to see him again. Maybe just once. Probably that's how it would have to be. She wasn't even sure it would happen. Maybe not. Maybe she'd be too late, and he'd be dead. Maybe she'd die on the way.
But she realized, all of a sudden, that there was no reason whatsoever not to follow her desire. This group wouldn't miss her. She'd be nothing more than a hindrance to them, a load. She'd slow them down, and fuck up their chances by getting killed at the wrong time. She was accepting a huge weight on her shoulders just by living. She would have to do her very best to stay true to her goal. And, just like that, she realized something. Something that had been lurking in her mind, just waiting to manifest. She had a goal now, a far more definite goal than staying alive or finding anyone or any of that shit. She just had to be herself. She would stay true to herself.
She had to die as Jennifer Perez, not some mask thrown on to cope with the situation. She wouldn't give in to these awful circumstances. Never. She was opting out, telling the man in the labcoat that no, she would not deliver another shock. She was walking out of the prison. It was terrifying, true. It was going to be the most horrible time of her life, and she was throwing away everything that could help her. She was going to face pain, and suffering, and death, so much death, including her own. But she wouldn't hide from it. She wouldn't change. She would probably spend most of her time crying and running and trying to just stay out of sight, but better that than feign heroism. Better that than become a character in this absurd drama. The others were already falling into roles. Vic was the star-crossed lover, seeking a reunion. Bounce was the faithful friend. George... could he be a would-be hero? Did it matter? Someone out there was watching them, rooting for them, laying out their hopes and triumphs and failures as entertainment.
Jennifer was not going to be an entertaining person to watch, at least, she didn't think she was.
She wanted to see someone again, but more than that, she just wanted some time to herself. That was her priority now. Whenever she was in groups, she naturally slipped into the position of follower and peace keeper. She was doing it already. She was trying to integrate George. What the fuck did she care if he grouped with them? No, that wasn't fair. She wanted him to survive. Bounce and Vic too. But they'd be alright on their own, as much as anyone could be in this situation. Bounce was already on things, suggesting they move to somewhere more secure. Another voice joined in, seconding the proposal, and Jennifer jumped and gasped. She was terrified for a moment, but that was good, so good, so right. Of course she was terrified. Someone could be coming to kill her. Anything else would have been a sign of disassociation or worse, of some sort of mental imbalance. As long as she was crying, jumping, screaming, she was fine. And she wasn't killed, so the boy was still alright.
But she had to have some space. It wasn't that she didn't like Bounce and Vic and George and what's-his-name with the plank. She just couldn't keep herself straight. The stress was catching up with her, and Jennifer's best defense had always been to walk it off. She would always walk the city alone. Now, she would do the same with the island for a little. Then, maybe, she would search for the person she wanted to see.
Jennifer straightened up. She looked around at the others, and sighed. What could she say? No words were appropriate. She was a verbal person, and this unconventional of a setting deprived her of all her tools. How could she possibly explain that she had to go off alone, likely to her death, instead of staying with a group who could protect her? How could she make them feel better, make them know she wasn't rejecting them?
"I'm, um, sorry," she said. It was a start. "Bounce, Vic, uh, George. I just... I, um, need to do something. I need some time."
It explained nothing except her intentions. That was okay. Either they would understand her, or they wouldn't. If they did, well, then there was still hope for them. The key to this, to this whole terrible mess, was not to survive, or defy the people in charge. It was to be true to oneself. It was to die a person you could have lived as. It was the only possible victory there was.
She bent, and picked up the daypack. It was full of things that were not hers, just like the cool weight pressing into the small of her back. She needed it, though. If she was going to survive for any length of time, she needed it. Then she looked at her own large backpack. It was full of clothes. Clothes, some magazines, a sewing kit and a half-finished top, a couple of light snacks, her toothbrush. Nothing that would help her. Nothing that could save her. The thing was, she'd made all the clothes in there. She'd poured hours of her life into making sure each skirt and shirt looked perfect. Just the right cling, the best patterns, the brightest colors. She couldn't leave that here, on the dock. She couldn't abandon that. Taken together, the contents of her pack probably represented a greater span of her life than she had remaining. To discard it was unthinkable.
She looked at the others again, and said, "Um... I hope I, uh, see you again."
Such a simple goodbye for new acquaintances.
And then she started walking. She closed her mind down. She had to be assertive, just this once. Had to make it away. Couldn't let them talk her out of it. She needed some space to pull herself together a bit, to remember just who she was. These next few days (if she even lived that long) were going to be a nightmare. She had to be ready.
She left the dock behind, forcing herself not to look back.
Will I ever be that close to the sea again? It was almost nice. I wish I'd managed to go to the sea back when I had time.
Fuck.
((Jennifer Perez continued in Shelter From the Storm))
She certainly felt like it right now. The reason was simple. In all the mess, the confusion, the fear, the everything, she'd forgotten one little important fact. True, her friends and family were safe at home, but there was one person she cared about who wasn't. One person who was here, in this nightmare. One person who was... well, she didn't know exactly what he was. Just that he was important to her. He was important, and she wanted to see him again. Maybe just once. Probably that's how it would have to be. She wasn't even sure it would happen. Maybe not. Maybe she'd be too late, and he'd be dead. Maybe she'd die on the way.
But she realized, all of a sudden, that there was no reason whatsoever not to follow her desire. This group wouldn't miss her. She'd be nothing more than a hindrance to them, a load. She'd slow them down, and fuck up their chances by getting killed at the wrong time. She was accepting a huge weight on her shoulders just by living. She would have to do her very best to stay true to her goal. And, just like that, she realized something. Something that had been lurking in her mind, just waiting to manifest. She had a goal now, a far more definite goal than staying alive or finding anyone or any of that shit. She just had to be herself. She would stay true to herself.
She had to die as Jennifer Perez, not some mask thrown on to cope with the situation. She wouldn't give in to these awful circumstances. Never. She was opting out, telling the man in the labcoat that no, she would not deliver another shock. She was walking out of the prison. It was terrifying, true. It was going to be the most horrible time of her life, and she was throwing away everything that could help her. She was going to face pain, and suffering, and death, so much death, including her own. But she wouldn't hide from it. She wouldn't change. She would probably spend most of her time crying and running and trying to just stay out of sight, but better that than feign heroism. Better that than become a character in this absurd drama. The others were already falling into roles. Vic was the star-crossed lover, seeking a reunion. Bounce was the faithful friend. George... could he be a would-be hero? Did it matter? Someone out there was watching them, rooting for them, laying out their hopes and triumphs and failures as entertainment.
Jennifer was not going to be an entertaining person to watch, at least, she didn't think she was.
She wanted to see someone again, but more than that, she just wanted some time to herself. That was her priority now. Whenever she was in groups, she naturally slipped into the position of follower and peace keeper. She was doing it already. She was trying to integrate George. What the fuck did she care if he grouped with them? No, that wasn't fair. She wanted him to survive. Bounce and Vic too. But they'd be alright on their own, as much as anyone could be in this situation. Bounce was already on things, suggesting they move to somewhere more secure. Another voice joined in, seconding the proposal, and Jennifer jumped and gasped. She was terrified for a moment, but that was good, so good, so right. Of course she was terrified. Someone could be coming to kill her. Anything else would have been a sign of disassociation or worse, of some sort of mental imbalance. As long as she was crying, jumping, screaming, she was fine. And she wasn't killed, so the boy was still alright.
But she had to have some space. It wasn't that she didn't like Bounce and Vic and George and what's-his-name with the plank. She just couldn't keep herself straight. The stress was catching up with her, and Jennifer's best defense had always been to walk it off. She would always walk the city alone. Now, she would do the same with the island for a little. Then, maybe, she would search for the person she wanted to see.
Jennifer straightened up. She looked around at the others, and sighed. What could she say? No words were appropriate. She was a verbal person, and this unconventional of a setting deprived her of all her tools. How could she possibly explain that she had to go off alone, likely to her death, instead of staying with a group who could protect her? How could she make them feel better, make them know she wasn't rejecting them?
"I'm, um, sorry," she said. It was a start. "Bounce, Vic, uh, George. I just... I, um, need to do something. I need some time."
It explained nothing except her intentions. That was okay. Either they would understand her, or they wouldn't. If they did, well, then there was still hope for them. The key to this, to this whole terrible mess, was not to survive, or defy the people in charge. It was to be true to oneself. It was to die a person you could have lived as. It was the only possible victory there was.
She bent, and picked up the daypack. It was full of things that were not hers, just like the cool weight pressing into the small of her back. She needed it, though. If she was going to survive for any length of time, she needed it. Then she looked at her own large backpack. It was full of clothes. Clothes, some magazines, a sewing kit and a half-finished top, a couple of light snacks, her toothbrush. Nothing that would help her. Nothing that could save her. The thing was, she'd made all the clothes in there. She'd poured hours of her life into making sure each skirt and shirt looked perfect. Just the right cling, the best patterns, the brightest colors. She couldn't leave that here, on the dock. She couldn't abandon that. Taken together, the contents of her pack probably represented a greater span of her life than she had remaining. To discard it was unthinkable.
She looked at the others again, and said, "Um... I hope I, uh, see you again."
Such a simple goodbye for new acquaintances.
And then she started walking. She closed her mind down. She had to be assertive, just this once. Had to make it away. Couldn't let them talk her out of it. She needed some space to pull herself together a bit, to remember just who she was. These next few days (if she even lived that long) were going to be a nightmare. She had to be ready.
She left the dock behind, forcing herself not to look back.
Will I ever be that close to the sea again? It was almost nice. I wish I'd managed to go to the sea back when I had time.
Fuck.
((Jennifer Perez continued in Shelter From the Storm))
George had to admit that when the man with the large piece of wood had come onto the scene, he'd been halfway tempted to punch him out right then and there. However, while he figured that he could take the man on with just his bare hands, it was better not to press his luck. After all, that plank probably wasn't the weapon that he had been assigned, given its rotted and splintered appearance. He could be hiding a pistol or a knife, and George didn't want to try facing off against something like that with what amounted to a useless large piece of soft leather.
Instead, stepping aside so that Jennifer could pass by him onto the shore, George regarded the man with a steady look and said, "Excuse me for asking, but who are you, and what are your plans? If you're not playing, then put the board down and come over. Otherwise..." George let his voice trail off, but he conveyed the meaning of his unspoken words nicely enough by releasing the strap of his daypack from his shoulder and standing in a wider stride. If the man intended to harm him or these women, then he'd find that George was not the sort who went gently into the...something something.
I've got to remember how that phrase goes sometime. Ah, it doesn't matter.
"So what'll it be? Put down the board, or get your ass beat? I'd be happy with either." George figured that if the man tried to pull a fast one on the group, letting him carry around an extra weapon was just stupid. He'd get along nicely enough without having to rely on an old piece of wood.
Instead, stepping aside so that Jennifer could pass by him onto the shore, George regarded the man with a steady look and said, "Excuse me for asking, but who are you, and what are your plans? If you're not playing, then put the board down and come over. Otherwise..." George let his voice trail off, but he conveyed the meaning of his unspoken words nicely enough by releasing the strap of his daypack from his shoulder and standing in a wider stride. If the man intended to harm him or these women, then he'd find that George was not the sort who went gently into the...something something.
I've got to remember how that phrase goes sometime. Ah, it doesn't matter.
"So what'll it be? Put down the board, or get your ass beat? I'd be happy with either." George figured that if the man tried to pull a fast one on the group, letting him carry around an extra weapon was just stupid. He'd get along nicely enough without having to rely on an old piece of wood.