((Continued From: Jeux sans frontieres ))
Jonathan walked slowly down the western shore, deep in thought as to the recent death of Brad Wilson and most of all it's effect on his psyche. Could he become a part of a group? Could he save any lives? In the course of five hours two people had died accidentally by his hand...it took one full day for v1 to reach that number in total kills, even the bastard Hawley Faust who was playing the game intentionally hadn't committed the crime of murder so quickly, it was insane, the number disproportionate to how villainous Jonathan was. The shotgun itself had four shots in it the current cartridge, Jonathan assumed that the duffel bag held more ammo, but was either to disinterested or convinced that his bag would suffer another well timed zipper malfunction like it did at the hands of An Linh. At the mere thought of it he rubbed his head, the blood had stopped flowing, but he imagined that the back of his head was coated with the liquid, Jonathan sighed as his forearm had a visible light purple mark and the shoulder was now bright red, whether it be from the fabric of the duffel bag cutting into it or An Linh's kick he did not know.
What he did know however was that now was a good time to stop and relax, observe the beach scenery and what not, it seemed to bring back pleasant memories of his fifteenth birthday... crazy end of summer orgies with the Czech supermodels usually do, but of course Jonathan simply found himself sighing at the mention of the happier days of his celebrity and he quickly came to terms that no matter what he was stuck in SOTF. His goal however will not be killing, it was just to morally ambiguous to him. Sure there was the logic that he just wanted to go home, but Jonathan sadly thought that it sounded like more of a selfish delusion rather than a full fledged justification for murder. He wasn't Jacob Starr who simply went the path of the killer...well just because and he wasn't Hawley Faust with a tragic past, even if he did manage to kill all of the students (which after the fight with An Linh seemed like more of an impossible goal), would he be viewed the same as Adam Dodd? Dodd had a lot of deaths under his belt...but if Jonathan where to do it willingly, mechanically, would he still be loved and find pity in the American people? Doubtful. How would people have reacted if Cody Jenson had won SOTF? Probably with even more hatred, and he knew that Cody would not be praised, he would not find pity with the people...no the only thing Cody would find was himself in a straight jacket.
"Sometimes the path you're on is not as important as the direction you're heading." Jonathan said finally, he could win without the killing, the general direction he was going was him surviving, so even though it sounded cruel...his chances where best with a group, and he was sure he would be a good asset, although currently a beat up and slightly emo asset, but an asset nonetheless, correct?
"Nah, whether it comes down to 'Maybe I have to kill to win?', 'An Linh the martial artist that has three inches on me will be easy to fight', or my favorite 'Let me sit down and talk to Brad Wilson in SOTF'...everything I do usually turns out with me being wrong..." Jonathan sighed as he finally found a place to sit and plopped himself onto the sandy shore of the beach, he then took out his bottle of water and began sipping it slowly.
Rebirth
Rebirth
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
<<Continued From Lost Children>>
Ernest had been wandering around the island, getting himself lost. He somehow ended up on what his map called "The Western Shore". As he got there. He noticed that someone was there. Standing in the sand. Contemplating something. Everything in Ernest told him to turn and run, but something in him hungered for what he'd never had in school.
Comraderie.
He was either above or below others. It just ended up that way. Perhps it started because he was an excelent student and extremely intelligent, but mostly it stemmed from his sociopathic personality. Ernest was really creepy to be around. He was tall, skeletal, pale like a corpse, and generally wore dark sunglasses. He looked like a serial killer. The kind that lined up the peas from his victim's last meal... After disemboweling them. In reality, Ernest had a slight phobia of extremely organized spaces, and needed a bit of "creative clutter". Since he had adapted to medication, he'd never hurt anything physically if he could help it. Ernest just wished he could go home, and read. His personal little joke was that he slept with books. The truth was a little more pathetic: the only thing in his bed, besides himself, was books.
And this person, just standing there, was Ernest's salvation. So Ernest walked out of the underbrush, and waved at the boy, just to see what happened. He also made sure to stay near the solid cover of a boulder if the boy should turn out to be as fearful and crazed as his first encounter with the kids on the island.
Ernest had been wandering around the island, getting himself lost. He somehow ended up on what his map called "The Western Shore". As he got there. He noticed that someone was there. Standing in the sand. Contemplating something. Everything in Ernest told him to turn and run, but something in him hungered for what he'd never had in school.
Comraderie.
He was either above or below others. It just ended up that way. Perhps it started because he was an excelent student and extremely intelligent, but mostly it stemmed from his sociopathic personality. Ernest was really creepy to be around. He was tall, skeletal, pale like a corpse, and generally wore dark sunglasses. He looked like a serial killer. The kind that lined up the peas from his victim's last meal... After disemboweling them. In reality, Ernest had a slight phobia of extremely organized spaces, and needed a bit of "creative clutter". Since he had adapted to medication, he'd never hurt anything physically if he could help it. Ernest just wished he could go home, and read. His personal little joke was that he slept with books. The truth was a little more pathetic: the only thing in his bed, besides himself, was books.
And this person, just standing there, was Ernest's salvation. So Ernest walked out of the underbrush, and waved at the boy, just to see what happened. He also made sure to stay near the solid cover of a boulder if the boy should turn out to be as fearful and crazed as his first encounter with the kids on the island.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Endless_Helix. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Jonathan's eyes narrowed as he found someone waving at him, it was quite tedious, every moment of privacy he wanted was ruined by idiots wanting to team up with him, or spike his drink with LSD, or something of that sort. So the green eyes found themselves showing obvious abhorrence for the way of operating this boy possessed, the water that Jonathan was drinking found itself being plopped onto the sand as Jonathan himself managed to get up lazily and point the Saiga-12 at the boy. If Jonathan where to look closely at himself, he would see his lower legs shaking rather visibly, a sign of fear? Apprehension? Nervousness?
No, it was a sign of weariness. Jonathan was tired, tired of fighting and getting his ass kicked, tired of that gigantic lump of sand that was all over his jeans, fucking jeans, Jon thought he had a pair of black shorts he'd want to change into...easier to move around in... Jonathan found himself visibly shaking his head, possibly giving off a view of his own insanity, which Jonathan was not insane, I mean if you were not having conflicted inner monologues regarding your pants after you just killed two people you might be insane!
So, Jonathan continued to stare as he felt a sharp heat bounce off against his head: The noon sun. Jonathan than realized that it had been a full six hours since he had been dropped off on the island, how mind blowing. Six hours and he had killed two people and now found himself pointing a gun at an other, as Jonathan looked at the boy once more his eyes relaxed and he put the shotgun down.
"Look, I feel like shit so please, tell me what you want kid so I can say no and we can all be on our merry way."
No, it was a sign of weariness. Jonathan was tired, tired of fighting and getting his ass kicked, tired of that gigantic lump of sand that was all over his jeans, fucking jeans, Jon thought he had a pair of black shorts he'd want to change into...easier to move around in... Jonathan found himself visibly shaking his head, possibly giving off a view of his own insanity, which Jonathan was not insane, I mean if you were not having conflicted inner monologues regarding your pants after you just killed two people you might be insane!
So, Jonathan continued to stare as he felt a sharp heat bounce off against his head: The noon sun. Jonathan than realized that it had been a full six hours since he had been dropped off on the island, how mind blowing. Six hours and he had killed two people and now found himself pointing a gun at an other, as Jonathan looked at the boy once more his eyes relaxed and he put the shotgun down.
"Look, I feel like shit so please, tell me what you want kid so I can say no and we can all be on our merry way."
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
"Look, I feel like shit so please, tell me what you want kid so I can say no and we can all be on our merry way."
The gun really did not help Ernest's sense of well-being and security. Not at all. So, Ernest decided to just turn around and leave. It seemed to be the best option. There was a guy, with a gun, that wanted some private time, and Ernest had just butted in. So the smart thing to do was to just walk away, into cover and then book it. However, Ernest decided that it was highly unlikely that the kid could hit him at 2-300 feet away with his gun. The kid was exhausted beyond erndurance, and was barely on his feet.
Ernest wasn't feeling like running just yet. He needed a bit of confirmation before he headed off.
"Hey, what's your name? I'm Ernest. I'm not looking for a fight, just a place to stop and rest a bit."
Hopefully the trigger-happy little fuck would put down the gun and let him sit down. Well, I can't make a decision for him, but I can hope, I guess. Hasn't he ever heard of manners?
The gun really did not help Ernest's sense of well-being and security. Not at all. So, Ernest decided to just turn around and leave. It seemed to be the best option. There was a guy, with a gun, that wanted some private time, and Ernest had just butted in. So the smart thing to do was to just walk away, into cover and then book it. However, Ernest decided that it was highly unlikely that the kid could hit him at 2-300 feet away with his gun. The kid was exhausted beyond erndurance, and was barely on his feet.
Ernest wasn't feeling like running just yet. He needed a bit of confirmation before he headed off.
"Hey, what's your name? I'm Ernest. I'm not looking for a fight, just a place to stop and rest a bit."
Hopefully the trigger-happy little fuck would put down the gun and let him sit down. Well, I can't make a decision for him, but I can hope, I guess. Hasn't he ever heard of manners?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Endless_Helix. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
((B18 Matthias wandered in from Memories and Revelations))
After a good several minutes of continuous running, Matthias felt himself slow down to a complete stop, just as the soles of his shoes suddenly hit sand with a crunching noise.
Given the fact that he was rather fit and lived an active lifestyle, it could not have been exhaustion or fatigue that caused Matthias' chest to burn as he drew in rasping breaths. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins was still had effect, though it had been dulled over time, as though his body had automatically perceived that the danger was gone.
Matthias himself could only hope that this was the case.
The recollection of what had occured only moments before was still fresh in Matthias' mind. In the end, their attacker had diverted attention to a new threat, one that was just as deadly, if not moreso. Given the fact that the black girl essentially threw a flashbang at them, kicked Matthias in the ribs and attempt to attack Whitney, whatever sense of empathy or compassion Matthias had for the attacker could never deter him from fleeing the scene with Whitney. Though he felt a twinge of regret that it occurred to him that the skirmish that followed would likely end in the death of one of the two girls, he confided to himself that he had done the right thing by looking after himself and Whitney first rather than getting caught in the crossfire.
He looked around briefly for Whitney. He was certain that she had managed to catch up with him, for they had fled together, running and running until they reached what appeared to be a beach of sorts.
Matthias looked about, another concern resurfacing in his mind...
Perhaps Jodeen is here...?
Hopeful and desperate at the same time, he looked about in all directions, searching for any sign of life. Subconsciously, he was also looking about for any other potential attacker that might have taken to killing on sight. But first and foremost in his mind was the safety and well-being of Jodeen.
His dark eyes narrowed slightly, startled to see two figures not too far off in the distance. Ducking quickly into the shadow of a tree, Matthias observed them, unsure of what to do upon this sudden discovery. Both of them were unfamiliar, he was certain that he had never seen them before. This only seemed to confirm the fact that there were classes from other schools trapped on this island.
His keen eyes caught the shape of a shotgun held by one of the boys, though it was down at the moment.
Biting his lip in uncertainty, he decided that more than anything, the best thing would be to evade notice. At the very least, it was more savoury than to risk walking up to them brazenly and ending up with his head blown apart by the blast of a shotgun.
After a good several minutes of continuous running, Matthias felt himself slow down to a complete stop, just as the soles of his shoes suddenly hit sand with a crunching noise.
Given the fact that he was rather fit and lived an active lifestyle, it could not have been exhaustion or fatigue that caused Matthias' chest to burn as he drew in rasping breaths. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins was still had effect, though it had been dulled over time, as though his body had automatically perceived that the danger was gone.
Matthias himself could only hope that this was the case.
The recollection of what had occured only moments before was still fresh in Matthias' mind. In the end, their attacker had diverted attention to a new threat, one that was just as deadly, if not moreso. Given the fact that the black girl essentially threw a flashbang at them, kicked Matthias in the ribs and attempt to attack Whitney, whatever sense of empathy or compassion Matthias had for the attacker could never deter him from fleeing the scene with Whitney. Though he felt a twinge of regret that it occurred to him that the skirmish that followed would likely end in the death of one of the two girls, he confided to himself that he had done the right thing by looking after himself and Whitney first rather than getting caught in the crossfire.
He looked around briefly for Whitney. He was certain that she had managed to catch up with him, for they had fled together, running and running until they reached what appeared to be a beach of sorts.
Matthias looked about, another concern resurfacing in his mind...
Perhaps Jodeen is here...?
Hopeful and desperate at the same time, he looked about in all directions, searching for any sign of life. Subconsciously, he was also looking about for any other potential attacker that might have taken to killing on sight. But first and foremost in his mind was the safety and well-being of Jodeen.
His dark eyes narrowed slightly, startled to see two figures not too far off in the distance. Ducking quickly into the shadow of a tree, Matthias observed them, unsure of what to do upon this sudden discovery. Both of them were unfamiliar, he was certain that he had never seen them before. This only seemed to confirm the fact that there were classes from other schools trapped on this island.
His keen eyes caught the shape of a shotgun held by one of the boys, though it was down at the moment.
Biting his lip in uncertainty, he decided that more than anything, the best thing would be to evade notice. At the very least, it was more savoury than to risk walking up to them brazenly and ending up with his head blown apart by the blast of a shotgun.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Continued from Live for him...))
Having made his decision, Vesa decided to make his way along the shoreline instead of traversing the wheat field as he was planning to do. He was sure that there was a greater risk in the tall grass, even though it only came up to his waist. (That and having seen The Lost World so many times may have factored into his decision as well...) He was relieved to hear sounds coming from the distance, but at the same time he had to be wary...and even moreso when the sounds are coming from unknown sources as he glanced out over the crashing breakers, then back over his shoulder again. He knew that he had picked up another valuable asset in his quest for survival...an ally, and he looked over his shoulder again to make sure that he was still there.
"Andi!" he called out, "Hey, Andi...are you okay?" No response. "Vittujen kevät...johon valmis hän sisu?" (Goddamn it...where did he go?) he muttered in a softer tone as he waited for his partner to show up.
((Continued in What Do You...?))
Having made his decision, Vesa decided to make his way along the shoreline instead of traversing the wheat field as he was planning to do. He was sure that there was a greater risk in the tall grass, even though it only came up to his waist. (That and having seen The Lost World so many times may have factored into his decision as well...) He was relieved to hear sounds coming from the distance, but at the same time he had to be wary...and even moreso when the sounds are coming from unknown sources as he glanced out over the crashing breakers, then back over his shoulder again. He knew that he had picked up another valuable asset in his quest for survival...an ally, and he looked over his shoulder again to make sure that he was still there.
"Andi!" he called out, "Hey, Andi...are you okay?" No response. "Vittujen kevät...johon valmis hän sisu?" (Goddamn it...where did he go?) he muttered in a softer tone as he waited for his partner to show up.
((Continued in What Do You...?))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Croco. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Continued from: Memories and Revelations))
In the moments that followed their assault by the heavy-set Bathurstian, life for Whitney Acosta had flown by in a proverbial blur. Her mind barely registered what her legs were doing as she bounded through the wheat field, together with Matthias Kovalenko, in a desperate attempt to escape their would-be murderess. Despite never halting in her dash, thoughts of that girl and her fate continued to plague the blonde's mind.
I don't understand. Why attack us? Why play into their game? That's what they want us to do. They want us to become paranoid, they want us to fear one another. In a place like this... in a... a "game" like this, fear leads to all sorts of irrational things. Even murder. She would've bought in to the game. She would have killed us both in that field for... for what? Why?
It was simply incomprehensible. No matter how much she reiterated the thoughts in her mind, Whitney couldn't come up with one reason why the remainder of the students on this island would allow fear and paranoia to take hold of them and trap them into performing in this demented little competition. They were doing what Danya and his henchmen wanted them to do. They were buying in. But still, in the back of her mind, Whitney knew that the girl she'd never know as Tanesha Lexx wouldn't be the only student to have bought in to the game.
The girl's insane ramblings and accusations repeated themselves in Whitney's mind. Although she couldn't make hide nor hair of the hate-filled and spiteful words the girl had thrown at them, she couldn't forget the look she'd had in her eyes, either. Above everything else, that girl had looked scared. She looked as though she'd been hurt -- not some kind of physical hurt, but deeply emotionally scarred. Whitney could only surmise that that girl's pain had stemmed from some sort of overrated relationship drama. Cruel though it may have sounded, Whitney couldn't fathom killing strangers you never even knew because of something detremental that someone else did to you.
It just didn't make any sense. Nothing in this game made sense. The only leverage that the coordinators of this competition had over its so-called contestants were the collars. No matter how complex, everything is flawed, and everything has some sort of loophole. Had they banded together from the beginning, they might've been able to find that loophole within the supposed twenty-four hour span of time, and they might've been able to remove the collars.
It almost seemed as though it was too late for that now, though. In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if the collars were even laced with explosives at all, or if it was just another scare tactic employed by Danya to keep them frightened. A frightened herd stampedes more easily, they say. Wasn't it possible that perhaps the collars themselves were just a hoax to keep the kids thinking that if someone didn't die soon, they'd lose their own life? Having seen bits and pieces of the last ACT as it was broadcast globally, she should have known better.
After all, it was that sort of idealistic false hope that got so many others killed in the first round of this competition. Still, in their attempt to make bigger, better collars, wasn't it possible that they'd overlooked some sort of set-up, or that the wiring was faulty or... something? The thin strip of metal that was wrapped around her companion's neck registered in her view, and she couldn't help but think that it bore more resemblance to a necklace or choker than an oman of death.
But... this isn't the time or the place to think about it. Right now, our only priority should be finding somewhere safe to rest.
Safety, even on an island of this calibur, was such a relative thing. People seemed to lie in wait around every corner, within every bush, atop every tree. Or maybe that was just the fear and paranoia setting in. The thoughts continued their relentless assault on her mind as Whitney continued her sprint after her companion. He being an athlete, no less nearly six inches her superior in height, he had easily passed her as they continued running. Finally, after what seemed like eons, Matt skidded to a stop, his feet coming into contact with the pale white sands the shoreline offered.
Within moments, she had caught up to her companion. For just a moment, the white sands of the nearby beach offered a sort of peace and tranquility in the mid-day sun. The beckoning of seagulls just offshore was quite reminiscent of the coastline back home... if only she had time to reminisce of things that now seemed so far away. Part of her had half the mind to reprimand Matt for his heroic, if not a little insane, actions in the wheat field. He might've gotten himself seriously hurt, or worse, even killed.
She quickly thought better of the action, however. If not for Matt's quick thinking, she might've dropped out of the competition early, as grim as the phrase now sounded. In essence, he had probably saved her life, seeing as their attacker seemed to have every intention of obliterating Whitney, and she had no means of fighting back. A light smile formed on her face... that is, until Matthias's trail of vision halted. It was then that she could make out the voices of the two figures in the distance. Even from their vantage point somewhat far away from the duo, she could distinctly tell that one of them held a shotgun.
Taking a few steps back warily, Whitney nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard an all-too-familiar voice call out the name, "Andi". Andie Colvin hadn't been on this trip, had she? Whitney didn't think she'd seen her on the bus. Andy Edwards, perhaps? If her recollection was correct, he had been there, along with Eric, Ricky, Gregg, and the remainder of the baseball boys. Her heart leapt up in her chest for just a moment at the thought that perhaps that voice was calling to THAT Andy, and that perhaps the rest of the baseball boys were with him.
The foreign voice rang out once again, this time speaking in a native tongue, and all at once, the owner of that voice registered in the blonde's mind.
That's Vesa!
Maybe they hadn't been best friends, but she had talked to him on occassion during homeroom, especially when he'd transferred in at the beginning of the year and hadn't really made many friends. Maybe it was true that she was a little more apt to talk to Matt, Lexie, and Sam, but she knew that Vesa was a good guy that never seemed to harbor any ill intentions... except maybe toward Eric Silvstedt, but those thoughts needed no more reasoning. In fact, Vesa had even volunteered to stand up for Matt when that entire mess between he and Eric went down a while back.
At the risk of putting both herself and Matthias in danger, however, Whitney didn't call out to Vesa. Instead, she tugged Matthias on the arm and nodded toward the bushes in an indication that they should stay out of view and see how the situation would unfold. The figure nearby with the shotgun wasn't aiming it, and neither of the boys seemed to be looking for a skirmish. However, with the addition of Vesa and a possible companion, things had the potential to turn rather quickly, and Whitney didn't want either herself or Matthias caught in the crossfire that was just waiting to break out.
In the moments that followed their assault by the heavy-set Bathurstian, life for Whitney Acosta had flown by in a proverbial blur. Her mind barely registered what her legs were doing as she bounded through the wheat field, together with Matthias Kovalenko, in a desperate attempt to escape their would-be murderess. Despite never halting in her dash, thoughts of that girl and her fate continued to plague the blonde's mind.
I don't understand. Why attack us? Why play into their game? That's what they want us to do. They want us to become paranoid, they want us to fear one another. In a place like this... in a... a "game" like this, fear leads to all sorts of irrational things. Even murder. She would've bought in to the game. She would have killed us both in that field for... for what? Why?
It was simply incomprehensible. No matter how much she reiterated the thoughts in her mind, Whitney couldn't come up with one reason why the remainder of the students on this island would allow fear and paranoia to take hold of them and trap them into performing in this demented little competition. They were doing what Danya and his henchmen wanted them to do. They were buying in. But still, in the back of her mind, Whitney knew that the girl she'd never know as Tanesha Lexx wouldn't be the only student to have bought in to the game.
The girl's insane ramblings and accusations repeated themselves in Whitney's mind. Although she couldn't make hide nor hair of the hate-filled and spiteful words the girl had thrown at them, she couldn't forget the look she'd had in her eyes, either. Above everything else, that girl had looked scared. She looked as though she'd been hurt -- not some kind of physical hurt, but deeply emotionally scarred. Whitney could only surmise that that girl's pain had stemmed from some sort of overrated relationship drama. Cruel though it may have sounded, Whitney couldn't fathom killing strangers you never even knew because of something detremental that someone else did to you.
It just didn't make any sense. Nothing in this game made sense. The only leverage that the coordinators of this competition had over its so-called contestants were the collars. No matter how complex, everything is flawed, and everything has some sort of loophole. Had they banded together from the beginning, they might've been able to find that loophole within the supposed twenty-four hour span of time, and they might've been able to remove the collars.
It almost seemed as though it was too late for that now, though. In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if the collars were even laced with explosives at all, or if it was just another scare tactic employed by Danya to keep them frightened. A frightened herd stampedes more easily, they say. Wasn't it possible that perhaps the collars themselves were just a hoax to keep the kids thinking that if someone didn't die soon, they'd lose their own life? Having seen bits and pieces of the last ACT as it was broadcast globally, she should have known better.
After all, it was that sort of idealistic false hope that got so many others killed in the first round of this competition. Still, in their attempt to make bigger, better collars, wasn't it possible that they'd overlooked some sort of set-up, or that the wiring was faulty or... something? The thin strip of metal that was wrapped around her companion's neck registered in her view, and she couldn't help but think that it bore more resemblance to a necklace or choker than an oman of death.
But... this isn't the time or the place to think about it. Right now, our only priority should be finding somewhere safe to rest.
Safety, even on an island of this calibur, was such a relative thing. People seemed to lie in wait around every corner, within every bush, atop every tree. Or maybe that was just the fear and paranoia setting in. The thoughts continued their relentless assault on her mind as Whitney continued her sprint after her companion. He being an athlete, no less nearly six inches her superior in height, he had easily passed her as they continued running. Finally, after what seemed like eons, Matt skidded to a stop, his feet coming into contact with the pale white sands the shoreline offered.
Within moments, she had caught up to her companion. For just a moment, the white sands of the nearby beach offered a sort of peace and tranquility in the mid-day sun. The beckoning of seagulls just offshore was quite reminiscent of the coastline back home... if only she had time to reminisce of things that now seemed so far away. Part of her had half the mind to reprimand Matt for his heroic, if not a little insane, actions in the wheat field. He might've gotten himself seriously hurt, or worse, even killed.
She quickly thought better of the action, however. If not for Matt's quick thinking, she might've dropped out of the competition early, as grim as the phrase now sounded. In essence, he had probably saved her life, seeing as their attacker seemed to have every intention of obliterating Whitney, and she had no means of fighting back. A light smile formed on her face... that is, until Matthias's trail of vision halted. It was then that she could make out the voices of the two figures in the distance. Even from their vantage point somewhat far away from the duo, she could distinctly tell that one of them held a shotgun.
Taking a few steps back warily, Whitney nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard an all-too-familiar voice call out the name, "Andi". Andie Colvin hadn't been on this trip, had she? Whitney didn't think she'd seen her on the bus. Andy Edwards, perhaps? If her recollection was correct, he had been there, along with Eric, Ricky, Gregg, and the remainder of the baseball boys. Her heart leapt up in her chest for just a moment at the thought that perhaps that voice was calling to THAT Andy, and that perhaps the rest of the baseball boys were with him.
The foreign voice rang out once again, this time speaking in a native tongue, and all at once, the owner of that voice registered in the blonde's mind.
That's Vesa!
Maybe they hadn't been best friends, but she had talked to him on occassion during homeroom, especially when he'd transferred in at the beginning of the year and hadn't really made many friends. Maybe it was true that she was a little more apt to talk to Matt, Lexie, and Sam, but she knew that Vesa was a good guy that never seemed to harbor any ill intentions... except maybe toward Eric Silvstedt, but those thoughts needed no more reasoning. In fact, Vesa had even volunteered to stand up for Matt when that entire mess between he and Eric went down a while back.
At the risk of putting both herself and Matthias in danger, however, Whitney didn't call out to Vesa. Instead, she tugged Matthias on the arm and nodded toward the bushes in an indication that they should stay out of view and see how the situation would unfold. The figure nearby with the shotgun wasn't aiming it, and neither of the boys seemed to be looking for a skirmish. However, with the addition of Vesa and a possible companion, things had the potential to turn rather quickly, and Whitney didn't want either herself or Matthias caught in the crossfire that was just waiting to break out.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Megami. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Continued from Live for Him))
Tired.
That's the only word that described how Andi was feeling.
And it was an understatement to boot.
He struggled to keep up with his new parter... partner... that's an interesting word, in a game where you're supposed to kill everyone, he was amazed that he made an alliance with someone he just met.
Still, he continued on.
"I'm right here."
He replied to Vesa's calling out, and proceeded to sit himself down.
"Let's take a break, I'm a little... beat."
They hadn't been moving around for a lot, but he still seemed amazingly fatigued, not knowing why.
Tired.
That's the only word that described how Andi was feeling.
And it was an understatement to boot.
He struggled to keep up with his new parter... partner... that's an interesting word, in a game where you're supposed to kill everyone, he was amazed that he made an alliance with someone he just met.
Still, he continued on.
"I'm right here."
He replied to Vesa's calling out, and proceeded to sit himself down.
"Let's take a break, I'm a little... beat."
They hadn't been moving around for a lot, but he still seemed amazingly fatigued, not knowing why.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Jonathan focused on the slew of new arrivals and sighed visibly. To many people, an over crowded area lead to chaos real quick, and over crowded area lead a grenade coming and blowing you to pieces. As he stared at the new blonde arrival, his eyes focused on her chest for a few minutes, it was sizable...and she had a nicely formed body, she also looked a bit naive and friendly, could it be possible that she was Whitney Acosta?
"Dude, you aren't going to kill me! Great! Can I stay with you man! I'm really a tiny guy and I'm going to need help, don't worry I am a people person so I can likely get us more allies from Franklyn, like this girl Whitney Acosta. Yeah she's in my homeroom, got tits the size of..."
Chad. The boy whom he had killed had recommended Whitney Acosta as a good ally, could he trust her? The bigger question would be, 'Could she trust me?' since he had killed one of her friends, associates, whatever.
No, the important question was that the blonde might not be Whitney Acosta, so it was obvious the next question that came out of Jonathan's mouth as he quickly jerked his head up from looking at her breasts.
"Blondie, are you Whitney Acosta by any chance?"
"Dude, you aren't going to kill me! Great! Can I stay with you man! I'm really a tiny guy and I'm going to need help, don't worry I am a people person so I can likely get us more allies from Franklyn, like this girl Whitney Acosta. Yeah she's in my homeroom, got tits the size of..."
Chad. The boy whom he had killed had recommended Whitney Acosta as a good ally, could he trust her? The bigger question would be, 'Could she trust me?' since he had killed one of her friends, associates, whatever.
No, the important question was that the blonde might not be Whitney Acosta, so it was obvious the next question that came out of Jonathan's mouth as he quickly jerked his head up from looking at her breasts.
"Blondie, are you Whitney Acosta by any chance?"
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
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Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
Ernest was really quite amazed. In the span of about two minutes four people showed up. Whatever was happening here would most likely be what Ernest wanted. A group. That he could join and be a part of and get off the Island with them and be a human again. From here on in it would work out perfectly, of course. Like a fairytale. Ernest would beat his personal demons and have a family, a wife, two kids, and two cats. It would all work out. It had to.
Otherwise, Ernest's demons might beat him.
The boy with the shotgun appeared to be extrememly interested in the blond girl that had wandered in with the other lost-looking guy. The two sizable guys appeared, attached to eachother, and that left him and shotgun-boy. Hopefully shotgun-boy there wouldn't scare them off. As much as he hated it, he was desperate for some sense of connection. He'd never really bothered to socialize in school because he had a tight-knit home to return to every day. There was no purpose to him being in school other than to learn the information bein taught to him. He'd never really gotten along with other humans.
The thing was, his voice was so familiar. It sounded like one that grated on Ernest's nerves almost as much as Paris' voice. This voice was usually raised to harrass girls, while attempting to flirt with the nearest female. And the funny thing was, the guy was about the right size... Hmm... I wonder...
"Hey, are you Jonathan Michaels? From Mrs Saranna's homeroom?"
The thing about Jonathan was that he wasn't much of a nice guy, but he was skilled at fighting and probably had the mental capacity to kill someone... When push came to shove. Someone you wanted at your side or in front of you, because then you knew where they were. If you didn't he may stab you in the back. Jonathan wasn't stable enough to be an allie. That made him somewhat of a threat.... but not enough that Ernest would drop and run. If worst came to worst, then Ernest could probably manipulate Jonny-boy into not killing anyone.
When it came down to it, Ernest thought that he could probably work to hold the group together, and figure a way out of this hell hole.
Otherwise, Ernest's demons might beat him.
The boy with the shotgun appeared to be extrememly interested in the blond girl that had wandered in with the other lost-looking guy. The two sizable guys appeared, attached to eachother, and that left him and shotgun-boy. Hopefully shotgun-boy there wouldn't scare them off. As much as he hated it, he was desperate for some sense of connection. He'd never really bothered to socialize in school because he had a tight-knit home to return to every day. There was no purpose to him being in school other than to learn the information bein taught to him. He'd never really gotten along with other humans.
The thing was, his voice was so familiar. It sounded like one that grated on Ernest's nerves almost as much as Paris' voice. This voice was usually raised to harrass girls, while attempting to flirt with the nearest female. And the funny thing was, the guy was about the right size... Hmm... I wonder...
"Hey, are you Jonathan Michaels? From Mrs Saranna's homeroom?"
The thing about Jonathan was that he wasn't much of a nice guy, but he was skilled at fighting and probably had the mental capacity to kill someone... When push came to shove. Someone you wanted at your side or in front of you, because then you knew where they were. If you didn't he may stab you in the back. Jonathan wasn't stable enough to be an allie. That made him somewhat of a threat.... but not enough that Ernest would drop and run. If worst came to worst, then Ernest could probably manipulate Jonny-boy into not killing anyone.
When it came down to it, Ernest thought that he could probably work to hold the group together, and figure a way out of this hell hole.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Endless_Helix. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Seeing with relief that Whitney had indeed caught up with him and was safely at his side, he remained near her as he studied his surroundings. All the while his heart raced at the slightest hint that his life, or Whitney's, could be in danger, and it took a great amount of strength of his being to remain level-headed and calm, as he usually was in most situations. Given the fact though that he himself along with Whitney had just escaped what could possibly have been death at the hands of a stranger, it was no easy thing to do, keeping calm in a situation like this.
Somehow, all he had to do was to focus on keeping himself and his companion safe and protected from harm, and it was all that was needed to keep his composure, his rational mind, and his good sense intact. He could be alive one second and dead the next. Who knew how many other students could possibly be playing this game? All that he could think about now, aside from making alliances, beyond the prospect of escape, was simply the prime motivation to seek safety...
...as well as finding his sister as soon as possible. Thoughts of escape and establishing alliances could be saved for later. All that mattered now was his immediate sense of well-being and that of those he held dear to him.
...And at this rate, the presence, not to mention the sudden arrivals of students both stranger and familiar to him was to be honest wearing down on Matthias' nerves quite a bit. As he silently backed away into the bushes with Whitney, hoping to evade sight and notice, his mind was torn with conflict.
Vesa...he was a schoolmate of Matthias, and one that he was somewhat familiar with, given recent events. Though Matthias had refused his offer to get back at Eric for him, it was at that point in time that Matthias began to think well of Vesa as a fellow student. But now this was in a completely different situation, and Matthias was no mind-reader. Who was to tell whether or not Vesa had fallen to the pull of the game, and, like that other student they had encountered earlier, had taken killing their way to survival?
Matthias wasn't sure if it was a risk he was willing to take.
He stiffened as yet another figure approached. Matthias didn't recognize the shorter, yet more muscular boy as he approached both Matthias and Whitney so brazenly. While the fact that they were strangers was enough to make Matthias tense up in caution and apprehension, just the plain and simple fact that he was holding a frikking shotgun of all things was enough to send alarm bells ringing in his head.
Also...was it just Matthias taking the stranger's look the wrong way? Or was the guy actually staring at Whitney's...?
He coughed slightly, immediately narrowing his eyes with apparent wariness and guard against the other boy, deciding to answer for Whitney as he stood between the stranger and herself as a barrier.
"Why do you ask, and what's it to you?"
The voice in which Matthias spoke was calm and non-threatening, yet was more than enough to give the stranger a hint of just how much he distrusted him.
Of course, it was then that Ernest suddenly came up that Matthias decided that he'd had enough. There was simply just too many people in such a small area for any sort of comfort, and while he didn't exactly hate crowds, just the presence of this many people, all of which likely armed like the one with the shotgun, was more than unnerving. Just by lingering here, he may as well be jeopardizing the safety of both himself and Whitney.
Furthermore, it didn't seem at all as though Jodeen were here, and Matthias knew that he had to move quickly if he were to find her before....before something happened to her.
He turned towards Whitney, placing a hand on her shoulder and making an effort to guide her away from the scene, backing out quietly as he did so while the stranger with the shotgun was distracted by Ernest.
"I don't think we're safe here," he told her, nodding towards the various students who were coglomerating into one large group along the Eastern Shore. "Let's just go..."
((Continued in Headhunter))
Somehow, all he had to do was to focus on keeping himself and his companion safe and protected from harm, and it was all that was needed to keep his composure, his rational mind, and his good sense intact. He could be alive one second and dead the next. Who knew how many other students could possibly be playing this game? All that he could think about now, aside from making alliances, beyond the prospect of escape, was simply the prime motivation to seek safety...
...as well as finding his sister as soon as possible. Thoughts of escape and establishing alliances could be saved for later. All that mattered now was his immediate sense of well-being and that of those he held dear to him.
...And at this rate, the presence, not to mention the sudden arrivals of students both stranger and familiar to him was to be honest wearing down on Matthias' nerves quite a bit. As he silently backed away into the bushes with Whitney, hoping to evade sight and notice, his mind was torn with conflict.
Vesa...he was a schoolmate of Matthias, and one that he was somewhat familiar with, given recent events. Though Matthias had refused his offer to get back at Eric for him, it was at that point in time that Matthias began to think well of Vesa as a fellow student. But now this was in a completely different situation, and Matthias was no mind-reader. Who was to tell whether or not Vesa had fallen to the pull of the game, and, like that other student they had encountered earlier, had taken killing their way to survival?
Matthias wasn't sure if it was a risk he was willing to take.
He stiffened as yet another figure approached. Matthias didn't recognize the shorter, yet more muscular boy as he approached both Matthias and Whitney so brazenly. While the fact that they were strangers was enough to make Matthias tense up in caution and apprehension, just the plain and simple fact that he was holding a frikking shotgun of all things was enough to send alarm bells ringing in his head.
Also...was it just Matthias taking the stranger's look the wrong way? Or was the guy actually staring at Whitney's...?
He coughed slightly, immediately narrowing his eyes with apparent wariness and guard against the other boy, deciding to answer for Whitney as he stood between the stranger and herself as a barrier.
"Why do you ask, and what's it to you?"
The voice in which Matthias spoke was calm and non-threatening, yet was more than enough to give the stranger a hint of just how much he distrusted him.
Of course, it was then that Ernest suddenly came up that Matthias decided that he'd had enough. There was simply just too many people in such a small area for any sort of comfort, and while he didn't exactly hate crowds, just the presence of this many people, all of which likely armed like the one with the shotgun, was more than unnerving. Just by lingering here, he may as well be jeopardizing the safety of both himself and Whitney.
Furthermore, it didn't seem at all as though Jodeen were here, and Matthias knew that he had to move quickly if he were to find her before....before something happened to her.
He turned towards Whitney, placing a hand on her shoulder and making an effort to guide her away from the scene, backing out quietly as he did so while the stranger with the shotgun was distracted by Ernest.
"I don't think we're safe here," he told her, nodding towards the various students who were coglomerating into one large group along the Eastern Shore. "Let's just go..."
((Continued in Headhunter))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Once again. Me = late paying the internet bill. And I just got it back.))
Christ, I could use a cigarette.
Andi was on the floor, lagging behind Vesa, trying to catch his breath. He never had a problem going anywhere since he lost weight. He's been very athletic, and able to handle most anything, but it seems all his worry, paranoia, and sense of danger has, very early, started to take a toll on him.
***Meanwhile***
Daniel and Siouxsie had done their crying. He was angry, and Siouxsie feels regret for not doing anything that could have prevented Andi from being sent into the hell that he's in now.
Siouxsie's family were well award of the situation, and so her mother made her way to the house, realizing that the two would need support. They sat around, reminding themselves constantly, unwillingly, that there's a chance that at any moment, their treasured friend could die.
Daniel was, obviously, not happy thinking that the child he held in his arms so many years ago would die, or have to kill someone.
A knock was heard at the door, and Siouxsie stood up to get it.
At the door there was a woman in a business suit. With blonde hair, glasses, rather tall, but she looked like she hadn't slept in days.
"Does Daniel Ayala live here?"
"Yes, can I help you?"
"I need to see him, if you please."
Siouxsie saw her into the house, and the very instant Daniel saw her, he was shocked.
Siouxsie then proceeded to ask, "Excuse me, but who are you?"
Daniel answered for her.
"This is Kathie... she's Andi's mother."
Christ, I could use a cigarette.
Andi was on the floor, lagging behind Vesa, trying to catch his breath. He never had a problem going anywhere since he lost weight. He's been very athletic, and able to handle most anything, but it seems all his worry, paranoia, and sense of danger has, very early, started to take a toll on him.
***Meanwhile***
Daniel and Siouxsie had done their crying. He was angry, and Siouxsie feels regret for not doing anything that could have prevented Andi from being sent into the hell that he's in now.
Siouxsie's family were well award of the situation, and so her mother made her way to the house, realizing that the two would need support. They sat around, reminding themselves constantly, unwillingly, that there's a chance that at any moment, their treasured friend could die.
Daniel was, obviously, not happy thinking that the child he held in his arms so many years ago would die, or have to kill someone.
A knock was heard at the door, and Siouxsie stood up to get it.
At the door there was a woman in a business suit. With blonde hair, glasses, rather tall, but she looked like she hadn't slept in days.
"Does Daniel Ayala live here?"
"Yes, can I help you?"
"I need to see him, if you please."
Siouxsie saw her into the house, and the very instant Daniel saw her, he was shocked.
Siouxsie then proceeded to ask, "Excuse me, but who are you?"
Daniel answered for her.
"This is Kathie... she's Andi's mother."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Whitney was visibly taken aback as the shotgun-wielding boy that she and Matthias had been watching from the bushes seemed to spot them almost immediately. She was even more taken aback by the fact that he openly approached the two, in an almost non-threatening manner. The fact that he had been pointing a shotgun at the porcelain-skinned boy he'd been speaking with only seconds before, and now would approach she and Matthias so nonchalantly, made no sense in her mind whatsoever.
Something seemed a little off about the boy, however. As he moved closer, it became more and more apparent. The rather muscled boy, who stood only a few inches taller than Whitney, was obviously looking downward, and certainly not looking her in the eye. In another time and place he might've gotten a sharp slap across the face for his rather brazen action. Now, however, Whitney forced her temper to subside, knowing better than to push the buttons of someone holding a shotgun in his hands.
She was visibly surprised when the boy inquired as to whether or not she was Whitney Acosta, she quickly racking her memory in a vain attempt to remember where she could possibly know this boy from. He wasn't a Franklyner, that much was for certain. In fact, she couldn't imagine that she knew him at all. She hadn't yet had time to answer the question before Matthias stepped in between her and the new presence. The tone in his voice as he responded to the question for her was clearly readable to even the most oblivious of people.
And at that point, it was obvious that Matthias didn't trust this boy a bit.
What had the boy expected, honestly? Whitney was almost offended that he had the gall to walk up to them and explicitly more or less stare down her shirt, and whether Matthias had caught the action or not she wasn't sure of at the moment, but he seemed to be getting a bad vibe from the shotgunner as well. There was just something about him, maybe it was his brazen manner, that was sending alarms off in the blonde's head.
She didn't have long to ponder on it, as the porcelain-skinned boy that the shotgunner had been pointing his weapon at only seconds before returned, this time basically placing a name with the face that had been so forward only moments before. Jonathan Michaels. It sounded familiar, as if it were a name Whitney should know, but she didn't keep up with sports of any kind, so it was only natural that she wouldn't outwardly know that he was the featherweight boxing champion. In fact, all she knew was that he was forward, rude, and at this point, completely in control of everyone else on this beach, unless they too had been granted a weapon with such devestating power.
Jonathan seemed momentarily distracted by the boy, and for a few seconds, so was she. She felt Matthias's hand fall onto her shoulder, though, and as he uttered his thoughts of leaving, she couldn't help but agree with him. All in all, he was probably right. They weren't safe here. There were far too many people seemingly springing out of nowhere and onto this beach, and everyone's nerves were on edge. Besides, although Matthias hadn't outwardly spoken it yet, she knew that during their trek around the island, he had to have been searching for his sister, and Jodeen was a smart girl. Smart enough to get the hell out of dodge when there were four potentially hostile figures standing nearby.
And Whitney couldn't help but concur that that was probably what she and Matthias needed to be doing in the moments that followed as well. Jonathan had been dealt a temporary distraction, it seemed, and now would prove as good a time as any to escape from the beach and potentially make their way somewhere that was a little less occupied. Overall, Whitney was tired. Slowly but surely, the day was coming to a grinding halt and settling into the evening hours. With that, the danger grew, and they definitely didn't need to stay the night in a place like this.
"'kay," she found herself muttering quietly as she began her retreat away from the beach.
((Continued in: Headhunter))
Something seemed a little off about the boy, however. As he moved closer, it became more and more apparent. The rather muscled boy, who stood only a few inches taller than Whitney, was obviously looking downward, and certainly not looking her in the eye. In another time and place he might've gotten a sharp slap across the face for his rather brazen action. Now, however, Whitney forced her temper to subside, knowing better than to push the buttons of someone holding a shotgun in his hands.
She was visibly surprised when the boy inquired as to whether or not she was Whitney Acosta, she quickly racking her memory in a vain attempt to remember where she could possibly know this boy from. He wasn't a Franklyner, that much was for certain. In fact, she couldn't imagine that she knew him at all. She hadn't yet had time to answer the question before Matthias stepped in between her and the new presence. The tone in his voice as he responded to the question for her was clearly readable to even the most oblivious of people.
And at that point, it was obvious that Matthias didn't trust this boy a bit.
What had the boy expected, honestly? Whitney was almost offended that he had the gall to walk up to them and explicitly more or less stare down her shirt, and whether Matthias had caught the action or not she wasn't sure of at the moment, but he seemed to be getting a bad vibe from the shotgunner as well. There was just something about him, maybe it was his brazen manner, that was sending alarms off in the blonde's head.
She didn't have long to ponder on it, as the porcelain-skinned boy that the shotgunner had been pointing his weapon at only seconds before returned, this time basically placing a name with the face that had been so forward only moments before. Jonathan Michaels. It sounded familiar, as if it were a name Whitney should know, but she didn't keep up with sports of any kind, so it was only natural that she wouldn't outwardly know that he was the featherweight boxing champion. In fact, all she knew was that he was forward, rude, and at this point, completely in control of everyone else on this beach, unless they too had been granted a weapon with such devestating power.
Jonathan seemed momentarily distracted by the boy, and for a few seconds, so was she. She felt Matthias's hand fall onto her shoulder, though, and as he uttered his thoughts of leaving, she couldn't help but agree with him. All in all, he was probably right. They weren't safe here. There were far too many people seemingly springing out of nowhere and onto this beach, and everyone's nerves were on edge. Besides, although Matthias hadn't outwardly spoken it yet, she knew that during their trek around the island, he had to have been searching for his sister, and Jodeen was a smart girl. Smart enough to get the hell out of dodge when there were four potentially hostile figures standing nearby.
And Whitney couldn't help but concur that that was probably what she and Matthias needed to be doing in the moments that followed as well. Jonathan had been dealt a temporary distraction, it seemed, and now would prove as good a time as any to escape from the beach and potentially make their way somewhere that was a little less occupied. Overall, Whitney was tired. Slowly but surely, the day was coming to a grinding halt and settling into the evening hours. With that, the danger grew, and they definitely didn't need to stay the night in a place like this.
"'kay," she found herself muttering quietly as she began her retreat away from the beach.
((Continued in: Headhunter))
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Endless_Helix†
- Posts: 92
- Joined: Mon Sep 24, 2018 3:54 am
As the silence grew deeper, Ernest began to have doubts. In all honesty, he was taking far too large a risk by just standing here. The boy with the shotgun, Jonathan, maybe, seemed wrapped up in the blonde girl's tits at the moment, which provided an excellent opportunity for exit. Risks on the chess board were one thing, but you could always walk away from a chess game, talk with the winner afterwards, learn from your mistakes, and play again.
Ernest frowned into his hand, and sighed. This wouldn't work out. He'd just be alone until his eventual death. And with that resignation, he ducked quickly behind a tallish granite boulder. Then he started walking.
---
"Ernest, would you please come down? You've been in your room for nearly two days; I'd like to talk to you!" The woman called to him from downstairs. She had a shrill voice, that ricocheted around the second floor hall. It was like listening to shattering glass.
Ernest knew.
Ernest spent 32.23 hours listening to glass shattering. He'd recorded two minutes of some boys from a local frat smashing the remains of their beers against a brick wall. Apparently they were rich frat boys; they'd have to be to afford four micro-brewed six packs of tall-necked bottles. Ernest had always found the sound of shattering glass to be comforting. It added to his sense of well being to know that he wasn't the only broken thing in the world. A man in a suit and glasses had told him that security would help to fix the problems. So Ernest stayed in the place he felt the safest: his room.
"Ernest, are you listening to me?"
His room was very interesting for three and a half reasons. First, it was pentagonal. Apparently one of the corners had been walled over. No-one knew why. Ernest believed that there was something behind the wall, but never acted on his desire to find out. The second reason his was interesting was that the patterning on his floor acted as a fractal image if you layed a layer of speckled celophane over it in precisely the right way. Ernest was that precise. Third, the cieling actually bowed towards the roof, which was far from normal. The half a reason was that the window latched on the outside.
Ernest didn't know why, but it probably had something to do with his broken nature. His parents were worried about things like that.
---
I've got to find saftey. Now what the hell passes for security on this island? Ernest whispered to himself as he passed the tree line on the way to anywhere.
<<Continued in What do you...?>>
Ernest frowned into his hand, and sighed. This wouldn't work out. He'd just be alone until his eventual death. And with that resignation, he ducked quickly behind a tallish granite boulder. Then he started walking.
---
"Ernest, would you please come down? You've been in your room for nearly two days; I'd like to talk to you!" The woman called to him from downstairs. She had a shrill voice, that ricocheted around the second floor hall. It was like listening to shattering glass.
Ernest knew.
Ernest spent 32.23 hours listening to glass shattering. He'd recorded two minutes of some boys from a local frat smashing the remains of their beers against a brick wall. Apparently they were rich frat boys; they'd have to be to afford four micro-brewed six packs of tall-necked bottles. Ernest had always found the sound of shattering glass to be comforting. It added to his sense of well being to know that he wasn't the only broken thing in the world. A man in a suit and glasses had told him that security would help to fix the problems. So Ernest stayed in the place he felt the safest: his room.
"Ernest, are you listening to me?"
His room was very interesting for three and a half reasons. First, it was pentagonal. Apparently one of the corners had been walled over. No-one knew why. Ernest believed that there was something behind the wall, but never acted on his desire to find out. The second reason his was interesting was that the patterning on his floor acted as a fractal image if you layed a layer of speckled celophane over it in precisely the right way. Ernest was that precise. Third, the cieling actually bowed towards the roof, which was far from normal. The half a reason was that the window latched on the outside.
Ernest didn't know why, but it probably had something to do with his broken nature. His parents were worried about things like that.
---
I've got to find saftey. Now what the hell passes for security on this island? Ernest whispered to himself as he passed the tree line on the way to anywhere.
<<Continued in What do you...?>>
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Endless_Helix. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
He couldn't stand it.
The possibility of never seeing his dad started ringing in his head... over and over again. The man who taught him how to ride a bike, made him compliment himself whenever he felt down on himself, the man who gave up most everything for him.
"Come on, now, you aren't going to sit here and be all Emo on us now, are you?"
He turned his head and saw Siouxsie.
"After all, you're dad would look at you now and smack you upside the head if he saw you."
He didn't know how to react to what he was seeing, looking at, what he thought, was his best friend in the whole world, a girl who he saw as a sister.
"Siouxsie... you're in this, too."
"Let's just say I'm here as your moral support... same as him," she said as she pointed towards the shore, where Andi turned and saw his dad standing there, waiting for him.
He got up slowly and started walking towards him. That walking lead to running. It's like he was eight years old again, coming home from summer camp, and he ran towards his dad to give him an I've missed you[/] hug. Only, instead of feeling a warm hug that he wanted, all he felt was his body hitting the wet shore.
All he could feel were the wet clothes he was wearing, and the pain of the impact with the floor. And the pain of loss was causing him to break down and cry, finally. On the floor. Without moving.
The possibility of never seeing his dad started ringing in his head... over and over again. The man who taught him how to ride a bike, made him compliment himself whenever he felt down on himself, the man who gave up most everything for him.
"Come on, now, you aren't going to sit here and be all Emo on us now, are you?"
He turned his head and saw Siouxsie.
"After all, you're dad would look at you now and smack you upside the head if he saw you."
He didn't know how to react to what he was seeing, looking at, what he thought, was his best friend in the whole world, a girl who he saw as a sister.
"Siouxsie... you're in this, too."
"Let's just say I'm here as your moral support... same as him," she said as she pointed towards the shore, where Andi turned and saw his dad standing there, waiting for him.
He got up slowly and started walking towards him. That walking lead to running. It's like he was eight years old again, coming home from summer camp, and he ran towards his dad to give him an I've missed you[/] hug. Only, instead of feeling a warm hug that he wanted, all he felt was his body hitting the wet shore.
All he could feel were the wet clothes he was wearing, and the pain of the impact with the floor. And the pain of loss was causing him to break down and cry, finally. On the floor. Without moving.
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