{{continued from Hatred}}
Laeil stared out from the brush at the barracks, the first thing she noticed being the three fresh bodies lying right in front of her. Two looked like they were shot in the face, while the other had his throat slit. Come to think of it, hadn't she heard about something like this happening in today's announcements.
Well, looks like our dear friend Jacks has been keeping busy. She made a mental note to stay far away from Bobby if she could help it, at least until she finally got her hands on some better weaponry. Starting to walk through the collection of corpses, she stopped, eyeing their daypacks. Setting down her's down, she collected the others, opening them up and replenishing her supplies from them. And the rest? Well, there's not much sense leaving anything for the enemy. Opening up the leftover rations, she scattered them along the ground, the rain leaving them damp and useless. Finding the first aid kit with the most remaining supplies, she packed it full of as many bandages and other disposables from the others as she could, and the things she didn't need two of she simply tossed aside, grabbing a nearby rock and mangling them beyond practical use.
"That ought to do it." She said to herself. Too bad they didn't have any weapons on them, though I guess Jacks would've taken them if they were any good.
Getting back up, looking towards the buildings in the area. I guess now's as good a time as any to change. She thought to herself. Her clothes were soaked completely through by now, the wet fabric clinging to her skin. Besides it being really uncomfortable, she was sure to get sick if she kept walking around like this. Going around to check each of the buildings first, in case someone was still around, she finally settled on one, finding nothing but two long rows of cots. Setting her daypack down on one of the cots closest to the door, so as to keep a watch out for anyone approaching.
"All right. Now..." Pulling out a fresh change of clothes from her daypack and setting them aside, she started removing her clothes she was wearing, laying them out on yet another cot. After a minute of two, Laeil had stripped down entirely. If someone were to walk in just now, they'd find a rather pitiful sight. Laeil had always been pretty thin, never having had much of an appetite. She many just ate enough to keep from looking like skin and bones. Her seven days on the island with little food, though, had left her a bit on the emaciated side. She sighed as she looked down at herself. I really should eat while I'm here. She thought to herself.
She stood there in silence for a moment. She had once again found herself a moment of peace inside a building offering protection from the neverending torrents of rain. She found herself wishing she could just stay like this for a while longer, maybe crash on one of the cots and get some actual decent sleep for once. But she was very reluctant to allow herself that luxury. Someone could show up at any minute, also seeking shelter, or looking for someone that they could add to their kill count. Maybe I'll set this place up later to keep people from getting in easily. Then I can get some sleep for a bit.
It was then that her eyes started to drift across the room, looking for things she could use to help build a barricade. Finally settling on something that she hadn't initially noticed was there.
A camera.
Laeil let out a small "Heh." For a while, she had forgotten that this whole thing was a TV show. That this parade of carnage and death was being broadcast all over the US. No, all over the entire world. Most girls her age would probably feel at least a twinge of embarrassment about being completely naked on international TV, but at this point she just didn't care. If the viewers at home wanted to jack off to a battered, bruised and bloody twig of a girl, then they can just go right the fuck ahead.
She mulled the reality show aspect of the game around in her head for a moment. "I wonder if they're watching..."
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Lyn made her way quickly through the school hallway. It was long after school had ended for the day, and she knew Maggie was staying late, so she did so as well. She knew she would get in trouble for staying out so late, but she didn't care.
She had to see her. She had something she had to tell her.
It came as a shock to her, when Maggie told Lyn that her family was moving out of the state by the end of the year. To say she was devastated was an understatement. Maggie was her best friend, her ONLY friend, and now she'd probably never see her again. And seeing how her life had gone thus far, she doubted if she'd ever have another.
With this news, though, came an opportunity. She always worried what would happen to their friendship if she told her the secret she'd been hiding, and so she kept quiet about it. With the big move arriving within a month, though, she found that she simply HAD to tell her. She knew that it wouldn't amount to anything, since she'd likely never see her again anyway, but that didn't matter. She simply had to tell Maggie how she truely felt about her.
"Maggie!" She shouted out to the girl as she stood just outside the front entrance, waiting for her boyfriend to come pick her up.
"L-Lyn? What are you doing here so late?"
Lyn walked right up to Maggie, looking around the area for a moment. There was no around, it was just Maggie and her.
There wouldn't be a better opportunity.
"Maggie, there's something I have to tell you. Something I've been hiding for a long time. I never told you, because I was afraid of how you might react but...with you moving away and all, I just have to say it."
Maggie started to look a little worried. "Lyn, what is it? What are you talking about?"
"I...the thing is...I...I've always..." She grew frustrated as she found herself tripping over her own words. Dammit, why is this so hard!? You've waited all this time, now just say it!
Lyn took a deep breath.
"I love you."
Maggie stood there in silence, unsure of how to take this, unsure that she even heard what Lyn said right. "You...you what?"
"I love you. You...you came to me when I didn't have anybody. Anybody I could rely on. Anybody I could consider a friend." Lyn couldn't stop herself at this point even if she wanted to. "And then, after I while, I realized, I cared about you. I cared about you as more than a friend..."
"A-are you sure about this?" Maggie said, looking a bit flustered. "I mean, you said that I was the only friend you had in a long time. Are you sure you aren't just confused abo-"
"No! No, I'm not confused!" Lyn responded insistently. "I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life!" She stopped for a moment to try and calm herself down. "I...I love you."
Silence. An awkward, uncomfortable silence that seemed to last for an eternity. "You...you can say something now." Lyn finally spoke up. "Please...say something. I mean, I just bared my soul to you just now."
Suddenly, a beat-up, black Toyota sedan drove up, the driver's-side window rolling down. "Hey, Maggie! Sorry I'm late and all that, get in!" Lyn looked at the driver, Maggie's current boyfriend, with an expression of annoyance.
"I-I'm sorry..." Maggie started to say, heading towards the car.
"Maggie, please-"
"I have to go..."
"Maggie, just tell me-"
"I have to go." Maggie repeated as she opened up the passenger's side door and got into the car, which then drove off.
"MAGGIE, WAIT!" Lyn took a few steps to chase after the car, but stopped as reality set in and reminded her that there was no way she could catch up to it. She was left there alone outside the school, with the feeling that she had just made a big mistake.
"Maggie...please, just tell me we're still friends."
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"I wonder if they're watching..." Laeil said out loud, making her way towards the camera. "Aunt Meryl...Uncle Joesph...I wonder if you're watching this. Right now." She scoffed. "Probably not. You probably would've stopped after your beloved son got killed. Or maybe you didn't. Maybe you kept watching to see if the one who killed him would meet her end." She stared into the camera for a moment. "I wonder if you were there, watching as he died." She laughed a bit. "He went out like a little bitch, didn't he? One minute he was so high and mighty, just jumping at the opportunity to play the game just so he could get out alive, and the next he was bawling his eyes out, begging for mercy, just like a little BITCH!" She spat out that last word, her tone going from casual indifference to anger in an instant. "That was exactly what an egotistical shit like him deserved! That was exactly what YOU deserved! You gave Anthony everything he could want and you let it all go to his head. You let him think he was top shit, that he could push around anyone he felt like because he was SO much better than them. And then when I come along you just treat me like garbage! Like I'm just a liability! Cause you're too busy feeding Anthony's bloated ego! Well, guess where it got him! DEAD! He's just a corpse now, dead and rotting! Just food for whatever wants to feed on what's left of him! He's dead! He's dead! He's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, HE'S DEAD!!"
Laeil took a deep breath, trying to calm down for a few moments before looking up at the camera. "Maggie..." She finally said. "I wonder if you're watching this, too. You went to school with all these people, after all. Some of them were your friends, and I'm sure a few of your former boyfriends made it here, too." She shook her head. "It's not fair...you should be here, too. You should be here, suffering all of this alongside us. Having to kill people you spent four long years with. Especially after what you did..." She begin to tremble with anger. "I told it to you...I told you my biggest secret. I didn't really expect you to feel the same way I did. But what you did...what you did, was FUCKING UNFORGIVABLE! You knew how much I valued my privacy. My anonymity. And yet you told them my secret anyway! All of a sudden, I can't walk down the halls without people noticing me, people who didn't even have a REASON to notice me! And the bullies...and the fucking bullies..." She tried to stop and calm down again, but she just couldn't stop herself. "And you...you couldn't even look me in the fucking eye afterwards! Who was it? Who was it that you told? It was that boyfriend you had at the time, wasn't it? Well, look how well that turned out for you! He turned out to be an insufferable asshole, too!" All the anger, all the indignation she had felt over the years that she had bottled up inside. All the sadness, the pain, the dashed hopes, the feelings of betrayal, the hate...the HATE. The pressure just kept building and building and building, and now that it was starting to be released there was nothing for it but to just let it all out.
"You should be here. You should be here! You should be here, with your family watching you, just like all the others! Watching them bleed and suffer and die! Watching as their sons and daughters and brothers and sisters get their heads split open and exploded, their bodies disembowled, their arms cut off and then RAPED with it, AND ALL THEY CAN DO IS WATCH!" She couldn't stop trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks and she didn't even know why. "Fuck you...fuck you....fuck Maggie, fuck Anthony, fuck Meryl, fuck Joesph, fuck Southridge, fuck everyone on this island, fuck Danya, FUCK YOU! FUCK EVERYBODY! FUCK EVERYTHING!!"
Laeil suddenly reached for her gladius, and swung it right at the camera. Instead of destroying it, though, the sword swing knocked the camera upwards, pointing it right at the ceiling. She stood in silence for a few moments after that, trying to catch her breath, her rant having left her utterly drained. Little did she know that the cameras were down, that her message would never reach it's intended recipients. If she were told that at that moment, she'd just laugh; a hollow, empty laugh, and shake her head. "Story of my fucking life." She'd say.
Finally, she just fell back against a nearby cot, staring off into the space. She remembered Danya saying that he'll explode a random collar for every camera that was destroyed, and the two that had died recently proved that that rule didn't just apply to SADD. She looked up, noticing that the camera wasn't broken, just knocked out of place. But at this point, it wouldn't have mattered if it had been destroyed.
She just didn't care.
She was surprised that the few little words she meant to have with the audience had spiraled so far out of control. Having let out all that pent-up hatred and frustration, she also felt strangely peaceful. It was still a dumb thing to do, though. She probably alerted anyone who might have been in the area to her presence, and some of the nasty things she had said probably wouldn't help convince anyone that she wasn't hostile. Well, she'd just add that to the list of dumb things she'd done recently.
She shook her head. I'd better get my stuff on, then. She thought, getting up and starting to walk over to her fresh change of clothes, gladius in hand.
Most everyone on this island, they had friends, family, lovers, people who were waiting anxiously for them. People who would embrace them, crying tears of joy at their safe return. They had goals. Futures. Something to look forward to when tommorrow came. But not her. She had nothing. Everything that the others took for granted she could only wish she had. She'd do her part in this game, though. She'd take it all from them. Erase their futures, crush their hopes and dreams, ensure that the people they cared about would never see them alive again. She was going to die, and she would do whatever it took to drag everyone down with her.
Black Math
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Super Llama†
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Black Math
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((Margaret Tweedy continued from Complicated Questions))
It was all too ironic, really. These two girls, who existed solely to be kicked around by the world they know, would find out that they had a lot in common if they were to sit down and talk. But neither of them were inclined to open up to others, not when they'd been disappointed so many times before.
Margaret's 'Kill the Bitch' Cross-Country Tour made its next stop at the island barracks, and was forced to duck into one of the nearby buildings when Laeil started to raise her voice. It wasn't until she was safely inside that she noticed she'd stepped in the giant patch of gore that decorated the ground outside the barracks.
"Ew," she said as she scraped blood off her boots and onto a nearby crate. She noticed the occasional scrap of skin or bit of bone come off her sole. Christ, she hated it here.
Once finished, she stayed inside, listening to Laeil vent an ungodly amount of steam. She'd never really crossed paths with this girl before, and it was surprising to hear words that could have practically come from her own mouth shouted at the top of this girl's lungs.
She had to know more. Oh, sure, she could get killed by this girl and end up just a footnote in the program's progress, but was it really that much worse than the best case scenario? Her mind made up, Margaret stood up and walked out of the barracks with her musket firmly in hand, ready for a possible attack.
"Hey!" she yelled. "What you said just now... Do you really mean it?"
It was all too ironic, really. These two girls, who existed solely to be kicked around by the world they know, would find out that they had a lot in common if they were to sit down and talk. But neither of them were inclined to open up to others, not when they'd been disappointed so many times before.
Margaret's 'Kill the Bitch' Cross-Country Tour made its next stop at the island barracks, and was forced to duck into one of the nearby buildings when Laeil started to raise her voice. It wasn't until she was safely inside that she noticed she'd stepped in the giant patch of gore that decorated the ground outside the barracks.
"Ew," she said as she scraped blood off her boots and onto a nearby crate. She noticed the occasional scrap of skin or bit of bone come off her sole. Christ, she hated it here.
Once finished, she stayed inside, listening to Laeil vent an ungodly amount of steam. She'd never really crossed paths with this girl before, and it was surprising to hear words that could have practically come from her own mouth shouted at the top of this girl's lungs.
She had to know more. Oh, sure, she could get killed by this girl and end up just a footnote in the program's progress, but was it really that much worse than the best case scenario? Her mind made up, Margaret stood up and walked out of the barracks with her musket firmly in hand, ready for a possible attack.
"Hey!" she yelled. "What you said just now... Do you really mean it?"
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Super Llama†
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"Hey! What you said just now... Do you really mean it?"
Laeil froze as she heard the voice, looking out the door to see a girl walk into view, gun in hand, apparently having heard her all-encompassing rant just now. Though seeing how loud she was about it, she wasn't surprised, though she hoped that company wouldn't find her so quickly. At least this one was all by herself, as far as she could tell.
Grabbing her sword and quickly moving behind the wall where the front door of the building was, she slowly peeked her head out to get a look at the girl. She failed to recognize her, but the gun... Is that a musket? She thought as she spied the ancient firearm. Well, at least I'd stand a better chance in a fight. As she remembered, muskets could only be fired once before having to be reloaded, and the reloading process was so long and drawn out that it would be very impractical in a heated one-on-one fight.
She wasn't looking to start anything, though. Even if the girl only had one shot, that one shot could still do her in. Even then, after finally getting a chance to clear her head, she, strangely enough, found herself not in the mood to add to her kill count at that moment.
"Yeah, that's right." She finally answered, keeping the majority of her body behind the doorframe. "What about it?"
Laeil froze as she heard the voice, looking out the door to see a girl walk into view, gun in hand, apparently having heard her all-encompassing rant just now. Though seeing how loud she was about it, she wasn't surprised, though she hoped that company wouldn't find her so quickly. At least this one was all by herself, as far as she could tell.
Grabbing her sword and quickly moving behind the wall where the front door of the building was, she slowly peeked her head out to get a look at the girl. She failed to recognize her, but the gun... Is that a musket? She thought as she spied the ancient firearm. Well, at least I'd stand a better chance in a fight. As she remembered, muskets could only be fired once before having to be reloaded, and the reloading process was so long and drawn out that it would be very impractical in a heated one-on-one fight.
She wasn't looking to start anything, though. Even if the girl only had one shot, that one shot could still do her in. Even then, after finally getting a chance to clear her head, she, strangely enough, found herself not in the mood to add to her kill count at that moment.
"Yeah, that's right." She finally answered, keeping the majority of her body behind the doorframe. "What about it?"
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Margaret turned and saw a small, thin girl wearing... nothing, with tangled blond hair and glassy gray eyes. She's almost as ugly as I am, Margaret noted sardonically.
"No reason... You just made me realize something..." She walked over to the nearest wall, still keeping an eye on the other girl, then leaned against it, clearly exhausted. "I don't care anymore. I try and try to make my life not a piece of shit, and all they say is "No. Stay in the dirt. There's no room for you above the surface, you redneck bitch."
She chuckled nervously; the island was beginning to get to her. The days of waiting on the island, listening to the endless names paraded in front of her ears... She couldn't stand it anymore. "Why am I always the bad guy?" she shrieked. "My family never did anything wrong, but everyone treats us like shit! Why stop with us, Danya? Why not take California, put every one of those self-righteous, cappuccino-sipping cocksuckers here, too?"
By now tears were flowing freely from Margaret's eyes. Danya had won. Her spirit was broken, her tough front destroyed forever. By God, he would pay for this. He'd pay if she had to give her life in exchange for his...
"All this time I thought I was the only one..." Margaret looked at the girl with a sad smile on her face. She wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve and stood back up. "Everyone else deserves this place. But not us. Never us. We've had enough shit thrown at us to last a lifetime without HIS fucking game!" She swung the butt of the musket back into the barrack wall with a loud bang.
"No reason... You just made me realize something..." She walked over to the nearest wall, still keeping an eye on the other girl, then leaned against it, clearly exhausted. "I don't care anymore. I try and try to make my life not a piece of shit, and all they say is "No. Stay in the dirt. There's no room for you above the surface, you redneck bitch."
She chuckled nervously; the island was beginning to get to her. The days of waiting on the island, listening to the endless names paraded in front of her ears... She couldn't stand it anymore. "Why am I always the bad guy?" she shrieked. "My family never did anything wrong, but everyone treats us like shit! Why stop with us, Danya? Why not take California, put every one of those self-righteous, cappuccino-sipping cocksuckers here, too?"
By now tears were flowing freely from Margaret's eyes. Danya had won. Her spirit was broken, her tough front destroyed forever. By God, he would pay for this. He'd pay if she had to give her life in exchange for his...
"All this time I thought I was the only one..." Margaret looked at the girl with a sad smile on her face. She wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve and stood back up. "Everyone else deserves this place. But not us. Never us. We've had enough shit thrown at us to last a lifetime without HIS fucking game!" She swung the butt of the musket back into the barrack wall with a loud bang.
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Super Llama†
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Laeil watched as the Southern girl leaned against a nearby wall, finally moving towards her clothes after determining that she wasn't a threat. Not an immediate one, anyway. Slipping on a new pair of underwear and a black long-sleeved shirt, she casually listened as the girl did her own bit of venting.
Another unfortunate, huh? To be honest, she was a bit surprised to find somebody like herself attending...well, formerly attending she was sure, the same school as herself. The absolute bottom rung, the punchline in the sick joke known as life, the one most others look upon in their worst moments and say to themselves "Well, at least I'm not her." Picking up a pair of jeans, she tensed up a bit as the girl suddenly slammed the butt of her musket against the wall.
"Well, that's just the way life goes, isn't it?" She started, pulling the pair of jeans on. "There are those who have all the joys of life handed to them on a silver platter. Those born into privilege, money, who don't have to do any real work a single day in their life. There are those who, even when suffering so many hardships, can still find happiness in life. Those who, even though they don't have everything handed to them, can still work hard to gain it." She paused for a moment. "...and then there are those destined to be at the bottom, in every way. Destined to work their hands to the bone and never get anywhere. Destined to have every one of their hopes and dreams be only that; hopes and dreams, and nothing more."
She stared out at the Southern girl with her dull grey eyes. As she stood out from behind the doorframe, the injuries she had accumulated the previous day became apparent. Her left hand (what was visible through the bandages, anyway) was an angry red from the burns she had recieved, and covered in a number of cauterized cuts. Though the cut above her left eye was covered with bandages, the purple bruise on the right side of her face, surrounding the eye and the upper part of the cheek, was clearly visible. There was an uncomfortable silence for a couple of moments before she spoke up again. "Come on in. The rain may have slowed down, but it's still there."
Another unfortunate, huh? To be honest, she was a bit surprised to find somebody like herself attending...well, formerly attending she was sure, the same school as herself. The absolute bottom rung, the punchline in the sick joke known as life, the one most others look upon in their worst moments and say to themselves "Well, at least I'm not her." Picking up a pair of jeans, she tensed up a bit as the girl suddenly slammed the butt of her musket against the wall.
"Well, that's just the way life goes, isn't it?" She started, pulling the pair of jeans on. "There are those who have all the joys of life handed to them on a silver platter. Those born into privilege, money, who don't have to do any real work a single day in their life. There are those who, even when suffering so many hardships, can still find happiness in life. Those who, even though they don't have everything handed to them, can still work hard to gain it." She paused for a moment. "...and then there are those destined to be at the bottom, in every way. Destined to work their hands to the bone and never get anywhere. Destined to have every one of their hopes and dreams be only that; hopes and dreams, and nothing more."
She stared out at the Southern girl with her dull grey eyes. As she stood out from behind the doorframe, the injuries she had accumulated the previous day became apparent. Her left hand (what was visible through the bandages, anyway) was an angry red from the burns she had recieved, and covered in a number of cauterized cuts. Though the cut above her left eye was covered with bandages, the purple bruise on the right side of her face, surrounding the eye and the upper part of the cheek, was clearly visible. There was an uncomfortable silence for a couple of moments before she spoke up again. "Come on in. The rain may have slowed down, but it's still there."
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Margaret nodded, doing her best to put on a stoic face for her new companion. "Alright," she said, and walked into the barracks. As bad as her situation was, Margaret had to admit that she was undamaged, for now. This girl had clearly been through much more action than she had, and had far worse luck.
"So," she asked the gray-eyed girl after getting out of the rain. "We're killing. Who's on your list?"
"So," she asked the gray-eyed girl after getting out of the rain. "We're killing. Who's on your list?"
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Super Llama†
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Laeil watched as the Southern girl made her way into the building, on the lookout for any suspicious behavior as she maintained the healthy level of paranoia around strangers one would have to utilize of they were to survive for this long in the game. She was a bit taken aback when the girl started talking as if they were already a team. Isn't that jumping the gun a bit? Just because she had offered to share the building she was taking shelter in to her, that didn't automatically make them a team. Still, if she were to go after her target again with any feasable amount of success, she would probably need a helping hand to take care of the minions she had surrounded herself with.
Who's on my list? Well, the first one that came to mind was pretty obvious, but who else was there? Granted, at this point everyone on the island was on her list, even if she had never met them, but who had the higher priority? She could think of a number of people who had wronged her over the course of her high school life, but three of them really stuck out in her mind. The first was Anthony, who she had already taken care of. The second was Adam Reeves, the wrestler. She doubted she'd be able to get anywhere NEAR the hulking brute without some kind of firearm, though.
And the third...
"Well, there are a lot of them, but I'd say there's only one that really matters at the moment." She said, grabbing a bottle of water out of her pack. "And that..." She took a drink from the bottle. "...is Melina Frost."
She kept her eye on the Southern girl to watch her reaction. Laeil wasn't anywhere near the only one who had suffered at her hands, and there would likely be others seeking revenge against her. However, she had no intention of sharing.
Who's on my list? Well, the first one that came to mind was pretty obvious, but who else was there? Granted, at this point everyone on the island was on her list, even if she had never met them, but who had the higher priority? She could think of a number of people who had wronged her over the course of her high school life, but three of them really stuck out in her mind. The first was Anthony, who she had already taken care of. The second was Adam Reeves, the wrestler. She doubted she'd be able to get anywhere NEAR the hulking brute without some kind of firearm, though.
And the third...
"Well, there are a lot of them, but I'd say there's only one that really matters at the moment." She said, grabbing a bottle of water out of her pack. "And that..." She took a drink from the bottle. "...is Melina Frost."
She kept her eye on the Southern girl to watch her reaction. Laeil wasn't anywhere near the only one who had suffered at her hands, and there would likely be others seeking revenge against her. However, she had no intention of sharing.
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DetectiveArcher†
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((Continued from A Matter of Time))
Morgan cursed sharply. Forcing his emotions under control, he inhaled deeply, followed be a heavily exhale. He'd been angry when reading his map. Hadn't been paying attention. Now, under control of his frustration, the boy was fairly certain he wasn't any where near where he wanted to be. No matter, as long as he could figure out where he was, he could proceed from there. No need to get worked up, only a minor setback.
Folding up the map, he placed it and the compass back in his daypack. About to move on, Morgan heard the sound of someone yelling. Not the blood chilling scream of someone being cut or gunned down, but a cry of frustration and rage that was nearly as frightening. Perhaps an alliance breaking down? The image of a student, who couldn't put up with the stress any longer, killing another flashed through Morgan's mind. It made him smile. If that were the case, that would mean there would very soon be a chance to catch somebody off guard, or scavenge anything of worth from a barely cooling body. Waste not, want not.
Closing in on the origin of the sound, Morgan passed by the remains of several students. He recognized a few of them, but couldn't force himself to care. They were dead and he wasn't; nothing else mattered. He also noticed that all of their useful tools had been systematically removed and destroyed. Whoever had been here was very systematic. Morgan felt a vague sense of respect.
Continuing down the dingy path, he wondered if he really should bother to stop. There were plenty of ways for the encounter to go wrong. Whoever was here was practical if nothing else. They were playing to win and trying to limit any tool that might be used against them. Very clever. It's what I would do. Well, Mr. Player, you're certainly going to be a challenge. You might even be able to beat me. The idea of losing, of dying, left a bad taste in his mouth. But, the benefits could be substantial, if he played his cards right.
Coming to a stop just outside the door, Morgan listened to the conversation unraveling inside. Two girls were, apparently, comparing who they were killing. One of them even said "we," which implied some sort of partnership. He found the thought intriguing. Maybe he could talk them into letting him join up with them. If they agreed on the enterprise, Morgan could go much farther, much faster than he'd ever expected. But, he'd need to watch his back. Players would be nothing if not pragmatic, as the broken tools had shown.
Stepping into the doorway, he cleared his throat, waiting to catch their attention. Normally, Morgan was very shy. He never managed to get comfortable around other people, but comfort could take a backseat, compared to survival. "Melina Frost? Now, that will be a challenge, won't it?" Sliding the straight razor from his front pocket, he held it loosely in his scarred hand, allowing the blade to fall open. "Those Angels are going to be quite the obstacle. Luckily, I have a proposition that could be beneficial for all of us." He let the statement hang in the air a moment before snapping the razor blade back home with a flick of the wrist.
Morgan cursed sharply. Forcing his emotions under control, he inhaled deeply, followed be a heavily exhale. He'd been angry when reading his map. Hadn't been paying attention. Now, under control of his frustration, the boy was fairly certain he wasn't any where near where he wanted to be. No matter, as long as he could figure out where he was, he could proceed from there. No need to get worked up, only a minor setback.
Folding up the map, he placed it and the compass back in his daypack. About to move on, Morgan heard the sound of someone yelling. Not the blood chilling scream of someone being cut or gunned down, but a cry of frustration and rage that was nearly as frightening. Perhaps an alliance breaking down? The image of a student, who couldn't put up with the stress any longer, killing another flashed through Morgan's mind. It made him smile. If that were the case, that would mean there would very soon be a chance to catch somebody off guard, or scavenge anything of worth from a barely cooling body. Waste not, want not.
Closing in on the origin of the sound, Morgan passed by the remains of several students. He recognized a few of them, but couldn't force himself to care. They were dead and he wasn't; nothing else mattered. He also noticed that all of their useful tools had been systematically removed and destroyed. Whoever had been here was very systematic. Morgan felt a vague sense of respect.
Continuing down the dingy path, he wondered if he really should bother to stop. There were plenty of ways for the encounter to go wrong. Whoever was here was practical if nothing else. They were playing to win and trying to limit any tool that might be used against them. Very clever. It's what I would do. Well, Mr. Player, you're certainly going to be a challenge. You might even be able to beat me. The idea of losing, of dying, left a bad taste in his mouth. But, the benefits could be substantial, if he played his cards right.
Coming to a stop just outside the door, Morgan listened to the conversation unraveling inside. Two girls were, apparently, comparing who they were killing. One of them even said "we," which implied some sort of partnership. He found the thought intriguing. Maybe he could talk them into letting him join up with them. If they agreed on the enterprise, Morgan could go much farther, much faster than he'd ever expected. But, he'd need to watch his back. Players would be nothing if not pragmatic, as the broken tools had shown.
Stepping into the doorway, he cleared his throat, waiting to catch their attention. Normally, Morgan was very shy. He never managed to get comfortable around other people, but comfort could take a backseat, compared to survival. "Melina Frost? Now, that will be a challenge, won't it?" Sliding the straight razor from his front pocket, he held it loosely in his scarred hand, allowing the blade to fall open. "Those Angels are going to be quite the obstacle. Luckily, I have a proposition that could be beneficial for all of us." He let the statement hang in the air a moment before snapping the razor blade back home with a flick of the wrist.
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Margaret gave the new kid a passing glance before nodding. "If it's okay with her," she told him. "I'd love to see Melina dead, too." Unlike Laeil, Margaret didn't care who killed her archenemy as long as it was somebody. And she got to watch.
"Which Angels are you talking about?" she asked the boy. "Are they really a serious threat, or just dangerous as a group?"
"Which Angels are you talking about?" she asked the boy. "Are they really a serious threat, or just dangerous as a group?"
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
"Melina Frost? Now, that will be a challenge, won't it?"
Laeil wheeled around, sword at the ready as she heard another voice. She stared wordlessly at the boy standing in the doorway, straight razor in hand. And what kind of proposition is that? Offer her a shave and then cut her throat? Too bad we don't have any working ovens here, then we could bake her into a pie afterwards. She shook her head a bit as her mind went off on a tangent. She REALLY needed to get some rest, but she couldn't allow herself that. Not now.
She listened as the Southern girl declared her wish to see Melina dead as well. Well, it looks like we have something in common... Part of her was annoyed that she had competition, but she knew that at this point she'd have to swallow her pride if she wanted to end Melina's life. "The Angels? Is that what they're calling themselves?" She said as the name of the group (well, PART of the name) came up. "Tch...how pretentious." She turned back towards the Southern girl as she asked if they were dangerous. "They're dangerous, but probably just as much as any other group." She doubted that anyone would willingly ally herself with someone like that. If she were to guess, she'd guess that she probably strongarmed them into joining her so she could have a group of expendible pawns to surround herself with. Either that, or they were just tagging along, looking for a chance to kill her. "They DO, however, have guns." She continued, walking over and fishing around in her pack for her rations, removing one of the tins of crackers. "The group's about...3 or 4 people." She took a bite out of one of the crackers. It was bland and tasteless, but it was sustinence, and that was all that mattered.
She turned back towards the boy in the doorway. "So..." She said, pausing for a moment as she tried, but failed, to pull the boy's name from her memory. "Unless Melina booked an appointment with you for a shave, I can only assume that your proposition is to team up and use numbers to fight numbers, correct?"
Laeil wheeled around, sword at the ready as she heard another voice. She stared wordlessly at the boy standing in the doorway, straight razor in hand. And what kind of proposition is that? Offer her a shave and then cut her throat? Too bad we don't have any working ovens here, then we could bake her into a pie afterwards. She shook her head a bit as her mind went off on a tangent. She REALLY needed to get some rest, but she couldn't allow herself that. Not now.
She listened as the Southern girl declared her wish to see Melina dead as well. Well, it looks like we have something in common... Part of her was annoyed that she had competition, but she knew that at this point she'd have to swallow her pride if she wanted to end Melina's life. "The Angels? Is that what they're calling themselves?" She said as the name of the group (well, PART of the name) came up. "Tch...how pretentious." She turned back towards the Southern girl as she asked if they were dangerous. "They're dangerous, but probably just as much as any other group." She doubted that anyone would willingly ally herself with someone like that. If she were to guess, she'd guess that she probably strongarmed them into joining her so she could have a group of expendible pawns to surround herself with. Either that, or they were just tagging along, looking for a chance to kill her. "They DO, however, have guns." She continued, walking over and fishing around in her pack for her rations, removing one of the tins of crackers. "The group's about...3 or 4 people." She took a bite out of one of the crackers. It was bland and tasteless, but it was sustinence, and that was all that mattered.
She turned back towards the boy in the doorway. "So..." She said, pausing for a moment as she tried, but failed, to pull the boy's name from her memory. "Unless Melina booked an appointment with you for a shave, I can only assume that your proposition is to team up and use numbers to fight numbers, correct?"
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
A smile spread across Morgan's features. It was a cold expression, with little humor in it. Inwardly he prayed he looked as impressive as he thought he did. Can't look weak. Put up a strong front. Image is everything if people you want people to trust you. Animals always follow the strongest member of their pack. If you're not strong, fake it. Inwardly the boy shook like a leaf in a hurricane. He just hoped they wouldn't notices his palms were sweating.
"Yes. I overheard Melina call them Angels when passing by that big hollow tree." He remembered the fight around there. He'd been passing by on his way towards the quarry and was forced to go around them. With only his razor, he knew there was no one there he could get away with killing. At the time he'd been slightly upset, but the little information he had about Frost proved itself worthy as bargaining point with the girls.
One of the girls seemed to be much sharper than the other. She'd been ready for a fight the moment he'd walked in, but managed to keep her cool. She'd assessed the danger of Melina's group and was looking for ways to get around it. She even seemed to entertain his idea of a temporary partnership. Morgan could tell that if she accepted the deal, she wouldn't lower her guard. She was a dangerous woman. The boy felt a flutter in his stomach, but crushed the sensation underfoot.
"You're very astute..." he searched his memory for the slight girl's name, "Layla, is it? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I never was a people person." Giving a slight shrug, as if to brush off his possible mistake, Morgan took a few more steps into the room. "I don't believe in safety in numbers. Either of you could kill me just as quickly as anyone else. I just understand that it's dangerous to be overwhelmed. So, in the interests of staying alive long enough to have the chance to kill each other, I propose a partnership. What do you say?"
"Yes. I overheard Melina call them Angels when passing by that big hollow tree." He remembered the fight around there. He'd been passing by on his way towards the quarry and was forced to go around them. With only his razor, he knew there was no one there he could get away with killing. At the time he'd been slightly upset, but the little information he had about Frost proved itself worthy as bargaining point with the girls.
One of the girls seemed to be much sharper than the other. She'd been ready for a fight the moment he'd walked in, but managed to keep her cool. She'd assessed the danger of Melina's group and was looking for ways to get around it. She even seemed to entertain his idea of a temporary partnership. Morgan could tell that if she accepted the deal, she wouldn't lower her guard. She was a dangerous woman. The boy felt a flutter in his stomach, but crushed the sensation underfoot.
"You're very astute..." he searched his memory for the slight girl's name, "Layla, is it? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I never was a people person." Giving a slight shrug, as if to brush off his possible mistake, Morgan took a few more steps into the room. "I don't believe in safety in numbers. Either of you could kill me just as quickly as anyone else. I just understand that it's dangerous to be overwhelmed. So, in the interests of staying alive long enough to have the chance to kill each other, I propose a partnership. What do you say?"
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Margaret nodded and took in Laeil's description of the so-called 'Angels'. She learned both that Laeil must have encountered them before, and that Melina was not only a witch, she was as mad as a hatter.
"I'd recommend taking him up on his offer," she advised Laeil. "And mine, too. If Melina's got a group, you need one of your own to take her down."
She collected her things and walked back to the building's entrance. "Either way, we should get moving soon. It's almost dawn. Melina could be anywhere right now, and the longer we wait, the more weapons she and her friends could collect."
As she waited for Laeil's answer, she regarded the boy suspiciously. His appearance was a bit too convenient for her tastes. For all she knew, he could plan on betraying his allies as soon as he got a good enough weapon. It's what she would do, or so she was beginning to think. Then again, Laeil herself wasn't too keen on making friends. "Probably best if we split up again after the fact, too. We won't really need each other then, unless you can suggest anyone else to hunt."
"I'd recommend taking him up on his offer," she advised Laeil. "And mine, too. If Melina's got a group, you need one of your own to take her down."
She collected her things and walked back to the building's entrance. "Either way, we should get moving soon. It's almost dawn. Melina could be anywhere right now, and the longer we wait, the more weapons she and her friends could collect."
As she waited for Laeil's answer, she regarded the boy suspiciously. His appearance was a bit too convenient for her tastes. For all she knew, he could plan on betraying his allies as soon as he got a good enough weapon. It's what she would do, or so she was beginning to think. Then again, Laeil herself wasn't too keen on making friends. "Probably best if we split up again after the fact, too. We won't really need each other then, unless you can suggest anyone else to hunt."
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Laeil went back into her bag for a pair of socks, sitting down long enough to put them on, along with her shoes. The shoes were still wet, quickly soaking through her socks, but it didn't look like she would have time to wait for them to dry. The same with her hoodie, which she just threw on as well, followed by the jacket she got from Anthony.
"It's Lyn." She said, correcting Morgan. "Well, it's Laeil now." She added, not bothering with an explanation for the name change. "And I agree. Three against three sounds much better than one against three." Well, three-against-four, possibly, but it was still better. "We'll track them down, take care of them, and once the Angels are no more, we'll go our separate ways." Whatever advantages there was in keeping the group together after Melina's death, she didn't care. A group like this, just like the Angels, was bound to self-destruct if it lasted too long. She had no intention of watching their backs if they got in trouble, and she doubted they'd do the same. The only thing that held them together was a common goal: Melina must die.
"But before we do anything, let me get one thing straight." She said, zipping her pack back up and slinging it over her shoulder, taking hold of her sword again. "When it comes down to it, Melina is mine to kill. You two can take care of her lackeys, but if she dies by anyone's hand but mine..." She walked past the two out of the building, failing to finish the sentence, though she trusted that what she had said spoke for itself.
I'll have to keep my eye on that guy with the razor. She thought to herself. Something about him didn't seem right. She was sure he'd try to take her or the other one out once the opportunity presented itself.
As she disappeared into the brush, a wicked smile appeared on her face, in anticipation of what was sure to come.
{{continued in A Moment's Hesitation/The Pedestrian}}
"It's Lyn." She said, correcting Morgan. "Well, it's Laeil now." She added, not bothering with an explanation for the name change. "And I agree. Three against three sounds much better than one against three." Well, three-against-four, possibly, but it was still better. "We'll track them down, take care of them, and once the Angels are no more, we'll go our separate ways." Whatever advantages there was in keeping the group together after Melina's death, she didn't care. A group like this, just like the Angels, was bound to self-destruct if it lasted too long. She had no intention of watching their backs if they got in trouble, and she doubted they'd do the same. The only thing that held them together was a common goal: Melina must die.
"But before we do anything, let me get one thing straight." She said, zipping her pack back up and slinging it over her shoulder, taking hold of her sword again. "When it comes down to it, Melina is mine to kill. You two can take care of her lackeys, but if she dies by anyone's hand but mine..." She walked past the two out of the building, failing to finish the sentence, though she trusted that what she had said spoke for itself.
I'll have to keep my eye on that guy with the razor. She thought to herself. Something about him didn't seem right. She was sure he'd try to take her or the other one out once the opportunity presented itself.
As she disappeared into the brush, a wicked smile appeared on her face, in anticipation of what was sure to come.
{{continued in A Moment's Hesitation/The Pedestrian}}
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
"Laeil" corrected him sharply. She didn't bother to explain the name change. Fine by me. No reason to get too close. Sliding the razor back into his pocket, he clenched and unclenched his scarred first. The girls agreed to his proposal much more quickly than Morgan had anticipated. A sly grin graced his lips, but inwardly he sighed heavy in relief. Well, that was a well placed bet. This could pay off nicely.
"Probably best if we split up again after the fact, too. We won't really need each other then, unless you can suggest anyone else to hunt." The second girl was right. After completing their goal, the three had nothing to keep them together. A group with no purpose would be dangerous to be in. "We'll track them down, take care of them, and once the Angels are no more, we'll go our separate ways." Laeil was quickly finished getting dressed, gathering up her things as she spoke.
"You're right, of course. After this we'll have nothing in common. Best not to place your trust too deeply in anyone else, after all."
Hefting her pack to her shoulder, her eyes cold as stone, Laeil spoke up once more. "But before we do anything, let me get one thing straight." "When it comes down to it, Melina is mine to kill. You two can take care of her lackeys, but if she dies by anyone's hand but mine..." She trailed off, the implications hanging heavily in the air. Tightening her grip on the sword in her hand, she strode towards Morgan and the door. The smirk on her face reminded the scarred boy of a grinning skull. He almost took a step back as she passed.
With a barely suppressed shiver, he wiped his sweating palms on his pants legs. A very dangerous lady. He watched her go before turning his gaze on the second young woman. There was no way in hell he was going to have one of them at his back. He didn't have a death wish. With sly smile, he waved his hand towards the door. "After you, ma'am. I insist."
"Probably best if we split up again after the fact, too. We won't really need each other then, unless you can suggest anyone else to hunt." The second girl was right. After completing their goal, the three had nothing to keep them together. A group with no purpose would be dangerous to be in. "We'll track them down, take care of them, and once the Angels are no more, we'll go our separate ways." Laeil was quickly finished getting dressed, gathering up her things as she spoke.
"You're right, of course. After this we'll have nothing in common. Best not to place your trust too deeply in anyone else, after all."
Hefting her pack to her shoulder, her eyes cold as stone, Laeil spoke up once more. "But before we do anything, let me get one thing straight." "When it comes down to it, Melina is mine to kill. You two can take care of her lackeys, but if she dies by anyone's hand but mine..." She trailed off, the implications hanging heavily in the air. Tightening her grip on the sword in her hand, she strode towards Morgan and the door. The smirk on her face reminded the scarred boy of a grinning skull. He almost took a step back as she passed.
With a barely suppressed shiver, he wiped his sweating palms on his pants legs. A very dangerous lady. He watched her go before turning his gaze on the second young woman. There was no way in hell he was going to have one of them at his back. He didn't have a death wish. With sly smile, he waved his hand towards the door. "After you, ma'am. I insist."
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Margaret gave Morgan a curt nod and walked out the barracks door, never breaking eye contact with him as she did so. Once out, she paused and began to take out her musket and its accessories.
She knew enough about how to load the thing to make a decent attempt at it herself. She took the flask of gunpowder and poured about a tablespoon's worth into the barrel of the gun, then tamped it down with her ramrod. Finally, she dropped the ball into the chamber, hearing land on the compressed powder with a satisfying little thud. Now she was ready to fight for her life.
It didn't matter to her who killed Melina, really, just as long as someone did it. If Laeil wanted dibs, that was fine with Margaret. But if Laeil should fail, she wanted the next shot.
((Margaret Tweedy continued in A Moment's Hesitation/The Pedestrian))
She knew enough about how to load the thing to make a decent attempt at it herself. She took the flask of gunpowder and poured about a tablespoon's worth into the barrel of the gun, then tamped it down with her ramrod. Finally, she dropped the ball into the chamber, hearing land on the compressed powder with a satisfying little thud. Now she was ready to fight for her life.
It didn't matter to her who killed Melina, really, just as long as someone did it. If Laeil wanted dibs, that was fine with Margaret. But if Laeil should fail, she wanted the next shot.
((Margaret Tweedy continued in A Moment's Hesitation/The Pedestrian))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.