((Continued from somewhere else))
A whole lot of time hadn't passed since Wade had wandered past the talking British head, and since then, things had not only gotten worse, but his situation actually looked grimmer than before. While he'd managed to gain a pistol out of the horrific scene that he'd stumbled upon only moments ago, it still frightened him that Danya was willing to go to such extreme lengths to terrorize the students on the island. He'd somehow reached into the realm of science-fiction and pulled out one of the most horrific movie creatures of all-time. As if giving students guns wasn't enough. As though arming them with swords and maces was just a prelude. Danya had gone in and summoned the Alien creature from whatever depths of hell that H.R. Giger had originally imaged in it up from. It seemed impossible, and yet - here it was. Alongside the skeletons, the succubi, and the vampires.
As he moved along a path, thumbing the safety on the pistol on and off with each step, he couldn't quite understand it. It was hard to take in, hard to believe, even. He knew that he'd been off of his medication for awhile, and it was making him a little loopy - perhaps even a little crazier than usual, but he still figured that he was seeing pretty clearly for someone who was supposedly a freaking loony tune without it.
"Damn skippy."
As he walked along the path, Wade couldn't help but notice that the foliage seemed to be trailing off, getting a lot thinner, and the sound of waves was permiating the path from up ahead of him. Dryly wondering what kind of sea monster Danya had managed to summon up for him to try and kill, Wade didn't hurry towards the sound of the water, but instead, took his time. A lot of things seemed to be in a bit of a haze lately, ever since the meds had worn off, and he couldn't seem to concentrate, couldn't seem to figure out just how things were happening. It was frustrating, about as much as the sudden mood swings that he'd been fighting through. Angry, sad, mad, annoyed, happy, gleeful...he was all over the place, it seemed.
Frustrating...
The one thing that Wade had been trying desperately to ignore was the sinking feeling in the back of his head that seemed a little bit like screaming. It had been going on ever since he'd had his first run-in with the skeletons, and had proved to be more of an annoyance than anything else. Aside from a few times where he'd blacked out (likely from lack of sleep than from anything else), it had gone on and on. He figured that it was likely just his subconscious trying to adapt to the horror that Survival of the Fittest had brought down upon him. The last versions hadn't had anything this sadistic in them, why should this one?
As he emerged at the Northern Coast, Wade took in the gentle breeze that flew in from the sea with a relaxed feeling. Aside from the funny aroma of corpse that hung in the air, Wade enjoyed the breeze immensely. It was just one of those things that seemed to give him a bit of a rejuvination. There was no aliens, no skeletons; nothing in sight that would relentlessly attack him on sight. Best of all, there were no penis-chomping pregnant chicks, either.
At the thought, Wade shivered.
"Now that's one messed-up chick! Shame she had a fucking ALIEN inside of her..."
Sighing a bit, Wade struggled to understand his situation, his back turned to the ocean, looking out and toying with the pistol as he did.
Complicated Questions
[Open to the public]
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
*Clink clink clink clink*
The bullets landed upon a fallen tree as Will shook them from the gun. He was in the midst of the jungle, heading for what he hoped was the Northern Coast, and stopped to reload his most valuable asset - the 357 magnum. Once they were securely inside the gun, Will closed the cylinder and spun it once over.
"Fuck, i'm going to need more firepower. Hopefully no one runs into a flamethrower or RPG anytime soon, shit."
Will looked around the jungle. It was early morning, it was wet, and he hadn't slept for hours. He had been sleeping in short amounts through the day, and it was hard to keep up. But neccessary. Will had taken on that habit for an unknown reason when he was about 13. Perhaps it was the reoccuring nightmares.
No, no time to think about the past. Now was what mattered.
Will felt a cool breeze and realized he was close to the Northern Coast. Hopefully his head wouldn't explode as he walked there, as strange as that sounds. Nothing had really alerted him that it wasn't a dangerzone, so he was taking quite a chance coming here. His heart pounded as he awaited the telltale beeping of his collar.
"Now that's one messed-up chick! Shame she had a fucking ALIEN inside of her..."
"AAAUGHH!"
Will nearly shit himself as the voice of Wade Wilson seemed to have snuck up behind him and grabbed him by the collar. Awkwardly he stumbled over and onto the ground. Wade was standing barely meters from where he'd entered. And it wasn't the sudden, suprising effect of Wade speaking from practically beside him, it was the fact that it was WADE MOTHERFUCKING WILSON. Will listened to the announcements well, and knew that in the span of, well... yesterday, he had killed six people. SIX. Five of them were at practically the same time even! What was it Danya said? That he'd gone crazy? Yeah, that would make sense. Speaking of Aliens... maybe Wade was actually crazy, not downright sadistic like Blood Boy or Gabriel or that... thing he found in the Showers, that he shot almost clean in half. Freak.
The ground was hard, and uncomfortable, but Will wasn't getting up until he was sure Wade wasn't going to rip him to shreads. Perhaps he could simply talk his way out of this. The gun was still in his back pocket, and all he had was the large knife, which he wasn't being hasty to bring out.
"Wade... uhh... you startled me. How's it... err... how's it going man? It's me, Will!"
The bullets landed upon a fallen tree as Will shook them from the gun. He was in the midst of the jungle, heading for what he hoped was the Northern Coast, and stopped to reload his most valuable asset - the 357 magnum. Once they were securely inside the gun, Will closed the cylinder and spun it once over.
"Fuck, i'm going to need more firepower. Hopefully no one runs into a flamethrower or RPG anytime soon, shit."
Will looked around the jungle. It was early morning, it was wet, and he hadn't slept for hours. He had been sleeping in short amounts through the day, and it was hard to keep up. But neccessary. Will had taken on that habit for an unknown reason when he was about 13. Perhaps it was the reoccuring nightmares.
No, no time to think about the past. Now was what mattered.
Will felt a cool breeze and realized he was close to the Northern Coast. Hopefully his head wouldn't explode as he walked there, as strange as that sounds. Nothing had really alerted him that it wasn't a dangerzone, so he was taking quite a chance coming here. His heart pounded as he awaited the telltale beeping of his collar.
"Now that's one messed-up chick! Shame she had a fucking ALIEN inside of her..."
"AAAUGHH!"
Will nearly shit himself as the voice of Wade Wilson seemed to have snuck up behind him and grabbed him by the collar. Awkwardly he stumbled over and onto the ground. Wade was standing barely meters from where he'd entered. And it wasn't the sudden, suprising effect of Wade speaking from practically beside him, it was the fact that it was WADE MOTHERFUCKING WILSON. Will listened to the announcements well, and knew that in the span of, well... yesterday, he had killed six people. SIX. Five of them were at practically the same time even! What was it Danya said? That he'd gone crazy? Yeah, that would make sense. Speaking of Aliens... maybe Wade was actually crazy, not downright sadistic like Blood Boy or Gabriel or that... thing he found in the Showers, that he shot almost clean in half. Freak.
The ground was hard, and uncomfortable, but Will wasn't getting up until he was sure Wade wasn't going to rip him to shreads. Perhaps he could simply talk his way out of this. The gun was still in his back pocket, and all he had was the large knife, which he wasn't being hasty to bring out.
"Wade... uhh... you startled me. How's it... err... how's it going man? It's me, Will!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
Wade wasn't expecting someone else to come up to him and actually say something to him - even if it were likely more of an accident than anything else. No, that was a surprise in itself. The second more surprising thing about this was that for ONCE in this wretched week, the person coming up to him didn't seem to be an otherworldly being. There weren't any skeletons, succubi, talking heads or aliens around.
It was an honest-to-god human being.
At the sight of him, Wade sighed visibly and relaxed a bit. It was nice to finally see someone else who was a real person, not looking to murder him and not looking to send demons after him, either. Relaxing his hold on the pistol he'd picked up, Wade smiled a little at the boy in front of him. The other bonus to the situation was that Wade knew the guy. Will Sigurbjornsson was a fairly quiet guy around school, but he'd travelled in a few of the same social circles that Wade had, and as such seemed to be a friendly face. Of those, he could use any that he could find, especially now when the situation seemed so grim.
"Will! Thank God, it's you! Man, this is one fucked up web that we've all managed to weave, isn't it?"
Wade wiped the sweat (or blood) off his brow, and happily extended his hand to the larger boy, to help him up where he'd fallen.
"I've been better, really. I've been attacked by shit that's right out of a fucking videogame! It's absolutely bananas! At first, it was a whole bunch of skeletons; but I had the element of surprise on my side, and I managed to take 'em down. Then I got attacked by a succubus."
Wade paused for a second, shaking his head.
"Yes, I know how INSANE that sounds, but...Will, I'm not making this up, man. I saw this with my own damn eyes! Took that down - that was hard, too, and dealt with some wayward zombie before getting the hell out of there. Then..."
Shivering at the thought that occurred to him next, Wade shook his head a bit.
"...then I saw some...uhh...some pregnant chick, who'd just murdered a guy, and...was like...eating his...uh..his, uhh...well, you know! His bits!"
Fighting to keep his gag reflex from firing up, Wade just continued his story to try and stop himself from vomiting at the sight.
"An' then a fucking alien popped out of her chest! I'm not even kidding! Sprayed me with blood, and all that crap! This is all like something out of a goddamn, movie, Will! I'm scared shitless, and I don't know what to do!"
Suddenly, Wade twitched his head a little bit, as though he were trying to shake some water out of his ear. His eyes filled with tears, and while his voice remained strong, he was obviously shaken...by something. It was as though the part of Wade that had been screaming in horror and awful agony at the knowledge of what had REALLY occurred was finally breaking through a bit.
"I don't know what to do...yeah, Will. That's just it...I...I ran out of my medication a few days ago, and...Will, you've got to help me. All of this, has been so real, but...I've completely lost the ability to tell what's real anymore. You've got to help me, Will...PLEASE..."
It was an honest-to-god human being.
At the sight of him, Wade sighed visibly and relaxed a bit. It was nice to finally see someone else who was a real person, not looking to murder him and not looking to send demons after him, either. Relaxing his hold on the pistol he'd picked up, Wade smiled a little at the boy in front of him. The other bonus to the situation was that Wade knew the guy. Will Sigurbjornsson was a fairly quiet guy around school, but he'd travelled in a few of the same social circles that Wade had, and as such seemed to be a friendly face. Of those, he could use any that he could find, especially now when the situation seemed so grim.
"Will! Thank God, it's you! Man, this is one fucked up web that we've all managed to weave, isn't it?"
Wade wiped the sweat (or blood) off his brow, and happily extended his hand to the larger boy, to help him up where he'd fallen.
"I've been better, really. I've been attacked by shit that's right out of a fucking videogame! It's absolutely bananas! At first, it was a whole bunch of skeletons; but I had the element of surprise on my side, and I managed to take 'em down. Then I got attacked by a succubus."
Wade paused for a second, shaking his head.
"Yes, I know how INSANE that sounds, but...Will, I'm not making this up, man. I saw this with my own damn eyes! Took that down - that was hard, too, and dealt with some wayward zombie before getting the hell out of there. Then..."
Shivering at the thought that occurred to him next, Wade shook his head a bit.
"...then I saw some...uhh...some pregnant chick, who'd just murdered a guy, and...was like...eating his...uh..his, uhh...well, you know! His bits!"
Fighting to keep his gag reflex from firing up, Wade just continued his story to try and stop himself from vomiting at the sight.
"An' then a fucking alien popped out of her chest! I'm not even kidding! Sprayed me with blood, and all that crap! This is all like something out of a goddamn, movie, Will! I'm scared shitless, and I don't know what to do!"
Suddenly, Wade twitched his head a little bit, as though he were trying to shake some water out of his ear. His eyes filled with tears, and while his voice remained strong, he was obviously shaken...by something. It was as though the part of Wade that had been screaming in horror and awful agony at the knowledge of what had REALLY occurred was finally breaking through a bit.
"I don't know what to do...yeah, Will. That's just it...I...I ran out of my medication a few days ago, and...Will, you've got to help me. All of this, has been so real, but...I've completely lost the ability to tell what's real anymore. You've got to help me, Will...PLEASE..."
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Will was astonished that Wade hadn't already raped him to death with his own head.
In fact, he was asking for Will's help! He killed 6 people and didn't know what the fuck was going on! Perfect, just fucking perfect! What's more, he appeared to have ran out of his medication, meaning he was completely delirious when he killed those people, and if he saw Will now as a real person, that meant he wasn't going to kill him, and that Wade might actually help Will survive this hell-hole... Provided he could lead Wade to leave him alone until his ticket off the island was assured.
Wait now... That wasn't right, he was sick, who the fuck was he to take advantage of Wade? Will was trying to get out of here, to survive, not to kill everyone else; only if they got in his way. Of course, by the end, Wade woulde be in his way. He was just doing what he had to do to survive. That would include putting Wade out of his insane misery later in the game.
For now, I consider you a friend, Wade.
With a sigh, Will got to his feet, and rested his hand away from the grip of the magnum, still hidden in his back pocket. He had to admit, he was still a bit anxious considering Wade's mental state, but Will's instinct told him that the boy in front of him would be alright, for now.
Will looked around. Nobody else was walking about the Northern Coast. Good.
"I've been trying to help people this entire game, and I realize now, that i'm just not cut out for helping people. I saw both of my parents murdered before my eyes, my mother was defiled right in front of me, and I was fucking twelve years old... I wasn't ever good at helping people, nevermind saving them. I couldn't save my parents and I haven't ever really tried to save anyone else since then. I'm not about to start now."
He paused, looking out to the ocean. It glistened and rippled, not unlike the sea back home.
"So many have died on this island as I stood by. Yeah, I could have done something, but I didn't. I am not that 'savior' that everyone is waiting for on this island. Leave that to somebody like Adam Dodd or Neil Sinclair, or whoever the fuck is going to try save us all this time around. Not me."
Not. Me.
"Wade, I can't save you."
He extended his hand.
"But I will help you."
In fact, he was asking for Will's help! He killed 6 people and didn't know what the fuck was going on! Perfect, just fucking perfect! What's more, he appeared to have ran out of his medication, meaning he was completely delirious when he killed those people, and if he saw Will now as a real person, that meant he wasn't going to kill him, and that Wade might actually help Will survive this hell-hole... Provided he could lead Wade to leave him alone until his ticket off the island was assured.
Wait now... That wasn't right, he was sick, who the fuck was he to take advantage of Wade? Will was trying to get out of here, to survive, not to kill everyone else; only if they got in his way. Of course, by the end, Wade woulde be in his way. He was just doing what he had to do to survive. That would include putting Wade out of his insane misery later in the game.
For now, I consider you a friend, Wade.
With a sigh, Will got to his feet, and rested his hand away from the grip of the magnum, still hidden in his back pocket. He had to admit, he was still a bit anxious considering Wade's mental state, but Will's instinct told him that the boy in front of him would be alright, for now.
Will looked around. Nobody else was walking about the Northern Coast. Good.
"I've been trying to help people this entire game, and I realize now, that i'm just not cut out for helping people. I saw both of my parents murdered before my eyes, my mother was defiled right in front of me, and I was fucking twelve years old... I wasn't ever good at helping people, nevermind saving them. I couldn't save my parents and I haven't ever really tried to save anyone else since then. I'm not about to start now."
He paused, looking out to the ocean. It glistened and rippled, not unlike the sea back home.
"So many have died on this island as I stood by. Yeah, I could have done something, but I didn't. I am not that 'savior' that everyone is waiting for on this island. Leave that to somebody like Adam Dodd or Neil Sinclair, or whoever the fuck is going to try save us all this time around. Not me."
Not. Me.
"Wade, I can't save you."
He extended his hand.
"But I will help you."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
Wade looked at the extended hand in front of him and half expected it to start launching fireballs or flames out of it; something ridiculous like that. Of course, it didn't. What it did say to him was that in this place where reason and rational thinking had seemed to plunge out the window, and where the lines between fiction and reality were beginning to blur, there were still a number of good people around, who were willing to help their fellow man. Ever since he'd stumbled upon the girl chewing on that kid's penis, Wade had felt even more shaken than he had before, and began to realize the strange duality that he held within himself.
As strange as it sounded, it had taken the shattering of another person's mind to give Wade Wilson an idea that maybe things within himself were just as skewed. He felt it, stronger than ever now - the answers were on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach from his mind, and by himself, without the medication that kept him on track?
Wade wasn't sure if he'd be able to figure it all out.
He was sick - he knew that. He knew about his condition, but for some reason, a part of his mind blocked out what exactly it entailed, what exactly it was all about. A part of his mind was keeping secrets, and it wasn't something wholly appreciated by the frustrated senior. Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, he grasped Will's hand and gave it a hearty shake, nodding as he did.
"Will, I don't know about you, but this whole thing? If what I've seen is real; and hell, even if it isn't? I don't know if ANYONE'll be able to save us, now. All that I can really ask for is your help, and if ya give that to me, I'd be oh-so-greatful. I'd hold out on hope that someone's going to find us, and stop all of this, but..."
Wade shook his head.
"...then I'd just be deluding myself. Which, I'm fairly certain I'm doing enough of anyway, because the line between my thoughts and reality...Will, I'm having a hard enough time keeping track of the both of them. I'm...I'm terrified to think about what it means if my mind has been decieving me, and..."
He paused, looking at the pistol that he'd picked up - not recalling when, or where.
"...look, Will. I've heard my name over the loudspeakers...I don't know...everything is all jumbled...maybe it's a bit much to ask, but...help me anchor myself in the real world. I don't...I don't know how much longer I can keep flashing in and out like this. I'm worried that the next time I fade in, I may never fade back out..."
Wade paused, and listened as the loudspeakers crackled to life. Indeed, the rain had faded to a light drizzle, and while he still felt himself shiving every so often, Wade knew that the weaker he got, the less control he'd be able to exert over his fragile mind. He was still confused, still unsure of what was even happening - even moreso when he saw a small window pop up in the corner of his vision. Blinking in shock, he tried to glance directly at it, but found (rather irritatingly) that it moved with his vision, perenially staying in the lower-right corner of his eye. He tried peripherally to read it, but could only make out burry letters. Something about a 'trish', singing on, or something? He shook his head, and chose to ignore it. If it were important, maybe he could come up with something later on to explain it. In the meantime, he looked back at Will, who was giving him a strange look.
"It-it's nothing, don't worry about it...look, can we get out of here? Something about this water is freaking me out a bit. Maybe it's the breeze, who the fuck knows...but let's get out of here, man..."
Furrowing his brow, Wade still couldn't understand what he had seen. The small box had disappeared now, but he couldn't figure out what exactly it was, nor why he'd seen it. Who was 'Trish'? The only Trish he knew was McCarroll, and he only knew her from around school. She had no reason to be wandering about in his head, 'singing on', or sliding in', or whatever. Strange. Blinking, he looked at Will, and waited for the taller boy to say or do something. At this point, he was placing most of his trust in someone, and he hoped that for his own sake, this was a choice that wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.
As strange as it sounded, it had taken the shattering of another person's mind to give Wade Wilson an idea that maybe things within himself were just as skewed. He felt it, stronger than ever now - the answers were on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach from his mind, and by himself, without the medication that kept him on track?
Wade wasn't sure if he'd be able to figure it all out.
He was sick - he knew that. He knew about his condition, but for some reason, a part of his mind blocked out what exactly it entailed, what exactly it was all about. A part of his mind was keeping secrets, and it wasn't something wholly appreciated by the frustrated senior. Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, he grasped Will's hand and gave it a hearty shake, nodding as he did.
"Will, I don't know about you, but this whole thing? If what I've seen is real; and hell, even if it isn't? I don't know if ANYONE'll be able to save us, now. All that I can really ask for is your help, and if ya give that to me, I'd be oh-so-greatful. I'd hold out on hope that someone's going to find us, and stop all of this, but..."
Wade shook his head.
"...then I'd just be deluding myself. Which, I'm fairly certain I'm doing enough of anyway, because the line between my thoughts and reality...Will, I'm having a hard enough time keeping track of the both of them. I'm...I'm terrified to think about what it means if my mind has been decieving me, and..."
He paused, looking at the pistol that he'd picked up - not recalling when, or where.
"...look, Will. I've heard my name over the loudspeakers...I don't know...everything is all jumbled...maybe it's a bit much to ask, but...help me anchor myself in the real world. I don't...I don't know how much longer I can keep flashing in and out like this. I'm worried that the next time I fade in, I may never fade back out..."
Wade paused, and listened as the loudspeakers crackled to life. Indeed, the rain had faded to a light drizzle, and while he still felt himself shiving every so often, Wade knew that the weaker he got, the less control he'd be able to exert over his fragile mind. He was still confused, still unsure of what was even happening - even moreso when he saw a small window pop up in the corner of his vision. Blinking in shock, he tried to glance directly at it, but found (rather irritatingly) that it moved with his vision, perenially staying in the lower-right corner of his eye. He tried peripherally to read it, but could only make out burry letters. Something about a 'trish', singing on, or something? He shook his head, and chose to ignore it. If it were important, maybe he could come up with something later on to explain it. In the meantime, he looked back at Will, who was giving him a strange look.
"It-it's nothing, don't worry about it...look, can we get out of here? Something about this water is freaking me out a bit. Maybe it's the breeze, who the fuck knows...but let's get out of here, man..."
Furrowing his brow, Wade still couldn't understand what he had seen. The small box had disappeared now, but he couldn't figure out what exactly it was, nor why he'd seen it. Who was 'Trish'? The only Trish he knew was McCarroll, and he only knew her from around school. She had no reason to be wandering about in his head, 'singing on', or sliding in', or whatever. Strange. Blinking, he looked at Will, and waited for the taller boy to say or do something. At this point, he was placing most of his trust in someone, and he hoped that for his own sake, this was a choice that wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.
((Margaret Tweedy continued from The Beginning is the End is the Beginning))
It was as good a place as any to check, Margaret supposed. Melina could be anywhere on the island by now, and if she wanted to find her before someone else did, she'd have to move, and fast.
Come to think of it, she could already be halfway to dying. The latest announcement mentioned that she'd been disfigured by Herman Johnson, her newest victim. It neglected to mention exactly how she'd been scarred, though, so for all she knew, Melina could be missing both her legs. Margaret supposed she'd know when she saw the bitch.
Which was made moot by the fact that there were no girls on the beach. The whole place was completely deserted. No, Margaret corrected herself, not completely. She could barely make out the distant forms of two boys talking. She was too far away to make out anything they said, or even who they were, but she did see one of them extend his hand for the other to shake.
They're having a moment, she thought morosely. I shouldn't interrupt them. They don't have much time left or much reason to be happy, so they deserve every moment they can scrounge up. She turned and walked away, only to stop after nineteen paces because her foot hit something half-buried in the sand.
She bent down and yanked it out of its shelter, and spotted the "G-51" stencilled on the side. Her eyes widened. She had found another daypack. After eagerly zipping it open, she sighed in relief to discover a firearm tucked inside. Closer inspection, however, revealed that it was a far cry from the type normally found on the island. Metal balls, ramrod, skein of gunpowder... this was a type of gun that hadn't been used since the Civil War.
"Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth," she said with a shrug, zipping the daypack back up. She'd have to be careful with this weapon. At a rate of three shots per minute, maximum, it wouldn't be of any use in an extended firefight, and since there was no spin to the bullet, it would be of even less use at long range. Still, it had a better chance of killing Melina than an iron chain.
As she left, Margaret vaguely recalled that the beach had been a danger zone at some point in time. That would explain why the bag was left there; some careless student had ran for his life and accidentally left it behind. She felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl who found herself without a decent weapon in the game, but it quickly passed. Her loss was definitely Margaret's gain.
((Margaret Tweedy continued in Black Math))
It was as good a place as any to check, Margaret supposed. Melina could be anywhere on the island by now, and if she wanted to find her before someone else did, she'd have to move, and fast.
Come to think of it, she could already be halfway to dying. The latest announcement mentioned that she'd been disfigured by Herman Johnson, her newest victim. It neglected to mention exactly how she'd been scarred, though, so for all she knew, Melina could be missing both her legs. Margaret supposed she'd know when she saw the bitch.
Which was made moot by the fact that there were no girls on the beach. The whole place was completely deserted. No, Margaret corrected herself, not completely. She could barely make out the distant forms of two boys talking. She was too far away to make out anything they said, or even who they were, but she did see one of them extend his hand for the other to shake.
They're having a moment, she thought morosely. I shouldn't interrupt them. They don't have much time left or much reason to be happy, so they deserve every moment they can scrounge up. She turned and walked away, only to stop after nineteen paces because her foot hit something half-buried in the sand.
She bent down and yanked it out of its shelter, and spotted the "G-51" stencilled on the side. Her eyes widened. She had found another daypack. After eagerly zipping it open, she sighed in relief to discover a firearm tucked inside. Closer inspection, however, revealed that it was a far cry from the type normally found on the island. Metal balls, ramrod, skein of gunpowder... this was a type of gun that hadn't been used since the Civil War.
"Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth," she said with a shrug, zipping the daypack back up. She'd have to be careful with this weapon. At a rate of three shots per minute, maximum, it wouldn't be of any use in an extended firefight, and since there was no spin to the bullet, it would be of even less use at long range. Still, it had a better chance of killing Melina than an iron chain.
As she left, Margaret vaguely recalled that the beach had been a danger zone at some point in time. That would explain why the bag was left there; some careless student had ran for his life and accidentally left it behind. She felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl who found herself without a decent weapon in the game, but it quickly passed. Her loss was definitely Margaret's gain.
((Margaret Tweedy continued in Black Math))
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.
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Will nodded, and begun to turn around to leave. He thought he heard someone walk by, but he wasn't entirely sure. Then - More footsteps. Not Wade's. His hand flew behind him and he pulled out the large .357 Revolver.
Will's eyes darted from left to right. There was someone around here, he knew it. The rain caused the barrel of the gun to glisten, and it felt cold as Will pulled back the hammer. Anyone stupid enough to come by was getting a bullet in the head.
---
Eicca Heitela had wandered for a good hour or so from the quarry before arriving here. He was still reeling from the effects of the vodka, and hitting his head on the rocks, and wandered through the jungle looking for shelter, but finding none.
As he saw the Northern Coast ahead, with no discernable cover, he was about to turn back, but some the sound of people ahead begged him to press on. After a few yards, Eicca burst from the brush out onto the clear, open coast. Two figures stood to his left, one was walking towards him. Eicca's eyes caught the silver glint of a gun's barrel.
---
And here he comes now...
Will placed the gun once more, behind him, and put the safety back on; ahead, his friend Eicca emerged from the shadows. Well, he wouldn't go so far as to consider him a friend, but they knew each other well enough. Will had a few classes with him.
Southridge... it all seemed to far away to him now. The stress of schoolwork, the time he shared with his friends... A distant memory, some other life, not his. Will had thought that the game wouldn't change him, that he could just try to take it in stride... that wasn't the way it worked. Each time someone you knew died, you changed a bit more. He should've known that, considering what he'd been through. Will looked at Eicca with a slight smirk on his face.
"Eicca, man, you okay?"
"Yeah, Will, I got hit in the head, but i'll be fine."
"Nobody fucks with vikings, yeah?"
"Haha... yeah..."
They exchanged a friendly conversation, but the of distrust seemed to hang in the air. Eicca spoke once more, pointing towards Wade.
"So who's your friend?"
"You know Wade Wilson, don't you?"
At this, Eicca's eyes widened. He heard the announcements, Wade Wilson was one of the top killers on the island, apparantly a complete psychopath. What was Will doing hanging around him? What was Eicca still doing here when Wade was only a few yards away? Eicca raised his voice, more than enough that Wade would be able to hear him.
"Will, what are you doing near that guy! Haven't you listened to the announcements?! Wade Wilson is a-"
Neither Will nor Wade needed to hear what was coming out of this man's mouth. Will had already been prepared to kill Eicca, he just needed to see what he was up against first. So far as he could tell, Eicca had no weapon on him right now. Viciously Will struck Eicca as hard as he could in the throat, crushing his windpipe. The taller boy stumbled back, coughing and choking, gasping for air. Will stood there, watching him as he collapsed to his knees.
Oh sorry, were you trying to say something?
Will took a step back, and pulled out the revolver. His hands clutched the grip of the large weapon, dripping in the frigid rain. He felt cold steel of the trigger against his finger. The rain drowned out Eicca's gasps for air. He didn't even have the chance to plea for his life.
A thunderous, booming shot rang out, as blood and brain matter were blown across the sand, Eicca's head almost completely blown apart.
Each time someone near him died, he changed a bit more. Will had lost more of who he was. A piece of him would die with them each time. Will didn't expect to ever truly survive this competition, even if he did win it. He'd never be the same. Such an eventuality was unavoidable. No one ever really survived SOTF. To be the Fittest, soullessness seemed to be a requirement.
Will strode away from Eicca's awkwardly lying body, and towards Wade, a short distance away.
"The guy... he was crazy. Eicca Hietela... He kept calling you and I killers, players. Said he was going to kill us both.... I couldn't just let him go ahead and do it, could I?"
Will was lying through his teeth, of course. How else could he justify killing another human being in cold blood to defend a schitzophrenic mass-murderer, who seemed to not even know how many he had actually killed?
Oh, how he missed Southridge.
B69 - Eicca Hietala - DECEASED
Will's eyes darted from left to right. There was someone around here, he knew it. The rain caused the barrel of the gun to glisten, and it felt cold as Will pulled back the hammer. Anyone stupid enough to come by was getting a bullet in the head.
---
Eicca Heitela had wandered for a good hour or so from the quarry before arriving here. He was still reeling from the effects of the vodka, and hitting his head on the rocks, and wandered through the jungle looking for shelter, but finding none.
As he saw the Northern Coast ahead, with no discernable cover, he was about to turn back, but some the sound of people ahead begged him to press on. After a few yards, Eicca burst from the brush out onto the clear, open coast. Two figures stood to his left, one was walking towards him. Eicca's eyes caught the silver glint of a gun's barrel.
---
And here he comes now...
Will placed the gun once more, behind him, and put the safety back on; ahead, his friend Eicca emerged from the shadows. Well, he wouldn't go so far as to consider him a friend, but they knew each other well enough. Will had a few classes with him.
Southridge... it all seemed to far away to him now. The stress of schoolwork, the time he shared with his friends... A distant memory, some other life, not his. Will had thought that the game wouldn't change him, that he could just try to take it in stride... that wasn't the way it worked. Each time someone you knew died, you changed a bit more. He should've known that, considering what he'd been through. Will looked at Eicca with a slight smirk on his face.
"Eicca, man, you okay?"
"Yeah, Will, I got hit in the head, but i'll be fine."
"Nobody fucks with vikings, yeah?"
"Haha... yeah..."
They exchanged a friendly conversation, but the of distrust seemed to hang in the air. Eicca spoke once more, pointing towards Wade.
"So who's your friend?"
"You know Wade Wilson, don't you?"
At this, Eicca's eyes widened. He heard the announcements, Wade Wilson was one of the top killers on the island, apparantly a complete psychopath. What was Will doing hanging around him? What was Eicca still doing here when Wade was only a few yards away? Eicca raised his voice, more than enough that Wade would be able to hear him.
"Will, what are you doing near that guy! Haven't you listened to the announcements?! Wade Wilson is a-"
Neither Will nor Wade needed to hear what was coming out of this man's mouth. Will had already been prepared to kill Eicca, he just needed to see what he was up against first. So far as he could tell, Eicca had no weapon on him right now. Viciously Will struck Eicca as hard as he could in the throat, crushing his windpipe. The taller boy stumbled back, coughing and choking, gasping for air. Will stood there, watching him as he collapsed to his knees.
Oh sorry, were you trying to say something?
Will took a step back, and pulled out the revolver. His hands clutched the grip of the large weapon, dripping in the frigid rain. He felt cold steel of the trigger against his finger. The rain drowned out Eicca's gasps for air. He didn't even have the chance to plea for his life.
A thunderous, booming shot rang out, as blood and brain matter were blown across the sand, Eicca's head almost completely blown apart.
Each time someone near him died, he changed a bit more. Will had lost more of who he was. A piece of him would die with them each time. Will didn't expect to ever truly survive this competition, even if he did win it. He'd never be the same. Such an eventuality was unavoidable. No one ever really survived SOTF. To be the Fittest, soullessness seemed to be a requirement.
Will strode away from Eicca's awkwardly lying body, and towards Wade, a short distance away.
"The guy... he was crazy. Eicca Hietela... He kept calling you and I killers, players. Said he was going to kill us both.... I couldn't just let him go ahead and do it, could I?"
Will was lying through his teeth, of course. How else could he justify killing another human being in cold blood to defend a schitzophrenic mass-murderer, who seemed to not even know how many he had actually killed?
Oh, how he missed Southridge.
B69 - Eicca Hietala - DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
(Clive Maxwell continued from Slow Chemical)
Anyone would think that Survival of the Fittest, a game based solely on the destruction and elimination of countless lives and driving people to their breaking points, would drive many people literally insane. The truth of the matter was that no one had literally snapped completely and turned into a crazed loon. There have been psychotics but no literally batshit crazies that were sure to populate comic books and horror movies. This has been the case for the first two versions, but this one in particular was very different, very special.
Clive had always been insane, deep down inside of the neither regions of his cold heart. He had always made it a principle to act otherwise. Of course, he didn't have to suffer hearing the same voice running through his head, over and over, hour after hour after minute after second of a day and a half. Quite frankly Clive was looking rather crazy right about now. IT was pretty obvious to tell that his mind was not in it's rightful place because ever since he left the field of flowers, Clive was saying fuck again and again. His voice was hoarse but he kept saying it, he couldn't help it.
"Shut up..."
Clive held his head tightly, a gasp escaping his throat. His world was swirling, twirling, spinning like a top. This was insanity but to Clive it was just... well it was just nothing. Nothing at all. He was perfectly fine, perfectly fine. He just needed some rest, yes he that was all. He was fine, he was fine, but people who are fine wouldn't be hearing that god damned annoying voice of that bitch who he had always hated. Clive wouldn't understand that: the only thing he knew was that he wasn't feeling good. Not feeling good at all. He just needed some rest, yes he that was all. He was fine, he was fine.
"Shut up..."
He was not fine.
"SHUT up!"
Oh how he was not fine.
"SHUT UP!"
Then he stopped.
He was coming to an overgrowth, overlooking a sandy beach. Clive stared out onto the strip, not even realizing that he was giggling under his breath. It wasn't like Clive had lost it right then and there. He had lost his marbles for some time, even before the island, even before the game. He grinned, looking out towards the figures from afar. The brushes were raised high but Clive could see the outlines of what was happening. Oh. It appears that he missed a killing. How sad, and that FREAK Will... Will Smith, was that his name? Yes, that was Will Smith. Will KILLED someone else. It was pleasing really, to see another killer for once. Clive was contemplating jumping up and greeting the boy with open arms but he did not.
Wait. Was that a gun?
"Oh no..."
That gun... that was surely his, wasn't it? He sniffed indignantly and then giggled a second time. IT WAS WILL who attacked him and took his gun. How cleaver! Clive wished Liam was he - on second thought, he rather wished Liam wasn't there. Clive would get all the credit. He gripped the sharp, pointy rock (a very sharp pointy rock to be precise) and entered the scene in the only way an insane person could.
He smiled and waved. "OHAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY WILL! What's up buddy?!! How's life treating you?!!" A giggled escaped his mouth, hopping up and down on his heels. "I couldn't help but to notice you KILLING SOMEONE in cold blood, who did nothing wrong to yoooouuu! Oh you naughty boy! I should give you a spanking!" He waves his hand. "But no, I'm not here to punish you! No, I'm here to PARTY! You wanna party Will, yah wanna fucking party?!! Let's go party motherfucker!!!"
Without warning, without foresight, without any reason whatsoever Clive leap at Will like a cougar, rock extended out. He was going to make a mess of Will's ugly face and it was going to be an improvement. Clive didn't even take the time to notice that he was outnumbered, it was all Will now. Everything: Will, the gun, HIS GUN. All his for the taking.
This was Clive's game.
Anyone would think that Survival of the Fittest, a game based solely on the destruction and elimination of countless lives and driving people to their breaking points, would drive many people literally insane. The truth of the matter was that no one had literally snapped completely and turned into a crazed loon. There have been psychotics but no literally batshit crazies that were sure to populate comic books and horror movies. This has been the case for the first two versions, but this one in particular was very different, very special.
Clive had always been insane, deep down inside of the neither regions of his cold heart. He had always made it a principle to act otherwise. Of course, he didn't have to suffer hearing the same voice running through his head, over and over, hour after hour after minute after second of a day and a half. Quite frankly Clive was looking rather crazy right about now. IT was pretty obvious to tell that his mind was not in it's rightful place because ever since he left the field of flowers, Clive was saying fuck again and again. His voice was hoarse but he kept saying it, he couldn't help it.
"Shut up..."
Clive held his head tightly, a gasp escaping his throat. His world was swirling, twirling, spinning like a top. This was insanity but to Clive it was just... well it was just nothing. Nothing at all. He was perfectly fine, perfectly fine. He just needed some rest, yes he that was all. He was fine, he was fine, but people who are fine wouldn't be hearing that god damned annoying voice of that bitch who he had always hated. Clive wouldn't understand that: the only thing he knew was that he wasn't feeling good. Not feeling good at all. He just needed some rest, yes he that was all. He was fine, he was fine.
"Shut up..."
He was not fine.
"SHUT up!"
Oh how he was not fine.
"SHUT UP!"
Then he stopped.
He was coming to an overgrowth, overlooking a sandy beach. Clive stared out onto the strip, not even realizing that he was giggling under his breath. It wasn't like Clive had lost it right then and there. He had lost his marbles for some time, even before the island, even before the game. He grinned, looking out towards the figures from afar. The brushes were raised high but Clive could see the outlines of what was happening. Oh. It appears that he missed a killing. How sad, and that FREAK Will... Will Smith, was that his name? Yes, that was Will Smith. Will KILLED someone else. It was pleasing really, to see another killer for once. Clive was contemplating jumping up and greeting the boy with open arms but he did not.
Wait. Was that a gun?
"Oh no..."
That gun... that was surely his, wasn't it? He sniffed indignantly and then giggled a second time. IT WAS WILL who attacked him and took his gun. How cleaver! Clive wished Liam was he - on second thought, he rather wished Liam wasn't there. Clive would get all the credit. He gripped the sharp, pointy rock (a very sharp pointy rock to be precise) and entered the scene in the only way an insane person could.
He smiled and waved. "OHAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY WILL! What's up buddy?!! How's life treating you?!!" A giggled escaped his mouth, hopping up and down on his heels. "I couldn't help but to notice you KILLING SOMEONE in cold blood, who did nothing wrong to yoooouuu! Oh you naughty boy! I should give you a spanking!" He waves his hand. "But no, I'm not here to punish you! No, I'm here to PARTY! You wanna party Will, yah wanna fucking party?!! Let's go party motherfucker!!!"
Without warning, without foresight, without any reason whatsoever Clive leap at Will like a cougar, rock extended out. He was going to make a mess of Will's ugly face and it was going to be an improvement. Clive didn't even take the time to notice that he was outnumbered, it was all Will now. Everything: Will, the gun, HIS GUN. All his for the taking.
This was Clive's game.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. 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.
Jesus-Fucking-Christ.
Things were out of control for Wade Wilson. His mind, which was barely hanging on to this surprisingly elongated period of lucidity was taking a beating, especially for the events that had happened within the past three minutes. Everything was in a cloud, and so it was tremendously difficult to make sense of.
One minute, he'd been standing, basically pleading with Will - who for all intents and purposes, was a pretty decent guy at school; one who he didn't know REALLY well, but had agreed to help him out, stop him from doing anything too fucking crazy. He'd been talking to Will, had suggested they get the fuck out of dodge, and then? All that got interrupted by the arrival of Eicca. Wade had relaxed at Will's friendly demeanour towards the other boy - the two of them seemed to be on pretty good terms with each other.
Thank God, the bigger the group, the less of a chance that I could do something to really hurt an-
Then, of course, things had taken an unexpected turn when Will had struck Eicca in the throat and then shot him in the face, sending the back of his head directly into an urgent meeting with the dirt and sand all over the ground. At the violent action, Wade's mouth had dropped in ghastly shock. He couldn't believe his eyes. Will had killed so freely, so easily...
I am so fucked right now.
There had to be some reason that Will wasn't killing him; some reason that he'd let him live when he'd just decided to blow Eicca's brains out. He knew enough about Eicca to know his name, and that was just about it, but everything about what he'd just witnessed was threatening to make him sick to his stomach. There was no reason for this, absolutely no reason at all. As the blood had obviously drained from his face, leaving him pale and shocked, Will calmly wandered over and fed him a line of bullshit that he didn't think he would have believed had it been delivered by Denzel Washington or Guy Pearce or ANY other actor in all of the world.
That's so unbelievable, I just can't believe it's not butter!
Slowly, he shook his head, before the scene was interrupted by yet another individual striding into the area. This one, however, seemed to be a truly disturbed character, and one that had a bone to pick with Will. At least, his definition of 'party' seemed to involve a sharp rock and the back of Will's head.
Which sure as hell wasn't any party Wade wanted to be invited to.
As the boy prattled on and screamed at Will, Wade took notice of the fact that he seemed to be ignoring him. Which, amazingly, seemed to be a first. Wade was unsettled by the reactions he'd been getting over the course of the last couple of days - nearly everyone who'd seen him since he'd dealt with the demons had been looking at him like he was some sort of monster himself. It brought up horrific possibilities that Wade was forcing himself not to consider. But this boy...he was ignoring Wade, focusing completely on Will.
I guess that's a good thing, it lets me defend him if...
Wade interrupted his own train of thought when that odd blue box from before made a small reappearance in the corner of his eye. It startled him, and he took a quick step back, before trying again rather futiley to look at what it said. It was blue, and seemed to have some sort of picture on the inside of it...he couldn't make out much of the words, but they seemed to be same as before...but instead of 'Trish', the words seemed to be saying "Aaron is singing on" or something. Shaking his head, and trying to close his eyes to get rid of it, he moved back a few steps. Again, it didn't make sense! Who was Aaron, and what the hell was going on with this blue box in his own head? He didn't know any Aarons around school, and it seemed too real to be a hallucination.
Maybe it isn't a hallucination, though...maybe Danya implanted some sort of microchip in our heads, and mine's all fucked up?
Generally, Wade knew that hallucinations could be looked at, sized up directly. He'd looked into them once he'd found out about his condition, and had shamefully recognized that he'd been fooled several times in the past by the false images projected by his own mind.
Too damn bad I never seem to figure out if they're real or not until it's too damn late!
Glancing up again after ridding himself of the blue box that he couldn't quite look at, he gasped to see that the newcomer and Will were now engaged in mortal combat. Grasping at his pistol, he brought it out, and hesitantly aimed it at the ground. At this point, he wasn't sure what to do. Will had said he'd help him out, but...then again, Will had just turned around and shot a supposed friend in the face, and then fed Wade a line of crap that he wouldn't have purchased had he been two years old and convinced that he'd be able to catch Santa Claus in the act of defiling his mother's Christmas cookies.
Wade felt sick. This was all fucked up. Here he was, with (at least) one killer, and someone who felt as though they needed to drive Will into the cold, hard ground. It was true what they said about this horrible game - the psychological effects are damn near devastating. People turned into killers, and let themselves become lost to the game. What kind of a person could take pleasure in killing someone? It wasn't right - Wade had always known that.
I've always known that...
At that thought, something in Wade's mind snapped a little, and he started to shake his head. Reality had sure picked a great time to rear its ugly head, and as the realizations slowly overtook him, he felt as though he were slipping away, ever-so-slowly. If that were the case, then he couldn't afford to let the one person who agreed to help him out get his face smashed in by a rock-wielding psychopath. Stepping forward, he raised his pistol and pointed it at rock-boy.
"Hey! How about you go have your party somewhere else! Nobody likes the punch you're serving - it tastes an awful lot like dirty rock! Go...go fuck yourself!"
Wade considered warning the boy, but it didn't make sense. He'd ignored him up until this point, and he needed answers from Will before he did anything to cross his own point of morality - like killing anyone deliberately. That was a line that he hoped NEVER to cross, even if something tugged inside of him that said it might be too late.
Hey, no matter what, I've never killed a soul while I've been of sound mind and body, and that's all that matters. I'm Wade Wilson, and I've never killed a human being in cold blood, and I damn sure hope I don't have to start now...
Aiming his pistol very carefully, Wade fired three shots towards rock-boy's legs, hoping to wound him - if nothing else to stop the attack. Guilt flooded around his mind about what Will would do if Wade's shots hit their target, but that was on Will.
Not Wade.
God help me...
Things were out of control for Wade Wilson. His mind, which was barely hanging on to this surprisingly elongated period of lucidity was taking a beating, especially for the events that had happened within the past three minutes. Everything was in a cloud, and so it was tremendously difficult to make sense of.
One minute, he'd been standing, basically pleading with Will - who for all intents and purposes, was a pretty decent guy at school; one who he didn't know REALLY well, but had agreed to help him out, stop him from doing anything too fucking crazy. He'd been talking to Will, had suggested they get the fuck out of dodge, and then? All that got interrupted by the arrival of Eicca. Wade had relaxed at Will's friendly demeanour towards the other boy - the two of them seemed to be on pretty good terms with each other.
Thank God, the bigger the group, the less of a chance that I could do something to really hurt an-
Then, of course, things had taken an unexpected turn when Will had struck Eicca in the throat and then shot him in the face, sending the back of his head directly into an urgent meeting with the dirt and sand all over the ground. At the violent action, Wade's mouth had dropped in ghastly shock. He couldn't believe his eyes. Will had killed so freely, so easily...
I am so fucked right now.
There had to be some reason that Will wasn't killing him; some reason that he'd let him live when he'd just decided to blow Eicca's brains out. He knew enough about Eicca to know his name, and that was just about it, but everything about what he'd just witnessed was threatening to make him sick to his stomach. There was no reason for this, absolutely no reason at all. As the blood had obviously drained from his face, leaving him pale and shocked, Will calmly wandered over and fed him a line of bullshit that he didn't think he would have believed had it been delivered by Denzel Washington or Guy Pearce or ANY other actor in all of the world.
That's so unbelievable, I just can't believe it's not butter!
Slowly, he shook his head, before the scene was interrupted by yet another individual striding into the area. This one, however, seemed to be a truly disturbed character, and one that had a bone to pick with Will. At least, his definition of 'party' seemed to involve a sharp rock and the back of Will's head.
Which sure as hell wasn't any party Wade wanted to be invited to.
As the boy prattled on and screamed at Will, Wade took notice of the fact that he seemed to be ignoring him. Which, amazingly, seemed to be a first. Wade was unsettled by the reactions he'd been getting over the course of the last couple of days - nearly everyone who'd seen him since he'd dealt with the demons had been looking at him like he was some sort of monster himself. It brought up horrific possibilities that Wade was forcing himself not to consider. But this boy...he was ignoring Wade, focusing completely on Will.
I guess that's a good thing, it lets me defend him if...
Wade interrupted his own train of thought when that odd blue box from before made a small reappearance in the corner of his eye. It startled him, and he took a quick step back, before trying again rather futiley to look at what it said. It was blue, and seemed to have some sort of picture on the inside of it...he couldn't make out much of the words, but they seemed to be same as before...but instead of 'Trish', the words seemed to be saying "Aaron is singing on" or something. Shaking his head, and trying to close his eyes to get rid of it, he moved back a few steps. Again, it didn't make sense! Who was Aaron, and what the hell was going on with this blue box in his own head? He didn't know any Aarons around school, and it seemed too real to be a hallucination.
Maybe it isn't a hallucination, though...maybe Danya implanted some sort of microchip in our heads, and mine's all fucked up?
Generally, Wade knew that hallucinations could be looked at, sized up directly. He'd looked into them once he'd found out about his condition, and had shamefully recognized that he'd been fooled several times in the past by the false images projected by his own mind.
Too damn bad I never seem to figure out if they're real or not until it's too damn late!
Glancing up again after ridding himself of the blue box that he couldn't quite look at, he gasped to see that the newcomer and Will were now engaged in mortal combat. Grasping at his pistol, he brought it out, and hesitantly aimed it at the ground. At this point, he wasn't sure what to do. Will had said he'd help him out, but...then again, Will had just turned around and shot a supposed friend in the face, and then fed Wade a line of crap that he wouldn't have purchased had he been two years old and convinced that he'd be able to catch Santa Claus in the act of defiling his mother's Christmas cookies.
Wade felt sick. This was all fucked up. Here he was, with (at least) one killer, and someone who felt as though they needed to drive Will into the cold, hard ground. It was true what they said about this horrible game - the psychological effects are damn near devastating. People turned into killers, and let themselves become lost to the game. What kind of a person could take pleasure in killing someone? It wasn't right - Wade had always known that.
I've always known that...
At that thought, something in Wade's mind snapped a little, and he started to shake his head. Reality had sure picked a great time to rear its ugly head, and as the realizations slowly overtook him, he felt as though he were slipping away, ever-so-slowly. If that were the case, then he couldn't afford to let the one person who agreed to help him out get his face smashed in by a rock-wielding psychopath. Stepping forward, he raised his pistol and pointed it at rock-boy.
"Hey! How about you go have your party somewhere else! Nobody likes the punch you're serving - it tastes an awful lot like dirty rock! Go...go fuck yourself!"
Wade considered warning the boy, but it didn't make sense. He'd ignored him up until this point, and he needed answers from Will before he did anything to cross his own point of morality - like killing anyone deliberately. That was a line that he hoped NEVER to cross, even if something tugged inside of him that said it might be too late.
Hey, no matter what, I've never killed a soul while I've been of sound mind and body, and that's all that matters. I'm Wade Wilson, and I've never killed a human being in cold blood, and I damn sure hope I don't have to start now...
Aiming his pistol very carefully, Wade fired three shots towards rock-boy's legs, hoping to wound him - if nothing else to stop the attack. Guilt flooded around his mind about what Will would do if Wade's shots hit their target, but that was on Will.
Not Wade.
God help me...
-
AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Will had barely finished his little "explaination" which Will wouldn't have dared say to anyone else unless were it anyone other than a batshit insane schtizophrenic. In all honesty he didn't expect Wade to be gullible, but what the hell else was he supposted to say? The guy was as unstable as it was, telling him he'd just allied himself with a cold-blooded killer, though less prolific than he was, probably wasn't a good idea. Though lying to him wasn't quite too appetizing either, it was the lesser of the two evils in Will's eyes. Of course, when dealing with someone like Wade, you could never entirely predict his behavior.
The island was much the same. Seemingly out of nowhere, yet another crazed individual came from the shadows. He was yelling... something... deranged.
"OHAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY WILL! What's up buddy?!! How's life treating you?!!"
Will put the gun away.
"I couldn't help but to notice you KILLING SOMEONE in cold blood, who did nothing wrong to yoooouuu! Oh you naughty boy! I should give you a spanking!"
Will reached towards the short-sword's handle.
"Let's go party motherfucker!!!"
It erupted from the sheath was now in Will's hand. He was ready to join the party. Thinking quickly, he dove to the left, dodging the crazy's dive. Will was careful not to dive on the sword, though. That would be an emberassing way to die.
The rain seemed to intensify, if only for a moment. That, or the shock of being dove at by someone who had clearly was completely insane. It was one thing to speak with them - to be on the recieving end of their mad assaults was another.
Will got back to his feet, the boy was still scrambling, as far as he could tell. In any other situation Will would have shot him by this point, but considering that the gun he carried now was, at the best of times, quite difficult to control. Now, in the heat of the moment, Will hadn't thought to bring it out once more. Besides, he lacked any 'practice' with the sharp shortsword, perhaps it was time to see how well it preformed.
Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps it was the dampness, but instead of bringing the sword to bear, Will only seemed to throw it, blade first, at the boy who had attacked him. In fact, he had thrown it quite hard. Unless it managed to stick him, he would now HAVE to get out the gun. Perfect. Will's wrist hurt enough already.
A few gunshots rang out, and Will ducked, rolled, and whipped out the revolver. It seemed that this crazy had a few tricks up his sleeve. In the span of a few seconds, Will had already started returning fire, walking towards his assailant as he did so. Everything was a blur, a chaotic flurry of violence. The world had stood still for this fight. Survival was all that mattered. Will displayed look of pure vicious anger as he emptied the remaining five shots in his attacker's direction.
"DIE!! JUST DIE YOU CRAZY FUCK!!"
The island was much the same. Seemingly out of nowhere, yet another crazed individual came from the shadows. He was yelling... something... deranged.
"OHAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY WILL! What's up buddy?!! How's life treating you?!!"
Will put the gun away.
"I couldn't help but to notice you KILLING SOMEONE in cold blood, who did nothing wrong to yoooouuu! Oh you naughty boy! I should give you a spanking!"
Will reached towards the short-sword's handle.
"Let's go party motherfucker!!!"
It erupted from the sheath was now in Will's hand. He was ready to join the party. Thinking quickly, he dove to the left, dodging the crazy's dive. Will was careful not to dive on the sword, though. That would be an emberassing way to die.
The rain seemed to intensify, if only for a moment. That, or the shock of being dove at by someone who had clearly was completely insane. It was one thing to speak with them - to be on the recieving end of their mad assaults was another.
Will got back to his feet, the boy was still scrambling, as far as he could tell. In any other situation Will would have shot him by this point, but considering that the gun he carried now was, at the best of times, quite difficult to control. Now, in the heat of the moment, Will hadn't thought to bring it out once more. Besides, he lacked any 'practice' with the sharp shortsword, perhaps it was time to see how well it preformed.
Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps it was the dampness, but instead of bringing the sword to bear, Will only seemed to throw it, blade first, at the boy who had attacked him. In fact, he had thrown it quite hard. Unless it managed to stick him, he would now HAVE to get out the gun. Perfect. Will's wrist hurt enough already.
A few gunshots rang out, and Will ducked, rolled, and whipped out the revolver. It seemed that this crazy had a few tricks up his sleeve. In the span of a few seconds, Will had already started returning fire, walking towards his assailant as he did so. Everything was a blur, a chaotic flurry of violence. The world had stood still for this fight. Survival was all that mattered. Will displayed look of pure vicious anger as he emptied the remaining five shots in his attacker's direction.
"DIE!! JUST DIE YOU CRAZY FUCK!!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
Clive was laughing at the top of his lungs. Trying to kill someone was always great fun. He held the rock as tightly as he could when he attempted to tackle Will to the ground. It took him a full minute to fully realize that Will dodged out of the way and that Clive had fallen to the ground like a klutz. He didn't notice that the bullets Wade shot at his legs made him trip up and instantly assumed it was human error. Or he would have, had he cared enough to think that far into it. He stumbled back to his feet as quickly as he could. Normally he would be... actually he wouldn't even care about Will shooting him even if he was perfectly sane. Will took HIS property and there was no forgiveness for that.
Around that time Clive felt a horrible stinging in his right side. What was that? It was very painful, but to Clive it was his nectar, his energy. Pain was fueling him right now, and to feel something sharp against his side made it all the more intoxicating. He looked down at the Main-Gauche with a sudden interest, then up at Wade. Clive was under the impression that WADE was the one who threw the sword at him. Wow. Wade Wilson was batshit crazy but he knew how to make himself useful. Clive grinned, taking the sword into his open hand.
"Aww. THANK YOU kind sir!" he held tightly onto the rock, on the verge of laughter. "I'll be sure to make your death quick and painless after I'm done with Will."
Then he laughed, swung his arm back and threw the rock (as though it were a baseball) at Wade's head. Stupid idiot. He certainly was willing to help but he should know quite well not to trust people so easily, although Clive wasn't complaining about the extra help. In fact he wished Wade could help him when Will shot a bullet into his shoulder, making it explode in a fury of bone, blood and gunpowder. Clive shrieked at the top of his lungs (like a female mind you), turning his head to look at the boy with a scowl.
"... You wanna know why I don't like you Smmmith?"
Clive didn't even know Will that well, but there was something that the both boys shared. Clive could tell. He smiled, twiddling his fingers around the sword.
"... It's that I can tell that you're a sick, sick man and yet you act like whatever you do, no matter what you do, is the RIGHT thing to do. I know you're type, I can tell, I can see it in your eyes." Clive's insanity broke away for a moment. He was being serious. "I doubt you think of yourself as a hero but just how you were making up excuses after you kill someone. It's sad, oh so sad. If it were up to me I would have killed that boy - "
He motioned to the lifeless body right beside him, " - just for staring at me the wrong way. This game is not meant for people who are so afraid, so self-righteousness that they would make excuses when they kill people. They are for me: the guy who hasn't a single ounce of shame inside of him. The guy who would kill just about anyone without thinking. No one will ever miss YOU if you died, just as much as they'd miss me. You're nothing, a nobody, a number, ashes on the ground. Holding back like this is not what people should be doing: THEY SHOULD BE EMBRACING THIS! They should be letting themselves go and killing just for the sake of killing. I can tell you want to kill, I can tell that deep down inside there's a little bit of me inside of you..."
He didn't notice at the time, but he was rushing at Will, swinging his sword back and forth. "If you aren't going to bother letting this game take over your senses like I did, when why defend yourself? If you aren't going to let everything you know go because it's the ONLY way you can live, then you should just LET ME KILL YOU!" He cackled loudly, his insanity returning with full force. He swung back, he swung forward. He slashed right and left, up and down, jabbing the dagger forward. He wanted to hit Will. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to end it all. He jabbed the dagger at Will's hand attempting to knock it out of his hands. He was on the offensive now.
"To me, to everyone, you're worth shit nothing. YOU'RE NOTHING!!! YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING!!!!!"
This is your game Clive...
your game...
YOUR game...
Around that time Clive felt a horrible stinging in his right side. What was that? It was very painful, but to Clive it was his nectar, his energy. Pain was fueling him right now, and to feel something sharp against his side made it all the more intoxicating. He looked down at the Main-Gauche with a sudden interest, then up at Wade. Clive was under the impression that WADE was the one who threw the sword at him. Wow. Wade Wilson was batshit crazy but he knew how to make himself useful. Clive grinned, taking the sword into his open hand.
"Aww. THANK YOU kind sir!" he held tightly onto the rock, on the verge of laughter. "I'll be sure to make your death quick and painless after I'm done with Will."
Then he laughed, swung his arm back and threw the rock (as though it were a baseball) at Wade's head. Stupid idiot. He certainly was willing to help but he should know quite well not to trust people so easily, although Clive wasn't complaining about the extra help. In fact he wished Wade could help him when Will shot a bullet into his shoulder, making it explode in a fury of bone, blood and gunpowder. Clive shrieked at the top of his lungs (like a female mind you), turning his head to look at the boy with a scowl.
"... You wanna know why I don't like you Smmmith?"
Clive didn't even know Will that well, but there was something that the both boys shared. Clive could tell. He smiled, twiddling his fingers around the sword.
"... It's that I can tell that you're a sick, sick man and yet you act like whatever you do, no matter what you do, is the RIGHT thing to do. I know you're type, I can tell, I can see it in your eyes." Clive's insanity broke away for a moment. He was being serious. "I doubt you think of yourself as a hero but just how you were making up excuses after you kill someone. It's sad, oh so sad. If it were up to me I would have killed that boy - "
He motioned to the lifeless body right beside him, " - just for staring at me the wrong way. This game is not meant for people who are so afraid, so self-righteousness that they would make excuses when they kill people. They are for me: the guy who hasn't a single ounce of shame inside of him. The guy who would kill just about anyone without thinking. No one will ever miss YOU if you died, just as much as they'd miss me. You're nothing, a nobody, a number, ashes on the ground. Holding back like this is not what people should be doing: THEY SHOULD BE EMBRACING THIS! They should be letting themselves go and killing just for the sake of killing. I can tell you want to kill, I can tell that deep down inside there's a little bit of me inside of you..."
He didn't notice at the time, but he was rushing at Will, swinging his sword back and forth. "If you aren't going to bother letting this game take over your senses like I did, when why defend yourself? If you aren't going to let everything you know go because it's the ONLY way you can live, then you should just LET ME KILL YOU!" He cackled loudly, his insanity returning with full force. He swung back, he swung forward. He slashed right and left, up and down, jabbing the dagger forward. He wanted to hit Will. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to end it all. He jabbed the dagger at Will's hand attempting to knock it out of his hands. He was on the offensive now.
"To me, to everyone, you're worth shit nothing. YOU'RE NOTHING!!! YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING!!!!!"
This is your game Clive...
your game...
YOUR game...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. 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.
-
AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
"Fuck!"
Will winced as the Main-Gauche, the weapon that he had mistakenly fallen into Clive's hands, grazed his thumb and cut it open. Blood dripped down onto the ground. He still held the revolver, and had plenty of ammunition. The one speedloader he had managed to load on his way through the jungle (He had broken one of them, and only had two more rings left) was in his left hand. He pulled it from the back pocket of his jeans, careful to not let on what he was about to do.
Will took several steps back, then dug his left foot into the ground. The soft, wet sand sunk beneath his feet. Suddenly his foot burst from the ground in an explosion of sand and weeds, hopefully distracting Clive long enough to load the revolver. Careful not to let his gaze away from Clive, he emptied the bullets from the revolver and slammed in the new rounds. Will's head was swimming, and his ears were ringing.
The noise of a revolver's cylinders spinning is my new favorite sound. Right up there with leaves blowing in the wind, and children laughing. This prick seriously needs to die. Soon.
Will now brought the weapon to bear at Clive, pausing for a moment. He called him Smith, then a murderous faux-idealist, then gave him a Gabriel-esque speech on how people should embrace the opportunity to murder. Oh dear. If anything Will only would need to make excuses to his allies, people he intended to use, not tot himself.
He just killed Eicca for no reason other than that he was there. The only reason he made the excuse to kill him was, well... he didn't want to lose Wade, as he was essentially the closest thing Will had to a friend on this island. Maybe Will did hold some degree of compassion... Probably why he spared Wade and Stephanie despite his clear opportunities to kill them both. Though the more the game progressed, the more that seemed less and less likely to Will. He lacked what most would call a 'soul' by this point. It faded away when he was forced to end Christian's life.
Clive still carried on. For some reason he thanked Wade for shooting him, then continued his personal attacks which made little sense to Will. He raised his eyebrows and interrupted Clive.
"You... crazy... whoever the fuck you are, just shut up!"
As he did this, Clive kept on yelling and started thrashing at him with the Main-Gauche. Will sidestepped around Clive, behind him, and brought the bottom of the heavy gun down upon head with all the force he could muster.
Will winced as the Main-Gauche, the weapon that he had mistakenly fallen into Clive's hands, grazed his thumb and cut it open. Blood dripped down onto the ground. He still held the revolver, and had plenty of ammunition. The one speedloader he had managed to load on his way through the jungle (He had broken one of them, and only had two more rings left) was in his left hand. He pulled it from the back pocket of his jeans, careful to not let on what he was about to do.
Will took several steps back, then dug his left foot into the ground. The soft, wet sand sunk beneath his feet. Suddenly his foot burst from the ground in an explosion of sand and weeds, hopefully distracting Clive long enough to load the revolver. Careful not to let his gaze away from Clive, he emptied the bullets from the revolver and slammed in the new rounds. Will's head was swimming, and his ears were ringing.
The noise of a revolver's cylinders spinning is my new favorite sound. Right up there with leaves blowing in the wind, and children laughing. This prick seriously needs to die. Soon.
Will now brought the weapon to bear at Clive, pausing for a moment. He called him Smith, then a murderous faux-idealist, then gave him a Gabriel-esque speech on how people should embrace the opportunity to murder. Oh dear. If anything Will only would need to make excuses to his allies, people he intended to use, not tot himself.
He just killed Eicca for no reason other than that he was there. The only reason he made the excuse to kill him was, well... he didn't want to lose Wade, as he was essentially the closest thing Will had to a friend on this island. Maybe Will did hold some degree of compassion... Probably why he spared Wade and Stephanie despite his clear opportunities to kill them both. Though the more the game progressed, the more that seemed less and less likely to Will. He lacked what most would call a 'soul' by this point. It faded away when he was forced to end Christian's life.
Clive still carried on. For some reason he thanked Wade for shooting him, then continued his personal attacks which made little sense to Will. He raised his eyebrows and interrupted Clive.
"You... crazy... whoever the fuck you are, just shut up!"
As he did this, Clive kept on yelling and started thrashing at him with the Main-Gauche. Will sidestepped around Clive, behind him, and brought the bottom of the heavy gun down upon head with all the force he could muster.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler AtomicWaffle.
Clive didn't know what hit him. Or frankly, he couldn't have know what hit him. After all Will was behind Clive and it would take a minute for the rabid man to comprehend what just happened. It certainly was too late for him to do anything even if he did turn around. The end of Will's gun hit the back of his head with the force of a train, knocking every single conceivable thought he was thinking (or had ever thought for that matter) out like a stream of water from a cracked dam. The force of such a blow drilled every single molecule of life out of him and, finally, Clive Maxwell had finally been killed. A tumor had been removed from a field of tumors.
B047 - CLIVE MAXWELL : ELIMINATED
And Lucifer could only look and laugh at the look on Clive's face.
The devil is among those who inhabit this island, watching, laughing. He could see everything that was happening, and he was watching with a sick passion. This was his King's Men, his entertainment. Everyone is like a puppet to him, hanging from invisible strings that only he knew about. And Beelzebub doesn't care who you are. He'll take your soul whether you like it or not, and he'll have a good chortle about it while he's raping it. He enjoys it, knowing that no one could ever cheat death.
Clive was a fool to think the game was all his. He thought he was untouchable, invincible, but Will soon proved him wrong. It made Lucifer chuckle under his breath, running two claw-like fingers along his chin. The game was owned by no one. There was no bias but no balance either. It was all too strange to describe but the odds were always against you. Clive thought it was easy and that was his worst mistake. It should be said quite bluntly that nothing ever goes as planned.
God help these twisted fools who have given into the harlot temptation. Pray god has pity on their souls should they not find salvation, because no one else will when all is said and done. That was the way of the world.
100 Students Remaining.
B047 - CLIVE MAXWELL : ELIMINATED
And Lucifer could only look and laugh at the look on Clive's face.
The devil is among those who inhabit this island, watching, laughing. He could see everything that was happening, and he was watching with a sick passion. This was his King's Men, his entertainment. Everyone is like a puppet to him, hanging from invisible strings that only he knew about. And Beelzebub doesn't care who you are. He'll take your soul whether you like it or not, and he'll have a good chortle about it while he's raping it. He enjoys it, knowing that no one could ever cheat death.
Clive was a fool to think the game was all his. He thought he was untouchable, invincible, but Will soon proved him wrong. It made Lucifer chuckle under his breath, running two claw-like fingers along his chin. The game was owned by no one. There was no bias but no balance either. It was all too strange to describe but the odds were always against you. Clive thought it was easy and that was his worst mistake. It should be said quite bluntly that nothing ever goes as planned.
God help these twisted fools who have given into the harlot temptation. Pray god has pity on their souls should they not find salvation, because no one else will when all is said and done. That was the way of the world.
100 Students Remaining.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. 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.
The battle had been short, and sweet, and in the end, only Will Sigurbjornsson had emerged victorious. All the while, Wade Wilson had stood, silently transfixed by what he was seeing in front of him. Still lucid enough to comprehend the thought of his classmates killing each other, he watched the two grapple with enough shock and bewilderment that a casual observer might have assumed that their actions were foreign to him. In a way, he supposed, they were. Wade had never been the violent sort, and everything that he'd seen was overwhelming to him.
It was one thing to lose your mind while trying to survive, but it was another to lose your mind and still find yourself unable to cope with what was going on around you. Wade was unfortunately in the latter circumstance, the coupling of his loss of reality and the cold, hard truth almost too much for him to bear.
Perhaps it was the crack of Will's weapon on the back of Clive's skull that loudly shook Wade out of his shock, but as the fierce battle ended in Clive's death, Wade couldn't help but wonder that if Will had such a hard time with killing other people - why was it he didn't just turn around and shoot Wade himself?
If only I could just figure things out for just a few more minutes...
Grimacing as he strained to understand, his gaze settled on Clive's body, blood starting to pool around the deceased's head. Things were clouding over something fierce within his own mind right now, and if only he could problem-solve for just a few more minutes, he knew that he might be able to figure it out. His pained glance turned to Will for a moment - who looked none the worse for wear, and then back to the body in front of him.
Which was when he finally saw it.
For the last few minutes, Wade had been hallucinating something within his vision, something that he couldn't put his finger on - and yet seemed so familiar to him. Small blue boxes had been popping up in his vision with text attached to them - something about someone named 'Trish', and someone named 'Aaron'. As he'd peered at the body the first time, more had come up, one of them was red and said something about 'Sven', and still other names and words that meant nothing to him. It hadn't made any sense at all, until he glanced back at Clive's corpse and gasped.
Clive was dead - this much was certain, but much to Wade's amazement, something seemed to be trying to burrow out of the back of his head, where Will had whacked him. a small, bright green hand poked its way out of Clive's skull, and began to try and squeeze itself out. As he watched; the blood draining from his face, the entity kicked off a piece of skull so that it could fit itself through. After a moment of struggling, it finally popped itself out of his head, and fell, head over heels out onto the ground.
The small figure, approximately two feet tall, had the stature of a child, and yet seemed more adult-like in form. It was an androgynous mass, with no features to speak of, and no visible clothing of any sort. It had no actual feet, but instead had circular points at the end of its legs, but did possess a full set of fingers on each hand. As the small figure picked itself off the floor, rubbing the back of its head and brushing some of Clive's blood off of itself, Wade was unable to say anything, unable to speak. He stood, paralyzed in fear at whatever it was had just pulled itself out of the back of Clive Maxwell's head. Trying to say something, he just managed to choke out what sounded like a strangled frog's croak.
Immediately, the figure turned, obviously surprised, and (he presumed) looked straight at him. Mouth agape, Wade peered a bit closer, and muttered to himself, finally breaking his own silence.
"What...?"
At the words, the figure jumped, and then pointed at Wade, leaving him to be the one taking a step back in surprise. The figure then lowered its arm, seemed to look up at the sky, and then raised both of its arms and flipped Wade Wilson off with both middle fingers, and then turned around and ran off into the jungle.
Mouth agape, Wade quickly turned to Will.
"Did...did you, did you see that...how is that...you must have seen..."
Wade shook his head, and looked straight at Will.
"Tell me you just saw the fucking MSN MESSENGER man JUMP OUT OF HIS HEAD AND FLIP ME OFF!"
At Will's blank look, Wade couldn't take it any more. This was ridiculous. Obviously, the little windows he'd been seeing had been MSN sign-on screens. It all made perfect sense now, but at the same time, it was insane. Someone had been signing on MSN in his head? He needed answers, and as it stood - there was no time to waste.
"Sorry Will, I've gotta go!"
Turning from Will, Wade sprinted off into the jungle after the little MSN man, screaming ahead of him as he went, pistol in hand. Try as he might, the little bugger was fast, but Wade knew that eventually, he'd run out of steam, and then he might be able to find the answers that he was looking for. He'd run as far as he had to - across the whole island if he must, but he'd catch the little green bastard. Of that, he was sure.
"GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE BASTARD! YOU AREN'T A FUCKING GINGERBREAD MAN, SO GET THE FUCK BACK HERE! NOBODY SIGNS ON TO MSN IN MY HEAD AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!"
((Wade Wilson is finally, mercifully, continued elsewhere))
It was one thing to lose your mind while trying to survive, but it was another to lose your mind and still find yourself unable to cope with what was going on around you. Wade was unfortunately in the latter circumstance, the coupling of his loss of reality and the cold, hard truth almost too much for him to bear.
Perhaps it was the crack of Will's weapon on the back of Clive's skull that loudly shook Wade out of his shock, but as the fierce battle ended in Clive's death, Wade couldn't help but wonder that if Will had such a hard time with killing other people - why was it he didn't just turn around and shoot Wade himself?
If only I could just figure things out for just a few more minutes...
Grimacing as he strained to understand, his gaze settled on Clive's body, blood starting to pool around the deceased's head. Things were clouding over something fierce within his own mind right now, and if only he could problem-solve for just a few more minutes, he knew that he might be able to figure it out. His pained glance turned to Will for a moment - who looked none the worse for wear, and then back to the body in front of him.
Which was when he finally saw it.
For the last few minutes, Wade had been hallucinating something within his vision, something that he couldn't put his finger on - and yet seemed so familiar to him. Small blue boxes had been popping up in his vision with text attached to them - something about someone named 'Trish', and someone named 'Aaron'. As he'd peered at the body the first time, more had come up, one of them was red and said something about 'Sven', and still other names and words that meant nothing to him. It hadn't made any sense at all, until he glanced back at Clive's corpse and gasped.
Clive was dead - this much was certain, but much to Wade's amazement, something seemed to be trying to burrow out of the back of his head, where Will had whacked him. a small, bright green hand poked its way out of Clive's skull, and began to try and squeeze itself out. As he watched; the blood draining from his face, the entity kicked off a piece of skull so that it could fit itself through. After a moment of struggling, it finally popped itself out of his head, and fell, head over heels out onto the ground.
The small figure, approximately two feet tall, had the stature of a child, and yet seemed more adult-like in form. It was an androgynous mass, with no features to speak of, and no visible clothing of any sort. It had no actual feet, but instead had circular points at the end of its legs, but did possess a full set of fingers on each hand. As the small figure picked itself off the floor, rubbing the back of its head and brushing some of Clive's blood off of itself, Wade was unable to say anything, unable to speak. He stood, paralyzed in fear at whatever it was had just pulled itself out of the back of Clive Maxwell's head. Trying to say something, he just managed to choke out what sounded like a strangled frog's croak.
Immediately, the figure turned, obviously surprised, and (he presumed) looked straight at him. Mouth agape, Wade peered a bit closer, and muttered to himself, finally breaking his own silence.
"What...?"
At the words, the figure jumped, and then pointed at Wade, leaving him to be the one taking a step back in surprise. The figure then lowered its arm, seemed to look up at the sky, and then raised both of its arms and flipped Wade Wilson off with both middle fingers, and then turned around and ran off into the jungle.
Mouth agape, Wade quickly turned to Will.
"Did...did you, did you see that...how is that...you must have seen..."
Wade shook his head, and looked straight at Will.
"Tell me you just saw the fucking MSN MESSENGER man JUMP OUT OF HIS HEAD AND FLIP ME OFF!"
At Will's blank look, Wade couldn't take it any more. This was ridiculous. Obviously, the little windows he'd been seeing had been MSN sign-on screens. It all made perfect sense now, but at the same time, it was insane. Someone had been signing on MSN in his head? He needed answers, and as it stood - there was no time to waste.
"Sorry Will, I've gotta go!"
Turning from Will, Wade sprinted off into the jungle after the little MSN man, screaming ahead of him as he went, pistol in hand. Try as he might, the little bugger was fast, but Wade knew that eventually, he'd run out of steam, and then he might be able to find the answers that he was looking for. He'd run as far as he had to - across the whole island if he must, but he'd catch the little green bastard. Of that, he was sure.
"GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE BASTARD! YOU AREN'T A FUCKING GINGERBREAD MAN, SO GET THE FUCK BACK HERE! NOBODY SIGNS ON TO MSN IN MY HEAD AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!"
((Wade Wilson is finally, mercifully, continued elsewhere))
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
Will's mouth hung open as Wade burst into crazy-mode once more and started chasing off.... nothing? Wade was muttering something about... a little man?
"Wade, I didn't see anyth-"
"Tell me you just saw the fucking MSN MESSENGER man JUMP OUT OF HIS HEAD AND FLIP ME OFF!"
Aghast, Will could only stare at Wade as he ran off chasing what he saw to be the MSN Messenger Man, screaming. Will seemed to just stand there, contemplating the reality of the situation. Keeping Wade around probably wasn't a good idea, but as long as he didn't start gnawing on Will's arm it was all well and good. Still, it may be a good idea to put Wade down the next time he sees him.
Put him down? Is he a dog now, Vilhjalmur?
Will looked on. The bodies of Eicca and the other one lay on the beach. Eicca's brains were brilliantly splattered all over the sand. The other lay in front of him, blood colouring the sand around his head. Wait...
Well it's happening
Never planned on this
You've got something I need
Kind of dangerous
And I'm losing control
I'm not used to this
What you want from me
I'm not used to this
He had seen this before. The other... he knew who it was... didn't he?
"...Faðir!"
I can't shut it off
this thing I've begun
and it's hard to tell
Eicca was gone. Where did he go? Who lay there now...?
"Móðir?"
Just where it's coming from
And it's hard to see
"No! It isn't possible, i'm... seeing shit! You're just two guys who... you just got in my way... You both... just got in my way!"
Will wasn't even aware he was screaming. Painful memories... repressed ones... flooded back to him.. but he saw Eicca, too. And that other one... they were there, back home, dead, with his parents. He kept the memories back... thinking of Southridge... of Stephanie... anything...
What I'm capable of
And it's hard to believe
Just, what I've become
What had just happened? Their blood was everywhere... Will couldn't stop the bleeding, he couldn't help them, they wouldn't wake up! What did he do? He didn't know. That man... why did he hurt them? Why wouldn't they wake up?! What did he do to Mom?
"Oh God... Someone... please... SOMEONE HELP!! HELP ME!!"
"HELP ME!!"
Hey, can we stop
Me, I'm not
Will knelt over the body of the boy he had just killed. A chill ran through his body. His hands shook. Two people were dead by his hands, that fact seemed to finally sink in now. They were going to be missed, their families were never going to be the same. Will knew what it felt like to lose everything. Now he'd done this to someone else? What was wrong with him?
I can swallow it down
keep it all inside
I define myself
by how well I hide
I feel it coming apart
well, at least I tried
What right did he have to put people through that type of misery? Why was it neccessary? Survival? Hah. It was pure luck that he made it this far.
"No... no...no..."
I can win this war
by knowing not to fight
if I take it all back
someway, somehow
if I knew back then
what I know right now
Will couldn't fight to win. Every time he killed he lost more of himself, and how many more would have to die by his hands so that he could survive, and for what? No one recovers from this, the previous winners are proof. Will didn't deserve to win.
Hey... can we stop?
But didn't he? It wasn't like he didn't deserve to leave this island less than anyone else... Will wanted to live, he wanted to do things with his life, as fucked up as it is.
Hey... can we stop?
He stared at the body in front of him.
"As... as crazy as this is to say it... I can't stop killing. After everything i've been through, I really... I don't want to die. I'm sorry that you're dead, I really am; and i'm sorry your family will have to live their lives without you, but... I need to survive."
Me, I'm not.
Will stood up, brushing the sand off his pants. His daypack lay nearby, and he picked it off the ground. The whole ordeal at the coast left him feeling exhausted. He hadn't slept in hours. Will began to leave the Northern Coast, taking back his dagger and sheathing it before he left.
As bad as he felt for these people's families, he did feel a certain degree of... satisfaction now that they were dead. The killings made him feel a little euphoric, perhaps a little bit giddy.
"Hah... I guess I like the feeling of killing people..."
((Will continued elsewhere))
"Wade, I didn't see anyth-"
"Tell me you just saw the fucking MSN MESSENGER man JUMP OUT OF HIS HEAD AND FLIP ME OFF!"
Aghast, Will could only stare at Wade as he ran off chasing what he saw to be the MSN Messenger Man, screaming. Will seemed to just stand there, contemplating the reality of the situation. Keeping Wade around probably wasn't a good idea, but as long as he didn't start gnawing on Will's arm it was all well and good. Still, it may be a good idea to put Wade down the next time he sees him.
Put him down? Is he a dog now, Vilhjalmur?
Will looked on. The bodies of Eicca and the other one lay on the beach. Eicca's brains were brilliantly splattered all over the sand. The other lay in front of him, blood colouring the sand around his head. Wait...
Well it's happening
Never planned on this
You've got something I need
Kind of dangerous
And I'm losing control
I'm not used to this
What you want from me
I'm not used to this
He had seen this before. The other... he knew who it was... didn't he?
"...Faðir!"
I can't shut it off
this thing I've begun
and it's hard to tell
Eicca was gone. Where did he go? Who lay there now...?
"Móðir?"
Just where it's coming from
And it's hard to see
"No! It isn't possible, i'm... seeing shit! You're just two guys who... you just got in my way... You both... just got in my way!"
Will wasn't even aware he was screaming. Painful memories... repressed ones... flooded back to him.. but he saw Eicca, too. And that other one... they were there, back home, dead, with his parents. He kept the memories back... thinking of Southridge... of Stephanie... anything...
What I'm capable of
And it's hard to believe
Just, what I've become
What had just happened? Their blood was everywhere... Will couldn't stop the bleeding, he couldn't help them, they wouldn't wake up! What did he do? He didn't know. That man... why did he hurt them? Why wouldn't they wake up?! What did he do to Mom?
"Oh God... Someone... please... SOMEONE HELP!! HELP ME!!"
"HELP ME!!"
Hey, can we stop
Me, I'm not
Will knelt over the body of the boy he had just killed. A chill ran through his body. His hands shook. Two people were dead by his hands, that fact seemed to finally sink in now. They were going to be missed, their families were never going to be the same. Will knew what it felt like to lose everything. Now he'd done this to someone else? What was wrong with him?
I can swallow it down
keep it all inside
I define myself
by how well I hide
I feel it coming apart
well, at least I tried
What right did he have to put people through that type of misery? Why was it neccessary? Survival? Hah. It was pure luck that he made it this far.
"No... no...no..."
I can win this war
by knowing not to fight
if I take it all back
someway, somehow
if I knew back then
what I know right now
Will couldn't fight to win. Every time he killed he lost more of himself, and how many more would have to die by his hands so that he could survive, and for what? No one recovers from this, the previous winners are proof. Will didn't deserve to win.
Hey... can we stop?
But didn't he? It wasn't like he didn't deserve to leave this island less than anyone else... Will wanted to live, he wanted to do things with his life, as fucked up as it is.
Hey... can we stop?
He stared at the body in front of him.
"As... as crazy as this is to say it... I can't stop killing. After everything i've been through, I really... I don't want to die. I'm sorry that you're dead, I really am; and i'm sorry your family will have to live their lives without you, but... I need to survive."
Me, I'm not.
Will stood up, brushing the sand off his pants. His daypack lay nearby, and he picked it off the ground. The whole ordeal at the coast left him feeling exhausted. He hadn't slept in hours. Will began to leave the Northern Coast, taking back his dagger and sheathing it before he left.
As bad as he felt for these people's families, he did feel a certain degree of... satisfaction now that they were dead. The killings made him feel a little euphoric, perhaps a little bit giddy.
"Hah... I guess I like the feeling of killing people..."
((Will continued elsewhere))
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