((continued from Motion Isn't Meaning))
The trees had grown steadily thicker. Shadows licked from the strangest places as Harry made his way--rather quickly--by. While he wasn't remotely at ease, neither was he as anxious as he likely would've been without the GPS device clutched tightly in one hand. He would be able to see any other players coming long before they could detect him, which was pretty much all he had to work with besides the sharp chunk of scrap metal. What he needed was a legitimate weapon to compliment his third eye. Optimally a gun, although he wasn't going to hold his breath.
'Dan Wolfe,' he thought to himself, still dwelling on their previous confrontation as he crossed the dilapidated swinging bridge carefully. It looked as if there'd been some action on the other side, given the broken glass and recent-looking sneaker prints. 'He's playing as well. That girl back there is as good as dead.' A sickly feeling festered in his stomach as he thought about Wolfe bashing in her skull, or kicking her visibly pregnant stomach as she screamed bloody murder, doing irreparable damage to her unborn child.
Harry tried not to think about it. He had to stay sharp anyway; there were a few random blips in the general area. Part of him wanted to pursue the closest of them, but as he looked around he saw a tree with branches just low enough to climb. He wasn't an athlete, but by no means was he in lousy shape either, and in about ten seconds he was well up the tree. The plan was basically to drop in on anybody who came across the bridge, which seemed a little ridiculous but then again would be relatively silent. Harry glanced at his apparel; he didn't think anybody would be able to see him very easily what with the thick foliage, much less think to look up there anyway.
He waited.
Yes It Is
Yes It Is
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((Continued from Pomme de Terre))
((OOC: Rawr. It's 2 AM, so expect this not to be Makaze/Adam/Riser/Megami-quality writing here.))
Owen sobbed softly as he walked, clenching his hand down against his bloody nose. Tears continued to pour down his face, stumbling like a little child looking for it's lost mother. "Stupid Paul," he grumbled to himself in between sobs. "Why'd he have to go and hit me in the nose so hard? I-I wasn't doing shit to him, and he had to go and punch me... well, I was holding a gun up at him but that isn't the point. The point is-"
Owen's fragile attention was diverted from his obvious anger to a wooden bridge that crossed from one side of a ravine to another. His expression changed to one of blind giddiness. He hopped up and down slightly, not even noticing for a second that someone else was watching him from afar. "Oh!" he proclaimed, squealing for joy. "A bridge! Awesome!" He had already forgotten about his injury and blood began to pour down his lips from his nose, dripping onto his shirt.
((OOC: Rawr. It's 2 AM, so expect this not to be Makaze/Adam/Riser/Megami-quality writing here.))
Owen sobbed softly as he walked, clenching his hand down against his bloody nose. Tears continued to pour down his face, stumbling like a little child looking for it's lost mother. "Stupid Paul," he grumbled to himself in between sobs. "Why'd he have to go and hit me in the nose so hard? I-I wasn't doing shit to him, and he had to go and punch me... well, I was holding a gun up at him but that isn't the point. The point is-"
Owen's fragile attention was diverted from his obvious anger to a wooden bridge that crossed from one side of a ravine to another. His expression changed to one of blind giddiness. He hopped up and down slightly, not even noticing for a second that someone else was watching him from afar. "Oh!" he proclaimed, squealing for joy. "A bridge! Awesome!" He had already forgotten about his injury and blood began to pour down his lips from his nose, dripping onto his shirt.
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.
((Continued from In God's House))
Shit, that had been way too fuckin' close for comfort.
Out of everything that he'd run in to henceforth in SOTF, danger zones were the one thing that had seemed to be the easiest to keep track of. At least, for Adam. He knew that there were countless students who'd been caught in danger zones, but Adam had always figured that if it's a piece of land that's going to kill you, can't you just avoid it?
Regardless, as he ran full-speed back the way he'd come upon entering the church, he couldn't help but hope to hell that the giant whom he'd fought wasn't still lurking around.
Gabriel Theobaldt. Least I've got a name now for the face. Not that the name's gonna do any good. Just gotta keep the fuck away from the sword-wielding madman until I can manage to come up with something that'd better than ...absolutely nothing!
Slowing to a steadier pace, Adam hesitantly looked around the area. This time, he was coming from the other side, as he'd needed to find a way up onto the bridge part of the area, having come previously from the bottom of the ravine. As he walked past the area where the crack in the Earth opened up, he was amazed at the actual distance between the top and the bottom. If it was the same distance here that it was at the spot where he and Gabriel had gone tumbling down...
I'm astounded we both managed to get up after that shit.
Of course, his goal at present was not to reminisce. It was to find his pack, and keep moving, just in case Gabriel or someone even less amicable than the giant of a man had been. As he walked along the edge of the ravine, Adam kept his head on a swivel. He was making himself a disturbingly easy target at the moment, walking along the edge, but he'd dove at Gabriel at an edge, and it made sense to assume that his pack was still around where that had happened.
He went three more minutes before he finally laid eyes on it, and it was certainly a ways down from where he'd started his walk down the pathway. It sat at the foot of a tree that stood almost right next to the bridge, looking completely unmolested. The light tubes that he'd taken from the storehouse still seemed intact, and if they were still there, it stood to reason that his assigned weapon - the knife, would still be there.
Never takin' that fuckin' thing out of my pocket ever again, unless I"m stabbing someone with it.
As he began to walk towards where his pack was, his eyes widened as he realized much-too-late that he wasn't alone. He cursed himself for not seeing it before, but as the area was dark, he hadn't seen the boy at the other side of the bridge until he'd gotten close enough to make out his faint form. On one hand, Adam was thankful. There was absolutely no way that it was Gabriel - he just wasn't tall enough. The issue was...if Adam could see him, he could almost definitely see Adam. And if the boy was a player, or had some sort of projectile weapon, Adam was again about to be in serious trouble.
Just stand really still - if he's not playing, he won't shoot you on sight. And if he is, you're pretty much fucked over anyways, unless you can manage to scramble into that tree there. Hmm...there's an idea...then he'd walk right fuckin' past and never see me...
Looking at the tree (and by association, his pack), and the boy across the bridge, Adam slowly started sidestepping towards the tree, fully intending to quickly shimmy up the tree and hopefully avoid any further confrontation.
Shit, that had been way too fuckin' close for comfort.
Out of everything that he'd run in to henceforth in SOTF, danger zones were the one thing that had seemed to be the easiest to keep track of. At least, for Adam. He knew that there were countless students who'd been caught in danger zones, but Adam had always figured that if it's a piece of land that's going to kill you, can't you just avoid it?
Regardless, as he ran full-speed back the way he'd come upon entering the church, he couldn't help but hope to hell that the giant whom he'd fought wasn't still lurking around.
Gabriel Theobaldt. Least I've got a name now for the face. Not that the name's gonna do any good. Just gotta keep the fuck away from the sword-wielding madman until I can manage to come up with something that'd better than ...absolutely nothing!
Slowing to a steadier pace, Adam hesitantly looked around the area. This time, he was coming from the other side, as he'd needed to find a way up onto the bridge part of the area, having come previously from the bottom of the ravine. As he walked past the area where the crack in the Earth opened up, he was amazed at the actual distance between the top and the bottom. If it was the same distance here that it was at the spot where he and Gabriel had gone tumbling down...
I'm astounded we both managed to get up after that shit.
Of course, his goal at present was not to reminisce. It was to find his pack, and keep moving, just in case Gabriel or someone even less amicable than the giant of a man had been. As he walked along the edge of the ravine, Adam kept his head on a swivel. He was making himself a disturbingly easy target at the moment, walking along the edge, but he'd dove at Gabriel at an edge, and it made sense to assume that his pack was still around where that had happened.
He went three more minutes before he finally laid eyes on it, and it was certainly a ways down from where he'd started his walk down the pathway. It sat at the foot of a tree that stood almost right next to the bridge, looking completely unmolested. The light tubes that he'd taken from the storehouse still seemed intact, and if they were still there, it stood to reason that his assigned weapon - the knife, would still be there.
Never takin' that fuckin' thing out of my pocket ever again, unless I"m stabbing someone with it.
As he began to walk towards where his pack was, his eyes widened as he realized much-too-late that he wasn't alone. He cursed himself for not seeing it before, but as the area was dark, he hadn't seen the boy at the other side of the bridge until he'd gotten close enough to make out his faint form. On one hand, Adam was thankful. There was absolutely no way that it was Gabriel - he just wasn't tall enough. The issue was...if Adam could see him, he could almost definitely see Adam. And if the boy was a player, or had some sort of projectile weapon, Adam was again about to be in serious trouble.
Just stand really still - if he's not playing, he won't shoot you on sight. And if he is, you're pretty much fucked over anyways, unless you can manage to scramble into that tree there. Hmm...there's an idea...then he'd walk right fuckin' past and never see me...
Looking at the tree (and by association, his pack), and the boy across the bridge, Adam slowly started sidestepping towards the tree, fully intending to quickly shimmy up the tree and hopefully avoid any further confrontation.
Harry's pulse raced as he watched the small GPS screen intently. One of the blips was nearly adjacent to his, and sure enough its owner appeared out of the abundant fauna, making his way toward the bridge. As he drew closer Harry got a look at the short boy's weapon. It was a handgun. As lucky as it was to find someone with a firearm so quickly, it certainly added to the risk of his surprise attack. Not that the kid himself looked all that threatening, but still.
"Shit," he mouthed silently, his heart thumping forcefully in his chest almost to the point where he was sure his intended victim would hear it. He stuffed the GPS quietly in his back pocket and readied his shiv. The short boy was almost directly under him now. There was no time left to debate taking the massive opportunity that was about to slip through his fingers.
'Do it. NOW!'
Harry threw himself down from his crook at the unsuspecting boy, committed entirely to his attack.
"Shit," he mouthed silently, his heart thumping forcefully in his chest almost to the point where he was sure his intended victim would hear it. He stuffed the GPS quietly in his back pocket and readied his shiv. The short boy was almost directly under him now. There was no time left to debate taking the massive opportunity that was about to slip through his fingers.
'Do it. NOW!'
Harry threw himself down from his crook at the unsuspecting boy, committed entirely to his attack.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Cyco. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
((Continued from: The Lagoon))
....Stand or die.
Those were the words that ran through Julie's head as the young sprinter, standing at a height of 5'11'', kept a strenuous pace as she moved across the island, moving fast but keeping low...using the nearby vegetation as a cover. She'd switched her sandals to athletic runners, and while her trench coat was still tied at her waist, she'd freed her arms from the sleeves... she could maneuver better in the light camisole that she wore.
The handgun was at the belt of her coat...hidden beneath the sleeves. That in mind, she was able to run freely...
First of all, she had to get her bearings, find some sort of defensible position, and then devise some sort of working plan from there-
Spotting something in the distance, she froze, and ducked into the bushes. A bridge hung before her eyes not too far off in the distance, and the telltale footfalls and voices warned her of the presence of others nearby...
Julie's hand moved to the handgun at her waist as she edged towards a nearby tree for cover. Would she have to kill so soon? So early? Then again, judging from the announcement, others have already started...
For now she watched at the scene that unfolded. From this distance, she couldn't clearly discern the face of the childlike boy in front of her...what was with that boy? Her arched eyebrows were raised in confusion. ....Why was he acting like a child, talking to himself like that? Had he snapped from the pressure? Well-read in the world of SOTF, Julie knew that in this game, instability made for a dangerous person to encounter...
Just as she was about to back off, and run elsewhere, new figure blocked her view, side-stepping away from the bridge and towards the tree.
Red hair....well it was more orange, really...
...about her height...
...scarring at the side of his head...
It couldn't be.
Her eyes suddenly widened. In an instant she found herself moving without her own accord. She tensed, waiting for him to near the tree...and when he was close enough, and she still behind the tree well enough for concealment, she reached out with the pistol in her hand.
She pointed the barrel at the side of his head.
Her voice was low, and she kept hidden behind the tree with her gun pointed directly at him. "...B77. Adam Dodd. Namely? The winner of Version One, SOTF." As she said this, she noted the pack that rested near the tree.
Julie allowed the brief pause of silence to pass as affirmation to his identity. She looked towards him, gesturing towards him with the gun, still pointing at him while she asked him, looking towards the bag that lay between them.
"Where's your pack. I thought you'd have it with you at all times."
....Stand or die.
Those were the words that ran through Julie's head as the young sprinter, standing at a height of 5'11'', kept a strenuous pace as she moved across the island, moving fast but keeping low...using the nearby vegetation as a cover. She'd switched her sandals to athletic runners, and while her trench coat was still tied at her waist, she'd freed her arms from the sleeves... she could maneuver better in the light camisole that she wore.
The handgun was at the belt of her coat...hidden beneath the sleeves. That in mind, she was able to run freely...
First of all, she had to get her bearings, find some sort of defensible position, and then devise some sort of working plan from there-
Spotting something in the distance, she froze, and ducked into the bushes. A bridge hung before her eyes not too far off in the distance, and the telltale footfalls and voices warned her of the presence of others nearby...
Julie's hand moved to the handgun at her waist as she edged towards a nearby tree for cover. Would she have to kill so soon? So early? Then again, judging from the announcement, others have already started...
For now she watched at the scene that unfolded. From this distance, she couldn't clearly discern the face of the childlike boy in front of her...what was with that boy? Her arched eyebrows were raised in confusion. ....Why was he acting like a child, talking to himself like that? Had he snapped from the pressure? Well-read in the world of SOTF, Julie knew that in this game, instability made for a dangerous person to encounter...
Just as she was about to back off, and run elsewhere, new figure blocked her view, side-stepping away from the bridge and towards the tree.
Red hair....well it was more orange, really...
...about her height...
...scarring at the side of his head...
It couldn't be.
Her eyes suddenly widened. In an instant she found herself moving without her own accord. She tensed, waiting for him to near the tree...and when he was close enough, and she still behind the tree well enough for concealment, she reached out with the pistol in her hand.
She pointed the barrel at the side of his head.
Her voice was low, and she kept hidden behind the tree with her gun pointed directly at him. "...B77. Adam Dodd. Namely? The winner of Version One, SOTF." As she said this, she noted the pack that rested near the tree.
Julie allowed the brief pause of silence to pass as affirmation to his identity. She looked towards him, gesturing towards him with the gun, still pointing at him while she asked him, looking towards the bag that lay between them.
"Where's your pack. I thought you'd have it with you at all times."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((B42, Sean O'Cann continued from: In God's House))
It had been damn difficult to keep track of Adam. Despite being fit from baseball and a decent enough runner Sean hadn't managed to catch him. Adam had put on one hell of a burst of speed and, considering just who he was, it was likely that he was in better shape than even Sean was. However, Sean had never fully lost sight of the fugitive from the Chapel, and once he slowed down, it was easy enough to catch up.
Before he went over to the slowed down Adam though, Sean paused for a few moments to compose himself. He took several deep breaths, partially to get his wind back, but partially because his thoughts were still scattered, flitting around like a flock of birds.. This was really happening... people were dying... people were murdering. Tyson was one of the dead. A brief hope then accosted him, what if Danya was just trying to scare them? What if... No, if they were pretending there were dead by announcing names anyway, they would have just killed them anyway.
At least he still had Andy, Sean consoled himself. He might not have been in a position to save Tyson, but he wasn't going to let his boyfriend out of his sight once he caught up with them. Sean brushed a sloitary tear from his cheek, sighed, then followed along after Adam. This was going to be a long, long ordeal...
As he walked, Sean thoughfully fished out one of the shards of glass he had collected from the church. It was long, and one end was jagged and looked as if it was very sharp. Continuing on, Sean reached around and went into his pack, tugging out one of the clips he had received for an AK-47. As a final one fingered salute and mocking taunt to him, from Danya probably, the pack had also contained a manual for the gun.
All I need is an AK-47 and I'm laughing. Sean thought bitterly. Instead I've got a whole lot of ammo and nothing to go with it. Fucking Danya. I hate you already.
Sean stopped walking then and swung his pack from one shoulder to the floor. Much as he would have liked to keep walking, this job would need concentration. The magasine wasn't an ideal shape - being rather too curved to be entirely appropriate. But that was the essence of a makeshift weapon really... you had to make do with what you had, even if it wasn't exactly the right equipment.
Sean looked down at his pack, then delved into it again, pushing through the numerous hard magasines to grab something else from near the bottom - his first aid kit. He'd already had cause to use it once, when he had woken up to find a deep cut to the side of his head. Now Sean was planning on utilising it for a rather different purpose.
There were still several fresh bandages inside, and Sean extracted one to use, quickly unrolling it. Sean then selected another shard of glass from his pocket then, along with the first, laid it on top of one another, on the magasine itself. The shapes didn't match, but that wouldn't matter, the extra was just to provide support, hopefully it would prevent the whole thing from just shattering or even snapping, Sean proceeded to use the bandage to bind the glass to the magasine tightly, wrapping the entire length of the roll around the 'handle' overlapping numerous times. If it wasn't tight enough, the glass would simply be pushed back on contact, ultimately making the weapon useless. Once he was done, Sean gingerly pressed down on the top of his construction, and immediately withdrew his hand as a sharp pain made itself known at the tip of his finger. Sean turned his plam up to look, and on his index finger (luckily of his weaker left hand) there was a shallow cut.
Better than nothing. Sean thought with a smile, standing and picking up his pack again, his new weapon in hand. For now, it would do. Sean resumed his pursuit of Adam, however, as he neared where Adam had got to, it appeared that all was not well... For a start there seemed to be someone on the other side of the chasm the bridge offered passage across, but more importantly, Adam was on this side of the bridge, and somebody was pointing a gun at his head. Judging how she looked next to Adam, she was a little taller than Sean, whose 5ft 9" was hardly impressive.
I know who that is. Sean realised with a jolt, that this was true. The girl was Julie Mikan, a sprinter by all accounts. Sean had seen her a couple of times when he went down to the track with Tyson so his friend could practice. It was a source of much irritation for the diminutive boy, in fact, that Julie could so easily outpace him in the 100 metres. The memory brought a ghost of a smile to Sean's face, before reality intruded and he became serious again. The fact of the matter was that somebody was holding a gun to the head of the guy he was travelling with (nominally, considering how he'd taken off so fast. Though with dangerzones and all that jazz, who could blame him?).
Sean thought for a very brief moment, then turned away and darted towards another tree, keeping low. Hopefully, the cover would prevent Julie from seeing him. Once there, Sean peaked around the trunk to affirm he was close enough to call out, then concealed himself out of sight again.
"Julie!" he called out, suddenly finding his mouth dry and legs shaking - this could get him killed! "Is that you over there? Y-you're not in trouble are you?" Sean thought, grimacing, that the stammer would have been a nice touch, had it been intentional. Sean was scared out his mind, and nothing had even really happened yet...
It had been damn difficult to keep track of Adam. Despite being fit from baseball and a decent enough runner Sean hadn't managed to catch him. Adam had put on one hell of a burst of speed and, considering just who he was, it was likely that he was in better shape than even Sean was. However, Sean had never fully lost sight of the fugitive from the Chapel, and once he slowed down, it was easy enough to catch up.
Before he went over to the slowed down Adam though, Sean paused for a few moments to compose himself. He took several deep breaths, partially to get his wind back, but partially because his thoughts were still scattered, flitting around like a flock of birds.. This was really happening... people were dying... people were murdering. Tyson was one of the dead. A brief hope then accosted him, what if Danya was just trying to scare them? What if... No, if they were pretending there were dead by announcing names anyway, they would have just killed them anyway.
At least he still had Andy, Sean consoled himself. He might not have been in a position to save Tyson, but he wasn't going to let his boyfriend out of his sight once he caught up with them. Sean brushed a sloitary tear from his cheek, sighed, then followed along after Adam. This was going to be a long, long ordeal...
As he walked, Sean thoughfully fished out one of the shards of glass he had collected from the church. It was long, and one end was jagged and looked as if it was very sharp. Continuing on, Sean reached around and went into his pack, tugging out one of the clips he had received for an AK-47. As a final one fingered salute and mocking taunt to him, from Danya probably, the pack had also contained a manual for the gun.
All I need is an AK-47 and I'm laughing. Sean thought bitterly. Instead I've got a whole lot of ammo and nothing to go with it. Fucking Danya. I hate you already.
Sean stopped walking then and swung his pack from one shoulder to the floor. Much as he would have liked to keep walking, this job would need concentration. The magasine wasn't an ideal shape - being rather too curved to be entirely appropriate. But that was the essence of a makeshift weapon really... you had to make do with what you had, even if it wasn't exactly the right equipment.
Sean looked down at his pack, then delved into it again, pushing through the numerous hard magasines to grab something else from near the bottom - his first aid kit. He'd already had cause to use it once, when he had woken up to find a deep cut to the side of his head. Now Sean was planning on utilising it for a rather different purpose.
There were still several fresh bandages inside, and Sean extracted one to use, quickly unrolling it. Sean then selected another shard of glass from his pocket then, along with the first, laid it on top of one another, on the magasine itself. The shapes didn't match, but that wouldn't matter, the extra was just to provide support, hopefully it would prevent the whole thing from just shattering or even snapping, Sean proceeded to use the bandage to bind the glass to the magasine tightly, wrapping the entire length of the roll around the 'handle' overlapping numerous times. If it wasn't tight enough, the glass would simply be pushed back on contact, ultimately making the weapon useless. Once he was done, Sean gingerly pressed down on the top of his construction, and immediately withdrew his hand as a sharp pain made itself known at the tip of his finger. Sean turned his plam up to look, and on his index finger (luckily of his weaker left hand) there was a shallow cut.
Better than nothing. Sean thought with a smile, standing and picking up his pack again, his new weapon in hand. For now, it would do. Sean resumed his pursuit of Adam, however, as he neared where Adam had got to, it appeared that all was not well... For a start there seemed to be someone on the other side of the chasm the bridge offered passage across, but more importantly, Adam was on this side of the bridge, and somebody was pointing a gun at his head. Judging how she looked next to Adam, she was a little taller than Sean, whose 5ft 9" was hardly impressive.
I know who that is. Sean realised with a jolt, that this was true. The girl was Julie Mikan, a sprinter by all accounts. Sean had seen her a couple of times when he went down to the track with Tyson so his friend could practice. It was a source of much irritation for the diminutive boy, in fact, that Julie could so easily outpace him in the 100 metres. The memory brought a ghost of a smile to Sean's face, before reality intruded and he became serious again. The fact of the matter was that somebody was holding a gun to the head of the guy he was travelling with (nominally, considering how he'd taken off so fast. Though with dangerzones and all that jazz, who could blame him?).
Sean thought for a very brief moment, then turned away and darted towards another tree, keeping low. Hopefully, the cover would prevent Julie from seeing him. Once there, Sean peaked around the trunk to affirm he was close enough to call out, then concealed himself out of sight again.
"Julie!" he called out, suddenly finding his mouth dry and legs shaking - this could get him killed! "Is that you over there? Y-you're not in trouble are you?" Sean thought, grimacing, that the stammer would have been a nice touch, had it been intentional. Sean was scared out his mind, and nothing had even really happened yet...
The special education class was no fun. Ask Owen. He'll tell you.
Owen Fontaine wasn't exactly the smartest boy around the school, but he was intelligent enough to notice that he really didn't belong in Special Ed. He really only had one friend named Matthew, a boy with a disablity that Owen couldn't remember the name of but knew that it sounded like an item you would find at Frank's Eats. He really wasn't old enough to understand why they were in that class for most of their days, and why they were sheltered from the other school kids. Owen could never understand and that's why he, who was by far the most normal kid in the group of students who were with him, couldn't be with any of the normal people.
The only time he got to meet kids was when he was playing soccer. The only time he could actually make real friends. While he really didn't receive any best friends during his adventures in the soccer club, he did grow bonds with most of his teammates. Not as close of bonds as a boy like Owen would have wished for, but at least it wasn't like he was sitting in a classroom with fingerpaint and shit like that. Nigel Gillespie, Eric Graves, Josh Kenn, Branden Marsh, he knew most of them. Especially Branden Maybe one might criticize him for his camera-hogging ways, but Owen felt accomplished to have friends. It meant that he, unlike the rest of the kids in the special class, had overcome the difficulty of fitting in. He actually thought he had made some great progress, and that he was going to live his life like any other normal kid.
And was... this how he was supposed to leave the world? Getting tackled by a Chinese guy from above? He normally wouldn't think anyone wanted to kill him. He thought he was perfectly fine, but when he slammed into the ground under the weight of another boy, he knew he was wrong. Owen wouldn't let his life end in such a pathetic way. He COULDN'T allow that. That was not the Fontaine way. Owen was extremely lucky that he had turned just as Harry had landed on him, so he would be laying face up. If he had gone face down then there'd be no possible way he could ever defend himself.
Owen went on a counter-attack almost immediately after he hit the ground. He wasn't exactly the greatest fighter that had ever lived, but the rage building up inside of him made up for that. He suddenly threw his right leg upwards in an attempt to hit the Asian right in between the legs. His eyes were almost closed and there was a chance that he wouldn't hit anything at all, but he was willing to take that risk. His arms extended outwards and pressed up against Harry, trying to push the blond haired boy off of him. As he was defending himself, Owen squealed like what a puppy would if it were getting spiked by a football player.
"H-Hey!" Owen cried out in pain. "The hell is your problem?!! Get the hell off of me!!! Don't you know who I am?"
Owen Fontaine wasn't exactly the smartest boy around the school, but he was intelligent enough to notice that he really didn't belong in Special Ed. He really only had one friend named Matthew, a boy with a disablity that Owen couldn't remember the name of but knew that it sounded like an item you would find at Frank's Eats. He really wasn't old enough to understand why they were in that class for most of their days, and why they were sheltered from the other school kids. Owen could never understand and that's why he, who was by far the most normal kid in the group of students who were with him, couldn't be with any of the normal people.
The only time he got to meet kids was when he was playing soccer. The only time he could actually make real friends. While he really didn't receive any best friends during his adventures in the soccer club, he did grow bonds with most of his teammates. Not as close of bonds as a boy like Owen would have wished for, but at least it wasn't like he was sitting in a classroom with fingerpaint and shit like that. Nigel Gillespie, Eric Graves, Josh Kenn, Branden Marsh, he knew most of them. Especially Branden Maybe one might criticize him for his camera-hogging ways, but Owen felt accomplished to have friends. It meant that he, unlike the rest of the kids in the special class, had overcome the difficulty of fitting in. He actually thought he had made some great progress, and that he was going to live his life like any other normal kid.
And was... this how he was supposed to leave the world? Getting tackled by a Chinese guy from above? He normally wouldn't think anyone wanted to kill him. He thought he was perfectly fine, but when he slammed into the ground under the weight of another boy, he knew he was wrong. Owen wouldn't let his life end in such a pathetic way. He COULDN'T allow that. That was not the Fontaine way. Owen was extremely lucky that he had turned just as Harry had landed on him, so he would be laying face up. If he had gone face down then there'd be no possible way he could ever defend himself.
Owen went on a counter-attack almost immediately after he hit the ground. He wasn't exactly the greatest fighter that had ever lived, but the rage building up inside of him made up for that. He suddenly threw his right leg upwards in an attempt to hit the Asian right in between the legs. His eyes were almost closed and there was a chance that he wouldn't hit anything at all, but he was willing to take that risk. His arms extended outwards and pressed up against Harry, trying to push the blond haired boy off of him. As he was defending himself, Owen squealed like what a puppy would if it were getting spiked by a football player.
"H-Hey!" Owen cried out in pain. "The hell is your problem?!! Get the hell off of me!!! Don't you know who I am?"
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Almost there...fuckin' pack, this is such a pain in the ass...can't be sure if that guy saw me, either...
Adam kept slowly moving towards the tree, but was halted in his path by an unfamiliar cool feeling at the side of his head. It only took him a split-second to realize what the feeling was, and his shoulders fell in a defeated sigh as he stopped in his tracks.
"...fuck."
Glancing to the side, still keeping his head perfectly still, Adam tried to see who exactly it was who was now pointing a gun to his head. Like he'd been thinking for the majority of the time that he had so far, the thought passed through his head - if this was a player, he was FUCKED.
So what else is new? This shit's been going on all fuckin' day.
As she quietly hissed his relatively infamous name and number back at him, Adam said nothing. It was obvious who he was - every single kid in school was familiar with him, even if not personally. And here was one, holding a gun to his head, almost mockingly asking him where his pack was. How was he supposed to deal with this? Adam'd usually been pretty solid at adapting to new and unpleasant situations - it was a big part of the reason he'd lived through SOTF once before. But a gun to his head while he himself had no weapons? There was nothing he could do, save using his trademark sarcastic wit to wear down the resolve of his attacker, and then batter her (it sounded like a girl's voice) with his emotionally moving ranting skills.
Yeah, what a wonderful fuckin' idea.
Adam blinked suddenly, when he realized that if death was indeed staring him in the face, there was only one way to go.
Wait. Actually...not a bad idea at all...
Turning his head very slowly towards the girl who had the gun pressed solidly against his head, Adam found himself dismayed to find out that he didn't know this girl at all, not even to talk to in class, or anything. Maybe he'd seen her in the halls, but she didn't look familiar to him. As far as the answer to her question, he sheepishly pointed at the pack leaning against the tree.
"It's right there...complete with everything I'd ever need to light my way home. Either that or repair a fuckin' sign in Vegas."
Pausing, Adam thought quickly about his next move. His options were severely limited by the fact that he wasn't ready to take a bullet in the head.
Like the Rage song, but...a lot less fun to listen to...
"Now, you've really got me a mad fucking disadvantage here...I don't even know your name, and you're holding a gun to my head. And gee golly, here I just plain old forgot to wear my brain shields today. Ain't that just the dog's breakfast. And-"
Adam was cut off by a voice, a familiar voice calling out from a ways down the path. It sounded like that other kid from the church, Sean. He'd obviously been right behind Adam, and he called out, though not to Adam, it seemed. In fact, it appeared as though he were calling to the girl who had the gun at Adam's head.
Oh, SUPER. He knows her. Well. At least I've got a name.
"Julie, eh? Nice name. I used to know someone named Julie. Back at my old school. Actually. That's a lie. In fact, I'm really just trying to establish some sort of rapport with you so that you don't blow my fuckin' brains out."
Adam scowled as he kept on ranting and raving.
"I mean, this day's just been absolutely wonderful enough without you shooting me in the head. Like...shit, I've been kidnapped...AGAIN. And by the same twisted fucker who did it the first time. I get assigned a bunch of fuckin' lightbulbs as a way to defend myself, and I end up losing my pack, getting attacked at every fuckin' turn, and here you stand, with a gun to my head. Let me tell you, this day's just been absolutely OUTSTANDING so far."
Quickly, and hoping that his sudden move wouldn't trigger her trigger, Adam turned around so that he was facing her, the gun now pressed against his forehead, his eyes fiery with annoyance and sarcastic frustration.
If she's gonna shoot me, she's gonna have to look me in the eyes to do it.
"Yeah...it's hard to overstate my satisfaction."
Smiling a grim smile, Adam looked right into the girl's eyes.
"So...you gonna shoot me? Or are we going to stand here all day while you give me a weird imprinty thing in my head? Either way, I have friends waiting for me, so it doesn't fuckin' matter, now does it?"
Adam kept slowly moving towards the tree, but was halted in his path by an unfamiliar cool feeling at the side of his head. It only took him a split-second to realize what the feeling was, and his shoulders fell in a defeated sigh as he stopped in his tracks.
"...fuck."
Glancing to the side, still keeping his head perfectly still, Adam tried to see who exactly it was who was now pointing a gun to his head. Like he'd been thinking for the majority of the time that he had so far, the thought passed through his head - if this was a player, he was FUCKED.
So what else is new? This shit's been going on all fuckin' day.
As she quietly hissed his relatively infamous name and number back at him, Adam said nothing. It was obvious who he was - every single kid in school was familiar with him, even if not personally. And here was one, holding a gun to his head, almost mockingly asking him where his pack was. How was he supposed to deal with this? Adam'd usually been pretty solid at adapting to new and unpleasant situations - it was a big part of the reason he'd lived through SOTF once before. But a gun to his head while he himself had no weapons? There was nothing he could do, save using his trademark sarcastic wit to wear down the resolve of his attacker, and then batter her (it sounded like a girl's voice) with his emotionally moving ranting skills.
Yeah, what a wonderful fuckin' idea.
Adam blinked suddenly, when he realized that if death was indeed staring him in the face, there was only one way to go.
Wait. Actually...not a bad idea at all...
Turning his head very slowly towards the girl who had the gun pressed solidly against his head, Adam found himself dismayed to find out that he didn't know this girl at all, not even to talk to in class, or anything. Maybe he'd seen her in the halls, but she didn't look familiar to him. As far as the answer to her question, he sheepishly pointed at the pack leaning against the tree.
"It's right there...complete with everything I'd ever need to light my way home. Either that or repair a fuckin' sign in Vegas."
Pausing, Adam thought quickly about his next move. His options were severely limited by the fact that he wasn't ready to take a bullet in the head.
Like the Rage song, but...a lot less fun to listen to...
"Now, you've really got me a mad fucking disadvantage here...I don't even know your name, and you're holding a gun to my head. And gee golly, here I just plain old forgot to wear my brain shields today. Ain't that just the dog's breakfast. And-"
Adam was cut off by a voice, a familiar voice calling out from a ways down the path. It sounded like that other kid from the church, Sean. He'd obviously been right behind Adam, and he called out, though not to Adam, it seemed. In fact, it appeared as though he were calling to the girl who had the gun at Adam's head.
Oh, SUPER. He knows her. Well. At least I've got a name.
"Julie, eh? Nice name. I used to know someone named Julie. Back at my old school. Actually. That's a lie. In fact, I'm really just trying to establish some sort of rapport with you so that you don't blow my fuckin' brains out."
Adam scowled as he kept on ranting and raving.
"I mean, this day's just been absolutely wonderful enough without you shooting me in the head. Like...shit, I've been kidnapped...AGAIN. And by the same twisted fucker who did it the first time. I get assigned a bunch of fuckin' lightbulbs as a way to defend myself, and I end up losing my pack, getting attacked at every fuckin' turn, and here you stand, with a gun to my head. Let me tell you, this day's just been absolutely OUTSTANDING so far."
Quickly, and hoping that his sudden move wouldn't trigger her trigger, Adam turned around so that he was facing her, the gun now pressed against his forehead, his eyes fiery with annoyance and sarcastic frustration.
If she's gonna shoot me, she's gonna have to look me in the eyes to do it.
"Yeah...it's hard to overstate my satisfaction."
Smiling a grim smile, Adam looked right into the girl's eyes.
"So...you gonna shoot me? Or are we going to stand here all day while you give me a weird imprinty thing in my head? Either way, I have friends waiting for me, so it doesn't fuckin' matter, now does it?"
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
...There was a lot happening around her. A bit more than Julie liked, honestly enough. It was getting a bit difficult to concentrate her attention towards this person in front of her, yet at the same time remain aware of any potential danger that may turn up while she was distracted. Well whoever was on the bridge didn't seem to be aware of them at the moment...though she knew not how long THAT would last. She took a quick glance over her shoulder, frowning as her name was called out...
He was gone before he could get a good look at him, but Julie faintly recognized the other student as a fellow athelete. More a baseballer than a sprinter, though, and from what Julie heard, the guy was known to swing the other direction...so to speak.
Somebody ought to shoot me, that was a HORRIBLE baseball pun...
In any case, she tensed slightly, keeping on her guard. For now, she had no idea what sort of weapon he had on him. There were a number of things that could outmatch a semi-auto pistol, Julie imagined she had a good enough imagination.
"One step closer? I'll unload this clip on him and let you have the next one. So stay where you are."
Julie turned back to direct her full attention to Dodd. She frowned slightly. So it was true. He really did have a big mouth. Sharp wit and sharper tongue, Julie was surprised it didn't get him killed outright in the first game.
Lightbulbs, huh...? We'll see.
And then he turned to her, and it took Julie all the resolution she had to keep from flinching at his direct gaze. Her grip faltered in her surprise at his sudden movement, but she kept firm in aiming the handgun directly towards his forehead now, squarely meeting his brown eyes with her steel-coloured ones.
She kept a stoic, unreadable expression as she recalled what she had been told about him before...this winner of the first version of SOTF, Adam Dodd.
"...Well of course I had the chance to catch a glimpse of him, I was one of the 'terrorists' escorting him off the island after all," That was what he said.
"For a while, I thought: Alright, well this is the guy that's been keeping Danya interested for the past ten or so days, more lives than a cat, twice as temperamental, and I swear, if Microsoft were as generous with their money as this guy is with his expletives, we'd have abolished world famine by now. And then I suddenly had a hand in keeping him under observation, and had a chance to, well...watch the way he reacted to the things he encountered on that island, his rants. To be honest, you could say that was when I start having my doubts about this whole thing. Did it really make any sense? Was it really for a greater gain? For the good of the many? Is there any meaning to it?
Let me tell you... Listening to his rants through audio set my doubts in motion. Simply seeing him in person, catching a glimpse of the expression on his face, the look in his eyes?
It was enough to make me realize that I'd been a bloody fool going along with this for as long as I had. It was enough for me to start looking for the next boat trip home."
...And here Julie was, to see for herself just what made one of Danya's once-faithful associates turn his back on his former colleagues and begin a campaign to bring down the very thing he'd helped organized since its birth.
It was hard to maintain visual contact with eyes that seemed to pierce through her, yet she maintained it with a fierce resolution of her own, staring back at him with an expression that was cold and pure...purely unreadable. If he wanted to wear her down, break her resolution through an exchange of words...well, all she had to do was simply refuse to engage.
"... Come on, Dodd. You've been through the routine before. You should know. The one holding the gun is the one asking all the questions." This she said in an even voice that was calm in tone had betrayed little emotion. She didn't smile back.
She placed her foot against the pack on the ground, and gave it a shove so that it rolled once, twice towards him. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she gestured towards the pack with the gun.
"Open it up. Let's see what you've got."
He was gone before he could get a good look at him, but Julie faintly recognized the other student as a fellow athelete. More a baseballer than a sprinter, though, and from what Julie heard, the guy was known to swing the other direction...so to speak.
Somebody ought to shoot me, that was a HORRIBLE baseball pun...
In any case, she tensed slightly, keeping on her guard. For now, she had no idea what sort of weapon he had on him. There were a number of things that could outmatch a semi-auto pistol, Julie imagined she had a good enough imagination.
"One step closer? I'll unload this clip on him and let you have the next one. So stay where you are."
Julie turned back to direct her full attention to Dodd. She frowned slightly. So it was true. He really did have a big mouth. Sharp wit and sharper tongue, Julie was surprised it didn't get him killed outright in the first game.
Lightbulbs, huh...? We'll see.
And then he turned to her, and it took Julie all the resolution she had to keep from flinching at his direct gaze. Her grip faltered in her surprise at his sudden movement, but she kept firm in aiming the handgun directly towards his forehead now, squarely meeting his brown eyes with her steel-coloured ones.
She kept a stoic, unreadable expression as she recalled what she had been told about him before...this winner of the first version of SOTF, Adam Dodd.
"...Well of course I had the chance to catch a glimpse of him, I was one of the 'terrorists' escorting him off the island after all," That was what he said.
"For a while, I thought: Alright, well this is the guy that's been keeping Danya interested for the past ten or so days, more lives than a cat, twice as temperamental, and I swear, if Microsoft were as generous with their money as this guy is with his expletives, we'd have abolished world famine by now. And then I suddenly had a hand in keeping him under observation, and had a chance to, well...watch the way he reacted to the things he encountered on that island, his rants. To be honest, you could say that was when I start having my doubts about this whole thing. Did it really make any sense? Was it really for a greater gain? For the good of the many? Is there any meaning to it?
Let me tell you... Listening to his rants through audio set my doubts in motion. Simply seeing him in person, catching a glimpse of the expression on his face, the look in his eyes?
It was enough to make me realize that I'd been a bloody fool going along with this for as long as I had. It was enough for me to start looking for the next boat trip home."
...And here Julie was, to see for herself just what made one of Danya's once-faithful associates turn his back on his former colleagues and begin a campaign to bring down the very thing he'd helped organized since its birth.
It was hard to maintain visual contact with eyes that seemed to pierce through her, yet she maintained it with a fierce resolution of her own, staring back at him with an expression that was cold and pure...purely unreadable. If he wanted to wear her down, break her resolution through an exchange of words...well, all she had to do was simply refuse to engage.
"... Come on, Dodd. You've been through the routine before. You should know. The one holding the gun is the one asking all the questions." This she said in an even voice that was calm in tone had betrayed little emotion. She didn't smile back.
She placed her foot against the pack on the ground, and gave it a shove so that it rolled once, twice towards him. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she gestured towards the pack with the gun.
"Open it up. Let's see what you've got."
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Adam continued to stare at Julie, his fierce gaze never leaving her eyes, the smile (which was really more of a defiant smirk) never leaving his face. Getting guns pointed at him was nothing new to Adam, and thanks to V1, the fear that was usually evoked when someone pointed a gun at him didn't deter him from at least being an asshole for as much time as he possibly could. Usually, and oddly enough, it tended to buy him time.
As the girl, Juliet, kicked his pack towards him, Adam raised an eyebrow at her. He'd (rather stupidly, especially at the time) placed the switchblade in one of the smaller side pocket-in-a-pockets, and provided that she let him keep the actual pack itself, she could have everything else that was inside of the pack for all he cared.
I don't want to have to walk around defending myself with a shitload of lightbulbs and NO knife to back it up with. I mean...fuck...LIGHTBULBS, for Christ's sake!
Keeping his eyes trained upon Julie, Adam slowly unzipped his pack, taking out the seven light tubes that remained within his pack first, and setting them on the ground beside him. Slowly, he picked one up so that she could see exactly what it was.
"See? I wasn't bullshitting you. I got a bunch of fuckin' lightbulbs. Not exactly...dangerous. And besides, you hit someone with them and they explode into tiny pieces. And then the person laughs at you and shoots you in the face. I'd give you a demonstration, but I've grown kind of attached to my face."
Unzipping the pack, his glance left Julie for a moment as he observed what looked like someone tackling the kid from across the bridge, flying out of a tree to do so. A pang of guilt arising in his chest, he fought the urge to run over and do something about it.
That, folks, would be my fatal flaw...always have to go around helping people out. If I hadn't in the first place, well...I sure wouldn't be in this situation, now would I?
Looking back at Julie, he shook his head and sighed visibly. With all the damage that had been done to his psyche over the years, he still felt intensely guilty that he wasn't in a position to help the boy across the river. And yet, the girl sat here, gun trained on him, obviously wanting him to go through his supplies...and yet looking at him with a resolve that seemed as fierce as his own.
Yeah, but any bets she can't out-rant me...
Slowly, he overturned the pack, so all of the things that Adam had stuffed in fell out on the ground in front of him. Sighing softly again, Adam took a knee on the ground, grimacing as he did. He'd had bad knees even before Survival of the Fittest, thanks in large part to an old hockey injury. Thanks to that, he'd always had a hard time kneeling down wtihout pain, and this was no exception. Of course, he wasn't about to complain. That would probably just end up getting him shot. He grabbed the first item and held it up so that he could see.
"Crackers. I'm guessing you probably have a couple of these in your pack too. It's the same old shitty brand that he's been using for years, too. They taste like crap, and leave you with a horrific aftertaste. But they're sustinance, and I guess it's pathetic if you starve to death in a game where people are supposed to kill you by any means necessary. You'd think he'd maybe up the budget, get us some fuckin' Ritz crackers or something. Fuck, I'd even settle for goldfish crackers."
As he put down the tin of crackers and put aside the water bottles with them, he grabbed the next item, and looked up, smirking at Julie.
"I fucking LOVE goldfish crackers."
Glancing quickly at the item in his hand, he smiled a genuine smile, as the last good memory he'd had prior to this hellish second round had been playing with it on the bus.
"And this little thing? This is my Nintendo DS. Yeah, that's right. The big fuckin' scary guy? He plays with a Nintendo DS. Fact is, the last nice memory I had was handing out a round of punishment on anyone in the immediate row in Ultimate MK3 right before we all got gassed. Kind of ironic, no? Mortal Kombat? I can't think of any better way to describe our current situation. Except, I'm not shooting fireballs and spears out of my hands, screaming 'COME HERE' and taking my face off to melt you with my fire breath. Though, wouldn't that just be fuckin' cool?"
Adam was starting to get annoyed with his predicament, and it was starting to show. What was the point of all this? If she was going to shoot him, then fine. So be it. If she wanted his stuff? Fuck, she could have it. Even if she wanted to take him hostage, Adam figured it wouldn't be that bad. But the way things were going? They were both out in the open, sitting ducks. He put down his DS, and picked up the next item. It was his wallet.
"And here, if you'd like to see all my really god-awful drivers license pictures, student cards, and all that shit? Go right ahead. It'll be like one of those girly sleepover things. 'Let's go through each other's wallets! Tee-hee!' Well here, take it. Fuck, you can have my license, I don't need it anymore. Hell, want my credit card too? It's got about a fifty dollar balance on it, I had to buy gas last week. Fuck, just take the whole goddamn thing then!"
As he spoke, he took the cards out of his wallet and defiantly threw the little cards at Juliet, one glancing off her leg, the other off her chest. Finally, he tossed the wallet on the ground in front of her.
"Fuck, if you don't want it, I'm sure Danya wouldn't mind running up my VISA, just as a big 'fuck you' to good ol' Dodd. Though hell, seems like this whole thing is a big 'fuck you' to me, and you, and everyone else, for that matter."
Finally he came to the last two items from his pack. The first one was a book that he'd been reading. He'd barely gotten started on it, and as things were, he'd probably never get to finish it. It was a shame, too. He'd always wanted to read that series...
"This? This is book three of Stephen King's Dark Tower Series. Fucking Danya had to go and mess up my whole week, because I just fucking started reading this. And y'know something? It wasn't too fuckin' bad! But hey, I guess I don't need this here either, do I? I mean, fuck, this whole thing's right out of a Stephen King book, yeah? Ever read 'the Long Walk'? It's basically the same premise. Except there, you get three warnings, and then they shoot you. Not like here, where you don't get any warning, and they shoot you."
Adam looked at the book, and held the paperback in his hand.
"Draws some really eerie parallels, yeah? Danya's the major, we're all the walkers. I'm fucking Ray Garraty. I'm the winner. I'm the guy who walks out on the other side. The last man standing. You? Fuck, I don't know who you are. Maybe you're Stebbins. Maybe not. Maybe you don't last that long. But I'm fucking Garraty. You know how I know that? Because even if I don't end up getting out of here? I fucking survived this shit once before, so gives me an infinitely large advantage over the rest of you motherfuckers. I know how to pace myself, so that when I get my warnings, I'm not gonna get a bullet in the head three fucking seconds later. Of course, you probably have no fucking idea what the fuck I'm saying. But hey! Isn't that the awesome thing about this whole place? You can go fuckin' BANANA, and they don't say shit to you! They encourage you, tell you to keep on walkin'. Boy, isn't this fun."
With a sudden frustration, Adam turned around and heaved the book into the ravine. The little voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to stop making sudden movements, and that little voice was frankly amazed that the girl hadn't shot him yet. But the fact was, Adam Dodd was a very unstable person, and everyone knew it. If he was really breaking down before her eyes...odds were it was like a train wreck - too hard to look away.
But Adam wasn't breaking down. No, he was finally coming to grips with the fact that he was back in this hellhole, and his anger was getting the best of him. Aside from Izzy, he hadn't really much to actually want to stay alive for, and that part of him that was still thinking rationally assumed that this was the cause of his recklessness. Who knew if it would get him killed? Turning around, Adam stared right into Julie's eyes again, not even having any ulterior motives, but solely just wanting to look her right in the face as he looked at the last item in his pack. As he picked it up, his eyes moved from her face to the item, shaking his head a little bit as he looked back up at her.
"I used to love wearing hockey jerseys. Fuckin' loved it. It was my thing, it was what set me apart from everyone. I had 'Adam Dodd day' in my old high school - a day where everyone wore hockey jerseys. It was awesome. I'm from Toronto, you see, so my favourite team was...is...the Leafs. Yeah, before you even think it - the first winner of Survival of the Fittest, the terrorist attack against the American people...was a fucking Canadian. How's that for cruel irony against Danya? Anyway...I had a custom-made Leafs jersey for me...had my name, my favourite number, and an assistant captain letter on the front. Adam fucking Dodd, number ..."
Adam trailed off, and shook his head.
"Number seventy-seven. Danya fucking ruined my sport, he ruined my fad, and he ruined my friends, fuck, HE RUINED MY FAVOURITE FUCKING NUMBER!"
As he held up the item in his right hand, he looked at the girl with the gun. At the present, it didn't matter to him if she shot him or not. He was too pissed off to care. Of course, when he calmed down, the little voice inside of his head knew that he probably would care a lot more about living than he had an hour ago...
"It was hard for me to wear a hockey jersey after that. And half my fucking wardrobe is jerseys. Hell, I BURNED a two hundred dollar jersey that I could have sold on ebay for thousands. 'Authentic, Adam Dodd-worn SOTF clothing!' Fuck, think about it. Coulda made a killing. And I burned it. The fact that I actually brought along what used to be my lucky jersey, my lucky Winnipeg Jets jersey? That was some serious motherfucking progress in the right direction for me. Now, what, I'm the most dangerous person here apparently? Fuck - all I want is to find the person who's probably responsible for me not murdering someone on the street or slitting my own wrists or something, and find some way...ANY...way...to get them out of here. So...you gonna fuckin' shoot me?"
Adam slipped the jersey on overtop of his clothing, looking odd with the jersey overtop of his black hoody. But he didn't care. Right now, it didn't seem like he cared much about anyone...except...
"Well? You going to fuckin' shoot me? If not, just tell me what the fuck you want with me! Get on with it! We're standing out in the fucking open, some kid's getting mugged across the bridge, and if you're not going to do anything, then you'd better let me on my fucking merry way!"
Adam finished off looking straight at her eyes again. He stood, defiant against her, and hoping to hell in the back of his mind that he hadn't crossed the line that he'd walked so tightly so many different times in his life.
As the girl, Juliet, kicked his pack towards him, Adam raised an eyebrow at her. He'd (rather stupidly, especially at the time) placed the switchblade in one of the smaller side pocket-in-a-pockets, and provided that she let him keep the actual pack itself, she could have everything else that was inside of the pack for all he cared.
I don't want to have to walk around defending myself with a shitload of lightbulbs and NO knife to back it up with. I mean...fuck...LIGHTBULBS, for Christ's sake!
Keeping his eyes trained upon Julie, Adam slowly unzipped his pack, taking out the seven light tubes that remained within his pack first, and setting them on the ground beside him. Slowly, he picked one up so that she could see exactly what it was.
"See? I wasn't bullshitting you. I got a bunch of fuckin' lightbulbs. Not exactly...dangerous. And besides, you hit someone with them and they explode into tiny pieces. And then the person laughs at you and shoots you in the face. I'd give you a demonstration, but I've grown kind of attached to my face."
Unzipping the pack, his glance left Julie for a moment as he observed what looked like someone tackling the kid from across the bridge, flying out of a tree to do so. A pang of guilt arising in his chest, he fought the urge to run over and do something about it.
That, folks, would be my fatal flaw...always have to go around helping people out. If I hadn't in the first place, well...I sure wouldn't be in this situation, now would I?
Looking back at Julie, he shook his head and sighed visibly. With all the damage that had been done to his psyche over the years, he still felt intensely guilty that he wasn't in a position to help the boy across the river. And yet, the girl sat here, gun trained on him, obviously wanting him to go through his supplies...and yet looking at him with a resolve that seemed as fierce as his own.
Yeah, but any bets she can't out-rant me...
Slowly, he overturned the pack, so all of the things that Adam had stuffed in fell out on the ground in front of him. Sighing softly again, Adam took a knee on the ground, grimacing as he did. He'd had bad knees even before Survival of the Fittest, thanks in large part to an old hockey injury. Thanks to that, he'd always had a hard time kneeling down wtihout pain, and this was no exception. Of course, he wasn't about to complain. That would probably just end up getting him shot. He grabbed the first item and held it up so that he could see.
"Crackers. I'm guessing you probably have a couple of these in your pack too. It's the same old shitty brand that he's been using for years, too. They taste like crap, and leave you with a horrific aftertaste. But they're sustinance, and I guess it's pathetic if you starve to death in a game where people are supposed to kill you by any means necessary. You'd think he'd maybe up the budget, get us some fuckin' Ritz crackers or something. Fuck, I'd even settle for goldfish crackers."
As he put down the tin of crackers and put aside the water bottles with them, he grabbed the next item, and looked up, smirking at Julie.
"I fucking LOVE goldfish crackers."
Glancing quickly at the item in his hand, he smiled a genuine smile, as the last good memory he'd had prior to this hellish second round had been playing with it on the bus.
"And this little thing? This is my Nintendo DS. Yeah, that's right. The big fuckin' scary guy? He plays with a Nintendo DS. Fact is, the last nice memory I had was handing out a round of punishment on anyone in the immediate row in Ultimate MK3 right before we all got gassed. Kind of ironic, no? Mortal Kombat? I can't think of any better way to describe our current situation. Except, I'm not shooting fireballs and spears out of my hands, screaming 'COME HERE' and taking my face off to melt you with my fire breath. Though, wouldn't that just be fuckin' cool?"
Adam was starting to get annoyed with his predicament, and it was starting to show. What was the point of all this? If she was going to shoot him, then fine. So be it. If she wanted his stuff? Fuck, she could have it. Even if she wanted to take him hostage, Adam figured it wouldn't be that bad. But the way things were going? They were both out in the open, sitting ducks. He put down his DS, and picked up the next item. It was his wallet.
"And here, if you'd like to see all my really god-awful drivers license pictures, student cards, and all that shit? Go right ahead. It'll be like one of those girly sleepover things. 'Let's go through each other's wallets! Tee-hee!' Well here, take it. Fuck, you can have my license, I don't need it anymore. Hell, want my credit card too? It's got about a fifty dollar balance on it, I had to buy gas last week. Fuck, just take the whole goddamn thing then!"
As he spoke, he took the cards out of his wallet and defiantly threw the little cards at Juliet, one glancing off her leg, the other off her chest. Finally, he tossed the wallet on the ground in front of her.
"Fuck, if you don't want it, I'm sure Danya wouldn't mind running up my VISA, just as a big 'fuck you' to good ol' Dodd. Though hell, seems like this whole thing is a big 'fuck you' to me, and you, and everyone else, for that matter."
Finally he came to the last two items from his pack. The first one was a book that he'd been reading. He'd barely gotten started on it, and as things were, he'd probably never get to finish it. It was a shame, too. He'd always wanted to read that series...
"This? This is book three of Stephen King's Dark Tower Series. Fucking Danya had to go and mess up my whole week, because I just fucking started reading this. And y'know something? It wasn't too fuckin' bad! But hey, I guess I don't need this here either, do I? I mean, fuck, this whole thing's right out of a Stephen King book, yeah? Ever read 'the Long Walk'? It's basically the same premise. Except there, you get three warnings, and then they shoot you. Not like here, where you don't get any warning, and they shoot you."
Adam looked at the book, and held the paperback in his hand.
"Draws some really eerie parallels, yeah? Danya's the major, we're all the walkers. I'm fucking Ray Garraty. I'm the winner. I'm the guy who walks out on the other side. The last man standing. You? Fuck, I don't know who you are. Maybe you're Stebbins. Maybe not. Maybe you don't last that long. But I'm fucking Garraty. You know how I know that? Because even if I don't end up getting out of here? I fucking survived this shit once before, so gives me an infinitely large advantage over the rest of you motherfuckers. I know how to pace myself, so that when I get my warnings, I'm not gonna get a bullet in the head three fucking seconds later. Of course, you probably have no fucking idea what the fuck I'm saying. But hey! Isn't that the awesome thing about this whole place? You can go fuckin' BANANA, and they don't say shit to you! They encourage you, tell you to keep on walkin'. Boy, isn't this fun."
With a sudden frustration, Adam turned around and heaved the book into the ravine. The little voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to stop making sudden movements, and that little voice was frankly amazed that the girl hadn't shot him yet. But the fact was, Adam Dodd was a very unstable person, and everyone knew it. If he was really breaking down before her eyes...odds were it was like a train wreck - too hard to look away.
But Adam wasn't breaking down. No, he was finally coming to grips with the fact that he was back in this hellhole, and his anger was getting the best of him. Aside from Izzy, he hadn't really much to actually want to stay alive for, and that part of him that was still thinking rationally assumed that this was the cause of his recklessness. Who knew if it would get him killed? Turning around, Adam stared right into Julie's eyes again, not even having any ulterior motives, but solely just wanting to look her right in the face as he looked at the last item in his pack. As he picked it up, his eyes moved from her face to the item, shaking his head a little bit as he looked back up at her.
"I used to love wearing hockey jerseys. Fuckin' loved it. It was my thing, it was what set me apart from everyone. I had 'Adam Dodd day' in my old high school - a day where everyone wore hockey jerseys. It was awesome. I'm from Toronto, you see, so my favourite team was...is...the Leafs. Yeah, before you even think it - the first winner of Survival of the Fittest, the terrorist attack against the American people...was a fucking Canadian. How's that for cruel irony against Danya? Anyway...I had a custom-made Leafs jersey for me...had my name, my favourite number, and an assistant captain letter on the front. Adam fucking Dodd, number ..."
Adam trailed off, and shook his head.
"Number seventy-seven. Danya fucking ruined my sport, he ruined my fad, and he ruined my friends, fuck, HE RUINED MY FAVOURITE FUCKING NUMBER!"
As he held up the item in his right hand, he looked at the girl with the gun. At the present, it didn't matter to him if she shot him or not. He was too pissed off to care. Of course, when he calmed down, the little voice inside of his head knew that he probably would care a lot more about living than he had an hour ago...
"It was hard for me to wear a hockey jersey after that. And half my fucking wardrobe is jerseys. Hell, I BURNED a two hundred dollar jersey that I could have sold on ebay for thousands. 'Authentic, Adam Dodd-worn SOTF clothing!' Fuck, think about it. Coulda made a killing. And I burned it. The fact that I actually brought along what used to be my lucky jersey, my lucky Winnipeg Jets jersey? That was some serious motherfucking progress in the right direction for me. Now, what, I'm the most dangerous person here apparently? Fuck - all I want is to find the person who's probably responsible for me not murdering someone on the street or slitting my own wrists or something, and find some way...ANY...way...to get them out of here. So...you gonna fuckin' shoot me?"
Adam slipped the jersey on overtop of his clothing, looking odd with the jersey overtop of his black hoody. But he didn't care. Right now, it didn't seem like he cared much about anyone...except...
"Well? You going to fuckin' shoot me? If not, just tell me what the fuck you want with me! Get on with it! We're standing out in the fucking open, some kid's getting mugged across the bridge, and if you're not going to do anything, then you'd better let me on my fucking merry way!"
Adam finished off looking straight at her eyes again. He stood, defiant against her, and hoping to hell in the back of his mind that he hadn't crossed the line that he'd walked so tightly so many different times in his life.
They were on the ground. Harry couldn't see the gun, but he hadn't been shot as far as he could tell (and it would be easy to tell) so he concentrated on finishing the deed. The boy under him struggled and kicked, clipping one of Harry's testicles with a pain that only a hit in the junk could. A momentary panic set in as the crotch shot took effect, threatening to take him out of commission long enough to render him fucked. Owen tried to push him off but he held himself down on top of him, raising the shiv.
"Nobody'll ever know who you are..." Harry hissed at him, his eyes wide with heightened adrenaline. He could feel the pain-driven urge to relent taking him over, but he tried desperately to ignore it because backing off and taking a breather was not an option. Finding bloodlust coming suddenly over him (likely stemming from the nasty shot inflicted by the boy pinned under him) Harry made a crazed effort to dig the jagged metal spike into his left eye.
'...unless you earn it!'
"Nobody'll ever know who you are..." Harry hissed at him, his eyes wide with heightened adrenaline. He could feel the pain-driven urge to relent taking him over, but he tried desperately to ignore it because backing off and taking a breather was not an option. Finding bloodlust coming suddenly over him (likely stemming from the nasty shot inflicted by the boy pinned under him) Harry made a crazed effort to dig the jagged metal spike into his left eye.
'...unless you earn it!'
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Cyco. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Julie kept the handgun trained on Adam while he began unzipping the pack and sifting through the contents, watching with an ever-calm, ever-reticent sort of patience as be began going through each of the items in his back, one by one.
So it was lightbulbs after all... then again, he could've gotten them from anywhere, could be? Julie frowned slightly at the thought, but let it go.
Her attention was turned but briefly to the boy that was being attacked on the bridge, while the three of them only stood there, watching. She bit her lip slightly, narrowing her eyes and scowling a bit as though ridden with some sort of inner conflict or turmoil. But it faded away as quickly as it had appeared, sinking beneath an ice-cold surface.
Though she carefully noted with mental precision each and every item he showed-and-told, Julie couldn't help but observe him with a certain amount of curiousity. The way he suddenly went off into a tangent and into his own rants, lashing out with a sort of stinging sarcasm that was no less than bitter, it was obvious that he was driven beyond the edge of his patience, to say the very least. And Julie couldn't blame him. She was the one pointing the gun after all, to someone who she barely knew person-to-person, to someone who'd never done her any harm before now, to someone who probably just wanted to survive and live life his own way as much as she did.
Julie had chosen her path. That meant that she had chosen her burdens as well.
She said nothing, her expression and stance unchanging, even as he went off into his own bouts of frustration and anger, even as he threw those cards at her. It was obvious that she was the subject he'd decided to vent on just now, all of his bitterness, resent, hatred... all of it that had accumulated since God-knew-how-long was the fuel that heated his words and his defiant gestures.
She did blink slightly as he threw the book into the ravine.
"....I loved that book." Julie said quietly.
Now that he was finished, her expression still didn't change, though the gun did lower somewhat slightly.
She directly met his defiant gaze with a reticent one. "We'll see," she told him simply, in reply to his question. "In the meantime, I still have questions to ask."
Her expression hardened slightly, as though she loathed to even think about the owner of the name that she was about to make mention of.
"Danya. Whoever wins SOTF gets to meet him, right? You had a chance to talk to him, did you not? Were collected weapons allowed off the island and if not, how were you able to stab him in the leg? For how long did you two get a chance to discuss? What is security like during escort off the island?"
So it was lightbulbs after all... then again, he could've gotten them from anywhere, could be? Julie frowned slightly at the thought, but let it go.
Her attention was turned but briefly to the boy that was being attacked on the bridge, while the three of them only stood there, watching. She bit her lip slightly, narrowing her eyes and scowling a bit as though ridden with some sort of inner conflict or turmoil. But it faded away as quickly as it had appeared, sinking beneath an ice-cold surface.
Though she carefully noted with mental precision each and every item he showed-and-told, Julie couldn't help but observe him with a certain amount of curiousity. The way he suddenly went off into a tangent and into his own rants, lashing out with a sort of stinging sarcasm that was no less than bitter, it was obvious that he was driven beyond the edge of his patience, to say the very least. And Julie couldn't blame him. She was the one pointing the gun after all, to someone who she barely knew person-to-person, to someone who'd never done her any harm before now, to someone who probably just wanted to survive and live life his own way as much as she did.
Julie had chosen her path. That meant that she had chosen her burdens as well.
She said nothing, her expression and stance unchanging, even as he went off into his own bouts of frustration and anger, even as he threw those cards at her. It was obvious that she was the subject he'd decided to vent on just now, all of his bitterness, resent, hatred... all of it that had accumulated since God-knew-how-long was the fuel that heated his words and his defiant gestures.
She did blink slightly as he threw the book into the ravine.
"....I loved that book." Julie said quietly.
Now that he was finished, her expression still didn't change, though the gun did lower somewhat slightly.
She directly met his defiant gaze with a reticent one. "We'll see," she told him simply, in reply to his question. "In the meantime, I still have questions to ask."
Her expression hardened slightly, as though she loathed to even think about the owner of the name that she was about to make mention of.
"Danya. Whoever wins SOTF gets to meet him, right? You had a chance to talk to him, did you not? Were collected weapons allowed off the island and if not, how were you able to stab him in the leg? For how long did you two get a chance to discuss? What is security like during escort off the island?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Adam Dodd was angry. That much was painfully obvious to anyone within earshot. His liberal use of the word 'fuck' was a dead giveaway, though the teen with the silver-tipped tongue could be seen as angry from more than simply the words he was using. Everything screamed angry about him, from his body language, vocal intonations, and hand gestures. It all expressed that Adam Dodd was not someone who you wanted to piss off. Of course, if you had a gun, and were pointing it right at his head, this didn't matter much. However, Adam's anger was dealt a left hook when Julie quietly commented on the book that Adam had hastily tossed into the ravine and out of sight. Surprised at the response, he was taken completely aback. Of all the things she could have done to react to his tirade, that was certainly not the one he expected. As his shoulders slumped, he looked at her with not the face of anger, but the face of someone talking to a classmate.
If it'd been any other day, that's probably what it would have been. But it wasn't, and there was no forgetting it.
"...it's a heck of a book..."
Adam spoke quietly, and then shook his head and snapped out of it, putting his shields back up and looking at the girl as she started asking him questions about the last time, when he'd won...a little perplexed, he narrowed his eyes at her.
"What's with the interrogation? Uh..."
Pausing, he shrugged a bit, his anger replaced by a bitterness that was easily visible. His voice was noticably lower and he seemed to have exerted more energy than he'd planned on.
"Danya? Yeah...I met the bastard. He's a creepy son of a bitch. It's...it's kind of weird, actually. He kind of looks like a younger, more evil version of Christopher Walken. If you can believe that. Walken's a pretty scary-looking guy already. But...yeah. Dark hair, had a tan from what I recall - though it looked a little like the fake-'n-bake kind. And...I think you're hearin' a wrong version of events. I didn't stab him in the leg. At least, that's not the big wound I gave him. I slashed him right in the face, but I missed his jugular. The knife itself?"
He shrugged, and scratched the back of his neck.
"I hid it in my sock, or strapped it to my leg, or something. I figured I'd need it when fighting Cody Jenson, but I never got to use it. He shot Crosby in the head, I ran him through with a sword, and then I ended up shooting Jack O'Connor. So when they asked me to dump my weapons, I did, except the knife...and shit, they didn't say anything about it. So I didn't, either."
Adam yawned a little bit. He hadn't slept, and the fatigue was creeping in on him a bit.
"So yeah, they take your weapons that aren't at least a bit concealed. Then a bunch of soldiery-type guys come up and take you on to some little boat thing, pointing guns and you and shit. I distinctly remember that I made fun of one of them, and one of the other ones actually joined me and ripped on him too. It was a little odd. Here I am, a prisoner, here these guys are, who're fucking responsible for it, and me and one of the terrorists are sitting there making fun of one of the other guys. Surreal as shit, for sure. What else could I do? Glare at them? I figured maybe there's always the possibility that one of them decides that this shit is fucked, flips, kills the rest of his mates, and helps me out of a shitty situation. Course, that never happened - that's just a fuckin' pipe-dream, of course. If you're doing what kind of crap they did - you don't flip on your boss. You've got to have a huge resolve to just go along with kidnapping and killing hundreds of teenagers. But yeah...then they took me to a larger boat, and brought me to a room, where I got to meet the big cheese himself, fat fuck Danya. And he's definitely got a bit of a belly."
Adam paused again, trying to remember back to his meeting with Danya.
"As far as what we talked about...I think a lot of it was just me asking him why. It didn't make sense to me; still doesn't, really. Why attack kids if you have beef with the states. He didn't give me any kind of specific answer, I think he wanted to try and out-rant me. Of course, like most people who try, he failed. And then he let his guard down, and the power went out, and I lunged at him. Sliced him up pretty well, too. Was about to finish the jjob when his guards jumped me. Knocked me on the back of the head, and then the next thing I remember, I'm in some car with a bag over my head...I get tossed out, land on the ground...I untie myself, take the bag off, and I'm lying in front of Barry Coleson High. Right back where I started."
Adam sighed a bit.
"There. I've answered your questions. I hope this helps you, in whatever you're planning. Thinking of trying to win? Good luck. You have to outlast hundreds of other people, and make sure not to die of any wounds you sustain along the way. If I hadn't been taught how to sew my wounds shut, or if Hawley hadn't been there to do it for me? I'd have been screwed over. Winning isn't easy; have no illusions about it."
He stopped, and looked down the road at the battle that was going on, that he was helpless to prevent.
"So...that it? You know, most of that shti, you could've read in the papers. Or watched the damn DVD, or whatever."
If it'd been any other day, that's probably what it would have been. But it wasn't, and there was no forgetting it.
"...it's a heck of a book..."
Adam spoke quietly, and then shook his head and snapped out of it, putting his shields back up and looking at the girl as she started asking him questions about the last time, when he'd won...a little perplexed, he narrowed his eyes at her.
"What's with the interrogation? Uh..."
Pausing, he shrugged a bit, his anger replaced by a bitterness that was easily visible. His voice was noticably lower and he seemed to have exerted more energy than he'd planned on.
"Danya? Yeah...I met the bastard. He's a creepy son of a bitch. It's...it's kind of weird, actually. He kind of looks like a younger, more evil version of Christopher Walken. If you can believe that. Walken's a pretty scary-looking guy already. But...yeah. Dark hair, had a tan from what I recall - though it looked a little like the fake-'n-bake kind. And...I think you're hearin' a wrong version of events. I didn't stab him in the leg. At least, that's not the big wound I gave him. I slashed him right in the face, but I missed his jugular. The knife itself?"
He shrugged, and scratched the back of his neck.
"I hid it in my sock, or strapped it to my leg, or something. I figured I'd need it when fighting Cody Jenson, but I never got to use it. He shot Crosby in the head, I ran him through with a sword, and then I ended up shooting Jack O'Connor. So when they asked me to dump my weapons, I did, except the knife...and shit, they didn't say anything about it. So I didn't, either."
Adam yawned a little bit. He hadn't slept, and the fatigue was creeping in on him a bit.
"So yeah, they take your weapons that aren't at least a bit concealed. Then a bunch of soldiery-type guys come up and take you on to some little boat thing, pointing guns and you and shit. I distinctly remember that I made fun of one of them, and one of the other ones actually joined me and ripped on him too. It was a little odd. Here I am, a prisoner, here these guys are, who're fucking responsible for it, and me and one of the terrorists are sitting there making fun of one of the other guys. Surreal as shit, for sure. What else could I do? Glare at them? I figured maybe there's always the possibility that one of them decides that this shit is fucked, flips, kills the rest of his mates, and helps me out of a shitty situation. Course, that never happened - that's just a fuckin' pipe-dream, of course. If you're doing what kind of crap they did - you don't flip on your boss. You've got to have a huge resolve to just go along with kidnapping and killing hundreds of teenagers. But yeah...then they took me to a larger boat, and brought me to a room, where I got to meet the big cheese himself, fat fuck Danya. And he's definitely got a bit of a belly."
Adam paused again, trying to remember back to his meeting with Danya.
"As far as what we talked about...I think a lot of it was just me asking him why. It didn't make sense to me; still doesn't, really. Why attack kids if you have beef with the states. He didn't give me any kind of specific answer, I think he wanted to try and out-rant me. Of course, like most people who try, he failed. And then he let his guard down, and the power went out, and I lunged at him. Sliced him up pretty well, too. Was about to finish the jjob when his guards jumped me. Knocked me on the back of the head, and then the next thing I remember, I'm in some car with a bag over my head...I get tossed out, land on the ground...I untie myself, take the bag off, and I'm lying in front of Barry Coleson High. Right back where I started."
Adam sighed a bit.
"There. I've answered your questions. I hope this helps you, in whatever you're planning. Thinking of trying to win? Good luck. You have to outlast hundreds of other people, and make sure not to die of any wounds you sustain along the way. If I hadn't been taught how to sew my wounds shut, or if Hawley hadn't been there to do it for me? I'd have been screwed over. Winning isn't easy; have no illusions about it."
He stopped, and looked down the road at the battle that was going on, that he was helpless to prevent.
"So...that it? You know, most of that shti, you could've read in the papers. Or watched the damn DVD, or whatever."
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LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Julie's expression remained cold and stolid as Adam began answering her questions to more detail than she'd ever ask for. Given that, it was probably due to all of that bitterness residing inside him about the whole thing. To be honest? Julie felt a bit of remorse. It was obvious that this person...Adam Dodd, he'd been through more than most, went through Hell, survived, and came back. Now here he was, being forced to uncover those half-buried memories are likely best left forgotten. Julie herself had a hand in that...she was the one pointing the gun at him and putting him through this interrogation. For that, she felt guilty.
As much as it was hard not to be taken in by his story, Julie fought to pay attention to the details that she was looking for.
So...they had gotten a bit sloppy in making sure the winner was unarmed. Likely they'd be tenfold as careful second...no, third time around.
And as she'd thought...the winner of SOTF...earned the chance.... to meet Danya himself.
That was the most important thing that required confirmation for Julie. If she could get that chance...there would be answers. And most of all? If all went well, she would be able to find out where 'he' was....and find 'him' again....
Julie's ordinarily icy green eyes suddenly blinked and widened as a thought came to her. The look that suddenly appeared on her face was one of desperation, the expression of one that yearned deeply and painfully for something...be it answers, or something that was far beyond her reach. She opened her mouth again, though this time her voice faltered slightly. "Um...when you were on the boat...did you meet-" She paused, correcting herself. "I mean...one of the terrorists. Did you manage to get a good look at them? Did you happen to come across someone who looked like-"
...Her voice suddenly locked.
Her eyes widened as the realization struck her, sending her mind in a numbing cloud. The sickening feeling that resulted from that sudden epiphany was enough to make her shift her balance uncomfortably.
....His face...
Tears suddenly came to her eyes.
....I don't remember....his face....
...
To think that she had been searching for someone this long. Without a name. Without a face in her mind.
"...Nevermind. Forget that question."
She bit her lip. Though it was a struggle, that unnaturally cold and unemotional expression returned to her face, though her eyes were slightly moist.
"I..." She started to answer Adam's question this time. "I wanted to hear it from the person who'd been through it and survived." Julie lowered the gun slightly.
"...Thank you. For answering my questions."
As Adam Dodd told her not to get her hopes up about winning, she closed her eyes and turned her face towards the side somewhat, looking away from him.
"I guess this is the part where I start explaining myself."
She took a deep breath...as though to prepare herself, then looked at him directly again, arm still slightly outstretched.
"You're right. I am going to try and win...In case you were wondering, yes, I am what you would call a player. Going to be one, at least. I haven't killed anybody. Not yet anyways. To be honest, I never would have expected that the first person I'd encounter on this island would be the winner and sole survivor of version one, namely Adam Dodd."
"I don't know how you managed to survive the first game...whether it was by sheer luck, skill, or merely by your own drive. Either way, I do know this."
"You AREN'T going to win a second time. The survivor of Version Three? As much as there are a large number of things that I have my doubts on, I'm sure that it isn't going to be you. You must realize this too, don't you? Maybe you were lucky the first time, but luck isn't going to give you another second chance."
She said this...not gloating, not in contempt or anything of the sort. If anything, it was as though she were stating a fact, simple and pure.
"That's because the winner is going to be me. I'm going to play this game and survive, whatever the cost, whether it be my own humanity. Or the lives of others. No matter how many people I have to hurt, no matter how many lives I have to take, I am going to survive and leave this island."
There was a certain brightness in her eyes as she said this, as though they were alit with a burning flame on the inside.
"Because I have to survive. I can't die here. I have to win this game, no matter how hard it is for me, no matter how many wounds I collect, no matter how many people are against me and how few are with me. Even if I have to kill everyone on this island, including you, Adam Dodd, I will leave this island. I don't have any illusions, and I know... knew...from the very beginning that it would be a hard one. Just hearing you say it though, made it all the more clear. That said..."
The gun was lowered completely this time, and she took out the stock holster that came along with it, placing it inside, and sliding it the pocket of her trenchcoat, which she only wore around the waist, arms removed from her sleeves. She started to turn away, as though to leave.
"...Just thought that I would let you know, in case we do meet again.... someday, somewhere, on this island. Who knows. Maybe when more people are playing the game, and we're both still alive and struggling, we'll bump into eachother again. Just by chance. Just like now. To be honest? I'm hoping that won't ever happen."
Because if I see you again, I will have to kill you. She thought as she turned away completely from him this time, a pang of remorse in her chest.
As much as it was hard not to be taken in by his story, Julie fought to pay attention to the details that she was looking for.
So...they had gotten a bit sloppy in making sure the winner was unarmed. Likely they'd be tenfold as careful second...no, third time around.
And as she'd thought...the winner of SOTF...earned the chance.... to meet Danya himself.
That was the most important thing that required confirmation for Julie. If she could get that chance...there would be answers. And most of all? If all went well, she would be able to find out where 'he' was....and find 'him' again....
Julie's ordinarily icy green eyes suddenly blinked and widened as a thought came to her. The look that suddenly appeared on her face was one of desperation, the expression of one that yearned deeply and painfully for something...be it answers, or something that was far beyond her reach. She opened her mouth again, though this time her voice faltered slightly. "Um...when you were on the boat...did you meet-" She paused, correcting herself. "I mean...one of the terrorists. Did you manage to get a good look at them? Did you happen to come across someone who looked like-"
...Her voice suddenly locked.
Her eyes widened as the realization struck her, sending her mind in a numbing cloud. The sickening feeling that resulted from that sudden epiphany was enough to make her shift her balance uncomfortably.
....His face...
Tears suddenly came to her eyes.
....I don't remember....his face....
...
To think that she had been searching for someone this long. Without a name. Without a face in her mind.
"...Nevermind. Forget that question."
She bit her lip. Though it was a struggle, that unnaturally cold and unemotional expression returned to her face, though her eyes were slightly moist.
"I..." She started to answer Adam's question this time. "I wanted to hear it from the person who'd been through it and survived." Julie lowered the gun slightly.
"...Thank you. For answering my questions."
As Adam Dodd told her not to get her hopes up about winning, she closed her eyes and turned her face towards the side somewhat, looking away from him.
"I guess this is the part where I start explaining myself."
She took a deep breath...as though to prepare herself, then looked at him directly again, arm still slightly outstretched.
"You're right. I am going to try and win...In case you were wondering, yes, I am what you would call a player. Going to be one, at least. I haven't killed anybody. Not yet anyways. To be honest, I never would have expected that the first person I'd encounter on this island would be the winner and sole survivor of version one, namely Adam Dodd."
"I don't know how you managed to survive the first game...whether it was by sheer luck, skill, or merely by your own drive. Either way, I do know this."
"You AREN'T going to win a second time. The survivor of Version Three? As much as there are a large number of things that I have my doubts on, I'm sure that it isn't going to be you. You must realize this too, don't you? Maybe you were lucky the first time, but luck isn't going to give you another second chance."
She said this...not gloating, not in contempt or anything of the sort. If anything, it was as though she were stating a fact, simple and pure.
"That's because the winner is going to be me. I'm going to play this game and survive, whatever the cost, whether it be my own humanity. Or the lives of others. No matter how many people I have to hurt, no matter how many lives I have to take, I am going to survive and leave this island."
There was a certain brightness in her eyes as she said this, as though they were alit with a burning flame on the inside.
"Because I have to survive. I can't die here. I have to win this game, no matter how hard it is for me, no matter how many wounds I collect, no matter how many people are against me and how few are with me. Even if I have to kill everyone on this island, including you, Adam Dodd, I will leave this island. I don't have any illusions, and I know... knew...from the very beginning that it would be a hard one. Just hearing you say it though, made it all the more clear. That said..."
The gun was lowered completely this time, and she took out the stock holster that came along with it, placing it inside, and sliding it the pocket of her trenchcoat, which she only wore around the waist, arms removed from her sleeves. She started to turn away, as though to leave.
"...Just thought that I would let you know, in case we do meet again.... someday, somewhere, on this island. Who knows. Maybe when more people are playing the game, and we're both still alive and struggling, we'll bump into eachother again. Just by chance. Just like now. To be honest? I'm hoping that won't ever happen."
Because if I see you again, I will have to kill you. She thought as she turned away completely from him this time, a pang of remorse in her chest.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Owen felt something press against his eye. It hurt like a bitch, and Owen noted this by screaming like a banshee. He squirmed under the other boy's weight, gasping for air as he tried another resilient effort to push his attacker off, using all of his upper body strength to help his cause. Nothing would probably come of this venture, as Owen was going to die anyway. He sobbed, tears falling down his eyes (along with a tiny trail of blood) as he fought for his life.
Then he remembered.
The gun! Please, please still be there!
He could see his BB gun in the corner of his right eye. Hope, life.... it was staring at him. He could get out of this situation. He could live. He could survive. His right hand slipped over to the weapon, gripping down on it and pulling the trigger three times. Three warning shots that really sounded like three real gunshots. Owen slipped his right hand under Harry, putting the barrel of the gun right under the crook of the boy's neck, growling loudly as he fought the temptation to cry again.
"G-Get the fuck off of me," he barked, "or I swear to god that I'll pull this trigger and fill your head with lead!"
Then he remembered.
The gun! Please, please still be there!
He could see his BB gun in the corner of his right eye. Hope, life.... it was staring at him. He could get out of this situation. He could live. He could survive. His right hand slipped over to the weapon, gripping down on it and pulling the trigger three times. Three warning shots that really sounded like three real gunshots. Owen slipped his right hand under Harry, putting the barrel of the gun right under the crook of the boy's neck, growling loudly as he fought the temptation to cry again.
"G-Get the fuck off of me," he barked, "or I swear to god that I'll pull this trigger and fill your head with lead!"
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.