(Courtney continued from The Kid's Aren't Alright)
Courtney was able to follow Steve for a short bit, the whole time screaming for him to wait for her. Her mind racing about the whole situation. She was scared of the game, scared of this island, scared about her cousin's death and now scared because the one person she wanted most to protect her had left her behind.
After Steve was completely out of sight, Courtney slowly walked in a different direction, finally coming to the swinging bridge.
How can this have happened to me? I'm an exchange student. I don't even live in America.
Courtney's thoughts kept drifting back home, to where her friends by now would have gotten word that she had been victimized by the sinister organization that ran the program.
How am I supposed to survive this? I have caulk. I don't even know what that is.
The hopelessness of the situation caused the water works in Courtney's eyes to pour even faster.
The Earth Isn't Humming For You
The Earth Isn't Humming For You
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
((continued from Getcher Head in the Game))
"Fuck," Harry whispered under his breath. He'd become a bit disoriented in his haste to get away from the Blood Boy and ended up backtracking. It wasn't a complete loss though; the GPS indicated that there was another student in the area. He began to follow them, already over the tight situation he'd just before found himself in. Harry decided that keeping his focus anywhere but in the immediate present would definitely get him killed in this game, although he made a mental note to avoid the Blood Boy until he could at least match his firepower.
As he gained a bit on his target she came into view, just in the distance. She was carrying something at her side, which was hard to make out but looked quite a bit like a gun. Harry ducked quickly off the trail and into the brush, stirring up a bit of noise but certainly not loud enough to gain her notice given the lengthy space between them. Hopefully not anyway. His plan was to loop around and cut her off, and he quickly set it into action. There weren't any other blips in the area; Harry didn't have to be remotely cautious as he slipped hastily over gnarled roots and under large, fan-like leaves. He'd passed the girl and then some by the time he slowed his pace.
'Better be a real gun this time,' he thought bitterly with a glance at his faux firearm. He was sure to give a hefty kick to dead Owen Fontaine's ribs as he passed the body.
"Dumb fuck," he hissed, as if was the kid's fault he'd been issued a BB gun.
Harry crossed the bridge and pressed himself behind a healthy combination of sizable tree trunk and thick ferns. He steeled himself for yet another surprise attack, hoping that he'd improved with practice and resolving to let the girl live if she relinquished her weapon. He was frustrated as hell right now, sure, but that didn't mean he was without any sense of chivalry. Or was it guilt? Either way, no guy would get the same saving grace.
'Here it comes.' Harry pocketed the GPS again and held his two weapons in either hand. His pulse quickened. He suddenly became overly conscious of the sound of his breathing, and held it in as the girl crossed the bridge. She was agonizingly slow; for a second he thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen. Finally she passed him, and he shot out like motherfuckin' Asian greased lightning.
Harry threw his shiv arm around her throat from behind and placed the muzzle of the BB gun to her head. He doubted she'd be able to gauge it's authenticity by feel alone.
"Surprise," he muttered into the girl's ear, and although he wanted to play up the cold killer bit for the cameras the adrenaline was evident in his voice. "Drop your weapon, now. And I'm warning you, don't fuck around."
"Fuck," Harry whispered under his breath. He'd become a bit disoriented in his haste to get away from the Blood Boy and ended up backtracking. It wasn't a complete loss though; the GPS indicated that there was another student in the area. He began to follow them, already over the tight situation he'd just before found himself in. Harry decided that keeping his focus anywhere but in the immediate present would definitely get him killed in this game, although he made a mental note to avoid the Blood Boy until he could at least match his firepower.
As he gained a bit on his target she came into view, just in the distance. She was carrying something at her side, which was hard to make out but looked quite a bit like a gun. Harry ducked quickly off the trail and into the brush, stirring up a bit of noise but certainly not loud enough to gain her notice given the lengthy space between them. Hopefully not anyway. His plan was to loop around and cut her off, and he quickly set it into action. There weren't any other blips in the area; Harry didn't have to be remotely cautious as he slipped hastily over gnarled roots and under large, fan-like leaves. He'd passed the girl and then some by the time he slowed his pace.
'Better be a real gun this time,' he thought bitterly with a glance at his faux firearm. He was sure to give a hefty kick to dead Owen Fontaine's ribs as he passed the body.
"Dumb fuck," he hissed, as if was the kid's fault he'd been issued a BB gun.
Harry crossed the bridge and pressed himself behind a healthy combination of sizable tree trunk and thick ferns. He steeled himself for yet another surprise attack, hoping that he'd improved with practice and resolving to let the girl live if she relinquished her weapon. He was frustrated as hell right now, sure, but that didn't mean he was without any sense of chivalry. Or was it guilt? Either way, no guy would get the same saving grace.
'Here it comes.' Harry pocketed the GPS again and held his two weapons in either hand. His pulse quickened. He suddenly became overly conscious of the sound of his breathing, and held it in as the girl crossed the bridge. She was agonizingly slow; for a second he thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen. Finally she passed him, and he shot out like motherfuckin' Asian greased lightning.
Harry threw his shiv arm around her throat from behind and placed the muzzle of the BB gun to her head. He doubted she'd be able to gauge it's authenticity by feel alone.
"Surprise," he muttered into the girl's ear, and although he wanted to play up the cold killer bit for the cameras the adrenaline was evident in his voice. "Drop your weapon, now. And I'm warning you, don't fuck around."
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.
Courtney had been so distracted in her thoughts and staring at the ravine below the bridge that she had failed to realize that a boy had snuck up on her. It all happened so fast, she went from thinking about her family to now having a edge against her throat and a gun to her head.
"Mon dieu! P-please, please don't kill me." Courtney cried through her teeth as she complied with the boy's demand for her to drop caulk gun. The gun made a dull thud against the wood of the bridge.
Courtney continued to cry as she could only hope that the boy behind her showed some mercy.
"Mon dieu! P-please, please don't kill me." Courtney cried through her teeth as she complied with the boy's demand for her to drop caulk gun. The gun made a dull thud against the wood of the bridge.
Courtney continued to cry as she could only hope that the boy behind her showed some mercy.
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
The girl miserably cooperated, pleading with Harry not to kill her as she let the gun fall to the ground beside her.
'Good girl,' he thought, craning his head sideways to get a look at his new weapon. There didn't seem to be much reason to kill her himself if she was unarmed; someone else would probably do the deed for him. Besides, he didn't like the idea of slitting her throat...
...which was funny because he'd been all too eager to gouge out Owen's eye. Of course, this was a different situation. That rat bastard had kicked and screamed and been a right pain in the ass. This girl on the other hand hadn't said so much as a word in protest. Harry hoped Owen's corpse was watching, because he was about to see that a little cooperation made all the--
"What??" Harry scowled upon catching a glimpse of the useless caulk gun lying at his feet. Mocking him. He couldn't believe it; he'd been tricked a fucking second time by an inanimate object.
His frustration was made easily worse by the fact that his life--not to mention his ticket to fame--was depending greatly on his acquiring a firearm. He wasn't likely to survive much longer without one given that dangerous freaks like the Blood Boy were already well-equipped and almost entirely compromising his GPS advantage.
"What the...What the fuck am I supposed to do with that!?" he snarled furiously in the girl's ear, gesturing at the loathsome object with his BB gun. Obviously, like Owen, it wasn't her fault she'd been issued dogshit for a weapon, but at the moment Harry was feeling really goddamn far from reasonable. If he would have to take the game absolutely seriously for the game to take him seriously in return, so fucking be it.
"Stupid bitch!" he hissed through his teeth, and in one quick motion he jerked the blade across her throat.
'Good girl,' he thought, craning his head sideways to get a look at his new weapon. There didn't seem to be much reason to kill her himself if she was unarmed; someone else would probably do the deed for him. Besides, he didn't like the idea of slitting her throat...
...which was funny because he'd been all too eager to gouge out Owen's eye. Of course, this was a different situation. That rat bastard had kicked and screamed and been a right pain in the ass. This girl on the other hand hadn't said so much as a word in protest. Harry hoped Owen's corpse was watching, because he was about to see that a little cooperation made all the--
"What??" Harry scowled upon catching a glimpse of the useless caulk gun lying at his feet. Mocking him. He couldn't believe it; he'd been tricked a fucking second time by an inanimate object.
His frustration was made easily worse by the fact that his life--not to mention his ticket to fame--was depending greatly on his acquiring a firearm. He wasn't likely to survive much longer without one given that dangerous freaks like the Blood Boy were already well-equipped and almost entirely compromising his GPS advantage.
"What the...What the fuck am I supposed to do with that!?" he snarled furiously in the girl's ear, gesturing at the loathsome object with his BB gun. Obviously, like Owen, it wasn't her fault she'd been issued dogshit for a weapon, but at the moment Harry was feeling really goddamn far from reasonable. If he would have to take the game absolutely seriously for the game to take him seriously in return, so fucking be it.
"Stupid bitch!" he hissed through his teeth, and in one quick motion he jerked the blade across her throat.
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.
Well, I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Courtney began to squirm in the boy's arms. The fear and frustration building inside of her brimming through. Here she was. The French girl about to die for the world to see. She knew that she did not stand much of a chance of getting off the island by herself from the get go. She needed her friends, she needed her family. One of her friend's had abandoned her, and her family here was dead.
Her thoughts were interrupted by intense pain across her neck, followed by a very warm liquid running down her neck, on to her chest and soaking her shirt. Her body went limp as she fell to the ground. The boy had slit her throat, in complete cold blood.
Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
You know, I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
And love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Back in Highland Beach there was a big screen television on in the living room a block or two from the beach. Theodore and Sasha Blagge watched in horror as their daughter was struck from behind, and watched as she dropped to the ground like a ragdoll. Mrs. Blagge buried her head into her husband's shoulder as Mr. Blagge watched frozen with fear and guilt. He could not stop thinking about how much Courtney had protested the move to America, and what it now had truly cost the family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Paris, another television set was on. This one belong to an 18 year old boy, clutching a picture of himself and a girl on the beach they used to visit before she was moved to America. Jack Dubois shed a tear as he too watched Courtney fall to the ground.
Je taimée toujours...Dieu, sauver ta ame.
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me, do you?
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe there is a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Courtney could feel her life slipping. She thought about her friends. Her crushes on Steve and Nigel, and the good times she had with the cheerleading squad. Her thoughts drifted to her parents whom she knew she would never see again. She could see Kara's smiling face waiting for her. Her body jerked causing her to cough up blood. Courtney rolled to her left allowing her to look to the sky. She knew it was inviting her to come to it. Finally Courtney's chest stopped moving, her head rolling back to the side, coming to rest on the bridge. Her eyes closed for the last time.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
G20 - Courtney Blagge - Dead
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Courtney began to squirm in the boy's arms. The fear and frustration building inside of her brimming through. Here she was. The French girl about to die for the world to see. She knew that she did not stand much of a chance of getting off the island by herself from the get go. She needed her friends, she needed her family. One of her friend's had abandoned her, and her family here was dead.
Her thoughts were interrupted by intense pain across her neck, followed by a very warm liquid running down her neck, on to her chest and soaking her shirt. Her body went limp as she fell to the ground. The boy had slit her throat, in complete cold blood.
Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
You know, I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
And love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Back in Highland Beach there was a big screen television on in the living room a block or two from the beach. Theodore and Sasha Blagge watched in horror as their daughter was struck from behind, and watched as she dropped to the ground like a ragdoll. Mrs. Blagge buried her head into her husband's shoulder as Mr. Blagge watched frozen with fear and guilt. He could not stop thinking about how much Courtney had protested the move to America, and what it now had truly cost the family.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Paris, another television set was on. This one belong to an 18 year old boy, clutching a picture of himself and a girl on the beach they used to visit before she was moved to America. Jack Dubois shed a tear as he too watched Courtney fall to the ground.
Je taimée toujours...Dieu, sauver ta ame.
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me, do you?
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maybe there is a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Courtney could feel her life slipping. She thought about her friends. Her crushes on Steve and Nigel, and the good times she had with the cheerleading squad. Her thoughts drifted to her parents whom she knew she would never see again. She could see Kara's smiling face waiting for her. Her body jerked causing her to cough up blood. Courtney rolled to her left allowing her to look to the sky. She knew it was inviting her to come to it. Finally Courtney's chest stopped moving, her head rolling back to the side, coming to rest on the bridge. Her eyes closed for the last time.
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
G20 - Courtney Blagge - Dead
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
((Continued from that there Lilacs and Lolita))
"You sure know how to treat a lady, Tsai."
Paul Smith entered the area just in time to see Courtney killed, the blade slitting her throat and her falling onto the floor as the blood gushed out from her. Truly, shocking and such, perhaps this would've been an appalling sight, but Paul had come to terms that people where playing this game. Hell, when it came down to it, he was playing it as well. That is, he was playing it with the intent to survive rather than kill everyone in sight.
A bit unconventional, but the guy wore full military get-up, that was pretty much a given.
Paul and Harry had met on a number of occasions, Harry's band opening for Paul's, playing various music festivals together and such. Paul's band of course was more well known and had been around longer, but that really only allowed him to have more songs and fans. Anyone in the indie scene knew that longevity rarely overcame actual talent, well, at least that's what the thirty something year old bassist for 'Downhill Racers' said to Paul when he first entered the music scene.
"Seriously though, you made it just in time for this to be announced.", he said nodding towards the feeble voice that came from the speaker boxes that seemed to sprout from nowhere, "So, Harry, I'm gonna ask that you put down that knife," he noticed that they where both on the bridge, a straight line between them both, close range if Harry tried something...well Paul wasn't the second best in the school for his good looks.
Or maybe he was, who knew.
He flicked his own knife out of the jacket sleeve as his machine gun lied in his pocket protecting his heart. He didn't attack yet, but if Harry did...Paul would be prepared for whatever came his way.
"You sure know how to treat a lady, Tsai."
Paul Smith entered the area just in time to see Courtney killed, the blade slitting her throat and her falling onto the floor as the blood gushed out from her. Truly, shocking and such, perhaps this would've been an appalling sight, but Paul had come to terms that people where playing this game. Hell, when it came down to it, he was playing it as well. That is, he was playing it with the intent to survive rather than kill everyone in sight.
A bit unconventional, but the guy wore full military get-up, that was pretty much a given.
Paul and Harry had met on a number of occasions, Harry's band opening for Paul's, playing various music festivals together and such. Paul's band of course was more well known and had been around longer, but that really only allowed him to have more songs and fans. Anyone in the indie scene knew that longevity rarely overcame actual talent, well, at least that's what the thirty something year old bassist for 'Downhill Racers' said to Paul when he first entered the music scene.
"Seriously though, you made it just in time for this to be announced.", he said nodding towards the feeble voice that came from the speaker boxes that seemed to sprout from nowhere, "So, Harry, I'm gonna ask that you put down that knife," he noticed that they where both on the bridge, a straight line between them both, close range if Harry tried something...well Paul wasn't the second best in the school for his good looks.
Or maybe he was, who knew.
He flicked his own knife out of the jacket sleeve as his machine gun lied in his pocket protecting his heart. He didn't attack yet, but if Harry did...Paul would be prepared for whatever came his way.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
((Bradley Armstrong continued from Point of Collapse))
Bradley collapsed several feet away from the swinging bridge. He had lost Will, who didn't want to be found, apparently. God dammit, he thought as he stood up and tried to catch his breath. I only wanted to help them out. Is that even possible in this place?
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from the bridge. He tried to slow his breathing and crept up to a nearby tree. After collecting his courage, he tried to look around it and see who was speaking.
What he saw made his heart skip a beat. One boy in military garb had just encountered another boy on the bridge, this one holding a bloody knife and standing over the corpse of a young girl. He quickly retreated behind the tree again and tried to collect his thoughts.
Okay, stay still, don't make a sound. They won't see you if you don't move. Who are they, anyway? Never seen 'em before, or at least I can't remember them... His fear receded a bit, replaced by confusion and curiosity. Hmm... announcement said two girls died, one in an explosion, the other of a slit throat. I wonder how long it takes to bleed out from that. I don't think I learned about the arteries in the throat in health class, but I suppose it doesn't matter, she'd bleed out just the same. Right. Their names were... Ivy Dooley and Courtney Blaggay, I think? Weird names. I don't see any signs of an explosion, so it must be Courtney on the ground there, which means knife guy is... Henry Tsai, whoever that is. That son of a bitch's playing, isn't he? I hope the other guy gives him a taste of his own medicine! I wish I had a better weapon, then I could do it myself. Wait, could I? I know he's a murderer, but could I really-
And so on and so on and so on.
Bradley collapsed several feet away from the swinging bridge. He had lost Will, who didn't want to be found, apparently. God dammit, he thought as he stood up and tried to catch his breath. I only wanted to help them out. Is that even possible in this place?
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from the bridge. He tried to slow his breathing and crept up to a nearby tree. After collecting his courage, he tried to look around it and see who was speaking.
What he saw made his heart skip a beat. One boy in military garb had just encountered another boy on the bridge, this one holding a bloody knife and standing over the corpse of a young girl. He quickly retreated behind the tree again and tried to collect his thoughts.
Okay, stay still, don't make a sound. They won't see you if you don't move. Who are they, anyway? Never seen 'em before, or at least I can't remember them... His fear receded a bit, replaced by confusion and curiosity. Hmm... announcement said two girls died, one in an explosion, the other of a slit throat. I wonder how long it takes to bleed out from that. I don't think I learned about the arteries in the throat in health class, but I suppose it doesn't matter, she'd bleed out just the same. Right. Their names were... Ivy Dooley and Courtney Blaggay, I think? Weird names. I don't see any signs of an explosion, so it must be Courtney on the ground there, which means knife guy is... Henry Tsai, whoever that is. That son of a bitch's playing, isn't he? I hope the other guy gives him a taste of his own medicine! I wish I had a better weapon, then I could do it myself. Wait, could I? I know he's a murderer, but could I really-
And so on and so on and so on.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Harry felt a terrible--abysmal--sensation come over him as the girl's neck blood spilled over his arm, as if he'd just crossed a line he could never go back over again. It frightened him out of his skin, but after a moment he felt it fade as if he'd finally swallowed something caught in his throat. The girl became dead weight and slid quietly out of his grasp, landing on the soft ground with a dull thud. It took maybe half-a-minute for her to stop moving entirely.
'Is that what it feels like to--'
Harry whipped the BB gun up in front of him and pointed it squarely at the sudden interloper who appeared across the bridge. It was Paul Smith. Oh wait...it was Paul Smith with an SMG. Harry was already so shaken by current events though that he didn't even feel that familiar knot in his stomach at the sight of the firearm.
"Paul," Harry grumbled. A few strands of sweaty hair were in his eyes, and he blew them sharply away. He clutched the gun tightly as if it were the real deal. He sighed wearily. "Oh, Paul...Walk away, Paul."
'Is that what it feels like to--'
Harry whipped the BB gun up in front of him and pointed it squarely at the sudden interloper who appeared across the bridge. It was Paul Smith. Oh wait...it was Paul Smith with an SMG. Harry was already so shaken by current events though that he didn't even feel that familiar knot in his stomach at the sight of the firearm.
"Paul," Harry grumbled. A few strands of sweaty hair were in his eyes, and he blew them sharply away. He clutched the gun tightly as if it were the real deal. He sighed wearily. "Oh, Paul...Walk away, Paul."
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.
OoC- Sorry for length and shit, was pretty stumped...
BiC-Paul Smith had a gun pointed at him for the first time in this game.
It was almost odd how calm he was, how he rationalized what could be his last thoughts, if Harry wanted to shoot he would've done so already and Paul still had a chance to reason with him, either that or get close enough to stab him out. Harry, had been pretty calm about the whole thing, Paul just had to calm him down.
"I killed too Harry," he said as he took a few steps towards him, the knife still brandished as a reminder, "I understand whatcha going through man, probably more than a few people on the island," he smiled, "We've hung out together before man, we where always pretty cool..." he chuckled "Remember that time that we where moshing with those 'Color Blind' skinheads and we where looking out for each other? Or that time I helped you up and let you stage dive at our shows?"
He sighed.
"I know that's pretty mundane and shit to you, but we where alright friends, no need to kill anyone," and once again the cliché exited his mouth before he could stop it, "So put down the gun Harry."
BiC-Paul Smith had a gun pointed at him for the first time in this game.
It was almost odd how calm he was, how he rationalized what could be his last thoughts, if Harry wanted to shoot he would've done so already and Paul still had a chance to reason with him, either that or get close enough to stab him out. Harry, had been pretty calm about the whole thing, Paul just had to calm him down.
"I killed too Harry," he said as he took a few steps towards him, the knife still brandished as a reminder, "I understand whatcha going through man, probably more than a few people on the island," he smiled, "We've hung out together before man, we where always pretty cool..." he chuckled "Remember that time that we where moshing with those 'Color Blind' skinheads and we where looking out for each other? Or that time I helped you up and let you stage dive at our shows?"
He sighed.
"I know that's pretty mundane and shit to you, but we where alright friends, no need to kill anyone," and once again the cliché exited his mouth before he could stop it, "So put down the gun Harry."
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Harry kept the gun pointed at Paul as he spoke, watching carefully lest the other boy was trying to lure him into a false sense of security. He'd hung out with Paul a few times; he was a respectable guy, not to mention a very respectable musician, but Harry wasn't about to trust him for a second.
Paul finished talking, asking him to put the gun down. Harry shook his head. He'd do no such thing, but neither could he fire or his bluff hand would be revealed as shit on a toasted kaiser.
"Look Paul," he replied uneasily, "You're an okay guy. I like you. I respect you...but--and nothing personal--I don't trust you for a second." He backed away as Paul slowly advanced, and soon came to the end of the bridge. "You need to get by, then by all means do." He gestured behind him, keeping the BB gun trained on Paul.
Paul finished talking, asking him to put the gun down. Harry shook his head. He'd do no such thing, but neither could he fire or his bluff hand would be revealed as shit on a toasted kaiser.
"Look Paul," he replied uneasily, "You're an okay guy. I like you. I respect you...but--and nothing personal--I don't trust you for a second." He backed away as Paul slowly advanced, and soon came to the end of the bridge. "You need to get by, then by all means do." He gestured behind him, keeping the BB gun trained on Paul.
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.
As Paul and Harry talked, Bradley still pondered his options in the bush.
-go back the way I came, maybe? But what if that big guy with the gun's still there? No, I can't risk it. Wait, it doesn't look like they're fighting. Can I get past them? I might as well try...
He slowly rose out of the bushes, hands high and holding his tree branch. His bag hung from his right shoulder as always. "Um, hi. As long as you're letting him pass, can I go too? I've only got this, and I don't want to hurt anyone."
-go back the way I came, maybe? But what if that big guy with the gun's still there? No, I can't risk it. Wait, it doesn't look like they're fighting. Can I get past them? I might as well try...
He slowly rose out of the bushes, hands high and holding his tree branch. His bag hung from his right shoulder as always. "Um, hi. As long as you're letting him pass, can I go too? I've only got this, and I don't want to hurt anyone."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((ok, lappy's 100% again, let's get this fucker back on track; sorry guys))
Harry's attention shifted quickly to the third party rising up from the thick underbrush nearby, his pistol remaining fixed on Paul as his eyes travelled back and forth between the two. Why did people always pop up out of nowhere whenever he wasn't keeping an eye on the GPS?
'Murphy's Law,' he thought bitterly to himself, licking his dry lips and assessing the situation. If only that dead bitch'd had an assault rifle...he'd likely already be firing his way indiscriminantly into the hearts of America.
"Sure," he finally answered the stranger. "Whatever." He turned back to Paul and stepped back off the bridge and out of the way so they could both pass. He gestured that they do so with a jerk of his head.
Harry's attention shifted quickly to the third party rising up from the thick underbrush nearby, his pistol remaining fixed on Paul as his eyes travelled back and forth between the two. Why did people always pop up out of nowhere whenever he wasn't keeping an eye on the GPS?
'Murphy's Law,' he thought bitterly to himself, licking his dry lips and assessing the situation. If only that dead bitch'd had an assault rifle...he'd likely already be firing his way indiscriminantly into the hearts of America.
"Sure," he finally answered the stranger. "Whatever." He turned back to Paul and stepped back off the bridge and out of the way so they could both pass. He gestured that they do so with a jerk of his head.
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.
Bradley didn't need any more incentive to bolt. As soon as the Asian kid was clear he ran across the bridge without looking back. Gotta find someone else, he thought, someone who isn't playing...
((Bradley Armstrong continued in Paint It Red))
((Bradley Armstrong continued in Paint It Red))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Yeah, alright Tsai, I suppose I'll be on my way...", and he walked away quietly and shook his head.
The game.
It was already entering it's mid-day statuses and Paul Smith was already growing tired. Days without sleep. Hung-over. Alone. The look on his face as he passed Harry Tsai showed it all. The glint of steel on the hidden blade just peeking out of his sleeve died out much like his own false enthusiasm.
"That Courtney," he sighed a little bit, "She had powerful friends, Digiantto and that whole crew...be careful, they're not as 'who gives a shit as I am'".
((Paul Smith continued in Don't Panic))
The game.
It was already entering it's mid-day statuses and Paul Smith was already growing tired. Days without sleep. Hung-over. Alone. The look on his face as he passed Harry Tsai showed it all. The glint of steel on the hidden blade just peeking out of his sleeve died out much like his own false enthusiasm.
"That Courtney," he sighed a little bit, "She had powerful friends, Digiantto and that whole crew...be careful, they're not as 'who gives a shit as I am'".
((Paul Smith continued in Don't Panic))
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Harry kept eye contact with Paul as long as the peripheral vision alloted by the slight turn of his head would let him. He scoffed inwardly at the eye-patch'd boy's departing words; if anyone was being careful, it was Harry.
'I'm sick of this jungle and everyone in it,' he remarked inwardly, giving the GPS a look over and deciding to take the path crawling with the least amount of blips.
((continued in Dork of the Manatee))
'I'm sick of this jungle and everyone in it,' he remarked inwardly, giving the GPS a look over and deciding to take the path crawling with the least amount of blips.
((continued in Dork of the Manatee))
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.