(Continued from: The Mess Hall)
Alice shivered in the night twilight air, gripping the flashlight with slightly trembling hands. She'd pulled her sleeves up over her hands to cover them and pulled on one of her woolen hats (pink with a brown teddy bear's face on it), but was it just her, or did the air seem to get colder and colder the farther she walked?
She had no idea where she was. Weeds and dried moss crunched underfoot, and more often than not, she found herself nearly tripping over large chunks of stone...
She couldn't see Guy, she was following as best she could, but the only clear indication of his presence were his footsteps somewhere in front of her. She struggled to keep up with the sound of footfalls without getting herself lost...surrounded by the gloom as she was.
Where were they going? What was going to happen to them? What was going on? Where was everyone else...? All these questions seemed to set her adrift in a cyclone of anxiety...
"....Guy?" Lost in her thoughts, she'd lost track of the very person she was supposed to follow. The footsteps were somewhere in the distance, but the beam of the flashlight was so narrow she couldn't make out his shape clearly...
She tripped and fell on something that felt like a hard flat stone, or something... her shin bruised a bit from the impact, and she fell flat on the ground.
...why did this sort of thing always have to happen to her?
She recovered a bit, rubbing the areas that were sore from the impact. Picking up her flashlight, she shone it towards the object she'd tripped over to get a better look of what it was, exactly...
Her heart stopped as she froze-
REST IN PEACE, HERE LIES ALICE JONE-
She blinked. No, her eyes jumped a bit. The stone read Alice James...not Alice Jones...
Alice closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief.
Hm...so it was a gravestone... Alice shone the beam of light along the ground. More or less similar markers were scattered across the area.
Alice tilted her head to the side in mild thought. How spooky.
She suddenly panicked. Where was Guy? Did he leave without her? She directed the beam of her light haphazardly, looking for him. "...G-Guy? Are you there? ...Where are you?"
Walk Amongst the Dead
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Walk Amongst the Dead
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler LadyMakaze. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Continued from The Sparks of Madness))
"Chill."
Guy said calmly as he heard Alice's calls for him, truthfully he had no idea where they where, but the moonlight and his own eyes gave him a pretty good idea. Of course he didn't have a map -it was one of those objects he left in the cottage- and mostly he had just been walking aimlessly asking Alice various questions, it turned out that she wasn't some girl from another school -as had been present in previous versions- and was actually in his class and now that he had her name he seemed to recall it, at least vaguely.
Alice, had proven to be a good listener as Guy had been the more talkative out of the group, for a moment he thought he would be the only one who valued the extra company, but her protests for him to find her proved that it wasn't as one-sided as he had previously thought. Slipping his gun in between his waist band he slipped his hand into his back pack and pulled out the flashlight and located the other light that was emanating a few feet behind him.
"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere...", he smirked lightly as he stopped and awaited Alice to get close to him, to be honest Guy wasn't exactly comfortable playing leader, but Alice was almost child-like in her thoughts and nature. He couldn't necessarily hand over the torch to her and as he moved his flashlight he noticed something that made him back up and trip over himself and land on his backside.
Son of a bitch, she's rubbing off on me...
But, he kept his flashlight raised and stared at what remained of Jason Foley: a mess with organs and blood spewn everywhere to create a trail heading towards a grave sight. The stench of these organs that where baking in the tropical sun for most of the day was enough to cause Guy to visibly gag.
"Excuse me Alice," he said calmly as he bent over and did something very casually and perfectly reasonable: he threw up. Wiping his mouth he stared back at her and sat down and leaned on a gravestone, motioning Alice to sit next to him.
"C'mon let's rest for a lil' bit," he said smirking, "We wouldn't make much of a meal for zombies anyway."
"Chill."
Guy said calmly as he heard Alice's calls for him, truthfully he had no idea where they where, but the moonlight and his own eyes gave him a pretty good idea. Of course he didn't have a map -it was one of those objects he left in the cottage- and mostly he had just been walking aimlessly asking Alice various questions, it turned out that she wasn't some girl from another school -as had been present in previous versions- and was actually in his class and now that he had her name he seemed to recall it, at least vaguely.
Alice, had proven to be a good listener as Guy had been the more talkative out of the group, for a moment he thought he would be the only one who valued the extra company, but her protests for him to find her proved that it wasn't as one-sided as he had previously thought. Slipping his gun in between his waist band he slipped his hand into his back pack and pulled out the flashlight and located the other light that was emanating a few feet behind him.
"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere...", he smirked lightly as he stopped and awaited Alice to get close to him, to be honest Guy wasn't exactly comfortable playing leader, but Alice was almost child-like in her thoughts and nature. He couldn't necessarily hand over the torch to her and as he moved his flashlight he noticed something that made him back up and trip over himself and land on his backside.
Son of a bitch, she's rubbing off on me...
But, he kept his flashlight raised and stared at what remained of Jason Foley: a mess with organs and blood spewn everywhere to create a trail heading towards a grave sight. The stench of these organs that where baking in the tropical sun for most of the day was enough to cause Guy to visibly gag.
"Excuse me Alice," he said calmly as he bent over and did something very casually and perfectly reasonable: he threw up. Wiping his mouth he stared back at her and sat down and leaned on a gravestone, motioning Alice to sit next to him.
"C'mon let's rest for a lil' bit," he said smirking, "We wouldn't make much of a meal for zombies anyway."
"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'
Nighttime in a graveyard. How chilling.
It seemed like something right out of a movie; the disturbingly quiet atmosphere of the graveyard at night. There were the gravestones, all orderly and ominous, along with a touch of fog for good measure. If someone were too much of a stickler for detail, they might not believe that what was occurring was real, that things were most certainly not life or death. It was too artificial; the scene, but if they were to think with that mentality, they'd most certainly be incorrect.
Ken Lawson had always liked to smoke cigarettes, and had almost indulged in nearly a pack a day. Marijuana was a vice of his, and the general lifestyle that the boy led really couldn't be described as a healthy one. His friends had always commented to him that if he kept up the way he was, lung cancer would be his downfall, and he'd die before he was thirty of the disease. Ken had always shrugged them off, ignoring their advice and figuring that he'd smoke as much as he wanted, he'd rest when he was dead. You only lived once, right?
Ken had been right, in the end. Lung cancer wouldn't end up killing him. Instead, an explosive charge contained within a collar around his neck would be his demise, as he was caught within a danger zone and simply gave up; waiting for the collar to explode and virtually separate his head from his shoulders. In the end, Ken Lawson had won out over all of his friends who said that cigarettes would be the death of him. They hadn't, and he'd won. Decisively. The problem was, in proving his thesis, Ken had ended up with a very large disadvantage when it came to his future endevaours: he was dead.
As Burton Harris trudged through the graveyard, taking careful notice of the tombstones as so not to stumble over them, he thought of his dead friend. What had started as a lazy attempt to get out of responsibility had ended in death, and destruction. And perhaps, like in that Final Destination movie, death only skips you, and doesn't let you get off the hook. After all, he'd stolen Ken's identity, moved across the country, and tried to start over, and Mr. Danya and his program had still managed to correct their error. Since he'd woken up, Burton had half-heartedly wondered if that was the reason that the class had been taken - did Danya realize what had happened, and been angered that someone had been able to escape his unnatural selection process? But thinking that way was only another step on the pathway to despair, and Burton figured that instead of bitching and moaning about his situation, he could be proactive.
So he got high.
It was really his solution to everything, but it was well-documented that he felt far better when under the influence of the drug. He supposed that he was a slave to it, in a way, as it allowed himself to mellow and really see all angles of situations that he got himself in to. This was no different. He'd been assigned a bulletproof vest that he wasn't letting anyone know that he had, and he knew that playing the game was a stupid maneuver on the part of anyone who wanted to try it.
Why throw yourself right into the path of a bullet when you can take a step to the left and avoid it altogether?
In Burton's own opinion, the best idea in terms of longetivity was to stay low, and stay undetected as long as humanly possible, in a small group - mainly to avoid internal spats. That was one of the main reasons that he'd instigated the breakup of the cottage group. It was much too large, and there was far too much potential for violence if someone got angry at someone else. Such blowouts could lead to much bloodshed, and Burton didn't feel like getting his own ass caught in any crossfire.
Smoking on a pipe as he walked through the graveyard, he paused for a moment to look at the instrument. It looked (amusingly, to his peers) like the type of pipe that a rich, distinguished old man might smoke as he lounged around in loafers and a bathrobe. Along with his long brown hair, full beard, and 'John Lennon' tinted glasses, he looked like a full-fledged 'new-age' kind of guy - which, in a way, he supposed that he kind of was.
The situation in itself wasn't as much distressing to Burton as was the possibility that he wouldn't get a chance to think of a proper plan of action, a proper method of escape. He was an incredibly intelligent individual - and this didn't need telling, but he was concerned that his intelligence was the only weapon that he would be able to be afforded in such a situation. It wasn't stupid to want a good weapon, but rather a necessity. How could one stay alive if they were armed with nothing? Several old clichés spoke regarding the merits of the best defense being a good weapon, or a good method of offense, and Burton knew that if he were to feel safe or relaxed enough to come up with anything of substance, he'd need a place to relax, and some tools to work with. A hired gun might not be a bad idea, but the idea of a large group was something he felt would be prudent to avoid.
As he rolled through scenarios within his head, he suddenly became acutely aware that he was not alone within the graveyard. The primary thing that tipped him off to this fact was the fairly close sound of...vomiting? Burton stopped in his tracks, and lowered the pipe, glancing around, his brow furrowed in a cautious crease towards his eyes. There were two faint forms of people approximately twenty feet away from him, and thanks to the smoke, Burton couldn't manage to identify either of them. Both were small, and obviously not very tall - though with girls, that could be anybody. But as he heard a masculine voice murmur something, his seriousness broke. There was only one person that was as short as the shadow and yet had masculine voice. Only one person who was relatively famous for being mocked relentlessly about his small stature. One person, who he'd actually run into not so long ago.
Taking a step forward, Burton overheard the last part of what Guy was saying, something about zombies. Smirking to himself, Ken smoked another round of the pipe, and then slowly made his way towards the two figures, whistling a rendition of the theme song to the X-Files as he made his way towards them. As he broke through the visual barrier, he confirmed to himself that it was indeed Guy, along with a girl who looked vaguely familiar, but whose name he didn't know. Likely just another face in the hallway at school, but who knew? Perhaps it would come to him, perhaps not. At present, it didn't matter. The odds were that the two were about to become aquainted, regardless. Stepping into the full line of sight, Burton stood, pipe in hand, a small smirk on his face.
"Guy. Amazing how you and I seem to be kindred spirits here...seeing you twice in one day, it's almost...eerie."
Burton sadly smirked, and glanced at the pipe in his hand.
"I see you've aquired a travelling companion since last we met. Like your name, Guy...it seems like you tend to move around trés rapidement."
Scratching his beard, Burton wondered how Guy would react to seeing him again. He knew that Guy was likely looking for his friends, but he was, nonetheless, a friendly face. Guy wasn't the kind of guy to have too many secrets, as the filter between his brain and his mouth seemed, at times, nonexistant. But he was a nice enough chap, and Burton silently hoped that he wouldn't mind having good ol' Ken Lawson around for a laugh. Not waiting for Guy's response, he focused now on the girl sitting beside Guy, and extended his hand that wasn't holding the pipe.
"Evening.I don't believe we've been properly introduced. If you're travelling with Guy Rapide, you're probably growing tired of playing the Jackie Chan to his Chris Tucker. Just think of me as somewhat of a ... a Don Cheadle, so to speak. A wise old fool who happens to be hoping that what I'm thinking and feeling isn't betraying my cool exterior."
Winking at Guy, he looked back at the girl beside him.
"My name's Burton Harris, and under the cirumstances, it's nice to see someone who isn't trying to play Mark David Chapman to my John Lennon."
Smiling gently at the girl, his expression then quickly drained off his face, as though someone had drained the kindness from his face, leaving him with the look as though he'd just made a very crucial mistake. Hand still extended, his eyes slowly glanced over to where Guy sat. Ordinarily, the introduction wouldn't have been so out of the ordinary, probably a little odd and long-winded (though expected from such a guy such as Burton) but rather, he had slipped up, and Guy would be the one who likely would have picked up on it, and undoubtedly would call him on it. Guy Rapide didn't let things like that pass him by without making SOME sort of comment on it.
At Southridge High School, there was no student by the name of Burton Harris - rather, Burton Harris was supposedly lying in a graveyard somewhere in the northern United States, body having been recovered after the government found the V2 island.
"...oh, bother..."
Smiling weakly at them both, Burton didn't know how the hell he was going to explain his way out of his one; though it was probably just as well.
He was getting tired of people calling him 'Ken', anyways.
It seemed like something right out of a movie; the disturbingly quiet atmosphere of the graveyard at night. There were the gravestones, all orderly and ominous, along with a touch of fog for good measure. If someone were too much of a stickler for detail, they might not believe that what was occurring was real, that things were most certainly not life or death. It was too artificial; the scene, but if they were to think with that mentality, they'd most certainly be incorrect.
Ken Lawson had always liked to smoke cigarettes, and had almost indulged in nearly a pack a day. Marijuana was a vice of his, and the general lifestyle that the boy led really couldn't be described as a healthy one. His friends had always commented to him that if he kept up the way he was, lung cancer would be his downfall, and he'd die before he was thirty of the disease. Ken had always shrugged them off, ignoring their advice and figuring that he'd smoke as much as he wanted, he'd rest when he was dead. You only lived once, right?
Ken had been right, in the end. Lung cancer wouldn't end up killing him. Instead, an explosive charge contained within a collar around his neck would be his demise, as he was caught within a danger zone and simply gave up; waiting for the collar to explode and virtually separate his head from his shoulders. In the end, Ken Lawson had won out over all of his friends who said that cigarettes would be the death of him. They hadn't, and he'd won. Decisively. The problem was, in proving his thesis, Ken had ended up with a very large disadvantage when it came to his future endevaours: he was dead.
As Burton Harris trudged through the graveyard, taking careful notice of the tombstones as so not to stumble over them, he thought of his dead friend. What had started as a lazy attempt to get out of responsibility had ended in death, and destruction. And perhaps, like in that Final Destination movie, death only skips you, and doesn't let you get off the hook. After all, he'd stolen Ken's identity, moved across the country, and tried to start over, and Mr. Danya and his program had still managed to correct their error. Since he'd woken up, Burton had half-heartedly wondered if that was the reason that the class had been taken - did Danya realize what had happened, and been angered that someone had been able to escape his unnatural selection process? But thinking that way was only another step on the pathway to despair, and Burton figured that instead of bitching and moaning about his situation, he could be proactive.
So he got high.
It was really his solution to everything, but it was well-documented that he felt far better when under the influence of the drug. He supposed that he was a slave to it, in a way, as it allowed himself to mellow and really see all angles of situations that he got himself in to. This was no different. He'd been assigned a bulletproof vest that he wasn't letting anyone know that he had, and he knew that playing the game was a stupid maneuver on the part of anyone who wanted to try it.
Why throw yourself right into the path of a bullet when you can take a step to the left and avoid it altogether?
In Burton's own opinion, the best idea in terms of longetivity was to stay low, and stay undetected as long as humanly possible, in a small group - mainly to avoid internal spats. That was one of the main reasons that he'd instigated the breakup of the cottage group. It was much too large, and there was far too much potential for violence if someone got angry at someone else. Such blowouts could lead to much bloodshed, and Burton didn't feel like getting his own ass caught in any crossfire.
Smoking on a pipe as he walked through the graveyard, he paused for a moment to look at the instrument. It looked (amusingly, to his peers) like the type of pipe that a rich, distinguished old man might smoke as he lounged around in loafers and a bathrobe. Along with his long brown hair, full beard, and 'John Lennon' tinted glasses, he looked like a full-fledged 'new-age' kind of guy - which, in a way, he supposed that he kind of was.
The situation in itself wasn't as much distressing to Burton as was the possibility that he wouldn't get a chance to think of a proper plan of action, a proper method of escape. He was an incredibly intelligent individual - and this didn't need telling, but he was concerned that his intelligence was the only weapon that he would be able to be afforded in such a situation. It wasn't stupid to want a good weapon, but rather a necessity. How could one stay alive if they were armed with nothing? Several old clichés spoke regarding the merits of the best defense being a good weapon, or a good method of offense, and Burton knew that if he were to feel safe or relaxed enough to come up with anything of substance, he'd need a place to relax, and some tools to work with. A hired gun might not be a bad idea, but the idea of a large group was something he felt would be prudent to avoid.
As he rolled through scenarios within his head, he suddenly became acutely aware that he was not alone within the graveyard. The primary thing that tipped him off to this fact was the fairly close sound of...vomiting? Burton stopped in his tracks, and lowered the pipe, glancing around, his brow furrowed in a cautious crease towards his eyes. There were two faint forms of people approximately twenty feet away from him, and thanks to the smoke, Burton couldn't manage to identify either of them. Both were small, and obviously not very tall - though with girls, that could be anybody. But as he heard a masculine voice murmur something, his seriousness broke. There was only one person that was as short as the shadow and yet had masculine voice. Only one person who was relatively famous for being mocked relentlessly about his small stature. One person, who he'd actually run into not so long ago.
Taking a step forward, Burton overheard the last part of what Guy was saying, something about zombies. Smirking to himself, Ken smoked another round of the pipe, and then slowly made his way towards the two figures, whistling a rendition of the theme song to the X-Files as he made his way towards them. As he broke through the visual barrier, he confirmed to himself that it was indeed Guy, along with a girl who looked vaguely familiar, but whose name he didn't know. Likely just another face in the hallway at school, but who knew? Perhaps it would come to him, perhaps not. At present, it didn't matter. The odds were that the two were about to become aquainted, regardless. Stepping into the full line of sight, Burton stood, pipe in hand, a small smirk on his face.
"Guy. Amazing how you and I seem to be kindred spirits here...seeing you twice in one day, it's almost...eerie."
Burton sadly smirked, and glanced at the pipe in his hand.
"I see you've aquired a travelling companion since last we met. Like your name, Guy...it seems like you tend to move around trés rapidement."
Scratching his beard, Burton wondered how Guy would react to seeing him again. He knew that Guy was likely looking for his friends, but he was, nonetheless, a friendly face. Guy wasn't the kind of guy to have too many secrets, as the filter between his brain and his mouth seemed, at times, nonexistant. But he was a nice enough chap, and Burton silently hoped that he wouldn't mind having good ol' Ken Lawson around for a laugh. Not waiting for Guy's response, he focused now on the girl sitting beside Guy, and extended his hand that wasn't holding the pipe.
"Evening.I don't believe we've been properly introduced. If you're travelling with Guy Rapide, you're probably growing tired of playing the Jackie Chan to his Chris Tucker. Just think of me as somewhat of a ... a Don Cheadle, so to speak. A wise old fool who happens to be hoping that what I'm thinking and feeling isn't betraying my cool exterior."
Winking at Guy, he looked back at the girl beside him.
"My name's Burton Harris, and under the cirumstances, it's nice to see someone who isn't trying to play Mark David Chapman to my John Lennon."
Smiling gently at the girl, his expression then quickly drained off his face, as though someone had drained the kindness from his face, leaving him with the look as though he'd just made a very crucial mistake. Hand still extended, his eyes slowly glanced over to where Guy sat. Ordinarily, the introduction wouldn't have been so out of the ordinary, probably a little odd and long-winded (though expected from such a guy such as Burton) but rather, he had slipped up, and Guy would be the one who likely would have picked up on it, and undoubtedly would call him on it. Guy Rapide didn't let things like that pass him by without making SOME sort of comment on it.
At Southridge High School, there was no student by the name of Burton Harris - rather, Burton Harris was supposedly lying in a graveyard somewhere in the northern United States, body having been recovered after the government found the V2 island.
"...oh, bother..."
Smiling weakly at them both, Burton didn't know how the hell he was going to explain his way out of his one; though it was probably just as well.
He was getting tired of people calling him 'Ken', anyways.
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Oh....he hadn't left her behind. Alice was relieved...and to be honest, a bit surprised. Obviously she was just....hm, what was the name she was called? Ah right, spare baggage. Members of this one group she worked with for a project called her that when they thought she didn't hear...
"Um....what are you looking at?" Alice navigated through the graveyard carefully, making her way towards Guy. She couldn't quite see what Guy was backing off away from, given the darkness. Though really...what was that smell in the air? Was it the moss or something? The next surprise came when Guy excused himself...and proceeded to vomit all over the graveyard floor.
"Are.....are you alright?" Alice stared at him, somewhat stunned. ....Was he sick or something? Was the smell really that bad? Where was it coming from anyways?
Shaking her head slightly from the bewilderment, she wandered over to sit next to him, a bit shyly. And what was this about zombies? o_O; They didn't exist.... >_> ....did they? <_<
Alice then looked towards the newcomer who'd just brazenly wandered out of the gloom and introduced himself....she wasn't sure she'd seen anyone like this person before. Then again, who in her school DID she know?
The smoke kind of bothered her. She covered her mouth with her sleeves, coughing a bit. It also made her eyes water, so she rubbed them a bit.
"Burton...Harris?" She echoed. It wasn't a name she'd heard before. Considering the blank, wide-eyed look she was giving him, it was quite obvious that she had absolutely no idea who he was, having not recognized either his name or his face. She turned with a perplexed look towards Guy. "Um...do you two...know eachother...?"
"Um....what are you looking at?" Alice navigated through the graveyard carefully, making her way towards Guy. She couldn't quite see what Guy was backing off away from, given the darkness. Though really...what was that smell in the air? Was it the moss or something? The next surprise came when Guy excused himself...and proceeded to vomit all over the graveyard floor.
"Are.....are you alright?" Alice stared at him, somewhat stunned. ....Was he sick or something? Was the smell really that bad? Where was it coming from anyways?
Shaking her head slightly from the bewilderment, she wandered over to sit next to him, a bit shyly. And what was this about zombies? o_O; They didn't exist.... >_> ....did they? <_<
Alice then looked towards the newcomer who'd just brazenly wandered out of the gloom and introduced himself....she wasn't sure she'd seen anyone like this person before. Then again, who in her school DID she know?
The smoke kind of bothered her. She covered her mouth with her sleeves, coughing a bit. It also made her eyes water, so she rubbed them a bit.
"Burton...Harris?" She echoed. It wasn't a name she'd heard before. Considering the blank, wide-eyed look she was giving him, it was quite obvious that she had absolutely no idea who he was, having not recognized either his name or his face. She turned with a perplexed look towards Guy. "Um...do you two...know eachother...?"
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.
Guy closed his eyes for a brief moment as Alex sat down next to him, her questions? He simply grunted when asked if he was alright or not, but more importantly now was time to rest his eyes a bit; he had of course been up for most of the day so a few brief moments of sleep would be no problem, he of course would be able to ignore Alice's meek voice for a few minutes and then they would get up a move on their way. Drifting off into a half awake daze Guy nearly found himself falling completely asleep until he heard a familiar voice speak to him and was overwhelmed with the scent of burning marijuana.
One thing was for certain: this person reeked and had probably smoke about an ounce or two by themselves, a stupid person, a drunk person. Jessa?
No, the distinctly masculine voice struck him and as Guy opened his eyes and yawned visibly he reached for the gun in his waistband and stared at the new visitor, he didn't have enough time to signal Alice to run, but he hoped things didn't get bad really quickly. And that's when he heard the various quips coming from the voice he had yet to put a face too, but it had a certain amount of eloquence, tilting his head up he couldn't help but smirk.
Lary King's pothead nephew is the first person I run into? And he's sayin' shit that comes straight from VH1...this is tiresome...
And as Guy got up from his position to 'man-up' to Ken Lawson he finally managed to hear something that sent a shockwave through his entire system and he visibly stepped backwards again, the shocking squish proved that he had stepped into his own pool of vomit, but that didn't matter what mattered was proving whether or not this was just some sort of drunken mistake on Ken's part.
The reaction later proved it wasn't.
"So...anybody got anything they'd like to share? Any deep, dark secrets? Body counts that nobody knows about...? Anything they'd like to share? Trust is earned, not allotted. I don't know any of you that well. I've talked to you all maybe once or twice outside of now...so anything that you all can tell me about yourselves would really go a long way to ensuring that I can put my life in the communal hands of the group...you follow?"
This tall pot head motherfucker was hiding a completely separate life! We don't even know his name, fuck the school even reported him as Ken Lawson for seniors of distinction a few fuckin' days before the goddamn trip! How far does this go? Is this witness protection shit?! Or maybe he's a fuckin' member of the mafia who killed a few hundred folks and is goin' into hiding?
A social black hole and John motherfucking Doe? Goddamn I need a cigarette...
"I'll trust you know that you got some explaining to do, right Ken?", he sighed, "I'd say 'if that's really your real name', but I think I got this entire thing figured out.", he stared at Alice and then snorted a bit, "You come here reeking, causin' a girl that was literally tossed about like a rag doll to cough up a lung and more importantly say a name that I've never heard in my life!", he shook his head, "You're a big journalist Ken...or Burton...Kenurton, sit down and tell me exactly what the fuck is goin' on..."
Did he trust Ken? No, truth be told his distrust was amazing right now, but at this range? At this range Ken wouldn't be able to try anything without getting a bullet to the face-- if only Guy had a copy of Catcher in the Rye, they could reenact the assassination of Jon Lennon...alright that was in bad taste, but the point remained that Ken would be stupid to do anything but honor Guy's request to do a simple thing: explain what exactly was going on and if it was truly something mundane, then why did he get so freaked out about it. Guy? Guy was a con-man and he would be able to see through most lies, after all, it's hard to hustle a hustler.
One thing was for certain: this person reeked and had probably smoke about an ounce or two by themselves, a stupid person, a drunk person. Jessa?
No, the distinctly masculine voice struck him and as Guy opened his eyes and yawned visibly he reached for the gun in his waistband and stared at the new visitor, he didn't have enough time to signal Alice to run, but he hoped things didn't get bad really quickly. And that's when he heard the various quips coming from the voice he had yet to put a face too, but it had a certain amount of eloquence, tilting his head up he couldn't help but smirk.
Lary King's pothead nephew is the first person I run into? And he's sayin' shit that comes straight from VH1...this is tiresome...
And as Guy got up from his position to 'man-up' to Ken Lawson he finally managed to hear something that sent a shockwave through his entire system and he visibly stepped backwards again, the shocking squish proved that he had stepped into his own pool of vomit, but that didn't matter what mattered was proving whether or not this was just some sort of drunken mistake on Ken's part.
The reaction later proved it wasn't.
"So...anybody got anything they'd like to share? Any deep, dark secrets? Body counts that nobody knows about...? Anything they'd like to share? Trust is earned, not allotted. I don't know any of you that well. I've talked to you all maybe once or twice outside of now...so anything that you all can tell me about yourselves would really go a long way to ensuring that I can put my life in the communal hands of the group...you follow?"
This tall pot head motherfucker was hiding a completely separate life! We don't even know his name, fuck the school even reported him as Ken Lawson for seniors of distinction a few fuckin' days before the goddamn trip! How far does this go? Is this witness protection shit?! Or maybe he's a fuckin' member of the mafia who killed a few hundred folks and is goin' into hiding?
A social black hole and John motherfucking Doe? Goddamn I need a cigarette...
"I'll trust you know that you got some explaining to do, right Ken?", he sighed, "I'd say 'if that's really your real name', but I think I got this entire thing figured out.", he stared at Alice and then snorted a bit, "You come here reeking, causin' a girl that was literally tossed about like a rag doll to cough up a lung and more importantly say a name that I've never heard in my life!", he shook his head, "You're a big journalist Ken...or Burton...Kenurton, sit down and tell me exactly what the fuck is goin' on..."
Did he trust Ken? No, truth be told his distrust was amazing right now, but at this range? At this range Ken wouldn't be able to try anything without getting a bullet to the face-- if only Guy had a copy of Catcher in the Rye, they could reenact the assassination of Jon Lennon...alright that was in bad taste, but the point remained that Ken would be stupid to do anything but honor Guy's request to do a simple thing: explain what exactly was going on and if it was truly something mundane, then why did he get so freaked out about it. Guy? Guy was a con-man and he would be able to see through most lies, after all, it's hard to hustle a hustler.
"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'
As he saw the gun that Guy was holding all too late, Burton realized that he'd made a serious of mistakes. It was a shame, really - that things had to happen this early like this, but if it was going to happen, he supposed it better to happen sooner, rather than later. At the very least, he could rebuild the trust that would be destroyed once Guy told everyone he ran in to about his real identity.
I suppose that it really doesn't matter much now, does it? The whole purpose of the charade was to escape the terrorists, and I didn't do a terribly good job of that, now did I?
Glancing again at the gun that Guy held in his hand, Burton weakly shrugged, not betraying any kind of nervousness. That, of course, was his thing. Burton Harris never got nervous about much, and SOTF was the only thing that had really shaken him - first when his friend had died within it, secondly when he'd ended up in it himself. But what was done could not be changed, and neither could his mistake, so he was now left with the task of explaining himself to a small French guy and a girl who he'd met for a grand total of a minute and a half.
"Well...Guy...no. My name isn't...Ken Lawson. It never has been. C'mon, dude...the name doesn't ring a bell to you at all?"
Burton leaned back against a tall gravestone, and took another hit from his pipe. Sighing as the recognition didn't come over the faces of either Guy nor the girl, he exhaled smoke, and began to tell his story.
"There's not much of a story behind everything...like...I'm not a journalist studyin' schoolkids or anything. It's a lot less...legit than that, if you dig? Essentially, I'm from New York State, moved to Jersey with my parents when I was young. Went to Hobbsborough High School, and was a TA for Mrs. Sarranah's history class. Is this...like, sounding familiar at all to you?"
Burton stopped, and scratched his beard. Who knew if Guy was going to buy any of this stuff, or if he'd even care. For all he knew, Guy might have gone crazy since he last saw him, and shoot him right here.
That'd be...unfortunate...
"Last year, everyone was supposed to go on some field trip...but like...y'know how I am...I'm lazy, man. I don't like to be responsible for stuff. I mean, c'mon, dude...what else was I to do? So I found a buddy who had a beard and long hair, kind of like me, and I lent him my ID, gave him a whole bunch of pot, and let him go in my place. And..."
Burton trailed off, shrugging. What else was there to say - if they didn't already know where it was leading, they were in for one hell of a surprise.
"...then Survival of the Fittest, version two happened. Four classes from New Jersey. And I was supposed to be in one of them. Legally, I was declared dead when the goof that I gave my shit to ended up getting his head blown off. Dude wasn't emotionally ready for any of that, y'know? And after I found out that Burton Harris was legally dead, I made a judgement call, said 'fuck it', and moved to California. The laid-back kind of atmosphere's a pretty good match for someone like me. Figured that I'd graduate the one last year of high school...again...and then go off and hit up a college somewhere, write a thesis, and be a professor for the rest of my life."
Finally finishing off, Burton shrugged again, and gestured at Guy's gun.
"...and as you well know, man...things didn't exactly end up that way. So I guess that it doesn't really matter much anymore, being as my little case of identity theft didn't really end up getting me anywhere in the end...so...are ya satisfied, dude? Or...like...are you going to shoot me with your pistol, there?"
I suppose that it really doesn't matter much now, does it? The whole purpose of the charade was to escape the terrorists, and I didn't do a terribly good job of that, now did I?
Glancing again at the gun that Guy held in his hand, Burton weakly shrugged, not betraying any kind of nervousness. That, of course, was his thing. Burton Harris never got nervous about much, and SOTF was the only thing that had really shaken him - first when his friend had died within it, secondly when he'd ended up in it himself. But what was done could not be changed, and neither could his mistake, so he was now left with the task of explaining himself to a small French guy and a girl who he'd met for a grand total of a minute and a half.
"Well...Guy...no. My name isn't...Ken Lawson. It never has been. C'mon, dude...the name doesn't ring a bell to you at all?"
Burton leaned back against a tall gravestone, and took another hit from his pipe. Sighing as the recognition didn't come over the faces of either Guy nor the girl, he exhaled smoke, and began to tell his story.
"There's not much of a story behind everything...like...I'm not a journalist studyin' schoolkids or anything. It's a lot less...legit than that, if you dig? Essentially, I'm from New York State, moved to Jersey with my parents when I was young. Went to Hobbsborough High School, and was a TA for Mrs. Sarranah's history class. Is this...like, sounding familiar at all to you?"
Burton stopped, and scratched his beard. Who knew if Guy was going to buy any of this stuff, or if he'd even care. For all he knew, Guy might have gone crazy since he last saw him, and shoot him right here.
That'd be...unfortunate...
"Last year, everyone was supposed to go on some field trip...but like...y'know how I am...I'm lazy, man. I don't like to be responsible for stuff. I mean, c'mon, dude...what else was I to do? So I found a buddy who had a beard and long hair, kind of like me, and I lent him my ID, gave him a whole bunch of pot, and let him go in my place. And..."
Burton trailed off, shrugging. What else was there to say - if they didn't already know where it was leading, they were in for one hell of a surprise.
"...then Survival of the Fittest, version two happened. Four classes from New Jersey. And I was supposed to be in one of them. Legally, I was declared dead when the goof that I gave my shit to ended up getting his head blown off. Dude wasn't emotionally ready for any of that, y'know? And after I found out that Burton Harris was legally dead, I made a judgement call, said 'fuck it', and moved to California. The laid-back kind of atmosphere's a pretty good match for someone like me. Figured that I'd graduate the one last year of high school...again...and then go off and hit up a college somewhere, write a thesis, and be a professor for the rest of my life."
Finally finishing off, Burton shrugged again, and gestured at Guy's gun.
"...and as you well know, man...things didn't exactly end up that way. So I guess that it doesn't really matter much anymore, being as my little case of identity theft didn't really end up getting me anywhere in the end...so...are ya satisfied, dude? Or...like...are you going to shoot me with your pistol, there?"
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
As Alice listened to the exchange of information between Ken...no, Burton, and Guy, she couldn't help but realize just how out of the loop she was. Sitting there meekly at the sidelines while the newcomer explained himself, Alice was set adrift in confusion as various names and terms she lacked familiarity with were thrown to the air.
Burton Harris was certain by now to be a name she had never heard of before, nor recognized. She knew nothing about Hobbsborough Highschool, either... but one thing was definately certain, he had something to do with SOTF. Which didn't help Alice all that much either, given as she knew little more than the basic concept of SOTF, that it involved the deaths of many a highschool student...but that was all.
She smoke in the air was still making her cough, so she pulled up her turtleneck collar so that it covered her nose and mouth.
With half her face covered, woolen hat covering her head, thick hoodie and only her eyes exposed...Alice wouldn't know it, but right now? She had a strikingly remarkable resemblance to Kenny of South Park notoriety.
"Uhm..." She started meekly, voice muffled by the turtleneck. She turned slightly red....Alice was unaccustomed to speaking up in front of a group of people. "...So...uhm...you're supposed to be dead? I'm not....I'm not sure if I understand..."
The blank, wide-eyed look she gave them was probably more than enough to indicate her confusion. She continued to voice her uncertainty, albeit mumbling in a tiny voice behind her sweater. "I'm not really sure...what SOTF is all about...why we're here, and what we're supposed to do...I mean, I know it's a competition...and it has something to do with killing... but for what reason? ...Why do we have to try to kill one another? What is the reason behind it all? Why are they going to these kind of lengths to organize something like this...? Why us, of all people...?"
Her voice was neither plaintive nor accusing...but there was a simple honesty to it, as though she were a child patiently asking an adult the simplest question, never knowing that there were times when the answer was never as simple as the question.
Burton Harris was certain by now to be a name she had never heard of before, nor recognized. She knew nothing about Hobbsborough Highschool, either... but one thing was definately certain, he had something to do with SOTF. Which didn't help Alice all that much either, given as she knew little more than the basic concept of SOTF, that it involved the deaths of many a highschool student...but that was all.
She smoke in the air was still making her cough, so she pulled up her turtleneck collar so that it covered her nose and mouth.
With half her face covered, woolen hat covering her head, thick hoodie and only her eyes exposed...Alice wouldn't know it, but right now? She had a strikingly remarkable resemblance to Kenny of South Park notoriety.
"Uhm..." She started meekly, voice muffled by the turtleneck. She turned slightly red....Alice was unaccustomed to speaking up in front of a group of people. "...So...uhm...you're supposed to be dead? I'm not....I'm not sure if I understand..."
The blank, wide-eyed look she gave them was probably more than enough to indicate her confusion. She continued to voice her uncertainty, albeit mumbling in a tiny voice behind her sweater. "I'm not really sure...what SOTF is all about...why we're here, and what we're supposed to do...I mean, I know it's a competition...and it has something to do with killing... but for what reason? ...Why do we have to try to kill one another? What is the reason behind it all? Why are they going to these kind of lengths to organize something like this...? Why us, of all people...?"
Her voice was neither plaintive nor accusing...but there was a simple honesty to it, as though she were a child patiently asking an adult the simplest question, never knowing that there were times when the answer was never as simple as the question.
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.
I should kill him.
This thought rang through Guy's mind as Alice poised her own question to the boy and Guy took his time to think, he was a quick thinker, perhaps not a good one, but Guy had the inherent ability to process and currently his mind was leading him down a very troubling path: kill Ken Lawson -as he'd always be Ken Lawson to him- before things got out of hand and somebody a lot more gullible got caught into his obvious lie--Someone like Alice. Right now? Right now killing was justified and in the long run they where all going to die anyway- Guy had no disillusionment about that and no he wasn't going to lay down and die, but he namely wanted to be with his friends if and when he did kick the bucket.
Guy had numerous people he considered friends, Ken Lawson? Ken Lawson didn't make the list and with this cock and bull story about SOTF it seemed less and less likely that he ever would.
But, if he justified killing Ken for safeties sake, what made him different than Alex Steele who would try to kill Guy for looking at him funny or Gabriel Theobalt who wanted to kill Alice just because he could? Saying it's okay to kill is hedging. And Guy Rapide just couldn't escape the voice deep down inside him that told him: When someone gives into the game, no one wins.
After all, what far reaching consequences would have to be paid in exchange for Ken's death? Would someone's trust in him be destroyed? Would a completely innocent party have to penance because Guy Rapide gave in? He had to consider the meaning of his actions. Deception, lies, friendship, alliances, and killing all carried meaning, Guy Rapide just had to figure out what exactly they where.
"We're here because some sick fuck from a third world country that we can't seem to find gets his kicks by watching us squirm and turn against one another," Guy said finally finding the words to answer Alice's question while proceeding with his own and that's when his eyes raised themselves to meet Ken's own and for almost ten seconds Guy just managed to stare at him, for those who knew Guy this was a sign for the gravity of the situation; Guy was thinking out what to say.
"Burton, I'm not gonna kill ya," he finally managed to blurt out, "Not because I trust you, but because you're a person and I'm-- I'm a rebel by nature and Danya? Danya's the only authority figure out here...my very being tells me to resist him," he smirked a bit, "I don't really give a shit about your past and if you honestly believe you're some year old dead kid in hiding, then I really gotta tell you something: find a new hook-up, you've been smokin' some shit weed."
Guy paced back in forth, thinking about what to do next.
"What I want is the same whether you're with me and Alice or not: find Kallie and the rest of my friends," he grunted, "If you want to be part of my lil' search party then you're more than welcome...but otherwise I'm goin' to tell you honestly: I ain't here to be interviewed and probed and I'm willing to be my sweet French ass that Alice ain't either. you start promotin' distrust like you did back at the cottage and I..."
He soon realized that the threat, 'I'll kill you' didn't work so well when the first thing he had spoken to Burton was that he wasn't going to kill him.
"Well, what'll do isn't important, what's important is that you don't do it.", he smirked a bit, "Now, what did Big D and the Kids table give you?"
This thought rang through Guy's mind as Alice poised her own question to the boy and Guy took his time to think, he was a quick thinker, perhaps not a good one, but Guy had the inherent ability to process and currently his mind was leading him down a very troubling path: kill Ken Lawson -as he'd always be Ken Lawson to him- before things got out of hand and somebody a lot more gullible got caught into his obvious lie--Someone like Alice. Right now? Right now killing was justified and in the long run they where all going to die anyway- Guy had no disillusionment about that and no he wasn't going to lay down and die, but he namely wanted to be with his friends if and when he did kick the bucket.
Guy had numerous people he considered friends, Ken Lawson? Ken Lawson didn't make the list and with this cock and bull story about SOTF it seemed less and less likely that he ever would.
But, if he justified killing Ken for safeties sake, what made him different than Alex Steele who would try to kill Guy for looking at him funny or Gabriel Theobalt who wanted to kill Alice just because he could? Saying it's okay to kill is hedging. And Guy Rapide just couldn't escape the voice deep down inside him that told him: When someone gives into the game, no one wins.
After all, what far reaching consequences would have to be paid in exchange for Ken's death? Would someone's trust in him be destroyed? Would a completely innocent party have to penance because Guy Rapide gave in? He had to consider the meaning of his actions. Deception, lies, friendship, alliances, and killing all carried meaning, Guy Rapide just had to figure out what exactly they where.
"We're here because some sick fuck from a third world country that we can't seem to find gets his kicks by watching us squirm and turn against one another," Guy said finally finding the words to answer Alice's question while proceeding with his own and that's when his eyes raised themselves to meet Ken's own and for almost ten seconds Guy just managed to stare at him, for those who knew Guy this was a sign for the gravity of the situation; Guy was thinking out what to say.
"Burton, I'm not gonna kill ya," he finally managed to blurt out, "Not because I trust you, but because you're a person and I'm-- I'm a rebel by nature and Danya? Danya's the only authority figure out here...my very being tells me to resist him," he smirked a bit, "I don't really give a shit about your past and if you honestly believe you're some year old dead kid in hiding, then I really gotta tell you something: find a new hook-up, you've been smokin' some shit weed."
Guy paced back in forth, thinking about what to do next.
"What I want is the same whether you're with me and Alice or not: find Kallie and the rest of my friends," he grunted, "If you want to be part of my lil' search party then you're more than welcome...but otherwise I'm goin' to tell you honestly: I ain't here to be interviewed and probed and I'm willing to be my sweet French ass that Alice ain't either. you start promotin' distrust like you did back at the cottage and I..."
He soon realized that the threat, 'I'll kill you' didn't work so well when the first thing he had spoken to Burton was that he wasn't going to kill him.
"Well, what'll do isn't important, what's important is that you don't do it.", he smirked a bit, "Now, what did Big D and the Kids table give you?"
"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'
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
"..."
Alice nodded in response to Guy's answer to her question...though to be honest, all it did was confused her even more. She didn't completely understand. What she really wanted to know was what anyone could hope to accomplish by organizing something like this. What was the motivation, the reason behind it all, and the goal that it was meant to work towards? None of it made sense.
But she supposed she shouldn't bother anyone with her questions, as much as she wanted answers... There were more pressing matters at hand, she realized. All the while, she had played something of an observer, sitting along the sidelines while the tension between Guy and this...Burton Harris-person ran thick in the air.
"Um..." She spoke up again. She had sensed Guy's uncertainty in accepting Ken...err, Burton's story. To be honest, she didn't understand completely either, but something gave her the feeling...something told her that there was truth in his story. She couldn't explain it, and as much as she trusted her gut instincts, she would rather withhold her opinion and feelings, but...
She realized that in a situation like this? She had better start learning to speak up sooner or later.
"...It could be just me, but..." Alice mumbled, hesitating in her words. She stammered a bit, trying to find the right way to communicate her thoughts. "...I don't think he's lying, Guy.... I just don't think it is... the way he explained it, I know, it sounds so complicated it seems like a fabrication.... but..."
What she wanted to say was that a liar would have come up with a much simpler story, as to create less visible inconsistencies and loose ends. The way Burton explained himself wasn't merely a record of the bare events. It also accounted for what he thought and felt about the whole thing, his judgment, his reasons, his awareness of the situation, things that a liar would often forget to take into account. That was because, as Alice believed, that it really happened. Burton was not just telling the truth, he was telling it from the way he perceived it, from his point of view.
Liars often weren't concerned with telling things from their own perspective, and are probably instead more focused on twisting the perspectives of others.
"...well..." she continued on, not knowing how to communicate this reasoning of hers. "...Either way...it's okay if you don't agree with me, Guy. I might be wrong, but..." She looked up at Burton Harris. "I believe you. I don't think you're lying. I believe you're telling the truth."
That was probably the most she'd ever spoken of her own opinion of the matter. Alice was turning red behind her sweater, slightly embarrassed.
"Also... if we're going to work together... whatever we're going to do now, I think we should try to let go of our distrust..." She tried not to look at Guy as she said this. The matter had been bothering her ever since she'd noticed he'd been deliberating whether to shoot Burton or not. "This probably sounds counter-intuitive... but I think if we don't trust each other, we'll never be able to reach any understanding. We'll just end up being a danger to each other...."
Alice nodded in response to Guy's answer to her question...though to be honest, all it did was confused her even more. She didn't completely understand. What she really wanted to know was what anyone could hope to accomplish by organizing something like this. What was the motivation, the reason behind it all, and the goal that it was meant to work towards? None of it made sense.
But she supposed she shouldn't bother anyone with her questions, as much as she wanted answers... There were more pressing matters at hand, she realized. All the while, she had played something of an observer, sitting along the sidelines while the tension between Guy and this...Burton Harris-person ran thick in the air.
"Um..." She spoke up again. She had sensed Guy's uncertainty in accepting Ken...err, Burton's story. To be honest, she didn't understand completely either, but something gave her the feeling...something told her that there was truth in his story. She couldn't explain it, and as much as she trusted her gut instincts, she would rather withhold her opinion and feelings, but...
She realized that in a situation like this? She had better start learning to speak up sooner or later.
"...It could be just me, but..." Alice mumbled, hesitating in her words. She stammered a bit, trying to find the right way to communicate her thoughts. "...I don't think he's lying, Guy.... I just don't think it is... the way he explained it, I know, it sounds so complicated it seems like a fabrication.... but..."
What she wanted to say was that a liar would have come up with a much simpler story, as to create less visible inconsistencies and loose ends. The way Burton explained himself wasn't merely a record of the bare events. It also accounted for what he thought and felt about the whole thing, his judgment, his reasons, his awareness of the situation, things that a liar would often forget to take into account. That was because, as Alice believed, that it really happened. Burton was not just telling the truth, he was telling it from the way he perceived it, from his point of view.
Liars often weren't concerned with telling things from their own perspective, and are probably instead more focused on twisting the perspectives of others.
"...well..." she continued on, not knowing how to communicate this reasoning of hers. "...Either way...it's okay if you don't agree with me, Guy. I might be wrong, but..." She looked up at Burton Harris. "I believe you. I don't think you're lying. I believe you're telling the truth."
That was probably the most she'd ever spoken of her own opinion of the matter. Alice was turning red behind her sweater, slightly embarrassed.
"Also... if we're going to work together... whatever we're going to do now, I think we should try to let go of our distrust..." She tried not to look at Guy as she said this. The matter had been bothering her ever since she'd noticed he'd been deliberating whether to shoot Burton or not. "This probably sounds counter-intuitive... but I think if we don't trust each other, we'll never be able to reach any understanding. We'll just end up being a danger to each other...."
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.
Burton listened to the reactions from both Alice and Guy, and he couldn't help but listen in amusement as Guy didn't believe his story. It was certainly a bit far-fetched, but the fact was that in his experience, the most extraordinary stories often happened to be facts. Burton Harris didn't deal in anything BUT facts, and the second that Guy Rapide showed and voiced his very obvious disbelief, Burton knew that down the line, this was going to cause problems.
I think that it's largely due to the fact that the girl believes me, and Guy does not. Though, it's an odd pairing, as Guy doesn't strike me as the type to associate with such a...unique girl, as she is.
He wasn't quite certain what it was about Alice that he found unique. Likely, it was the fact that she had an almost child-like innocence about her. Her questions, the things she said...they sounded like the musings of someone who'd just woken up after being asleep for the better part of their life, and were now just encountering certain everyday situations for the first time. The girl was obviously not one who was used to social encounters, as her speech had awkward pauses scattered throughout it. If she was faking it for some unbeknownst purpose, she was the best actor he'd ever seen; though Burton discounted that immediately. Her mannerisms weren't forced, but rather displayed the type of deliberation that would be present in someone who wasn't socially apt. The girl was likely an intensely introverted person who quite possibly had a slight form of a socially inhibiting disorder such as a mild case of autism or Asperger's syndrome.
Ahhh, the wonders of behavioural science and psychology. If this hadn't gone on, I think I would have really quite enjoyed all that.
Burton silently made himself a promise to keep his eye on Alice. She was interesting enough to pique his curiousity, and he got the distinct impression that her closely guarded personality was shielding some sort of trauma or personality flaw. He knew full well that in extreme circumstances, often such suppressed emotions or events would resurface and cause emotional trauam, or have potentially damaging psychological results. Smirking at Guy, Burton scratched his beard and readjusted his glasses.
"It's nice to have the trust of at least one person around here...dude...if I were even remotely malicious, or thinking of interviewing you, like you claim...would I truly be making up such a ridiculous story? Nah, man...it's all true. I wish it weren't, but...such is life, y'know?"
Turning to Alice, he gave her a more serious look, and looked her up and down, rather quickly. Something about her - was worth sticking around to discover what lay beneath such a guarded exterior.
"Thank you for believing me. After my earlier diatribe at the cottage, I don't believe that Guy fully trusts me, or believes that I have benevolant intentions...but my name truly is...Burton Harris. I didn't catch yours...?"
Glancing up at Guy while he waited for Alice to reply, Burton quickly threw a suggestion back at Guy.
"I don't know if you'd planned on staying here...but, like...the graveyard's obviously been discovered by players already, judging by...well, the corpse that's over there. I'd say that if we found a shelter of some sort...it might prove a better option than being eaten by a bear...or shot by a player...I'll come with you to find your friends...I don't have any aspirations of winning this game...all I found in my bag was everything I brought along with me...and some crackers...no weapon, nothing."
Burton knew that he probably shouldn't conceal the kevlar from Guy, but he wanted an ace-in-the-hole should Guy decide to shoot him. If he knew that Burton had Kevlar, he'd aim for the head.
My, how apt the zombie analogy is after that...
I think that it's largely due to the fact that the girl believes me, and Guy does not. Though, it's an odd pairing, as Guy doesn't strike me as the type to associate with such a...unique girl, as she is.
He wasn't quite certain what it was about Alice that he found unique. Likely, it was the fact that she had an almost child-like innocence about her. Her questions, the things she said...they sounded like the musings of someone who'd just woken up after being asleep for the better part of their life, and were now just encountering certain everyday situations for the first time. The girl was obviously not one who was used to social encounters, as her speech had awkward pauses scattered throughout it. If she was faking it for some unbeknownst purpose, she was the best actor he'd ever seen; though Burton discounted that immediately. Her mannerisms weren't forced, but rather displayed the type of deliberation that would be present in someone who wasn't socially apt. The girl was likely an intensely introverted person who quite possibly had a slight form of a socially inhibiting disorder such as a mild case of autism or Asperger's syndrome.
Ahhh, the wonders of behavioural science and psychology. If this hadn't gone on, I think I would have really quite enjoyed all that.
Burton silently made himself a promise to keep his eye on Alice. She was interesting enough to pique his curiousity, and he got the distinct impression that her closely guarded personality was shielding some sort of trauma or personality flaw. He knew full well that in extreme circumstances, often such suppressed emotions or events would resurface and cause emotional trauam, or have potentially damaging psychological results. Smirking at Guy, Burton scratched his beard and readjusted his glasses.
"It's nice to have the trust of at least one person around here...dude...if I were even remotely malicious, or thinking of interviewing you, like you claim...would I truly be making up such a ridiculous story? Nah, man...it's all true. I wish it weren't, but...such is life, y'know?"
Turning to Alice, he gave her a more serious look, and looked her up and down, rather quickly. Something about her - was worth sticking around to discover what lay beneath such a guarded exterior.
"Thank you for believing me. After my earlier diatribe at the cottage, I don't believe that Guy fully trusts me, or believes that I have benevolant intentions...but my name truly is...Burton Harris. I didn't catch yours...?"
Glancing up at Guy while he waited for Alice to reply, Burton quickly threw a suggestion back at Guy.
"I don't know if you'd planned on staying here...but, like...the graveyard's obviously been discovered by players already, judging by...well, the corpse that's over there. I'd say that if we found a shelter of some sort...it might prove a better option than being eaten by a bear...or shot by a player...I'll come with you to find your friends...I don't have any aspirations of winning this game...all I found in my bag was everything I brought along with me...and some crackers...no weapon, nothing."
Burton knew that he probably shouldn't conceal the kevlar from Guy, but he wanted an ace-in-the-hole should Guy decide to shoot him. If he knew that Burton had Kevlar, he'd aim for the head.
My, how apt the zombie analogy is after that...
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
She mumbled an answer as he asked for a name. "....It's Alice Jones..."
Alice fell into that usual awkward silence once again as Burton made his suggestion that they should find shelter. It was clear that Guy didn't trust Burton as of yet, which was understandable. It might seem like the safe thing to not trust anyone, to always be guarded, and to always expect the worst in people... but to be honest, Alice believed that it was really more dangerous than anything.
Distrust lead to secrecy, which in turn lead to miscommunication. In a game where anyone could be a potential killer, miscommunication might just be the very trigger that would set everyone on edge. People would point fingers, get angry, and then start losing their sense of rationality...that was the way Alice saw it.
She personally wished Guy would see it the way she did. But more likely than not, Guy probably knew what he was doing...better than what Alice herself knew what she was doing, confused as she was.
When Burton made mention of a weapon, she blinked in realization. Oh that's right...she'd yet to open up her daypack and see exactly what sort of weapon she'd been given...
Burton had no weapon? That was strange...
Turning around a bit, she sifted through her daypack. Soon enough, her small hands came across...
...something soft. And fluffy.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she pulled out the plush rabbit that was her childhood toy for as long as she could remember. What was it doing here? Of all places? She remembered packing it when preparing for the trip, but how did it manage to get into her designated daypack? Holding it up a bit, Alice looked into her daypack...none of her other belongings were there. How the stuffed toy had managed to find it's way into her daypack, Alice couldn't imagine. She rubbed its ears a bit, its once white fur now slightly mussed up and worn out from age. At least they let her keep it...it was precious to her. She remembered whispering her thoughts to it behind the closed door of her bedroom. It was cute, and its black eyes seemed much warmer and friendlier than those of other people...
Realizing that she was holding her childhood treasure in front of two other people from her own school of all people, Alice turned red with embarrassment and put the rabbit back into the daypack.
She came across her weapon this time, and pulled it out to get a better look at it. Shining her flashlight at it, she saw that it was a wooden baseball bat, hard and sturdy, and to be honest...a bit heavy for her. What in the world would she do with it though? Alice couldn't imagine herself hitting anybody with it....
Alice had blinked when Burton mentioned that he didn't have a weapon. How was that so? Something seemed odd about that... everyone should've had weapons, shouldn't they? Guy did. That...guy that attacked her did. Alice herself had a weapon. But not Burton? Alice bit her lip with uncertainty, doubting him somewhat.
It was then that she looked directly into his eyes, something which Alice had not done thus far to anyone, other than to meekly make eye contact for a brief moment then look away. The stare she gave him was different. "...No weapon? Are you sure? Everyone is supposed to have a weapon, even if it's something useless or out of the ordinary."
Alice fell into that usual awkward silence once again as Burton made his suggestion that they should find shelter. It was clear that Guy didn't trust Burton as of yet, which was understandable. It might seem like the safe thing to not trust anyone, to always be guarded, and to always expect the worst in people... but to be honest, Alice believed that it was really more dangerous than anything.
Distrust lead to secrecy, which in turn lead to miscommunication. In a game where anyone could be a potential killer, miscommunication might just be the very trigger that would set everyone on edge. People would point fingers, get angry, and then start losing their sense of rationality...that was the way Alice saw it.
She personally wished Guy would see it the way she did. But more likely than not, Guy probably knew what he was doing...better than what Alice herself knew what she was doing, confused as she was.
When Burton made mention of a weapon, she blinked in realization. Oh that's right...she'd yet to open up her daypack and see exactly what sort of weapon she'd been given...
Burton had no weapon? That was strange...
Turning around a bit, she sifted through her daypack. Soon enough, her small hands came across...
...something soft. And fluffy.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she pulled out the plush rabbit that was her childhood toy for as long as she could remember. What was it doing here? Of all places? She remembered packing it when preparing for the trip, but how did it manage to get into her designated daypack? Holding it up a bit, Alice looked into her daypack...none of her other belongings were there. How the stuffed toy had managed to find it's way into her daypack, Alice couldn't imagine. She rubbed its ears a bit, its once white fur now slightly mussed up and worn out from age. At least they let her keep it...it was precious to her. She remembered whispering her thoughts to it behind the closed door of her bedroom. It was cute, and its black eyes seemed much warmer and friendlier than those of other people...
Realizing that she was holding her childhood treasure in front of two other people from her own school of all people, Alice turned red with embarrassment and put the rabbit back into the daypack.
She came across her weapon this time, and pulled it out to get a better look at it. Shining her flashlight at it, she saw that it was a wooden baseball bat, hard and sturdy, and to be honest...a bit heavy for her. What in the world would she do with it though? Alice couldn't imagine herself hitting anybody with it....
Alice had blinked when Burton mentioned that he didn't have a weapon. How was that so? Something seemed odd about that... everyone should've had weapons, shouldn't they? Guy did. That...guy that attacked her did. Alice herself had a weapon. But not Burton? Alice bit her lip with uncertainty, doubting him somewhat.
It was then that she looked directly into his eyes, something which Alice had not done thus far to anyone, other than to meekly make eye contact for a brief moment then look away. The stare she gave him was different. "...No weapon? Are you sure? Everyone is supposed to have a weapon, even if it's something useless or out of the ordinary."
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.
"Meh," Guy smirked a bit, "If he doesn't want to show it to us it only means he's gonna kill us with it later, really there's nothin' to worry about. Mr. SOTF-Survivor's jus going to rape us with whatever thing he's hiding in that shit spewing orifice his calls a mouth," Guy smirked a bit, "It means your talkin' out of your ass," Guy said plainly, but then continued, "Y'know it's just this type a shit I was talkin' bout Ken, this fantasy life that you're livin'!"
Guy smirked.
"Now Me? I've never hurt a fly in my life and I can say that completely honestly, fuck I'd bet my life on-"
And then the announcement came on and Guy was subjected to Danya's reading of the kills, really they should get someone more charismatic to do this and as he paid attention he noted that the two most important women in his life had not been mentioned, he looked towards Ken to begin his statement as Danya took a brief pause for dramatic effect before going on with the final kill.
Guy should've seen this coming. Perhaps he though that Alex had died at midnight or that they didn't report suicides...perhaps he thought something stupid like that, but then as he heard Danya speak his eyes widened and he had to try his best to keep himself from literally shitting himself with the picture that Danya had painted: Namely one that involved him locking up Alex in a freezer in order to kill him, as Danya finished Guy's eyes widened as he did the only thing a reasonable person could do at this moment.
"What. The. Fuck!"
That was all that was heard as Guy Rapide screamed and kicked over a gravestone out of anger for what was happening. This? This blatant lie by Danya would put all of his friends on edge and...Guy would never see them again because he'd be known as the guy who was not only a murderer, but a loud murderer at that.
"This is all just, fuck, this is all just so fucking fucked up.", he finally managed to mutter, shaking his head in disbelief.
Guy smirked.
"Now Me? I've never hurt a fly in my life and I can say that completely honestly, fuck I'd bet my life on-"
And then the announcement came on and Guy was subjected to Danya's reading of the kills, really they should get someone more charismatic to do this and as he paid attention he noted that the two most important women in his life had not been mentioned, he looked towards Ken to begin his statement as Danya took a brief pause for dramatic effect before going on with the final kill.
Guy should've seen this coming. Perhaps he though that Alex had died at midnight or that they didn't report suicides...perhaps he thought something stupid like that, but then as he heard Danya speak his eyes widened and he had to try his best to keep himself from literally shitting himself with the picture that Danya had painted: Namely one that involved him locking up Alex in a freezer in order to kill him, as Danya finished Guy's eyes widened as he did the only thing a reasonable person could do at this moment.
"What. The. Fuck!"
That was all that was heard as Guy Rapide screamed and kicked over a gravestone out of anger for what was happening. This? This blatant lie by Danya would put all of his friends on edge and...Guy would never see them again because he'd be known as the guy who was not only a murderer, but a loud murderer at that.
"This is all just, fuck, this is all just so fucking fucked up.", he finally managed to mutter, shaking his head in disbelief.
"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'
Burton was not amused. Guy had a propensity to spew verbal diarrhea quite often, and it was beginning to get on his nerves. Quite honestly, Burton had very ltitle patience for people who spewed as much nonsense as Guy did, as most people were often simply trying to make up for deficiencies. As he was about to calmly respond to Guy's accusations and hurtful comments, the announcement crackled throughout the island, eliciting a visible jump from the other two. Burton just sat there, calmly listening. He was visibly surprised at Guy's name being mentioned, and his mouth slowly dropped agape as Danya detailed what Guy had done. As the announcement finished, and Guy stammered helplessly, Burton shook his head slowly.
"Mmm, it looks like you're the one who's been hiding things from us, Guy. Perhaps the small tidbit...that you murdered someone?"
Burton calmly took a step towards Guy, shooting Alice a look that he hoped she understood. He intended to disarm guy of his weapon, though he didn't quite know how. Regardless, it was now obvious that Guy was a threat, and an unstable threat at that.
"Now, Guy...obviously, you aren't the murderous sort. In fact...the liklihood is high that the incident simply happened to be an accident. But I think that it'd be the best for us if you handed over the weapon. I can't say that I trust you much, anymore. You may not believe in what I've told you, but obviously one of us has completely fabricated a story, and I have complete confidence in my powers of recollection."
Burton stood, and held his hand out, hoping that Guy would give up the weapon willingly, so they could figure out what the hell to do next.
"Mmm, it looks like you're the one who's been hiding things from us, Guy. Perhaps the small tidbit...that you murdered someone?"
Burton calmly took a step towards Guy, shooting Alice a look that he hoped she understood. He intended to disarm guy of his weapon, though he didn't quite know how. Regardless, it was now obvious that Guy was a threat, and an unstable threat at that.
"Now, Guy...obviously, you aren't the murderous sort. In fact...the liklihood is high that the incident simply happened to be an accident. But I think that it'd be the best for us if you handed over the weapon. I can't say that I trust you much, anymore. You may not believe in what I've told you, but obviously one of us has completely fabricated a story, and I have complete confidence in my powers of recollection."
Burton stood, and held his hand out, hoping that Guy would give up the weapon willingly, so they could figure out what the hell to do next.
-
LadyMakaze†
- Posts: 475
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 9:48 pm
Alice bit her lips together in worry and apprehension, noting that things between Guy and Ken haven't ameliorated in the slightest. It was clear that they didn't trust eachother, nor did they seem willing to divulge secrets of their own. As much as Alice wanted to work towards removing that tension that seemed to plague the trio, she felt as though all she could do was sit at the sidelines, watching as the events unfolded without any having any hand or say in the resulting matter...
But it was always like this. It wasn't worth it to speak out when no one would pay you any heed. She was just too slow and timid for anyone to take seriously...
She looked up in surprise as the electronically amplified voice resonated across the island. There was an announcement system on SOTF? She supposed she would have to get used to the way this game worked...
Gradually, Alice's face began to pale, hands covering her mouth, eyes widening in a twisted expression of horror as the deaths were recounted to every detail, every single name, and their respective killers. A slight whimper escaped her lips.
People were dying...
While they were sitting here talking, their own classmates were dying...
Alice's shock mounted when Guy's name was mentioned, the implications that went along with it were that Guy had a part in Alex's death...something that Guy himself had mentioned earlier.
She likewise got off of the gravestone, and cringed slightly when Guy made his frustration explicit...she didn't know what to make of it all now, but something about the matter...the manner in which Alex Steele died as per recounted by the announcement compared to what Guy had told her about Alex's death... something did not seem all that clear.
At Burton's words, Alice suddenly found herself coming to Guy's defense, before she realized what she was doing.
"Don't....don't say that!" The volume Alice's voice was barely worthy of a large audience, but what was significant about now was that it was raised slightly, and more than just the barely coherent mumbles and murmurs which she usually spoke in.
"....Guy's not like that. He didn't murder anyone!" She trembled slightly as she said this, holding onto her arms tightly. "He told me. He told me what happened to that guy...that...Alex-person, that he killed himself. If he had been trying to kill Alex in the freezer, he would've left the door closed, right? The fact that he knew what happened to Alex proved that he cared enough to open the door before he froze to death... I don't think Guy would try to murder anyone..."
She bit her lip, her face was red, and she was having trouble standing. Having never spoken so much, so true to her thoughts in her life in front of other people, she felt somewhat faint.
"So...even if you don't trust him...I do! He tried to help me back then. I know he's a good person..."
But it was always like this. It wasn't worth it to speak out when no one would pay you any heed. She was just too slow and timid for anyone to take seriously...
She looked up in surprise as the electronically amplified voice resonated across the island. There was an announcement system on SOTF? She supposed she would have to get used to the way this game worked...
Gradually, Alice's face began to pale, hands covering her mouth, eyes widening in a twisted expression of horror as the deaths were recounted to every detail, every single name, and their respective killers. A slight whimper escaped her lips.
People were dying...
While they were sitting here talking, their own classmates were dying...
Alice's shock mounted when Guy's name was mentioned, the implications that went along with it were that Guy had a part in Alex's death...something that Guy himself had mentioned earlier.
She likewise got off of the gravestone, and cringed slightly when Guy made his frustration explicit...she didn't know what to make of it all now, but something about the matter...the manner in which Alex Steele died as per recounted by the announcement compared to what Guy had told her about Alex's death... something did not seem all that clear.
At Burton's words, Alice suddenly found herself coming to Guy's defense, before she realized what she was doing.
"Don't....don't say that!" The volume Alice's voice was barely worthy of a large audience, but what was significant about now was that it was raised slightly, and more than just the barely coherent mumbles and murmurs which she usually spoke in.
"....Guy's not like that. He didn't murder anyone!" She trembled slightly as she said this, holding onto her arms tightly. "He told me. He told me what happened to that guy...that...Alex-person, that he killed himself. If he had been trying to kill Alex in the freezer, he would've left the door closed, right? The fact that he knew what happened to Alex proved that he cared enough to open the door before he froze to death... I don't think Guy would try to murder anyone..."
She bit her lip, her face was red, and she was having trouble standing. Having never spoken so much, so true to her thoughts in her life in front of other people, she felt somewhat faint.
"So...even if you don't trust him...I do! He tried to help me back then. I know he's a good person..."
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.
OoC- Sorry for shortness...
"Alice is right, I didn't kill anybody," he said calmly, "He was going crazy, shooting everywhere, the guy barely missed my shoulder and he was in the deep freeze, I did what I thought was best and closed the door so he could calm down or whatever...", he smirked bitterly, "Never leave a loony with a gun alone, they go loonier and shoot themselves up...when the silence overcame the area I opened the door and checked and y'know, fuck...the kid was dead,", he laughed a bit, "Call me Shortstrodamus or something, but I knew then that this whole shit that we're stuck in is way fucked up."
He spat on the ground as he put his hand on Alice's shoulder.
"I'm still goin' to find Kallie and you're," he smiled a bit, "Fuck, I've only known you for a few hours, but I can say that you're a friend of mine and if you wanna come, I'm not goin' to stop you," he looked coolly at Ken before raising his gun to meet the approaching intellectuals head, "You must think I'm stupid as hall hell to give someone I trust as far as I can throw -hint not very far- my weapon? Fuck off Ken, I'm out of here."
He turned away and looked towards Alice and smirked, before speaking.
"C'mon Black Hole, we gotta keep moving."
"Alice is right, I didn't kill anybody," he said calmly, "He was going crazy, shooting everywhere, the guy barely missed my shoulder and he was in the deep freeze, I did what I thought was best and closed the door so he could calm down or whatever...", he smirked bitterly, "Never leave a loony with a gun alone, they go loonier and shoot themselves up...when the silence overcame the area I opened the door and checked and y'know, fuck...the kid was dead,", he laughed a bit, "Call me Shortstrodamus or something, but I knew then that this whole shit that we're stuck in is way fucked up."
He spat on the ground as he put his hand on Alice's shoulder.
"I'm still goin' to find Kallie and you're," he smiled a bit, "Fuck, I've only known you for a few hours, but I can say that you're a friend of mine and if you wanna come, I'm not goin' to stop you," he looked coolly at Ken before raising his gun to meet the approaching intellectuals head, "You must think I'm stupid as hall hell to give someone I trust as far as I can throw -hint not very far- my weapon? Fuck off Ken, I'm out of here."
He turned away and looked towards Alice and smirked, before speaking.
"C'mon Black Hole, we gotta keep moving."
"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'