(Simon continued from: Lady So Divine)
It hadn't been easy, but Simon and Madison had managed to get off the beach and back onto the island properly before the dangerzones went active and blew them to kingdom come. Simon was concerned: they had been in the middle of treating Madison's wound when the announcement made itself known, and she had received little more than a painkiller to see her through. The bleeding might have slowed down, but Simon was pretty damn sure Madison wasn't feeling A-okay.
Simon tried to ignore the dead body sprawled in the middle of the airfield, and looked for somewhere they could dig in and avoid getting shot at for a while: as well as get Madison's wound treated. The busted airplane seemed a viable option, but there were probably better out there. Then again, Madison probably wouldn't be able to keep going with a wound like hers if it wasn't dealt with, and fast.
"How are you holding up Madison?" Simon sighed, then smiled. "It might be inappropriate to say this, but I've never been more pleased to see you. Looks like I only got there in the nick of time..." he trailed off, feeling ashamed. Although his earlier travelling companions were still alive, judging by the announcement, Simon still felt a little guilty for leaving them behind. However, what made him feel worse was that he hadn't gone looking for Madison right away. If he had found her earlier, perhaps she wouldn't have been hurt...
Day By Day
(Madison Conner continued from Lady So Divine)
Madison Conner's (Female Student no. 01) chest hurt. Alot. It was a pain to move. It made her wince when she breathed deeply. Hell, anything she did only served to make the pain in her side even worse. While she knew Simon was only thinking of her best interests, that certainly wasn't going to make the burning go away. She also assumed that the fact that she was getting drowsy wasn't a good thing. Madison had been tired, yes, but everything was looking extremely drowsy. The whole thing made her want to vomit, a severe case of motion sickness seeming to come nowhere close to what she was experiencing.
Be strong... be strong she kept telling herself, not even noticing that saying it in her mind over and over again wasn't going to make it all come true. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she was trying her best not to cry. Not in front of Simon. It looked as though he had been looking for her all this time, and crying like a child wasn't going to raise his self-esteem.
"I-I'm fine." She forced a smile, as though she didn't even notice the tear running down her face. "Really... it hurts, but I'll be fine... I'll be fine..."
She was trying her damned best not to look at the dead body flopped across the ground, but she couldn't help it. The sick feeling in her stomach did not reseed, actually getting even worse from the mere sight of the corpse. It was as if she had never SEEN a dead body before in her entire life. Madison's eyes were filled with glossiness, sparkling like two bright stars. Her front teeth bit down on her bottom lip, fighting the urge to cry. She was letting Simon carry her around, although she still tried to pull her own weight as well.
"Why us?"
She asked in a demanding tone, closing both of her eyes.
"Why US? Tell me Simon... what have we done to deserve this? I can't say t-that I'm the most noble person around. I've lied a couple times... I-I accidentally shot someone... but does that mean that I'm a bad person? Is that a good reason for me... for US to be here? Not even the murderers deserve this punishment. But then why are we here... I was meant for great things... WE were meant for great things..."
Madison sighed. "I'm glad to see you here, right now. I really do... but I'm not going to lie to you when I say that I'm sad too... If I didn't see you here, then that must have meant you never went on this trip to begin with, and you wouldn't have to die like I am... like everyone else will, eventually."
Madison Conner's (Female Student no. 01) chest hurt. Alot. It was a pain to move. It made her wince when she breathed deeply. Hell, anything she did only served to make the pain in her side even worse. While she knew Simon was only thinking of her best interests, that certainly wasn't going to make the burning go away. She also assumed that the fact that she was getting drowsy wasn't a good thing. Madison had been tired, yes, but everything was looking extremely drowsy. The whole thing made her want to vomit, a severe case of motion sickness seeming to come nowhere close to what she was experiencing.
Be strong... be strong she kept telling herself, not even noticing that saying it in her mind over and over again wasn't going to make it all come true. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she was trying her best not to cry. Not in front of Simon. It looked as though he had been looking for her all this time, and crying like a child wasn't going to raise his self-esteem.
"I-I'm fine." She forced a smile, as though she didn't even notice the tear running down her face. "Really... it hurts, but I'll be fine... I'll be fine..."
She was trying her damned best not to look at the dead body flopped across the ground, but she couldn't help it. The sick feeling in her stomach did not reseed, actually getting even worse from the mere sight of the corpse. It was as if she had never SEEN a dead body before in her entire life. Madison's eyes were filled with glossiness, sparkling like two bright stars. Her front teeth bit down on her bottom lip, fighting the urge to cry. She was letting Simon carry her around, although she still tried to pull her own weight as well.
"Why us?"
She asked in a demanding tone, closing both of her eyes.
"Why US? Tell me Simon... what have we done to deserve this? I can't say t-that I'm the most noble person around. I've lied a couple times... I-I accidentally shot someone... but does that mean that I'm a bad person? Is that a good reason for me... for US to be here? Not even the murderers deserve this punishment. But then why are we here... I was meant for great things... WE were meant for great things..."
Madison sighed. "I'm glad to see you here, right now. I really do... but I'm not going to lie to you when I say that I'm sad too... If I didn't see you here, then that must have meant you never went on this trip to begin with, and you wouldn't have to die like I am... like everyone else will, eventually."
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Simon sighed heavily. The truth was that he had nothing to say to Madison. None of them should be on the island in the first place, of course they shouldn't! The whole prospect, the whole basis... it was just plain sick. Simon felt like a pawn, being manipulated helplessly. his own efforts of paltry significance. Sure, he might have averted the game's course slightly by rescuing Madison from her attacker, but Simon felt a growing dread that it was only delaying the inevitable.
You can't think that way! Simon scolded himself. Even if this whole thing is futitle, even if we're doomed to failure, no matter what we do, it is not for nothing. I won't let it be for nothing. There's always something you can do, some difference you can make, that tips the scales that one little bit. Running and hiding won't solve anything, in the long run. It's like... It's like an uphill struggle... if you let up, even for an instant, you tumble right back down to the bottom. If you put in the effort, drive yourself forward more and more... then you reach the top.
Whilst Simon was trying to resolve these issues internally, he tried to keep supporting Madison, as best he could, taking as much weight off her own feet as was possible. He was in perfect health: relatively speaking, and Madison was wounded, that prioritised her far, far in front of him. He stayed quiet for some time, puzzling things out inside his head, wondering about Madison's own words. He had to say, that a lot of it rang uncomfortably true. Perhaps, Simon considered, it would have been better if he had never seen Madison at all. Of course it would have done, because that, as she had said, would have meant that she wasn't on the island at all... in the end though, it was just wishful thinking. You couldn't dwell on what the possibilities where, what might have happened if you had chosen differently. You had to make do with what had been thrown to you, even if it was a hellish 'game'.
"I know how you feel Madi," said Simon, finally breaking his silence. "Nobody deserves this, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, to use an expression. But the fact remains..." Simon trsiled off, sighed, then tried again. "The fact remains is that, deserving or not, we're in this, there's no use thinking about the what if's. Maybe there is no 'why' it's just chance, just fate that it was us they picked to put in this. But... one thing I know is that giving up is not an option, you can't just resign yourself to dying. You just roll over and give up, then you die, you resist... maybe not. I don't know. We can't give in,"
You can't think that way! Simon scolded himself. Even if this whole thing is futitle, even if we're doomed to failure, no matter what we do, it is not for nothing. I won't let it be for nothing. There's always something you can do, some difference you can make, that tips the scales that one little bit. Running and hiding won't solve anything, in the long run. It's like... It's like an uphill struggle... if you let up, even for an instant, you tumble right back down to the bottom. If you put in the effort, drive yourself forward more and more... then you reach the top.
Whilst Simon was trying to resolve these issues internally, he tried to keep supporting Madison, as best he could, taking as much weight off her own feet as was possible. He was in perfect health: relatively speaking, and Madison was wounded, that prioritised her far, far in front of him. He stayed quiet for some time, puzzling things out inside his head, wondering about Madison's own words. He had to say, that a lot of it rang uncomfortably true. Perhaps, Simon considered, it would have been better if he had never seen Madison at all. Of course it would have done, because that, as she had said, would have meant that she wasn't on the island at all... in the end though, it was just wishful thinking. You couldn't dwell on what the possibilities where, what might have happened if you had chosen differently. You had to make do with what had been thrown to you, even if it was a hellish 'game'.
"I know how you feel Madi," said Simon, finally breaking his silence. "Nobody deserves this, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, to use an expression. But the fact remains..." Simon trsiled off, sighed, then tried again. "The fact remains is that, deserving or not, we're in this, there's no use thinking about the what if's. Maybe there is no 'why' it's just chance, just fate that it was us they picked to put in this. But... one thing I know is that giving up is not an option, you can't just resign yourself to dying. You just roll over and give up, then you die, you resist... maybe not. I don't know. We can't give in,"
Madison's wound had stopped visibly bleeding, which was a good thing. It appeared as though she wasn't going to die from blood loss, but it would start up again if she irritated it at all. Deciding it best not to rub up against Simon, she tried desperately to swing away from him while still letting him support her weight. It was starting to become easier to move on her own, but she still felt tipsy. She stumbled across the ground, almost falling over completely if it weren't for Simon holding onto her. Madison quickly caught her footing and gripped the side of Simon's shirt.
"Yeah... but what am I going to do?" she sighed, coming off with more angst than she really meant. "No one's going to trust me now, other than you. The announcement exaggerated everything a-and it made me out to be some raving psychopath. There has to a few people who are willing to let that pass but... I'm not sure whether to trust them or not. I could never tell if someone like that wanted to play us for a fool, or if they would just about trust anyone... I don't know. I really don't know. All of this is starting to look hopeless...
I guess that kind of makes us stronger than the others. Well... makes you stronger than everyone else. I don't think you're the type that would try to kill anyone, and that's good. I can trust you. And you're optimistic about what's happening to us... I could never say the same for me. The minute I woke up here, I cried. I kept telling myself that there was no way out of this, and that... that I could only kill others or kill myself. I don't lie when I say that the thought of pulling on my collar and ending it all hasn't crossed my mind. I thought of doing that many times, and I almost went through with it. I didn't see the point in living if I was going to die anyway..."
She stopped walking for a moment, then smiled. "But... you're right. We shouldn't lose hope, even after all we've been through... The odds might be against all of us, but it doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to make a decision. We could make a third option. We could escape. The chances are slim... so much so t-that I don't even think I could chose it... but we could try... I bet there are others w-who are thinking of the same..."
Madison paused for a moment, then frowned again. "Listen... before I-I go on and get my hopes up, there's something I... need to tell you. You're about the only person I can trust, so I'm not going to lie to you Simon. I've been lying to everyone, even myself. Especially myself. I do it all the time, but you're different. You're about the only person who'd stick with me until the end, so you of all people should know the truth. I would never be able to forgive myself if I didn't tell you this..."
She hesitated with the next part, her vocal chords straining. How am I going to say this without making me sound like a monster?
"Simon... do you remember the announcement that said I shot another girl?" She gulped, then continued. "That was no accident like I keep telling myself."
Madison looked down, ashamed of herself. "No... I meant to do that. I wanted to kill her."
"Yeah... but what am I going to do?" she sighed, coming off with more angst than she really meant. "No one's going to trust me now, other than you. The announcement exaggerated everything a-and it made me out to be some raving psychopath. There has to a few people who are willing to let that pass but... I'm not sure whether to trust them or not. I could never tell if someone like that wanted to play us for a fool, or if they would just about trust anyone... I don't know. I really don't know. All of this is starting to look hopeless...
I guess that kind of makes us stronger than the others. Well... makes you stronger than everyone else. I don't think you're the type that would try to kill anyone, and that's good. I can trust you. And you're optimistic about what's happening to us... I could never say the same for me. The minute I woke up here, I cried. I kept telling myself that there was no way out of this, and that... that I could only kill others or kill myself. I don't lie when I say that the thought of pulling on my collar and ending it all hasn't crossed my mind. I thought of doing that many times, and I almost went through with it. I didn't see the point in living if I was going to die anyway..."
She stopped walking for a moment, then smiled. "But... you're right. We shouldn't lose hope, even after all we've been through... The odds might be against all of us, but it doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to make a decision. We could make a third option. We could escape. The chances are slim... so much so t-that I don't even think I could chose it... but we could try... I bet there are others w-who are thinking of the same..."
Madison paused for a moment, then frowned again. "Listen... before I-I go on and get my hopes up, there's something I... need to tell you. You're about the only person I can trust, so I'm not going to lie to you Simon. I've been lying to everyone, even myself. Especially myself. I do it all the time, but you're different. You're about the only person who'd stick with me until the end, so you of all people should know the truth. I would never be able to forgive myself if I didn't tell you this..."
She hesitated with the next part, her vocal chords straining. How am I going to say this without making me sound like a monster?
"Simon... do you remember the announcement that said I shot another girl?" She gulped, then continued. "That was no accident like I keep telling myself."
Madison looked down, ashamed of herself. "No... I meant to do that. I wanted to kill her."
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Simon just lent Madison his ear for a little while and allowed her to get what she needed to say off her chest. Soimetimes, all you needed was a receptive ear. Sometimes you just needed to say the things burdening you out loud. Then again, wasn't there that saying: 'A problem shared is a problem doubled?' Simon had heard it argued either way.
His silence was in no small part due to the fact that, well, he couldn't actually think of what to say in reply. However, he did pay proper attention when Madison's tone changed, addressing him quite seriously. What she said shook him badly.
"But... why? Why would you want to try and kill someone? I thought that Danya was just making that up..."
It made no sense. Madison was... well, she was Madison. Simon couldn't even conceive of her hurting somebody, much less deliberately: with a gun, no less.
What the hell was this game doing to people?
His silence was in no small part due to the fact that, well, he couldn't actually think of what to say in reply. However, he did pay proper attention when Madison's tone changed, addressing him quite seriously. What she said shook him badly.
"But... why? Why would you want to try and kill someone? I thought that Danya was just making that up..."
It made no sense. Madison was... well, she was Madison. Simon couldn't even conceive of her hurting somebody, much less deliberately: with a gun, no less.
What the hell was this game doing to people?
Madison shook her head slightly, shivering at the thought that she REALLY meant to kill someone. Even she couldn't believe it. Madison was always a nice soul and never truly meant to hurt anyone... Well... like most normal people she had murmured "I'm going to kill..." or "I'll kill..." before. It was human nature to feel hatred, that was very obvious. Madison couldn't have ever imagined that SHE could ever, EVER go through with an attempt at someone's life. She didn't kill anyone but it felt as though she had taken the lives of several people, without mercy, without regret. Madison wanted to sob but she had done way too much of that during the past two days. Waterlogged wasn't even a strong enough term to describe what she was feeling.
"I really think... that Danya exaggerated the whole thing. That fat kid, Charlie... he wanted to kill all of us.... I can remember him trying to sneak up on Keith, and then Keith... shot him without any hesitation. Twice, actually. It-it was in self-defense! It wasn't intentional... but Izzy just attacked Charlie because he got up again. I can't speak for them, I know that. I just have a huge feeling that Danya tried to make it sound like Izzy and Keith were trying to kill Charlie, and that the boy was the victim... at least, that's what I took from it. After all, I was the one who warned Keith..."
She let out a very loud sigh, looking down at the ground. "But... no matter how I try, I can't lie to myself... I can't lie to you either. I got scared, I was afraid... if you were to ask me why I did it, what was going through my mind at the time, then you aren't going to get anything. Not even I know why I did it, because I was so intent on telling myself differently. I kept making myself believe that it was all an accident.... But I have to face fact. Saying it was an accident just makes me appear even more crazy...
"For whatever reason, I pointed a gun at someone and shot them. I'm glad that it didn't hit them in the head, but the shame is still there. I feel horrible for what I did, and I don't even think you could ever understand how painful it is for me to have this much guilt I have... No one could ever be perfect Simon. Everyone knows that. I guess when you think about it, no one could ever blame me for thinking that the only option is to kill, but I know it's not that. I see that... I.... I just don't know... I don't..."
Madison felt like she was brushing her sadness off on Simon, and that was one thing she did not want. She perked up, her eyes meeting with his, forcing another smile. "... But believe me when I say that... That's not what I'm going to do anymore. I'm not going to kill anyone innocent, not after all the remorse I've felt from just shooting someone. From this moment on, I'm..."
She stopped herself, shaking her head. "WE'RE going to find a different way, a way other than playing. You and me... We could change this game. WE could find a way out of here... You have the intelligence, and I... well, I'm eager to help. I'm sure that if we find others who are just as keen on finding a way out as the both of us then... the odds against us won't seem so big."
Madison was going off into another impossible dream, letting her full imagination run free. She actually believed that enthusiasm alone was going to break the system, but in her own mind it all seemed logical. "I know it sounds impossible, I know that it feels like I'm grasping for reason, but... at least it's better than killing. I... I don't want to kill, not anymore... a-and I'm sure you're not going with the idea either."
She stumbled slightly, her hands slowly rubbing across Simon's good arm, putting his hand between both of hers. Her smile grew. This was the first moment in two and a half days where Madison was being positive. "So. What do you think? Do you think we could? I... I want to know how you feel. I... don't want to force you into this... if you think that there's a different way, then I'd like to her w-what you think."
"I really think... that Danya exaggerated the whole thing. That fat kid, Charlie... he wanted to kill all of us.... I can remember him trying to sneak up on Keith, and then Keith... shot him without any hesitation. Twice, actually. It-it was in self-defense! It wasn't intentional... but Izzy just attacked Charlie because he got up again. I can't speak for them, I know that. I just have a huge feeling that Danya tried to make it sound like Izzy and Keith were trying to kill Charlie, and that the boy was the victim... at least, that's what I took from it. After all, I was the one who warned Keith..."
She let out a very loud sigh, looking down at the ground. "But... no matter how I try, I can't lie to myself... I can't lie to you either. I got scared, I was afraid... if you were to ask me why I did it, what was going through my mind at the time, then you aren't going to get anything. Not even I know why I did it, because I was so intent on telling myself differently. I kept making myself believe that it was all an accident.... But I have to face fact. Saying it was an accident just makes me appear even more crazy...
"For whatever reason, I pointed a gun at someone and shot them. I'm glad that it didn't hit them in the head, but the shame is still there. I feel horrible for what I did, and I don't even think you could ever understand how painful it is for me to have this much guilt I have... No one could ever be perfect Simon. Everyone knows that. I guess when you think about it, no one could ever blame me for thinking that the only option is to kill, but I know it's not that. I see that... I.... I just don't know... I don't..."
Madison felt like she was brushing her sadness off on Simon, and that was one thing she did not want. She perked up, her eyes meeting with his, forcing another smile. "... But believe me when I say that... That's not what I'm going to do anymore. I'm not going to kill anyone innocent, not after all the remorse I've felt from just shooting someone. From this moment on, I'm..."
She stopped herself, shaking her head. "WE'RE going to find a different way, a way other than playing. You and me... We could change this game. WE could find a way out of here... You have the intelligence, and I... well, I'm eager to help. I'm sure that if we find others who are just as keen on finding a way out as the both of us then... the odds against us won't seem so big."
Madison was going off into another impossible dream, letting her full imagination run free. She actually believed that enthusiasm alone was going to break the system, but in her own mind it all seemed logical. "I know it sounds impossible, I know that it feels like I'm grasping for reason, but... at least it's better than killing. I... I don't want to kill, not anymore... a-and I'm sure you're not going with the idea either."
She stumbled slightly, her hands slowly rubbing across Simon's good arm, putting his hand between both of hers. Her smile grew. This was the first moment in two and a half days where Madison was being positive. "So. What do you think? Do you think we could? I... I want to know how you feel. I... don't want to force you into this... if you think that there's a different way, then I'd like to her w-what you think."
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Once again, Simon just allowed Madison to say her piece. It was clear that she had a lot on her mind: who wouldn't in this kind of place? Still, he couldn't remain silent all of the time, she could mistake his lack of speech for disgust, or revulsion at the things she was telling him.
"Of course it was exagerated Madi. Danya is a snake, and how else is he going to convince people that they have to play the game? Which sounds more troubling? 'This lone psycho attacked a group and they retaliated' or 'This poor kid was looking for help but the group attacked and murdered him'? I'm taking everything the guy says with a pinch of salt.
"As for you shooting... well, I can't blame you entirely, but you can't be let off the hook either. You panicked, you pulled the trigger on the gun, you hit somebody. They aren't dead, so as far as I'm concerned, you've got very little to feel guilty about. It happens. Not everybody can handle this whole thing. Okay so they told you to get the hell out of there, but at least nobody died!
"And you're right of course. There must be a way out of this which doesn't involve killing. I'm flattered how you describe my intelligence, but I'm not the brightest guy in the world by a long shot. Groups don't seem to go so well, so much as I hate to say it... we need to be selective. No dead weight, only people who we can use. But first... of course, we need to come up with some kind of plan. It's all very well mapping out your targets, but without the cogs, the clock won't run... I need some time to think..."
Simon fell quiet, frowning as the so-called 'cogs' of his mind began working to construct the 'clock' which would hopefully lead to escape.
"Of course it was exagerated Madi. Danya is a snake, and how else is he going to convince people that they have to play the game? Which sounds more troubling? 'This lone psycho attacked a group and they retaliated' or 'This poor kid was looking for help but the group attacked and murdered him'? I'm taking everything the guy says with a pinch of salt.
"As for you shooting... well, I can't blame you entirely, but you can't be let off the hook either. You panicked, you pulled the trigger on the gun, you hit somebody. They aren't dead, so as far as I'm concerned, you've got very little to feel guilty about. It happens. Not everybody can handle this whole thing. Okay so they told you to get the hell out of there, but at least nobody died!
"And you're right of course. There must be a way out of this which doesn't involve killing. I'm flattered how you describe my intelligence, but I'm not the brightest guy in the world by a long shot. Groups don't seem to go so well, so much as I hate to say it... we need to be selective. No dead weight, only people who we can use. But first... of course, we need to come up with some kind of plan. It's all very well mapping out your targets, but without the cogs, the clock won't run... I need some time to think..."
Simon fell quiet, frowning as the so-called 'cogs' of his mind began working to construct the 'clock' which would hopefully lead to escape.
Madison wanted to use the word useless, but her nerves told her otherwise. The moment Simon used the word Dead Weight, Madison's eyes dampened lightly as though she was going to cry again. Dead weight was about the two words that fit her persona. Really. There wasn't much going in her direction other than a few dozen self-defense classes a few years back and a fire axe that she saw no use in using. She wasn't even HOLDING the axe properly: what chance was there that she was going to have using it? Not much, she could figure. Simon was better off without her...
"Well... I..."
Madison frowned, looking away for a moment. She was finding it almost difficult to get what she wanted to say out of her head and past her lips, but she was struggling. It felt like an uneasy start...
"I... just wanted to say this Simon... This has been the first time we've spoken like this in weeks. I-I... I'm actually kinda upset that we had to meet here, like this. And even if we do make a group and do get close to escaping, that doesn't mean we'll make it out of this place alive. I really don't want to think about it that way but... I can't blame myself for looking at the bad side. No one can... but... I-I know there's a slim chance we can get out of this, but I just wanted to tell you... remind you that I really care for you. I really liked the time we spent together Simon... It... It meant alot to me..."
Was she lying? She doubt it. Out of what she told him, that had been the easiest to get out. Her hands rubbed his, warming it in a very gentle fashion. She gave a simple smile that stated nothing other than a honest happy emotion. It was strange. Simon made her smile during the moments she really wanted to frown.
"Well... I..."
Madison frowned, looking away for a moment. She was finding it almost difficult to get what she wanted to say out of her head and past her lips, but she was struggling. It felt like an uneasy start...
"I... just wanted to say this Simon... This has been the first time we've spoken like this in weeks. I-I... I'm actually kinda upset that we had to meet here, like this. And even if we do make a group and do get close to escaping, that doesn't mean we'll make it out of this place alive. I really don't want to think about it that way but... I can't blame myself for looking at the bad side. No one can... but... I-I know there's a slim chance we can get out of this, but I just wanted to tell you... remind you that I really care for you. I really liked the time we spent together Simon... It... It meant alot to me..."
Was she lying? She doubt it. Out of what she told him, that had been the easiest to get out. Her hands rubbed his, warming it in a very gentle fashion. She gave a simple smile that stated nothing other than a honest happy emotion. It was strange. Simon made her smile during the moments she really wanted to frown.
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OOC: Darnell continued from Best Served Cold. By the way, not only did I have permission from Laz for the description of what happened to separate the Boxer/Darnell/Ed trio, it was partially his idea.
IC:
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
Like a song on a trashy jukebox, these words were stuck on infinite loop in the mind of Darnell Butler. Every time he raised his sword that he took from Eduardo and brought it down on the thick underbrush with a grunt, clearing the foliage away from his path, those terrible words got louder and louder in his head. His ears were ringing from the noise that only he could hear now that the announcement had ended, as that one name drowned out all the others in his head. Every time the name came up, he felt like someone was slamming a baseball bat into his stomach, and he wanted to scream. Scream, cry, and rage, rage against the dying of the light, the death of a girl who had been one of Darnell's best friends. He wanted to be sick, but he couldn't. He had to keep moving forward. There would be time to mourn later, but he had to press on. Stopping in the middle of the jungle wouldn't make him any less lost, or help him find Dan, Eduardo, or anyone else he was looking for any faster. It was too late for Evelyn, but as much as his heart ached for it he had to ignore it for now. He couldn't let it become too late for Kallie, Guy, Keith, Evan, Gabe, or any of the others he wanted to find.
Knew I couldn't trust that little weasel, but at least he didn't hurt anybody. Why did I even help him, anyway? He tried to KILL me!
Dan, Eduardo, and Darnell had spent the entirety of the previous day after leaving the mess hall trying to find their way through the jungle and making idle conversation, stopping only to rest or eat/drink and once as Darnell made a pair of makeshift crutches for Eduardo from a set of particularly large tree branches and a few vines (to tie the crutches together). They hadn't found anyone, or a way out of the jungle, when night fell, but they found a clearing they could rest in with enough supplies to build a fire small enough to not set the entire jungle ablaze but large enough to scare away any curious predators. They'd set up a rotation so that two people would be sleeping and the third would be keeping watch at any given time, and sometime after midnight, during one of his shifts, Eduardo had taken advantage of the fact that Dan and Darnell were asleep to hobble off. Darnell woke up quickly enough to see Eduardo disappear into the foliage and woke Dan after making sure none of their supplies were stolen, getting the leviathan to help him chase Eduardo down after killing the fire.
In the pitch blackness of the night, it hadn't taken long at all for Dan and Darnell to become separated, just about totally unable to see each other. Trying to keep up audible chatter while staying close had kept them in the same general area for a while, but they eventually ended up splitting up unintentionally, and almost before Darnell knew what happened he had completely lost Daniel "Boxer" Carvalho and was stranded in the middle of the jungle at a time where he couldn't see his hand in front of his face and for all he knew there were predators, traps, and players swarming all over the area. Yeah, he wasn't stupid enough to deny that he was scared. His flashlight only covered so much of the path, and not knowing what might come out of the darkness and lunge at his throat was pure terror. A threat that can't be seen is a threat that can't be dealt with, and Darnell knew that if some psycho kid with a gun popped out from behind him and started pulling the trigger, he wouldn't even get to try to defend himself. That was the worst part, that some random nutjob from Southridge's hallways could take him out and he wouldn't even know it was happening until he was dead already.
Still, as unnerving as the atmosphere was, Darnell had known that he had no choice but to keep going, and after a while the sounds of the island's flora and fauna, uninterrupted by gunfire or explosions or screams, were rather soothing. He kept his flashlight in one hand, his sword (it had taken him a while to stop calling it "the sword" and start thinking of it as "his sword"), and his ears out for any noises that would signify trouble. Fortunately for him there were no Vietnam War style ambushes, nor did any animals see him and think "lunch!", and he was able to find a path through the jungle fairly uneventfully. After a couple hours his eyes even started to adjust to the darkness, so he could actually see. Walking along the path, listening to the crunching noise of his feet treading over plant growth and dirt in combination with the wildlife around him, thinking about how he was going to get the team and all the rest of his friends together and how they'd all bust the game wide open, he realized that at such a late hour the island was actually refreshingly peaceful.
The peace was, of course, shattered once the announcement started up at dawn. The sheer number of deaths in the past day forced him to pause, stunning him with the sheer surprise of the fact that so many were dead, and so many were killers. What really hurt, though, was how he knew every single one of the people Danya listed. He knew their names, he knew their faces, he had sat with them in class, he had walked past them in the halls, he had spoken to them, laughed with some of them, argued with others, almost fought a couple in days gone by, and the surest thing was the fact that because of them there had never been one dull day at Southridge. Now they were dead. Murdered by people they had gone to school with for four years, some of them in brutal ways that made Darnell wince just hearing about them.
As it turned out, that wasn't even the worst part. Standing on that path in the middle of the jungle, Danya's words rebounded and smacked Darnell right in the face. "Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."...it was terrible enough that his classmates were dying, but Evelyn Richinson was a name he had never wanted to hear on the announcements. Shocked, moved by sheer disbelief, all he could do was silently mutter "Evelyn Richinson" to himself, almost praying that he hadn't heard right. It was a mistake, Danya was talking about someone else and Darnell had misheard. That had to be the case, Evelyn couldn't be dead. Not her, anyone but her. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. Evelyn wasn't supposed to be dead, he was supposed to get her off the island alive, and she'd become the first woman to ever play in the NFL. They'd been friends since they first met on the team, he had to repay her for all she'd done for him. She couldn't have died before he got that chance! Some director would show up soon, shout "Cut!" and berate Danya for getting his lines wrong.
A few seconds after his internal rant finished, Darnell realized that wasn't going to happen. This wasn't a show, it was real. Evelyn was dead, and Darnell hadn't even gotten to see her one last time. To use a cliché, he "never got to say good bye". He would never see her in this world again. They'd never laugh together again, never play football, never tease each other or talk about how Gabe or Dan or whoever was running a bit slower than usual that day or catching fewer passes, never try to see who could make the worst (yet funniest) joke, never make outlandish bets just to see if they were ever pulled off, just all in all never do anything as friends again. It was over; the next time they'd see each other would be at the Pearly Gates as Saint Peter waved him through with a laugh, and she'd talk about how there weren't any good football teams in Heaven or something. His last memory of her would be them filing onto a bus. Since she had accidentally killed herself instead of being murdered, he couldn't even have the satisfaction of taking revenge.
Other memories of Evelyn soon flooded his mind after that one, as he placed the sword, pack, and flashlight on the ground and simply sat down against a nearby tree. He was never much of a crier, but he gritted his teeth as he tried to prevent his eyes from clouding up, his hands curling into fists as his anger clashed against the pure misery he had been hit with by the announcement in a figurative showdown between the two emotions. He remembered how, when he first joined the Varsity team, she had started to help him with his efforts to get rid of the beastial anger that had been such a pervasive part of his life up to that point, and found himself wondering if he would have succeeded without her help or the help of the discipline provided by his teams. He found himself remembering how in the final stretch of a tough game against a team from San Francisco, Evelyn, Steve, and himself had made up a play on the fly in an effort to confuse the opposing defense. It worked perfectly, not only confusing the Timberwolves' defensive line, but more or less annihilating it, earning the Rebels a hard played victory.
That game had been so tough that Darnell had gone to bed immediately after, something he rarely did, but that play had become their team's signature for a while after. His head went in his hands, recalling how they had trained together, encouraged each other, pushing themselves and each other harder than they had any right to so they'd always be on top of their game. The team had always had a sort of bond, but with Evelyn...it was something else. That was really the only way he could ever have described it. It was nothing romantic, they hadn't been dating or anything, but it just seemed like hearing her name on the announcement left a huge void where something used to be in his gut.
Still, he realized after a few minutes, he couldn't just spend the rest of the game sitting under a tree. It literally wasn't healthy; not only was the ground proving to be an uncomfortable seat, but he was a sitting duck. At any time some player could show up and put a bullet in his head. Evelyn wouldn't have wanted that, he decided, she'd want him to fight, and if he had to go down to do so swinging. Death was an inevitable part of life, especially in SOTF, and if he was going to lead his friends to escape he couldn't, wouldn't let one death set him back to the point where he couldn't do anything. He was a man, it was time to act like one, to take responsibility and get as many people the fuck off this island as possible. If he died in the attempt? Well he could flip Danya off on the way out the fucking door. The more he delayed, the more people died, and the higher the chances of helplessly listening as even more of his closest friends were listed off as casualties, just additional numbers for Danya's list.
It hadn't taken long after that to pick up his stuff and get going again, but it still took quite a while to get through the forest. By some bizarre twist of fate, though, after a few hours he ran right into Dan "Boxer" Carvalho and Eduardo Trinidad-Villa again. Dan had found Eduardo and started travelling with him, but when they hadn't been able to find Darnell had moved on. It was an awkward conversation, but they eventually decided to just keep going as they had been before. However, after Darnell once volunteered to go up ahead to scout out an area that may have had hostiles, he returned to find that Dan and Eduardo had gone without him. Not forgetting the possibility that he could've just gotten lost and separated, Darnell started to exasperatedly look for them again.
Somehow, that search took the exhausted, hot, hungry, annoyed, and steadily dehydrating Darnell Butler to the airfield. Trudging and hacking through the jungle, he was almost surprised when he finally broke through the treeline entirely, wiping the sweat off of his brow as he saw the two figures in the distance. From where he was, he couldn't really tell who they were, but from the way they appeared to be talking and taking care of each other, he found it safe to assume they wouldn't be too hostile. Deciding to take his chances, he started to walk towards them, holding his sword loosely instead of placing it in the scabbard he took from Eduardo just in case. Eduardo had taught him the hard way that he really couldn't be sure, on this island. As he got closer, it soon became clear who he was approaching, though as he was behind them they didn't seem to notice; Madison Conner and Simon Wood. Simon Wood was relatively normal except for his fucked up arm, but Madison Conner had always seemed a bit odd. It didn't help that Danya had tried to make her sound like a killer in the first announcement. Still, they were usually decent people. Simon appeared to be patching up wounds on Madison, or had just finished doing so, and Darnell found himself hoping he wasn't interrupting anything important.
"Yo!" he would call out when he thought he was close enough, "Madison! Simon! You guys alright?"
IC:
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
"Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."
Like a song on a trashy jukebox, these words were stuck on infinite loop in the mind of Darnell Butler. Every time he raised his sword that he took from Eduardo and brought it down on the thick underbrush with a grunt, clearing the foliage away from his path, those terrible words got louder and louder in his head. His ears were ringing from the noise that only he could hear now that the announcement had ended, as that one name drowned out all the others in his head. Every time the name came up, he felt like someone was slamming a baseball bat into his stomach, and he wanted to scream. Scream, cry, and rage, rage against the dying of the light, the death of a girl who had been one of Darnell's best friends. He wanted to be sick, but he couldn't. He had to keep moving forward. There would be time to mourn later, but he had to press on. Stopping in the middle of the jungle wouldn't make him any less lost, or help him find Dan, Eduardo, or anyone else he was looking for any faster. It was too late for Evelyn, but as much as his heart ached for it he had to ignore it for now. He couldn't let it become too late for Kallie, Guy, Keith, Evan, Gabe, or any of the others he wanted to find.
Knew I couldn't trust that little weasel, but at least he didn't hurt anybody. Why did I even help him, anyway? He tried to KILL me!
Dan, Eduardo, and Darnell had spent the entirety of the previous day after leaving the mess hall trying to find their way through the jungle and making idle conversation, stopping only to rest or eat/drink and once as Darnell made a pair of makeshift crutches for Eduardo from a set of particularly large tree branches and a few vines (to tie the crutches together). They hadn't found anyone, or a way out of the jungle, when night fell, but they found a clearing they could rest in with enough supplies to build a fire small enough to not set the entire jungle ablaze but large enough to scare away any curious predators. They'd set up a rotation so that two people would be sleeping and the third would be keeping watch at any given time, and sometime after midnight, during one of his shifts, Eduardo had taken advantage of the fact that Dan and Darnell were asleep to hobble off. Darnell woke up quickly enough to see Eduardo disappear into the foliage and woke Dan after making sure none of their supplies were stolen, getting the leviathan to help him chase Eduardo down after killing the fire.
In the pitch blackness of the night, it hadn't taken long at all for Dan and Darnell to become separated, just about totally unable to see each other. Trying to keep up audible chatter while staying close had kept them in the same general area for a while, but they eventually ended up splitting up unintentionally, and almost before Darnell knew what happened he had completely lost Daniel "Boxer" Carvalho and was stranded in the middle of the jungle at a time where he couldn't see his hand in front of his face and for all he knew there were predators, traps, and players swarming all over the area. Yeah, he wasn't stupid enough to deny that he was scared. His flashlight only covered so much of the path, and not knowing what might come out of the darkness and lunge at his throat was pure terror. A threat that can't be seen is a threat that can't be dealt with, and Darnell knew that if some psycho kid with a gun popped out from behind him and started pulling the trigger, he wouldn't even get to try to defend himself. That was the worst part, that some random nutjob from Southridge's hallways could take him out and he wouldn't even know it was happening until he was dead already.
Still, as unnerving as the atmosphere was, Darnell had known that he had no choice but to keep going, and after a while the sounds of the island's flora and fauna, uninterrupted by gunfire or explosions or screams, were rather soothing. He kept his flashlight in one hand, his sword (it had taken him a while to stop calling it "the sword" and start thinking of it as "his sword"), and his ears out for any noises that would signify trouble. Fortunately for him there were no Vietnam War style ambushes, nor did any animals see him and think "lunch!", and he was able to find a path through the jungle fairly uneventfully. After a couple hours his eyes even started to adjust to the darkness, so he could actually see. Walking along the path, listening to the crunching noise of his feet treading over plant growth and dirt in combination with the wildlife around him, thinking about how he was going to get the team and all the rest of his friends together and how they'd all bust the game wide open, he realized that at such a late hour the island was actually refreshingly peaceful.
The peace was, of course, shattered once the announcement started up at dawn. The sheer number of deaths in the past day forced him to pause, stunning him with the sheer surprise of the fact that so many were dead, and so many were killers. What really hurt, though, was how he knew every single one of the people Danya listed. He knew their names, he knew their faces, he had sat with them in class, he had walked past them in the halls, he had spoken to them, laughed with some of them, argued with others, almost fought a couple in days gone by, and the surest thing was the fact that because of them there had never been one dull day at Southridge. Now they were dead. Murdered by people they had gone to school with for four years, some of them in brutal ways that made Darnell wince just hearing about them.
As it turned out, that wasn't even the worst part. Standing on that path in the middle of the jungle, Danya's words rebounded and smacked Darnell right in the face. "Number twelve to die was Evelyn Richinson."...it was terrible enough that his classmates were dying, but Evelyn Richinson was a name he had never wanted to hear on the announcements. Shocked, moved by sheer disbelief, all he could do was silently mutter "Evelyn Richinson" to himself, almost praying that he hadn't heard right. It was a mistake, Danya was talking about someone else and Darnell had misheard. That had to be the case, Evelyn couldn't be dead. Not her, anyone but her. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. Evelyn wasn't supposed to be dead, he was supposed to get her off the island alive, and she'd become the first woman to ever play in the NFL. They'd been friends since they first met on the team, he had to repay her for all she'd done for him. She couldn't have died before he got that chance! Some director would show up soon, shout "Cut!" and berate Danya for getting his lines wrong.
A few seconds after his internal rant finished, Darnell realized that wasn't going to happen. This wasn't a show, it was real. Evelyn was dead, and Darnell hadn't even gotten to see her one last time. To use a cliché, he "never got to say good bye". He would never see her in this world again. They'd never laugh together again, never play football, never tease each other or talk about how Gabe or Dan or whoever was running a bit slower than usual that day or catching fewer passes, never try to see who could make the worst (yet funniest) joke, never make outlandish bets just to see if they were ever pulled off, just all in all never do anything as friends again. It was over; the next time they'd see each other would be at the Pearly Gates as Saint Peter waved him through with a laugh, and she'd talk about how there weren't any good football teams in Heaven or something. His last memory of her would be them filing onto a bus. Since she had accidentally killed herself instead of being murdered, he couldn't even have the satisfaction of taking revenge.
Other memories of Evelyn soon flooded his mind after that one, as he placed the sword, pack, and flashlight on the ground and simply sat down against a nearby tree. He was never much of a crier, but he gritted his teeth as he tried to prevent his eyes from clouding up, his hands curling into fists as his anger clashed against the pure misery he had been hit with by the announcement in a figurative showdown between the two emotions. He remembered how, when he first joined the Varsity team, she had started to help him with his efforts to get rid of the beastial anger that had been such a pervasive part of his life up to that point, and found himself wondering if he would have succeeded without her help or the help of the discipline provided by his teams. He found himself remembering how in the final stretch of a tough game against a team from San Francisco, Evelyn, Steve, and himself had made up a play on the fly in an effort to confuse the opposing defense. It worked perfectly, not only confusing the Timberwolves' defensive line, but more or less annihilating it, earning the Rebels a hard played victory.
That game had been so tough that Darnell had gone to bed immediately after, something he rarely did, but that play had become their team's signature for a while after. His head went in his hands, recalling how they had trained together, encouraged each other, pushing themselves and each other harder than they had any right to so they'd always be on top of their game. The team had always had a sort of bond, but with Evelyn...it was something else. That was really the only way he could ever have described it. It was nothing romantic, they hadn't been dating or anything, but it just seemed like hearing her name on the announcement left a huge void where something used to be in his gut.
Still, he realized after a few minutes, he couldn't just spend the rest of the game sitting under a tree. It literally wasn't healthy; not only was the ground proving to be an uncomfortable seat, but he was a sitting duck. At any time some player could show up and put a bullet in his head. Evelyn wouldn't have wanted that, he decided, she'd want him to fight, and if he had to go down to do so swinging. Death was an inevitable part of life, especially in SOTF, and if he was going to lead his friends to escape he couldn't, wouldn't let one death set him back to the point where he couldn't do anything. He was a man, it was time to act like one, to take responsibility and get as many people the fuck off this island as possible. If he died in the attempt? Well he could flip Danya off on the way out the fucking door. The more he delayed, the more people died, and the higher the chances of helplessly listening as even more of his closest friends were listed off as casualties, just additional numbers for Danya's list.
It hadn't taken long after that to pick up his stuff and get going again, but it still took quite a while to get through the forest. By some bizarre twist of fate, though, after a few hours he ran right into Dan "Boxer" Carvalho and Eduardo Trinidad-Villa again. Dan had found Eduardo and started travelling with him, but when they hadn't been able to find Darnell had moved on. It was an awkward conversation, but they eventually decided to just keep going as they had been before. However, after Darnell once volunteered to go up ahead to scout out an area that may have had hostiles, he returned to find that Dan and Eduardo had gone without him. Not forgetting the possibility that he could've just gotten lost and separated, Darnell started to exasperatedly look for them again.
Somehow, that search took the exhausted, hot, hungry, annoyed, and steadily dehydrating Darnell Butler to the airfield. Trudging and hacking through the jungle, he was almost surprised when he finally broke through the treeline entirely, wiping the sweat off of his brow as he saw the two figures in the distance. From where he was, he couldn't really tell who they were, but from the way they appeared to be talking and taking care of each other, he found it safe to assume they wouldn't be too hostile. Deciding to take his chances, he started to walk towards them, holding his sword loosely instead of placing it in the scabbard he took from Eduardo just in case. Eduardo had taught him the hard way that he really couldn't be sure, on this island. As he got closer, it soon became clear who he was approaching, though as he was behind them they didn't seem to notice; Madison Conner and Simon Wood. Simon Wood was relatively normal except for his fucked up arm, but Madison Conner had always seemed a bit odd. It didn't help that Danya had tried to make her sound like a killer in the first announcement. Still, they were usually decent people. Simon appeared to be patching up wounds on Madison, or had just finished doing so, and Darnell found himself hoping he wasn't interrupting anything important.
"Yo!" he would call out when he thought he was close enough, "Madison! Simon! You guys alright?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Simon smiled.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "That means... a lot to me - and so do you. I've never been too good at expressing myself, but that's the truth," Simon fell quiet, and was about to continue speaking when a voice interrupted them, calling a greeting. Simon swung around and replied. "Hey! W-..." Simon trailed off, transfixed by the bloodied sword that Darnell Butler was holding. Simon didn't know him well enough to be able to guess his motives, and had to go on the evidence of his eyes. The evidence was damning, and Simon could judge by it one very important fact.
He was screwed.
Playing the situation through in his mind, Simon could think of only two possible outcomes to it: He died, or Madison died. That was no choice at all. Sure, they could flee, but Simon would undoubtedly outpace the wounded Madison, and considering the psyique of Darnell (wasn't he on the football team?) that would leave his girlfriend to the tender mercies of a claymore. Or...
They could fight.
"Madison," Simon said calmly. "I love you. Please don't forget that. Now... run, get out of here," Simon turned again, back to Darnell, then sprung towards him, directing his lazer dazzler directly into his eyes, attempting to blind him to cover for his follow up. Landing just in front of Darnell, Simon then brought his right arm - the one with the cast, swinging around in a vicious swipe aimed at Darnell's jaw. If it hit, it would hurt, but it would sure as hell hurt Darnell more.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "That means... a lot to me - and so do you. I've never been too good at expressing myself, but that's the truth," Simon fell quiet, and was about to continue speaking when a voice interrupted them, calling a greeting. Simon swung around and replied. "Hey! W-..." Simon trailed off, transfixed by the bloodied sword that Darnell Butler was holding. Simon didn't know him well enough to be able to guess his motives, and had to go on the evidence of his eyes. The evidence was damning, and Simon could judge by it one very important fact.
He was screwed.
Playing the situation through in his mind, Simon could think of only two possible outcomes to it: He died, or Madison died. That was no choice at all. Sure, they could flee, but Simon would undoubtedly outpace the wounded Madison, and considering the psyique of Darnell (wasn't he on the football team?) that would leave his girlfriend to the tender mercies of a claymore. Or...
They could fight.
"Madison," Simon said calmly. "I love you. Please don't forget that. Now... run, get out of here," Simon turned again, back to Darnell, then sprung towards him, directing his lazer dazzler directly into his eyes, attempting to blind him to cover for his follow up. Landing just in front of Darnell, Simon then brought his right arm - the one with the cast, swinging around in a vicious swipe aimed at Darnell's jaw. If it hit, it would hurt, but it would sure as hell hurt Darnell more.
"Wait a second, I can expl-AAARGH!"
When he saw Simon fix his eyes to the blood stains on his sword, Darnell had known he was in trouble. With everything that had been happening today, he had almost forgotten that before he had it, Eduardo had used the blade to kill someone, and Tanya Bonneville's blood still stained the claymore's cold steel. As Simon warned Madison to get out of there, telling her he loved her, he did the only thing he could do; he tried to explain. Simon was alarmed, but as always Darnell thought that if he could just talk it out, it would be alright. If he could tell Simon that he had merely taken the blade from Eduardo, who had killed someone with it, and that he had never hurt anybody with the weapon, he could defuse the situation and maybe include Simon and Madison in his escape plan.
Those hopes were dashed when the laser dazzler came out, and Simon started shining it in Darnell's eyes. Darnell's attempt to defuse the situation was cut off by a cry of alarm as he closed his eyes to shut out the blinding light, stepping backwards while starting to raise his left hand in front of his eyes. That's when Simon's surprise attack with the cast landed, a surprisingly painful blow that smacked across his face with a crack.
Shit!
With the likes of Montezzo Valtieri, Lucas Dasai, and previous holders of the title no longer attending, Darnell was typically considered the best fighter in Southridge. The ones who didn't consider him such typically conceded that he was "nearly" the best. Because of this, he usually would have been able to avoid Simon's blows, and exact violent retribution for the boy's ambush. However, the assault had taken him completely off guard, and he was unable to defend himself due to surprise. After a near sleepless night, and almost two days straight walking through the jungle and using a heavy sword as a machete nearly without pause, along with the sheer heat and the distances he had walked and ran, Darnell was exhausted. His clothes were heavy with sweat, the muscles in his arms and legs ached, and all he wanted to do was sit down, drink a bottle of water from his pack, and sleep for a couple hours. He wasn't ready for a fight, much less a random attack that came nearly out of nowhere.
Because of the factors of his own surprise, and the fact that he was exhausted, along with him stepping back and being off balance when he was hit harder than he'd ever expect the rather scrawny Simon Wood to hit, Darnell did the same thing most would do: he fell over. More correctly, he stumbled, felt the sword drop from his hands, and fell right onto his back. Groaning, he lowered his left hand and slowly opened his eyes, only to have them widen in surprise as he saw Simon standing over him. In his tired state of mind, he was no longer being rational, but he wasn't angry either. Fear took him over, and as the adrenaline rush took hold he remembered the sword at his side. Trying to act quickly, he seized the weapon with his right and lifted it up, thrusting it forward once both hands were on the handle. His hope was that the stabbing action would make Simon back off, giving him (Darnell) enough time to get up.
Shit, Simon, what the fuck are you doing?! Snap out of it, you crazy bastard!
When he saw Simon fix his eyes to the blood stains on his sword, Darnell had known he was in trouble. With everything that had been happening today, he had almost forgotten that before he had it, Eduardo had used the blade to kill someone, and Tanya Bonneville's blood still stained the claymore's cold steel. As Simon warned Madison to get out of there, telling her he loved her, he did the only thing he could do; he tried to explain. Simon was alarmed, but as always Darnell thought that if he could just talk it out, it would be alright. If he could tell Simon that he had merely taken the blade from Eduardo, who had killed someone with it, and that he had never hurt anybody with the weapon, he could defuse the situation and maybe include Simon and Madison in his escape plan.
Those hopes were dashed when the laser dazzler came out, and Simon started shining it in Darnell's eyes. Darnell's attempt to defuse the situation was cut off by a cry of alarm as he closed his eyes to shut out the blinding light, stepping backwards while starting to raise his left hand in front of his eyes. That's when Simon's surprise attack with the cast landed, a surprisingly painful blow that smacked across his face with a crack.
Shit!
With the likes of Montezzo Valtieri, Lucas Dasai, and previous holders of the title no longer attending, Darnell was typically considered the best fighter in Southridge. The ones who didn't consider him such typically conceded that he was "nearly" the best. Because of this, he usually would have been able to avoid Simon's blows, and exact violent retribution for the boy's ambush. However, the assault had taken him completely off guard, and he was unable to defend himself due to surprise. After a near sleepless night, and almost two days straight walking through the jungle and using a heavy sword as a machete nearly without pause, along with the sheer heat and the distances he had walked and ran, Darnell was exhausted. His clothes were heavy with sweat, the muscles in his arms and legs ached, and all he wanted to do was sit down, drink a bottle of water from his pack, and sleep for a couple hours. He wasn't ready for a fight, much less a random attack that came nearly out of nowhere.
Because of the factors of his own surprise, and the fact that he was exhausted, along with him stepping back and being off balance when he was hit harder than he'd ever expect the rather scrawny Simon Wood to hit, Darnell did the same thing most would do: he fell over. More correctly, he stumbled, felt the sword drop from his hands, and fell right onto his back. Groaning, he lowered his left hand and slowly opened his eyes, only to have them widen in surprise as he saw Simon standing over him. In his tired state of mind, he was no longer being rational, but he wasn't angry either. Fear took him over, and as the adrenaline rush took hold he remembered the sword at his side. Trying to act quickly, he seized the weapon with his right and lifted it up, thrusting it forward once both hands were on the handle. His hope was that the stabbing action would make Simon back off, giving him (Darnell) enough time to get up.
Shit, Simon, what the fuck are you doing?! Snap out of it, you crazy bastard!
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Simon was so caught up in the moment - the overwhelming need to put Darnell down and keep him down for as long as he could to buy some time, that he didn't even hear what Darnell said before he cried out. If he had done, then slowed down and actually paid attention to the guy he was currently trying to lay into for all he was worth, things might not have turned out the way that they did. But speculation was speculation, what happens, happens. Not everything that results from a particular course of action results in a faovourable outcome, but there was no way to change that - especially in the split seconds which were available to react.
The runner was correct in his guess that hitting Darnell with his becasted arm was going to hurt. Already tortured bones, fused and set hopelessly out of position, a disability which had screwed up Simon's life, they screamed with protest. Simon wasn't sure whether it was his arm of Darnell's jaw, but he heard a distinct crack. By the flood of pain which accompanied the sound effect, Simon realised that he had managed to rebreak one of the numerous injuries in his right arm. Not that it particularly mattered. The arm had been history ever since the motorbike accident. In fact, a lot of his life had gone up in smoke when that happened. It wasn't entirely due to a desire to hold Darnell off that Simon so readily sprung to the attack. An element of resentment was there. Before Simon got hurt, he was on the football team too. Perhaps not the star player, but good enough to be on the starting line-up. So where his disability prevented him from going on, guys like Darnell just kept on getting better and better. Much as Simon liked football, he couldn't watch Southridge's team play without a bitter taste in his mouth. Simon just couldn't help but feel that it should have been him out there. It was perhaps the one sore spot Simon had. In all other matters, he was friendly and lacked a mean bone in his body. (half of them were smashed to pieces as it was). As soon as the sport came into the equation, a shadow fell over his face and he became very difficult to talk to. Darnell was a nice guy, but in his own way, he attracted resentment, which was why Simon had few qualms about aiming an attack at him.
Keep it up. Keep on the attack. Don't give him a moment to breath. He's got a reputation as a fighter for a reason you know. Keep him on the backfoot, kee- ... ow ...
Simon froze where he was stood. His brain was telling him, rather loudly, that part of him was hurting rather more than it should be, considering the circumstances. What could have happened, Darnell had gone down, went for his sword, Simon had lunged forward again and...
Oh.
He found his gaze drawn irresistably downwards, and sure enough, there it was. Blood streaming down the blade, the point end of which disappeared into his body just below the ribcage, Darnell's sword had just impaled him. Worse yet, it was his own fault. For some reason, then, the pain faded away, leaving Simon feeling somehow empty.
Well... I knew I was going to die here, I just didn't realise it would be in such a goddamned stupid way as this.
Simon tipped over backwards, hitting the ground far from smoothly, his glasses being dislodged on impact - throwing all he could see into a strange, blurry relief which made next to no sense. Nothing, barely, could be distuinguished from the background.
The sky sure looked beautiful though.
Simon had caught the surprised look on Darnell's face, and only now were his words recalled. It had all been... a big misunderstanding, and it had caused SOTF to claim another victim. A ridiuculous way to go, for sure, but at least the principle of what he was doing had been sound.
"Darnell," he said, voice surprisngly strong considered the fact that he was, well... bleeding to death. "I'm sorry," and those were to be his last words.
His head fell back, hitting the hard ground with an auidible crack. As he died, Simon had time for one last thought. As was fitting for him, it was self-depracating.
I was always was a bloody idiot. Getting myself killed is the crowning moment. I wonder... was that techincally suicide? An odd thing to consider... but since I'm bloody well dying, I can think about anything I damn well... please...
B33 - SIMON WOOD - ELIMINATED
The runner was correct in his guess that hitting Darnell with his becasted arm was going to hurt. Already tortured bones, fused and set hopelessly out of position, a disability which had screwed up Simon's life, they screamed with protest. Simon wasn't sure whether it was his arm of Darnell's jaw, but he heard a distinct crack. By the flood of pain which accompanied the sound effect, Simon realised that he had managed to rebreak one of the numerous injuries in his right arm. Not that it particularly mattered. The arm had been history ever since the motorbike accident. In fact, a lot of his life had gone up in smoke when that happened. It wasn't entirely due to a desire to hold Darnell off that Simon so readily sprung to the attack. An element of resentment was there. Before Simon got hurt, he was on the football team too. Perhaps not the star player, but good enough to be on the starting line-up. So where his disability prevented him from going on, guys like Darnell just kept on getting better and better. Much as Simon liked football, he couldn't watch Southridge's team play without a bitter taste in his mouth. Simon just couldn't help but feel that it should have been him out there. It was perhaps the one sore spot Simon had. In all other matters, he was friendly and lacked a mean bone in his body. (half of them were smashed to pieces as it was). As soon as the sport came into the equation, a shadow fell over his face and he became very difficult to talk to. Darnell was a nice guy, but in his own way, he attracted resentment, which was why Simon had few qualms about aiming an attack at him.
Keep it up. Keep on the attack. Don't give him a moment to breath. He's got a reputation as a fighter for a reason you know. Keep him on the backfoot, kee- ... ow ...
Simon froze where he was stood. His brain was telling him, rather loudly, that part of him was hurting rather more than it should be, considering the circumstances. What could have happened, Darnell had gone down, went for his sword, Simon had lunged forward again and...
Oh.
He found his gaze drawn irresistably downwards, and sure enough, there it was. Blood streaming down the blade, the point end of which disappeared into his body just below the ribcage, Darnell's sword had just impaled him. Worse yet, it was his own fault. For some reason, then, the pain faded away, leaving Simon feeling somehow empty.
Well... I knew I was going to die here, I just didn't realise it would be in such a goddamned stupid way as this.
Simon tipped over backwards, hitting the ground far from smoothly, his glasses being dislodged on impact - throwing all he could see into a strange, blurry relief which made next to no sense. Nothing, barely, could be distuinguished from the background.
The sky sure looked beautiful though.
Simon had caught the surprised look on Darnell's face, and only now were his words recalled. It had all been... a big misunderstanding, and it had caused SOTF to claim another victim. A ridiuculous way to go, for sure, but at least the principle of what he was doing had been sound.
"Darnell," he said, voice surprisngly strong considered the fact that he was, well... bleeding to death. "I'm sorry," and those were to be his last words.
His head fell back, hitting the hard ground with an auidible crack. As he died, Simon had time for one last thought. As was fitting for him, it was self-depracating.
I was always was a bloody idiot. Getting myself killed is the crowning moment. I wonder... was that techincally suicide? An odd thing to consider... but since I'm bloody well dying, I can think about anything I damn well... please...
B33 - SIMON WOOD - ELIMINATED
The next few minutes were a blur to her. In fact, Madison really couldn't recall what the hell happened. The last thing she remembered was someone asking if she and Simon were alright. Alright? Alright? Alright? It was very hard to respond. What the hell was she supposed to say that didn't involve being rude. Her vision was slightly blurry so she couldn't quite make out who it was, but she could instantly tell he was white. But... from the voice itself... was that Darnell? The two of them weren't exactly close, but Madison knew he was at least somewhat trustworthy. He was a nice guy, one of the few people Madison liked out of the popular crowd... but was that reason enough for her to trust him?
Hey, I'm a reasonable girl, but I've just experienced some fucking unreasonable things. Madison wanted to say but didn't see the need in it. It certainly wasn't in her nature to be a complete smartass during moments like this. It wasn't in her nature to be a smartass at all, but her thoughts were becoming more and more cynical the more time passed, so it was alright in her opinion. All she really could crack was a smile with a slightly crooked. That's about all she could do.
That was when Simon calmly said something about getting out, and then rushed Darnell. If Madison had been quick... she would have held Simon back. Darnell hadn't been mentioned at all on the announcements, and from the shocked reaction on the boy's face, he certainly wasn't expecting what Simon did. Madison wanted to scream, "No Simon! Don't do it! D-Darnell don't mean any harm! He's alright! He's alright! Don't be a fucking idiot Simon! If there's anything you have to do, ANYTHING, don't be an idiot! For Christ sake Simon, be smart about this!" The words just wouldn't come out of her mouth. She was scared, for reasons she couldn't describe...
The sword that had been in Darnell's hands found itself plunged through Simon's abdomen.
Madison screamed at the top of her lungs. "Simon! SIMON!"
She stumbled to the ground onto her knees, hovering just above Simon's body. Not one tear fell across her cheek and not one sob escaped her throat. She just stared down at the corpse, her hands trembling, her eyes as wide as Darnell's.
She felt the urge to shake Simon's body and say, "C'mon Simon. Stop kidding around... you can't possibly be dead. Not now, not ever. Stop trying to joke around Simon." And then Simon would get up, laugh and say that he was alright. They'd kiss, follow Darnell and find a way out. Simon and Madison... A true pair until the end. They'd get married. Have children. Perfect. That would be the perfect ending, the Hollywood ending: the hero rising from the grave when things looked grim. It's the kind of sad ending that Madison liked, the kind where everything turns out to be alright and she had shed tears for no reason.
That's what all this felt like.
A movie.
A fucking dream in a sick director's mind.
Simon wasn't dead.
He was alive and well, just a bit dazed.
She... They were going to be perfectly fine.
Everyone was going to be PERFECTLY FINE. As fucking dandy as a sunflower.
All of that was a lie and Madison knew this. She wanted to cry, but she didn't. Instead, Madison took a hold of Simon's Laser Dazzler and stared at Darnell, pointing it directly at him. Small daggers were forming in her eyes, flying towards the shocked boy. She grit her teeth. When she spoke, her voice was extremely void of any sort of emotion. Surprising, since she just witnessed the murder of someone dear to her. "Wh-What did you just do? Why the hell did you kill him? He wasn't... he didn't mean any harm..."
That was a lie also, and Madison knew this as well. Darnell was just defending himself. It was certainly not his fault that Simon had been acting like an idiot and attacked. Madison shouldn't blame him, but the rage was still there. She wanted to kill Darnell but her own mind was holding her back. Straining her. Darnell was partly the victim, if anything. Why should she feel mad, that he took the one person who even gave a damn about a useless soul like her?
"D-Damn it... God Damn It... Darnell... did you even mean to kill him?" she coughed violently, in a way that looked as though she was going to throw up.
Sad. Madison wanted to kill something. She WANTED vengance but... Darnell looked just as scared as she. She couldn't vow revenge against someone for something that wasn't their fault. If he had meant it, Madison would have shown absolutely NO mercy but... Madison just couldn't hold it against him. Under normal circumstances she would have flung herself at him and killed him dead, but she just couldn't do it.
The brunette looked down at the body of her late boyfriend, feeling the urge to cry being suppressed. She bent her back down and kissed his cold lips.
"I.... love you too..."
Not waiting for any reply, Madison scrambled away as quickly as her legs could carry her, picking up the axe in her stride. She had to get out of here. She couldn't stay. She couldn't bear to look at Simon.
(Continued in She Bop)
Hey, I'm a reasonable girl, but I've just experienced some fucking unreasonable things. Madison wanted to say but didn't see the need in it. It certainly wasn't in her nature to be a complete smartass during moments like this. It wasn't in her nature to be a smartass at all, but her thoughts were becoming more and more cynical the more time passed, so it was alright in her opinion. All she really could crack was a smile with a slightly crooked. That's about all she could do.
That was when Simon calmly said something about getting out, and then rushed Darnell. If Madison had been quick... she would have held Simon back. Darnell hadn't been mentioned at all on the announcements, and from the shocked reaction on the boy's face, he certainly wasn't expecting what Simon did. Madison wanted to scream, "No Simon! Don't do it! D-Darnell don't mean any harm! He's alright! He's alright! Don't be a fucking idiot Simon! If there's anything you have to do, ANYTHING, don't be an idiot! For Christ sake Simon, be smart about this!" The words just wouldn't come out of her mouth. She was scared, for reasons she couldn't describe...
The sword that had been in Darnell's hands found itself plunged through Simon's abdomen.
Madison screamed at the top of her lungs. "Simon! SIMON!"
She stumbled to the ground onto her knees, hovering just above Simon's body. Not one tear fell across her cheek and not one sob escaped her throat. She just stared down at the corpse, her hands trembling, her eyes as wide as Darnell's.
She felt the urge to shake Simon's body and say, "C'mon Simon. Stop kidding around... you can't possibly be dead. Not now, not ever. Stop trying to joke around Simon." And then Simon would get up, laugh and say that he was alright. They'd kiss, follow Darnell and find a way out. Simon and Madison... A true pair until the end. They'd get married. Have children. Perfect. That would be the perfect ending, the Hollywood ending: the hero rising from the grave when things looked grim. It's the kind of sad ending that Madison liked, the kind where everything turns out to be alright and she had shed tears for no reason.
That's what all this felt like.
A movie.
A fucking dream in a sick director's mind.
Simon wasn't dead.
He was alive and well, just a bit dazed.
She... They were going to be perfectly fine.
Everyone was going to be PERFECTLY FINE. As fucking dandy as a sunflower.
All of that was a lie and Madison knew this. She wanted to cry, but she didn't. Instead, Madison took a hold of Simon's Laser Dazzler and stared at Darnell, pointing it directly at him. Small daggers were forming in her eyes, flying towards the shocked boy. She grit her teeth. When she spoke, her voice was extremely void of any sort of emotion. Surprising, since she just witnessed the murder of someone dear to her. "Wh-What did you just do? Why the hell did you kill him? He wasn't... he didn't mean any harm..."
That was a lie also, and Madison knew this as well. Darnell was just defending himself. It was certainly not his fault that Simon had been acting like an idiot and attacked. Madison shouldn't blame him, but the rage was still there. She wanted to kill Darnell but her own mind was holding her back. Straining her. Darnell was partly the victim, if anything. Why should she feel mad, that he took the one person who even gave a damn about a useless soul like her?
"D-Damn it... God Damn It... Darnell... did you even mean to kill him?" she coughed violently, in a way that looked as though she was going to throw up.
Sad. Madison wanted to kill something. She WANTED vengance but... Darnell looked just as scared as she. She couldn't vow revenge against someone for something that wasn't their fault. If he had meant it, Madison would have shown absolutely NO mercy but... Madison just couldn't hold it against him. Under normal circumstances she would have flung herself at him and killed him dead, but she just couldn't do it.
The brunette looked down at the body of her late boyfriend, feeling the urge to cry being suppressed. She bent her back down and kissed his cold lips.
"I.... love you too..."
Not waiting for any reply, Madison scrambled away as quickly as her legs could carry her, picking up the axe in her stride. She had to get out of here. She couldn't stay. She couldn't bear to look at Simon.
(Continued in She Bop)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Dan continued from Lady So Divine))
It had all happened way too fast. If anyone had blinked, they would have missed the end of Simon Wood's life. It was just too fast, plain and simple. At first, Darnell didn't even realize he had stabbed Simon. He had gone down, scrambled for his sword, and raised it to try and keep Simon at bay. Then there was a terrible wet sound, almost like meat being cut, but not quite. For all too brief a time, Simon Wood and Darnell Butler made eye contact, but the moment was shattered when Simon appeared to notice before Darnell the location of his blade. He looked down.
So did Darnell.
Oh God...
A good part of the Claymore's blade had found itself stabbed deeply into Simon's abdomen, most likely shredding at least a few vital organs on the way in. Dark red blood flowed down the cold steel like a macabre river, making a path down the blade towards the hilt, and eventually to Darnell's hand. All he could do was stare at the result of his folly in surprise and sheer horror, alternating his glance between the wound and Simon himself. There was an unspoken apology in Darnell's eyes and on Darnell's lips, but he couldn't force his mouth to open. Simon staggered back, off of the blade, and immediately fell to the ground. Immediately after, Simon uttered an apology. Then there was nothing. Darnell pushed himself to his feet with a moan and a shake of his swimming head before casting an almost desperate glance at Madison and then Simon, but there was still nothing. No mistake.
Simon Wood was dead. And Darnell had killed him.
YOU'RE fucking sorry?! I...oh my God, I stabbed you, Simon! Shit, I should be the one apologizing! I fucked up, and now you're dead!
Darnell had known Simon. They had played football before Simon's accident, and even though Darnell eventually left him behind playing-wise after it, he had always tried to be nicer to Simon from then on. He could only have imagined how horrible the boy felt to have his dream snatched from him by such unfortunate circumstances, and he'd known that if he were in Simon's place he may have just let his life collapse in on itself. He didn't know if he could have kept going as Simon did, which gave him a sort of newfound respect for him. Of course, no matter how much Darnell had tried to reach him, he'd always found himself rebuffed.
Little did Darnell know, and now he would never know, that this was because Simon had resented him ever since his arm had been destroyed. It didn't matter to him, he had still killed Simon. By accident, he tried to reason to himself, but it was still a killing. Made all the more ironic by the fact that Darnell was trying to seek out his surviving team mates. Needless to say, he felt like a traitor.
Oddly enough, the guilt of Darnell Butler only lasted a second. His emotional anguish, which he had assumed would strike him down instantly should he ever kill someone, was only present for a fleeting moment. This was enough, though. Like an attack from a viper, it came fast and hard, striking in an instant and leaving no chance for reprisal. Though he wasn't wounded or sick, there was suddenly a great pain in his chest as if he were being torn apart from the inside, but then as he gasped out for air it faded, replaced by a sudden literal feeling of pure nothingness. All he could do was stare blankly at Simon's body, his sword limply hanging from his hand as Madison reacted. While she screamed and raved, Darnell only stared, as she begged him to wake up and stop kidding around he could only look on with total shock. When Madison pointed the laser dazzler at him, the only thing he did was look up to meet her eyes, his eyes wider than dishplates, his mouth moving in a desperate attempt to answer her question. No matter how much he opened and closed his mouth though, no words came out, just as no thoughts passed through his usually bustling mind. No words came, no thoughts formed, there was just a sense of oppressive nothingness filling his whole being. A crushing void replacing everything that made Darnell who he was.
After a few seconds, Madison ran off, but it felt like the girl had been standing before him for years. Not even turning his head to watch her go, as it felt too heavy, Darnell blankly took a handful of his shirt, using it to wipe Simon's blood off of the blade. There would still be stains to act as a taunting reminder of what he did, but if Darnell didn't get at least some of the blood off the blade might rust. Still expressionless, he slowly walked towards the body, his eyes on the slowly pooling blood that had once flowed through a living boy's veins. Not caring that the blood would soak his pants, Darnell sat next to Simon's body, his legs crossed, looking first at his cast, then at his face. His eyes were closed, as if he were peacefully sleeping. Setting the sword down in front of him and placing his pack to his side, Darnell placed his left hand where Simon's jugular would be, desperately looking for a pulse. Maybe he wasn't dead, maybe he had just been knocked out, seriously hurt but still saveable.
There was no pulse, Simon couldn't be saved. Darnell's head went into his hands, a strong feeling of misery joining the emptiness.
As Darnell's eyes opened and he looked up to see the stormy skies above, he realized he didn't know when he had fallen asleep. He also realized that he had probably missed the morning announcements, but that was fortunate; hearing his own name might've crushed him with the guilt. His head had been resting on the ground, covered by his hands, and his rear felt damp from the fact that he was sitting in a pool of Simon's blood. Rubbing his eyes with a confused groan, he leaned a bit to his right, looking to check his bag. Somehow he had fallen asleep in the open and lived through the rest of the night, he figured he should check to at least make sure nobody had robbed him. The sword was still in front of him, so that was a good sign, but he didn't know if anyone had taken his things from his bag.
Darnell, it would turn out, had gotten lucky. If his lean had been timed one second later, he would've been impaled through the back of the neck. As it were, he saw the spear shoot right past him to his left, where his neck had just been. His eyes widening, his right hand shot forwards to grab the hilt of his claymore, and out of reflex he felt himself turn around with a slight spin, rising to his feet, the sword swinging around with his movement.
In the split second of eye contact they shared, Darnell Butler didn't even recognize Daniel Brent before the blade of his claymore cleaved through the weak flesh in his neck, slicing his head off above the collar. The boy's head flew a bit to the right from the force of the blow, while the rest of the body fell backwards, a veritable geyser of blood spraying out even as the corpse dropped to the earth. Staggering backwards from surprise, Darnell almost tripped over his own bag before he stabilized himself.
"Who the fuck was THAT?!"
Darnell's second murder had been so sudden, that Darnell had yet to really notice that he had done it, and indeed he hadn't even gotten a good enough look at his attacker to realize who they were. A look at the corpse, from which the blood still flowed heavily, revealed that they were very small, thin and frail in appearance. This wasn't enough to be sure just who the person was, though, so out of morbid curiosity Darnell approached the head, which had settled about half a foot to the right. Reaching the head, which was lying on its side so the front was facing the opposite direction from Darnell, he nudged it with his foot so that he could see the face.
"No...not him..."
Darnell would've recognized the rat-like features of Daniel Brent anywhere, and the fact that said features were now separated from the rest of his body, the wild eyes frozen in a surprised expression, didn't make it an exception. He hadn't known Daniel very well, but had always gotten along with him, the boy always being polite to Darnell and sometimes downright nice, along with having a surprisingly acute sense of humour. Still, there had always been a strong sense of sadness about him, as if he spent the entirety of every day terminally depressed. Darnell had never heard the boy talk about himself in any way that wasn't self deprecating, and he'd always seemed rather pitiful. He'd never had anything against Dan, though he referred to him as "Brent" to avoid confusing him with Daniel "Boxer" Carvalho in conversation, but almost before he knew what had happened he had been attacked by him and killed him.
Though, considering how he's acted at times, maybe he's happier dead than he was alive. Christ...what a horrible thing to think.
It was just then that he was struck by how powerful the stench of blood had gotten; it was like being suckerpunched by someone twice his size. Darnell tried to restrain himself, but he couldn't help it; after a few seconds, he doubled over, dropping his sword and clutching his stomach with his left hand as he vomited, though the contents were mostly liquid due to how little he had eaten in the past four days.
MALE STUDENT NO.35 - DANIEL BRENT - DECEASED.
It had all happened way too fast. If anyone had blinked, they would have missed the end of Simon Wood's life. It was just too fast, plain and simple. At first, Darnell didn't even realize he had stabbed Simon. He had gone down, scrambled for his sword, and raised it to try and keep Simon at bay. Then there was a terrible wet sound, almost like meat being cut, but not quite. For all too brief a time, Simon Wood and Darnell Butler made eye contact, but the moment was shattered when Simon appeared to notice before Darnell the location of his blade. He looked down.
So did Darnell.
Oh God...
A good part of the Claymore's blade had found itself stabbed deeply into Simon's abdomen, most likely shredding at least a few vital organs on the way in. Dark red blood flowed down the cold steel like a macabre river, making a path down the blade towards the hilt, and eventually to Darnell's hand. All he could do was stare at the result of his folly in surprise and sheer horror, alternating his glance between the wound and Simon himself. There was an unspoken apology in Darnell's eyes and on Darnell's lips, but he couldn't force his mouth to open. Simon staggered back, off of the blade, and immediately fell to the ground. Immediately after, Simon uttered an apology. Then there was nothing. Darnell pushed himself to his feet with a moan and a shake of his swimming head before casting an almost desperate glance at Madison and then Simon, but there was still nothing. No mistake.
Simon Wood was dead. And Darnell had killed him.
YOU'RE fucking sorry?! I...oh my God, I stabbed you, Simon! Shit, I should be the one apologizing! I fucked up, and now you're dead!
Darnell had known Simon. They had played football before Simon's accident, and even though Darnell eventually left him behind playing-wise after it, he had always tried to be nicer to Simon from then on. He could only have imagined how horrible the boy felt to have his dream snatched from him by such unfortunate circumstances, and he'd known that if he were in Simon's place he may have just let his life collapse in on itself. He didn't know if he could have kept going as Simon did, which gave him a sort of newfound respect for him. Of course, no matter how much Darnell had tried to reach him, he'd always found himself rebuffed.
Little did Darnell know, and now he would never know, that this was because Simon had resented him ever since his arm had been destroyed. It didn't matter to him, he had still killed Simon. By accident, he tried to reason to himself, but it was still a killing. Made all the more ironic by the fact that Darnell was trying to seek out his surviving team mates. Needless to say, he felt like a traitor.
Oddly enough, the guilt of Darnell Butler only lasted a second. His emotional anguish, which he had assumed would strike him down instantly should he ever kill someone, was only present for a fleeting moment. This was enough, though. Like an attack from a viper, it came fast and hard, striking in an instant and leaving no chance for reprisal. Though he wasn't wounded or sick, there was suddenly a great pain in his chest as if he were being torn apart from the inside, but then as he gasped out for air it faded, replaced by a sudden literal feeling of pure nothingness. All he could do was stare blankly at Simon's body, his sword limply hanging from his hand as Madison reacted. While she screamed and raved, Darnell only stared, as she begged him to wake up and stop kidding around he could only look on with total shock. When Madison pointed the laser dazzler at him, the only thing he did was look up to meet her eyes, his eyes wider than dishplates, his mouth moving in a desperate attempt to answer her question. No matter how much he opened and closed his mouth though, no words came out, just as no thoughts passed through his usually bustling mind. No words came, no thoughts formed, there was just a sense of oppressive nothingness filling his whole being. A crushing void replacing everything that made Darnell who he was.
After a few seconds, Madison ran off, but it felt like the girl had been standing before him for years. Not even turning his head to watch her go, as it felt too heavy, Darnell blankly took a handful of his shirt, using it to wipe Simon's blood off of the blade. There would still be stains to act as a taunting reminder of what he did, but if Darnell didn't get at least some of the blood off the blade might rust. Still expressionless, he slowly walked towards the body, his eyes on the slowly pooling blood that had once flowed through a living boy's veins. Not caring that the blood would soak his pants, Darnell sat next to Simon's body, his legs crossed, looking first at his cast, then at his face. His eyes were closed, as if he were peacefully sleeping. Setting the sword down in front of him and placing his pack to his side, Darnell placed his left hand where Simon's jugular would be, desperately looking for a pulse. Maybe he wasn't dead, maybe he had just been knocked out, seriously hurt but still saveable.
There was no pulse, Simon couldn't be saved. Darnell's head went into his hands, a strong feeling of misery joining the emptiness.
As Darnell's eyes opened and he looked up to see the stormy skies above, he realized he didn't know when he had fallen asleep. He also realized that he had probably missed the morning announcements, but that was fortunate; hearing his own name might've crushed him with the guilt. His head had been resting on the ground, covered by his hands, and his rear felt damp from the fact that he was sitting in a pool of Simon's blood. Rubbing his eyes with a confused groan, he leaned a bit to his right, looking to check his bag. Somehow he had fallen asleep in the open and lived through the rest of the night, he figured he should check to at least make sure nobody had robbed him. The sword was still in front of him, so that was a good sign, but he didn't know if anyone had taken his things from his bag.
Darnell, it would turn out, had gotten lucky. If his lean had been timed one second later, he would've been impaled through the back of the neck. As it were, he saw the spear shoot right past him to his left, where his neck had just been. His eyes widening, his right hand shot forwards to grab the hilt of his claymore, and out of reflex he felt himself turn around with a slight spin, rising to his feet, the sword swinging around with his movement.
In the split second of eye contact they shared, Darnell Butler didn't even recognize Daniel Brent before the blade of his claymore cleaved through the weak flesh in his neck, slicing his head off above the collar. The boy's head flew a bit to the right from the force of the blow, while the rest of the body fell backwards, a veritable geyser of blood spraying out even as the corpse dropped to the earth. Staggering backwards from surprise, Darnell almost tripped over his own bag before he stabilized himself.
"Who the fuck was THAT?!"
Darnell's second murder had been so sudden, that Darnell had yet to really notice that he had done it, and indeed he hadn't even gotten a good enough look at his attacker to realize who they were. A look at the corpse, from which the blood still flowed heavily, revealed that they were very small, thin and frail in appearance. This wasn't enough to be sure just who the person was, though, so out of morbid curiosity Darnell approached the head, which had settled about half a foot to the right. Reaching the head, which was lying on its side so the front was facing the opposite direction from Darnell, he nudged it with his foot so that he could see the face.
"No...not him..."
Darnell would've recognized the rat-like features of Daniel Brent anywhere, and the fact that said features were now separated from the rest of his body, the wild eyes frozen in a surprised expression, didn't make it an exception. He hadn't known Daniel very well, but had always gotten along with him, the boy always being polite to Darnell and sometimes downright nice, along with having a surprisingly acute sense of humour. Still, there had always been a strong sense of sadness about him, as if he spent the entirety of every day terminally depressed. Darnell had never heard the boy talk about himself in any way that wasn't self deprecating, and he'd always seemed rather pitiful. He'd never had anything against Dan, though he referred to him as "Brent" to avoid confusing him with Daniel "Boxer" Carvalho in conversation, but almost before he knew what had happened he had been attacked by him and killed him.
Though, considering how he's acted at times, maybe he's happier dead than he was alive. Christ...what a horrible thing to think.
It was just then that he was struck by how powerful the stench of blood had gotten; it was like being suckerpunched by someone twice his size. Darnell tried to restrain himself, but he couldn't help it; after a few seconds, he doubled over, dropping his sword and clutching his stomach with his left hand as he vomited, though the contents were mostly liquid due to how little he had eaten in the past four days.
MALE STUDENT NO.35 - DANIEL BRENT - DECEASED.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
((Eduardo continued from Summer Can't Last too Long. Permission for what happens downthread was granted by Kyle.))
Frustrated was an expression normally used to describe Eduardo Trinidad's everyday face. Right now, Eduardo was extra-frustrated as he approached the landing strip from a nearby field of tall weeds. His was an expression easily seen through his dirtied and bruised figure, which was still dressed in what he'd worn on that fateful bus trip who knew how many days ago. He actually saved the extra frustration for special occasions, and this was one of them.
After getting separated on the way to the hollow tree, he'd found Darnell Butler again. And by the looks of things around him, the fullback had clearly been doing his own dirty work. There were already two corpses around him, both with pools of blood and spurting trickling from underneath to the sides of the runway or to the cracks in the long-since-disused asphalt. One of them looked gored, and the other was very clearly beheaded. Both looked to have been just killed, too. Yet it wasn't just Darnell or his two victims that was the reason that Eduardo looked extra-frustrated today.
It was the fact that Darnell had done it with his sword. That some jock was using his assigned weapon to try to win the game.
Thankfully, Eddie had come prepared. They had stopped to rest in a clearing, and his traveling companion, the titanic Boxer Carvalho, had decided to nap after keeping watch over Eddie the previous day. While he slept though, Eddie had filched both the hedgeclippers - that were originally Darnell's to begin with - as well as the wooden shield Boxer had assigned him. His rucksack was slung behind him.
Darnell was doubling over to vomit, no doubt from the stench of blood permeating with the morning wind. And it was to Eddie's advantage that Darnell was facing away and the weapon had been dropped...though that wouldn't be for long. Eddie started to shuffle toward the target, hedgeclippers open and shield handle strapped around his wrist. His leg occasionally acted up - Darnell had injured it a few days ago, and although the rest had made him able to walk fairly normally again, he'd have to keep it out of too much action lest he render himself truly crippled.
"Come on, jock...this ends here..." Eddie muttered to himself, keeping his voice low enough so only Eddie could hear it. There was no Boxer to hold him back this time.
Frustrated was an expression normally used to describe Eduardo Trinidad's everyday face. Right now, Eduardo was extra-frustrated as he approached the landing strip from a nearby field of tall weeds. His was an expression easily seen through his dirtied and bruised figure, which was still dressed in what he'd worn on that fateful bus trip who knew how many days ago. He actually saved the extra frustration for special occasions, and this was one of them.
After getting separated on the way to the hollow tree, he'd found Darnell Butler again. And by the looks of things around him, the fullback had clearly been doing his own dirty work. There were already two corpses around him, both with pools of blood and spurting trickling from underneath to the sides of the runway or to the cracks in the long-since-disused asphalt. One of them looked gored, and the other was very clearly beheaded. Both looked to have been just killed, too. Yet it wasn't just Darnell or his two victims that was the reason that Eduardo looked extra-frustrated today.
It was the fact that Darnell had done it with his sword. That some jock was using his assigned weapon to try to win the game.
Thankfully, Eddie had come prepared. They had stopped to rest in a clearing, and his traveling companion, the titanic Boxer Carvalho, had decided to nap after keeping watch over Eddie the previous day. While he slept though, Eddie had filched both the hedgeclippers - that were originally Darnell's to begin with - as well as the wooden shield Boxer had assigned him. His rucksack was slung behind him.
Darnell was doubling over to vomit, no doubt from the stench of blood permeating with the morning wind. And it was to Eddie's advantage that Darnell was facing away and the weapon had been dropped...though that wouldn't be for long. Eddie started to shuffle toward the target, hedgeclippers open and shield handle strapped around his wrist. His leg occasionally acted up - Darnell had injured it a few days ago, and although the rest had made him able to walk fairly normally again, he'd have to keep it out of too much action lest he render himself truly crippled.
"Come on, jock...this ends here..." Eddie muttered to himself, keeping his voice low enough so only Eddie could hear it. There was no Boxer to hold him back this time.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.