Everyone knew the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument. They were two of the biggest and most spectacular sights to see in all of Washington, D.C. But as Ariana Moretti had spent most of the afternoon slowly walking through the extensive park grounds, she hadn't quite realized that there were so many other memorials and monuments to see. While yes, she had been aware that Washington was a city that was keenly aware of its history, she hadn't expected to be so taken with the things that she'd seen in the park. The Korean War Memorial was captivating in how it blended the statues as well as the foliage in the park. The World War II Memorial served as a powerful reminder about how war had touched nearly every country in the world. She had spent almost an hour examining each pillar, each country's flag represented that had been impacted by the horror within the 1940s.
There was so much history here, so much to remember, so much to be thankful for. She was thankful for all of the women who had served their country, who had taken up arms and died for their freedom in a time where they may not have even been considered people. Simply walking alongside of the Reflecting Pool and seeing the Lincoln Memorial in the distance made her feel cultured, as though she had seen something up close that she'd only seen in books. Getting closer and going inside had only been more awe-inspiring. She'd briefly chatted with a woman who was evidently a local, and she advised Ariana that if she really wanted to see something impressive, she needed to come back at night when the place was all lit up. That, she'd assured her, was worth the price of admission.
Which was funny, because naturally - it didn't cost anything to walk around.
((Ariana Moretti continued from Room 816: You Need a Bad Girl to Blow Your Mind))
Her phone had been out, taking photo after photo and sending them to Ross almost as quickly as she could take them. At one point, she'd called him, and they'd spoken as she wandered through the park. He'd been happy to hear from her, of course. But his tone was quiet, and Ariana knew that he was obviously hiding the pain that he was in. Things had gotten a little bit better, but he was chagrined at having trouble doing the basic things with his arm, like opening doors and putting a shirt on.
She'd wished she wasn't so far away and had said as much, but he'd dismissed that out of hand.
The pictures and the messages I'm getting from everyone make me feel like I'm right there with you. I wonder who could've arranged all that, huh?
As they'd spoken, Ross had been on his computer and had filled her in with varying factoids about each memorial she'd been going to see. Before he'd had to go, he'd strongly recommended one memorial in particular that she needed to see. It was topical, and it was the newest addition to Washington's ever-growing spate of memorials.
So here she stood, at the foot of the Survival of the Fittest Memorial.
Located almost directly east of the Constitution Garden, the memorial had two distinct sections to it, and was made up of a dark material that she suspected was some sort of sandstone. The whole thing was polished into an abstract triangular shape that was reminiscent of the shell of a pyramid. In the middle of the triangular section, there was a small fountain that extended up and ran down the sides of the pyramid. Adjacent to the fountain were smaller carved sections that listed dates and names. The first section was obviously completed first, it seemed slightly older and the list of names on it ended after 2008.
They'd obviously figured that they wouldn't need any more room. Ariana shook her head as the thought came to her mind. Whomever had made that decision had been wrong.
The second section looked awfully similar to the first, but instead of a triangular shape, the shape was that of a circle, with a similar fountain in the middle and similar sections off to the side with the lists of names. On this one, it looked like there was room to continue adding to it, if the need arose. Another smaller pillar sat to the side, conveniently out of reach of the others. This pillar seemed to denote people who had survived this mess. She understood why that would be important, too. From all accounts of what she knew about this horrible business, even those who survived tended to be haunted and traumatized. Sometimes surviving something wasn't nearly the gift that it might have appeared.
Sadly, that list wasn't nearly as large as the other one. She'd counted under forty names on that list. All-told, there were close to one thousand on the other memorials.
At the moment, Ariana stood in front of the smaller one, looking at the list of names. Her fingers brushed across one name in particular that was unusually familiar to her.
Michael Moretti
She'd found it eerie when she'd been looking at the names and had seen her own last name. Who was Michael Moretti? Had he been a cousin, a relative? She honestly had no idea. Maybe a distant cousin or something, if she knew her family history. It was hard to say. She'd never heard anything about him, and he'd survived, so she assumed she would have known if he had been. It was equally as frightening to know that all of these people - kids, their teachers, all of them? They'd been reduced to names on a slab of stone. Sitting here, for people to walk by and remember. Survival of the Fittest had been going on for as long as she could remember, though it wasn't something she'd ever found an interest in. But considering her interest in justice and her future career in law enforcement, Survival of the Fittest was something that she found reprehensible. If she was going to work for the FBI one day, maybe she'd get a chance to help stop it. Who knew?
She hoped that by the time she got there, maybe they'd have taken these evil people down already.
Ariana found herself in deep reflection, one of the only people around the monuments at the moment. She could hear birds chirping, the wind rustling through the trees, and the far-off sounds of children running through the park or tourists talking amongst themselves.
It was a nice day, and she was glad that she was here to enjoy it. The names on the monument weren't as fortunate; neither was Ross.
The Rest of My Life
open; day 6 - the Survival of the Fittest Memorial
((Tanisha Abbey arrives for the Field Trip))
Tanisha's eyes scanned the memorial for the victims of the six iterations of Survival of the Fittest. In her hand was clutched a notebook and a pencil, sharpened in the hotel business center that morning. She twirled it around in her fingers as she passed over the memorial, eyeing each name over and over again. She hummed a bit to herself as she did.
It had been a busy week for her. She and the girls had been all over DC, hitting up museums and monuments and taking as many pictures as possibly to show of the awesome graduation trip. #TittyBrigadeDC had been lighting up her Twitter feed, although she felt the actual hashtag could use more traction. Still, the t-shirts she had printed with Joanne and Adele had made for good photo ops around town, although Tanisha had to make sure she always had a light jacket on that could cover up "#TittyBrigadeDC" in case any chaperones were nearby. Then it was just a light-blue shirt under a denim jacket. It was James Bond-levels of clever.
But as fun as this trip was, Tanisha did have a minor task at hand. See, members of the Abbey family had fought and died in various wars throughout the 20th century. Her father, who had never been to DC before, asked her to go to the WWII and Vietnam War Memorials and to do the tracing of their relatives' names on a notebook. Apparently, it was common for people to hold a piece of paper over the names etched in stones and scribble over them with a pencil so it made the words appear. Tanisha was willing to do so; her dad had asked nicely, and there was no reason to not do it since she was going to the memorials. He didn't ask for any other souvenirs anyways, so this was a cost-effective gift considering she had three younger siblings to shop for.
She had found her great-grandfather, Elias Abbey, on the WWII memorial, and had later found her great-uncle Darrell Abbey on the Vietnam Memorial and had traced their names on pages of the notebook. As she walked around the National Mall, she had now made her way to the Survival of the Fittest memorial. She decided to do a quick look-through in case there were any Abbeys or anyone who had the same surname as her mom etched on the walls. It was a long-shot, but she may as well look.
Tanisha never really paid much attention to Survival of the Fittest unless it occurred. She was too young to understand the earlier versions, although the ones that occurred over the last decade had been noteworthy. She mostly avoided paying attention to it, not out of disrespect, but mostly because it didn't affect her daily life and wasn't the sort of thing she'd seek out. She made sure to make prayers to the victims and their families when she was praying with her younger siblings, but that was about it.
As she looked over the walls, she did pause when she noticed one name. She looked it over, pursed her lips, then shrugged. She flipped the notebook to an empty page and laid it over the wall. As she began to scribble over it, the name materialized on the page.
Tanesha Lexx
It was one-letter off, but still quite fascinating. She could say a prayer for Tanesha Lexx later that evening. The poor girl clearly went through something terrible, and even if their names were similar, it was still a connection Tanisha could see and acknowledge. Now she had to see what other names were on the memorial walls.
Tanisha's eyes scanned the memorial for the victims of the six iterations of Survival of the Fittest. In her hand was clutched a notebook and a pencil, sharpened in the hotel business center that morning. She twirled it around in her fingers as she passed over the memorial, eyeing each name over and over again. She hummed a bit to herself as she did.
It had been a busy week for her. She and the girls had been all over DC, hitting up museums and monuments and taking as many pictures as possibly to show of the awesome graduation trip. #TittyBrigadeDC had been lighting up her Twitter feed, although she felt the actual hashtag could use more traction. Still, the t-shirts she had printed with Joanne and Adele had made for good photo ops around town, although Tanisha had to make sure she always had a light jacket on that could cover up "#TittyBrigadeDC" in case any chaperones were nearby. Then it was just a light-blue shirt under a denim jacket. It was James Bond-levels of clever.
But as fun as this trip was, Tanisha did have a minor task at hand. See, members of the Abbey family had fought and died in various wars throughout the 20th century. Her father, who had never been to DC before, asked her to go to the WWII and Vietnam War Memorials and to do the tracing of their relatives' names on a notebook. Apparently, it was common for people to hold a piece of paper over the names etched in stones and scribble over them with a pencil so it made the words appear. Tanisha was willing to do so; her dad had asked nicely, and there was no reason to not do it since she was going to the memorials. He didn't ask for any other souvenirs anyways, so this was a cost-effective gift considering she had three younger siblings to shop for.
She had found her great-grandfather, Elias Abbey, on the WWII memorial, and had later found her great-uncle Darrell Abbey on the Vietnam Memorial and had traced their names on pages of the notebook. As she walked around the National Mall, she had now made her way to the Survival of the Fittest memorial. She decided to do a quick look-through in case there were any Abbeys or anyone who had the same surname as her mom etched on the walls. It was a long-shot, but she may as well look.
Tanisha never really paid much attention to Survival of the Fittest unless it occurred. She was too young to understand the earlier versions, although the ones that occurred over the last decade had been noteworthy. She mostly avoided paying attention to it, not out of disrespect, but mostly because it didn't affect her daily life and wasn't the sort of thing she'd seek out. She made sure to make prayers to the victims and their families when she was praying with her younger siblings, but that was about it.
As she looked over the walls, she did pause when she noticed one name. She looked it over, pursed her lips, then shrugged. She flipped the notebook to an empty page and laid it over the wall. As she began to scribble over it, the name materialized on the page.
Tanesha Lexx
It was one-letter off, but still quite fascinating. She could say a prayer for Tanesha Lexx later that evening. The poor girl clearly went through something terrible, and even if their names were similar, it was still a connection Tanisha could see and acknowledge. Now she had to see what other names were on the memorial walls.
Garren hadn’t really had any location in mind when he’d left the hotel earlier. Just two main goals he was aiming for; to be out of the hotel, and to be away from the rest of his class.
It might’ve seemed weird to be looking for solitude when 90% of the student body was avoiding talking to him anyway, but, y’know, that was kinda the point. Pretty much nobody would talk to him by choice, but they’d sneak disgusted glances at him, laugh behind their hands, and chat shit about them when he wasn’t looking and didn’t think he could hear. Yeah, he got why. Yeah, yeah, it was all pretty much deserved, he fucking got that. Didn’t stop it from getting old about a year and a half ago, now.
So he just walked, up and down streets and past signs for attractions and museums and galleries, barely glancing at any of them until his feet started to ache. He took occasional looks through shopfronts and café windows, always on the verge of being tempted by something, but deciding his money would be better spent elsewhere. So he just kept walking, way past the point that his feet felt like they’d been rubbed raw with sandpaper.
But, y’know what? He was enjoying himself anyway. Hoo-fuckin’-rah, it was a Christmas miracle. Mom and dad had both insisted he go on the trip, and his half-hearted protestations had fallen on deaf ears, but this was… good. Maybe not ‘fun’, he wasn’t really doing anything, but pretty damn pleasant. It was just nice to not have to think for a while. His cap had the logo of Hope’s Peak Academy on it, rather than anything provocative, and his light orange zip-up hoody covered his Lucky Star t-shirt. Right here, right now, he was just part of the crowd, and maybe it wasn’t so bad to be just a number once in a while.
Garren pulled out his phone to quickly check the time, then slipped it back into his pocket, looking up to see he was coming up to the Survival of the Fittest Memorial. He stared at the sign, signifying the large sandstone structure as such, then shrugged, and headed towards it.
Eh. Why not, huh?
Well, the answer to that question came near instantly, as Garren rounded one of the big sandstone chunks and started in alarm as he realised he was looking at two of his classmates. And, hey, double fucking whammy, both of them were girls, and both of them had probably wished he’d fucked off and died on some murder island during their time together at school.
He made a stunningly high-pitched noise of distress, then spun round staring fixedly at the memorial, eyes trawling over the list of names and not taking any of them in. Wow. Real smooth moves there, genius. That definitely didn’t look suspicious at all. He really needed to give them more ammunition to mock him, thanks so much, Garren, you mouthbreather.
His eyes finally settled and focused, and he actually read the name he was pointedly staring at.
Sanford Bricks
Huh.
A sudden fog briefly fell around Garren.
It might’ve seemed weird to be looking for solitude when 90% of the student body was avoiding talking to him anyway, but, y’know, that was kinda the point. Pretty much nobody would talk to him by choice, but they’d sneak disgusted glances at him, laugh behind their hands, and chat shit about them when he wasn’t looking and didn’t think he could hear. Yeah, he got why. Yeah, yeah, it was all pretty much deserved, he fucking got that. Didn’t stop it from getting old about a year and a half ago, now.
So he just walked, up and down streets and past signs for attractions and museums and galleries, barely glancing at any of them until his feet started to ache. He took occasional looks through shopfronts and café windows, always on the verge of being tempted by something, but deciding his money would be better spent elsewhere. So he just kept walking, way past the point that his feet felt like they’d been rubbed raw with sandpaper.
But, y’know what? He was enjoying himself anyway. Hoo-fuckin’-rah, it was a Christmas miracle. Mom and dad had both insisted he go on the trip, and his half-hearted protestations had fallen on deaf ears, but this was… good. Maybe not ‘fun’, he wasn’t really doing anything, but pretty damn pleasant. It was just nice to not have to think for a while. His cap had the logo of Hope’s Peak Academy on it, rather than anything provocative, and his light orange zip-up hoody covered his Lucky Star t-shirt. Right here, right now, he was just part of the crowd, and maybe it wasn’t so bad to be just a number once in a while.
Garren pulled out his phone to quickly check the time, then slipped it back into his pocket, looking up to see he was coming up to the Survival of the Fittest Memorial. He stared at the sign, signifying the large sandstone structure as such, then shrugged, and headed towards it.
Eh. Why not, huh?
Well, the answer to that question came near instantly, as Garren rounded one of the big sandstone chunks and started in alarm as he realised he was looking at two of his classmates. And, hey, double fucking whammy, both of them were girls, and both of them had probably wished he’d fucked off and died on some murder island during their time together at school.
He made a stunningly high-pitched noise of distress, then spun round staring fixedly at the memorial, eyes trawling over the list of names and not taking any of them in. Wow. Real smooth moves there, genius. That definitely didn’t look suspicious at all. He really needed to give them more ammunition to mock him, thanks so much, Garren, you mouthbreather.
His eyes finally settled and focused, and he actually read the name he was pointedly staring at.
Sanford Bricks
Huh.
A sudden fog briefly fell around Garren.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Emprexx Plush
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((Nona Trip Start))
Statistics for high schools were weirdly inconsistent. You'd figure somebody would care enough about one of the biggest, most relevant data sets on the emerging work to keep it up to date, but it was hard to find hard numbers any sooner than 2001. Even those were questionable, so it was hard to say exactly how many schools there were in any given years. What was publicly available suggested that rounded up there were around 40,000 schools in the United States in 2001, so you could start there. 1 in 40,000; 1 in 30,000 if you wanted to cut out private schools. There were all sorts of factors you had to account for like schools that don't take long field trips, undetermined factors in selection, the likelihood of an abduction in any given year, schools that are too large or too small...Nona didn't have that data though, and probably couldn't get it. So, 1 in 30,000 would do.
How small was that when you really thought about it? Survival of the Fittest was the kind of thing people would describe with language like "one in a million," but it wasn't even close. If you skimmed a generous third off that figure you'd get your odds of being struck by lightning, 1 in 700,000. You were 23 times more likely to get abducted by terrorists than be struck by lightning in your senior year. Well, 23.3333333333333333333333333333333333-
Nona shook her head quickly. She was being dramatic. 1 in 30,000 was still astronomically high. You had a 1 in 96 chance of getting in a car accident, and she'd never been in a car accident. You had a 1 in 3 chance of developing some kind of cancer, and she'd never had cancer. 1 in 30,000 was nothing. A statistical insanity.
But it wasn't one in a million.
That's why she'd come here in the first place. You had to, right? Because whether it was a month or a year or even a decade away, she was sure that when the next attack came they'd all be thinking about this place. In a different year, they could have been 1 in 30,000. She could see some girls from her school looking at the names etched in the memorials. When they remembered this later, would they be thinking about the blank spaces all their names could have gone too?
Yeah she should...she should keep that thought to herself. Nobody wanted to hear that.
A bizarre noise jolted her back to reality. Garren was just ahead looking, um, it was hard to say on reflection? Nona wasn't one to judge but "normal" for Garren came off as a state she wasn't sure she wanted to understand. Her heart sank as she saw him going over the names so frantically, though. She didn't know much about him. Maybe he'd lost someone. Yeah, it was all starting to make sense. He thought he could handle confronting it again, but it was too much and now he was losing it. Carrying that kind of pain around all the time...just the thought was enough to make Nona feel a hundred pounds heavier.
She stuffed her hands in her hoodie pockets and chewed on her lips nervously. It would be so much smarter to leave him alone. People weren't her strong suit. Everyone needed a friend in a time of crisis though, and if it was happening to her she'd want someone, anyone to show her a bit of kindness. Maybe Garren would be less Garren if people did that for him more. Nona made her way to him with a walk that started casual but deflated into a sort of nervous waddle by the time she was behind him. "Um, you okay Garren?"
Statistics for high schools were weirdly inconsistent. You'd figure somebody would care enough about one of the biggest, most relevant data sets on the emerging work to keep it up to date, but it was hard to find hard numbers any sooner than 2001. Even those were questionable, so it was hard to say exactly how many schools there were in any given years. What was publicly available suggested that rounded up there were around 40,000 schools in the United States in 2001, so you could start there. 1 in 40,000; 1 in 30,000 if you wanted to cut out private schools. There were all sorts of factors you had to account for like schools that don't take long field trips, undetermined factors in selection, the likelihood of an abduction in any given year, schools that are too large or too small...Nona didn't have that data though, and probably couldn't get it. So, 1 in 30,000 would do.
How small was that when you really thought about it? Survival of the Fittest was the kind of thing people would describe with language like "one in a million," but it wasn't even close. If you skimmed a generous third off that figure you'd get your odds of being struck by lightning, 1 in 700,000. You were 23 times more likely to get abducted by terrorists than be struck by lightning in your senior year. Well, 23.3333333333333333333333333333333333-
Nona shook her head quickly. She was being dramatic. 1 in 30,000 was still astronomically high. You had a 1 in 96 chance of getting in a car accident, and she'd never been in a car accident. You had a 1 in 3 chance of developing some kind of cancer, and she'd never had cancer. 1 in 30,000 was nothing. A statistical insanity.
But it wasn't one in a million.
That's why she'd come here in the first place. You had to, right? Because whether it was a month or a year or even a decade away, she was sure that when the next attack came they'd all be thinking about this place. In a different year, they could have been 1 in 30,000. She could see some girls from her school looking at the names etched in the memorials. When they remembered this later, would they be thinking about the blank spaces all their names could have gone too?
Yeah she should...she should keep that thought to herself. Nobody wanted to hear that.
A bizarre noise jolted her back to reality. Garren was just ahead looking, um, it was hard to say on reflection? Nona wasn't one to judge but "normal" for Garren came off as a state she wasn't sure she wanted to understand. Her heart sank as she saw him going over the names so frantically, though. She didn't know much about him. Maybe he'd lost someone. Yeah, it was all starting to make sense. He thought he could handle confronting it again, but it was too much and now he was losing it. Carrying that kind of pain around all the time...just the thought was enough to make Nona feel a hundred pounds heavier.
She stuffed her hands in her hoodie pockets and chewed on her lips nervously. It would be so much smarter to leave him alone. People weren't her strong suit. Everyone needed a friend in a time of crisis though, and if it was happening to her she'd want someone, anyone to show her a bit of kindness. Maybe Garren would be less Garren if people did that for him more. Nona made her way to him with a walk that started casual but deflated into a sort of nervous waddle by the time she was behind him. "Um, you okay Garren?"
As her fingers traced some of the other names on the memorial pillar, Ariana became aware that several of her classmates happened to be here as well, doing their own private exploration of the awful history of high school classes that suffered class trip misfortunes. Nona and Tanisha were firmly in Ariana's class of 'decent' people. She had no overly strong opinions on either of them. They'd been in her orbit at times, were both nice enough, and weren't necessarily people she'd go out of her way to spend time with. But Garren, on the other hand?
Ugh.
Garren was like what happened if you took every bad troll-like internet comment about women being awful and worthless and used them to create a real live, breathing person. He was a worm, a troll. In Ariana's mind, even Marco Volker had more redeeming qualities than Garren. Which was saying something, considering Marco rated somewhere above the sludge that accumulates on the side of a fish-tank and literal human waste. But Garren? He was into that Men's Rights bullshit - the kind of guy who would comment #HimToo on internet posts and wear being an incel as a badge of pride.
Ariana had very little interest in being anywhere near Garren Mortimer at the moment, but here he was. Putting him out of mind, Ariana looked back at the pillar she was standing in front of. These were survivors of this horrible event. Those whom had escaped - Ariana knew that a few years back they'd had to add a few names to this list - and those who had actually fought their way through it. The very first name at on the list had an asterisk that had obviously been added to it later, and a small plaque at the bottom clarified that the asterisk indicated that the survivor had died later while escaping another attack.
It was the only such name with an asterisk on it.
Some of the names were more familiar than others to Ariana. When Min-jae Parker had returned, the news about him had been frenzied. Photos of his face had been everywhere. She had been just about to start her sophomore year and the sudden uptick in coverage had piqued her curiosity a little. Before he'd been abducted, the boy had been the kind of sullen gothy kid that Ariana herself likely would have been attracted to. But when he'd returned?
Like photos she'd seen of other people who'd come back, the life seemed to have been sucked out of him. Survival of the Fittest had aged him years. She wondered what the other names on the other memorials had gone through, if the survivors had come back so haggard, so scarred. It only strengthened her resolve. Some day, she would help bring those poor people to justice.
Looking back at Garren, her eyes popped in surprise as she saw that Nona had approached him carefully from behind and was speaking with him. Oh, dear. Nona probably meant well, but with Garren, one never quite knew what kind of awful things would come out of his mouth. Ariana kept her ears open. One never quite knew when backup might be necessary.
Ugh.
Garren was like what happened if you took every bad troll-like internet comment about women being awful and worthless and used them to create a real live, breathing person. He was a worm, a troll. In Ariana's mind, even Marco Volker had more redeeming qualities than Garren. Which was saying something, considering Marco rated somewhere above the sludge that accumulates on the side of a fish-tank and literal human waste. But Garren? He was into that Men's Rights bullshit - the kind of guy who would comment #HimToo on internet posts and wear being an incel as a badge of pride.
Ariana had very little interest in being anywhere near Garren Mortimer at the moment, but here he was. Putting him out of mind, Ariana looked back at the pillar she was standing in front of. These were survivors of this horrible event. Those whom had escaped - Ariana knew that a few years back they'd had to add a few names to this list - and those who had actually fought their way through it. The very first name at on the list had an asterisk that had obviously been added to it later, and a small plaque at the bottom clarified that the asterisk indicated that the survivor had died later while escaping another attack.
It was the only such name with an asterisk on it.
Some of the names were more familiar than others to Ariana. When Min-jae Parker had returned, the news about him had been frenzied. Photos of his face had been everywhere. She had been just about to start her sophomore year and the sudden uptick in coverage had piqued her curiosity a little. Before he'd been abducted, the boy had been the kind of sullen gothy kid that Ariana herself likely would have been attracted to. But when he'd returned?
Like photos she'd seen of other people who'd come back, the life seemed to have been sucked out of him. Survival of the Fittest had aged him years. She wondered what the other names on the other memorials had gone through, if the survivors had come back so haggard, so scarred. It only strengthened her resolve. Some day, she would help bring those poor people to justice.
Looking back at Garren, her eyes popped in surprise as she saw that Nona had approached him carefully from behind and was speaking with him. Oh, dear. Nona probably meant well, but with Garren, one never quite knew what kind of awful things would come out of his mouth. Ariana kept her ears open. One never quite knew when backup might be necessary.
Tanisha looked back at the column of names from the second iteration of Survival of the Fittest, then back to the name she just added to her notebook. It was still quite surreal to think people her age would have had to go through something so horrific. She started to wonder if she was starting to get a bit emotional at the sheer emotional weight of it all. She decided to breath in and out a bit, calming herself. She figured she wasn't going to burst into tears, but she could at least try to be calm and solemn in such a place. After all, it was probably what the students who were permanently etched on the wall would hope for from those who visited this memorial (if that's what their concerns were in the afterlife. Tanisha wasn't going to assume anything lest she get struck by lightning right then and there).
Of course, it was going to be hard to be solemn when she heard a weird cry. She leaned over a bit and saw a few other schoolmates in the area. She shouldn't have been surprised to see other people at this memorial from her school, but it was still weird to see them actually manifested, especially this particular batch. Nona was someone Tanisha could see herself getting along with, although they didn't seem to have similar tastes in music. Still, she was cute. It was the guy Nona was talking to that Tanisha wasn't so charmed by.
Garren Mortimer was a prick. Well, more like a choad, but a prick nonetheless. Tanisha hadn't had many run-ins with him, but she knew he was so afraid of pussy he had to vocalize it by being a sexist shithead tryhard. Coupled with some poor-taste jokes about race and weight she had heard drifting through the halls over the last few years, she knew he wasn't someone she was going to get along with, but she wouldn't go out of her way to deal with him. Besides, he wouldn't be able to handle her if he really set her off. That would be like throwing a chihuahua into an arena with a bull.
Tanisha rolled her eyes and decided to look away. Nona was treading dangerous waters by approaching him, but Tanisha could be a good sistah and step in if Nona needed the help. Tanisha then noticed Ariana Moretti also in the vicinity. Ariana was pretty cool, even if Tanisha hadn't had many run-ins with her in the past. She supposedly had a temper, but Tanisha never really saw it. She could at least call out to her.
"Hey, Ari," Tanisha said to Ariana. "How's it going?"
Of course, it was going to be hard to be solemn when she heard a weird cry. She leaned over a bit and saw a few other schoolmates in the area. She shouldn't have been surprised to see other people at this memorial from her school, but it was still weird to see them actually manifested, especially this particular batch. Nona was someone Tanisha could see herself getting along with, although they didn't seem to have similar tastes in music. Still, she was cute. It was the guy Nona was talking to that Tanisha wasn't so charmed by.
Garren Mortimer was a prick. Well, more like a choad, but a prick nonetheless. Tanisha hadn't had many run-ins with him, but she knew he was so afraid of pussy he had to vocalize it by being a sexist shithead tryhard. Coupled with some poor-taste jokes about race and weight she had heard drifting through the halls over the last few years, she knew he wasn't someone she was going to get along with, but she wouldn't go out of her way to deal with him. Besides, he wouldn't be able to handle her if he really set her off. That would be like throwing a chihuahua into an arena with a bull.
Tanisha rolled her eyes and decided to look away. Nona was treading dangerous waters by approaching him, but Tanisha could be a good sistah and step in if Nona needed the help. Tanisha then noticed Ariana Moretti also in the vicinity. Ariana was pretty cool, even if Tanisha hadn't had many run-ins with her in the past. She supposedly had a temper, but Tanisha never really saw it. She could at least call out to her.
"Hey, Ari," Tanisha said to Ariana. "How's it going?"
Garren had absolutely no connection to Sanford ‘Sandy’ Bricks. There were no family ties between the Bricks and the Mortimers, no long distance friendships or pen pal letters, or even a brief encounter on an obscure forum where Sanford had questioned Garren’s taste in anime. In any other scenario, Garren wouldn’t have given the name a second glance, maybe a brief jab at the fact the poor dude had been named ‘Sanford’, and that was it.
What there was, however, was serious recognition, the name burned into his mind forever, along with all the others on this stretch of the monument.
Everybody knew about the SOTF act. It was something that everyone constantly had lingering in the back of their minds, but that you never wanted to bring up unless you truly had to. For Garren, the first five times it had happened, they had been exactly that; big, tragic events, something that impacted the entire country for months, then lingered only in the mind as a tragedy, until the next terrorist attack happened.
Then he’d started getting deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of the internet. He’d discovered the threads and messages on 8chan and other boards of its ilk that mocked every tragedy and disaster in the world as soon as they happened. As soon as news of the sixth incident of SOTF broke, they cast their gaze over it, picking up the camera footage and student names and photographs, ripping them to shreds, mocking and making fun of them, making memes and vicious comments about each and every student who’d lost their lives.
“lol look at this soyboy cuck, getting killed is the only good thing for him tbh”
“This is obviously fake, everyone knows Amerilards can’t get hurt by bullets because of all their whale blubber”
It had never sat right with Garren, and he’d dug his way out of those hellpits as quick as he could, but the damage had already been done. He could remember each and every name, and each and every comment attached to it, clear as day, because it was something he never ever wanted to become, the sort of person who made fun of the dead.
And it was someone he so very easily could have become.
He’d been focused on the names so much that he didn’t hear Nona walking up behind him, so her voice cut right through to him like a hot knife through butter, making him jump and almost causing him to let out his second incredibly un-masculine noise of the afternoon. He rounded on her, glaring. It was easy to do. Nona was the perfect target for himself and Demetri; the only difficulty was deciding what about the weird, quiet, easily influenced kid in shitty baggy clothes to make fun of at any given point.
“Jesus fucking Christ, don’t just sneak up on people like that, you stupid b-“
He cut himself off, biting his tongue, quickly looking away from Nona. Ariana and Tanisha had both been talking to each other before his outburst, but they were probably glaring at him now, or talking to each other about how much of a lowlife piece of shit he was, terrorising and tormenting Nona for having the audacity to talk to him.
He didn’t need to do this. Especially not here. He wasn’t gonna change anyone’s mind as to who he was at this point, no matter what he did, so, hey, fuck it, might as well take a stab at that whole ‘not being a total waste of space’ thing he wanted to try out anyway. Garren opened his mouth, a word that so rarely crossed his lips tumbling out, mumbled and hurried.
“Sorry.”
He scratched the back of his neck, glancing back up at Nona.
“I’m alright, don’t worry.”
What there was, however, was serious recognition, the name burned into his mind forever, along with all the others on this stretch of the monument.
Everybody knew about the SOTF act. It was something that everyone constantly had lingering in the back of their minds, but that you never wanted to bring up unless you truly had to. For Garren, the first five times it had happened, they had been exactly that; big, tragic events, something that impacted the entire country for months, then lingered only in the mind as a tragedy, until the next terrorist attack happened.
Then he’d started getting deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of the internet. He’d discovered the threads and messages on 8chan and other boards of its ilk that mocked every tragedy and disaster in the world as soon as they happened. As soon as news of the sixth incident of SOTF broke, they cast their gaze over it, picking up the camera footage and student names and photographs, ripping them to shreds, mocking and making fun of them, making memes and vicious comments about each and every student who’d lost their lives.
“lol look at this soyboy cuck, getting killed is the only good thing for him tbh”
“This is obviously fake, everyone knows Amerilards can’t get hurt by bullets because of all their whale blubber”
It had never sat right with Garren, and he’d dug his way out of those hellpits as quick as he could, but the damage had already been done. He could remember each and every name, and each and every comment attached to it, clear as day, because it was something he never ever wanted to become, the sort of person who made fun of the dead.
And it was someone he so very easily could have become.
He’d been focused on the names so much that he didn’t hear Nona walking up behind him, so her voice cut right through to him like a hot knife through butter, making him jump and almost causing him to let out his second incredibly un-masculine noise of the afternoon. He rounded on her, glaring. It was easy to do. Nona was the perfect target for himself and Demetri; the only difficulty was deciding what about the weird, quiet, easily influenced kid in shitty baggy clothes to make fun of at any given point.
“Jesus fucking Christ, don’t just sneak up on people like that, you stupid b-“
He cut himself off, biting his tongue, quickly looking away from Nona. Ariana and Tanisha had both been talking to each other before his outburst, but they were probably glaring at him now, or talking to each other about how much of a lowlife piece of shit he was, terrorising and tormenting Nona for having the audacity to talk to him.
He didn’t need to do this. Especially not here. He wasn’t gonna change anyone’s mind as to who he was at this point, no matter what he did, so, hey, fuck it, might as well take a stab at that whole ‘not being a total waste of space’ thing he wanted to try out anyway. Garren opened his mouth, a word that so rarely crossed his lips tumbling out, mumbled and hurried.
“Sorry.”
He scratched the back of his neck, glancing back up at Nona.
“I’m alright, don’t worry.”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Emprexx Plush
- Posts: 1678
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 3:37 pm
- Contact:
Nona might have flinched away at the look in his eyes. The sudden movement and harsh tone could have sent her stomach tumbling with anxiety. The epithet, while not completed, was clear enough from context to have hurt her if it landed right.If it landed at all. When he lashed out though, Garren wasn't occupying Nona's attention. She smelled wet leaves and the odor of animal dung. The hot rush of embarrassment pumped through her ears. Something moved in front of her in a blur she didn't want to recognize, not cowering away but streaking towards her. The moment of realization came, crashed over her, and passed without acknowledgement.
Nona's body was rigid and waiting. Her temple ached. Her vision blurred.
The blow never came.
When reality cleared around her Garren's glare met her own confused look. So many petty senseless incidents poured out of her memory that had left her shuddering. He always made her uncomfortable, and many of their encounters left her struggling to hold back tears. Well, that wasn't fair. Struggle was a generous concession that gave her more spine than she deserved. Usually she gave in within the first few steps away, if she even managed that far. It shouldn't be any different now. Yet when she looked in his eyes, she found him toothless. It wasn't clear what that meant for her yet, it was just a word mixed with feelings. Shock, anger, superiority, aggression...they were all foreign to her, without the clarity of reflection she wouldn't even be able to name them all. There was, however, one teeming at the surface that Nona knew very well. Pity.
So she didn't move away when he yelled at her. Her posture barely shifted other than to slightly cock her head. "I don't think you are." A hand slipped out of her pocket to brush her hood back, letting her braids spill down over her shoulders. Her head turned to look at the monument. "But who could be looking at this?"
Nona's body was rigid and waiting. Her temple ached. Her vision blurred.
The blow never came.
When reality cleared around her Garren's glare met her own confused look. So many petty senseless incidents poured out of her memory that had left her shuddering. He always made her uncomfortable, and many of their encounters left her struggling to hold back tears. Well, that wasn't fair. Struggle was a generous concession that gave her more spine than she deserved. Usually she gave in within the first few steps away, if she even managed that far. It shouldn't be any different now. Yet when she looked in his eyes, she found him toothless. It wasn't clear what that meant for her yet, it was just a word mixed with feelings. Shock, anger, superiority, aggression...they were all foreign to her, without the clarity of reflection she wouldn't even be able to name them all. There was, however, one teeming at the surface that Nona knew very well. Pity.
So she didn't move away when he yelled at her. Her posture barely shifted other than to slightly cock her head. "I don't think you are." A hand slipped out of her pocket to brush her hood back, letting her braids spill down over her shoulders. Her head turned to look at the monument. "But who could be looking at this?"
Keeping one eye on the exchange between Garren and Nona, Ariana's attention was drawn away for a moment when Tanisha called out to her. Extending her right hand in a wave, she took one more look at the pillar with the surviving students names upon it. These poor, unlucky souls were almost certainly damaged beyond all belief. She couldn't even fathom what living with such a thing would be like. Ariana wondered if any of them ever came to see this memorial, to reminisce or to find some sort of catharsis. The thought only made her more resolute. If and when she had the chance to work to stop these people - she would.
Taking a few steps over to the larger memorial that Tanisha was situated at, Ariana started to scroll through the names as she approached her classmate. This particular list seemed to belong to students whom had been kidnapped all the way back in 2006. Ariana would have been six years old when this happened. She would never have understood what was going on, had it happened to anyone in her orbit. When her mother had left and she'd suddenly been in a single-parent household that lived in a very different tax bracket, she'd barely understood. Something like Survival of the Fittest would never have computed to a kid like her.
"Hey Tanisha. It's okay. Just taking in the sights." Her fingers traced over one of the names on the pillar. She wondered if Derrin Istoli was a high school kid like them, with hopes and dreams, things he feared and things that he wanted to discover about himself. It seemed all so tragic.
Goddamn, she was certainly feeling emotional today. That put a sour taste in her mouth.
"Seemed appropriate to come and see this. Pay homage to class trips less successful, right?"
Ariana took another glance over at Nona and Garren.
"Also keeping an eye out on that," she frowned, "just in case. You never know with that little shit."
She looked back at the names, looking down at another one. It seemed familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Well, actually - she did trace the letters with her fingers, but the familiarity didn't spring to her.
"Kyle Rizea." Ariana looked back at Tanisha. "These kids were all just like us, y'know? It's really awful."
Taking a few steps over to the larger memorial that Tanisha was situated at, Ariana started to scroll through the names as she approached her classmate. This particular list seemed to belong to students whom had been kidnapped all the way back in 2006. Ariana would have been six years old when this happened. She would never have understood what was going on, had it happened to anyone in her orbit. When her mother had left and she'd suddenly been in a single-parent household that lived in a very different tax bracket, she'd barely understood. Something like Survival of the Fittest would never have computed to a kid like her.
"Hey Tanisha. It's okay. Just taking in the sights." Her fingers traced over one of the names on the pillar. She wondered if Derrin Istoli was a high school kid like them, with hopes and dreams, things he feared and things that he wanted to discover about himself. It seemed all so tragic.
Goddamn, she was certainly feeling emotional today. That put a sour taste in her mouth.
"Seemed appropriate to come and see this. Pay homage to class trips less successful, right?"
Ariana took another glance over at Nona and Garren.
"Also keeping an eye out on that," she frowned, "just in case. You never know with that little shit."
She looked back at the names, looking down at another one. It seemed familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Well, actually - she did trace the letters with her fingers, but the familiarity didn't spring to her.
"Kyle Rizea." Ariana looked back at Tanisha. "These kids were all just like us, y'know? It's really awful."
Tanisha smiled as Ariana approached her. It sounded like the other girl was feeling the gravity of the memorial, which Tanisha could understand once Ariana put it into words. These were about 1,000 teenagers who had their lives stolen from them for basically nothing other than because some shadowy dicks wanted to commit mass murder without directly killing these kids. Tanisha looked over some of the names on the Version 2 wall, watching Ariana trace her fingers around the name of some boy named Kyle.
"Yeah, it's pretty harsh to think about," Tanisha said. "I mean, who knows what the world would be like if some of these people were still alive. Probably not a lot different on a grand scale, but their personal worlds would be different."
Tanisha glanced over some of the names.
"I mean, these kids would be close to 30 if they were still alive, if I'm doing the mental math right. What if someone like..."
Tanisha's eyes stopped at the notable name of one girl.
"Venus Gwendolyn, as an example, would have kids or something if she were alive? Maybe some of these kids would be married or starting businesses or taking over family businesses. Maybe some of the artsy kids would have made famous artwork or hit songs or something. Like..."
Her eyes continued to glance.
"Maybe this Wanda Lovett girl had a lot going for her and it was all stripped away. She could have been a doctor, or a lawyer, or a scientist, or a cop, or anything. Maybe she, like all these other kids, had so much potential that was lost, and we'll never know what she could have been."
Tanisha sighed.
"Sorry, I guess it's a lot to think about."
Tanisha looked back over to Garren and Nona, then back to Ariana.
"And yeah, I guess we ought to keep an eye on them. Do you think Garren would be dumb enough to pull some shit at a memorial?"
"Yeah, it's pretty harsh to think about," Tanisha said. "I mean, who knows what the world would be like if some of these people were still alive. Probably not a lot different on a grand scale, but their personal worlds would be different."
Tanisha glanced over some of the names.
"I mean, these kids would be close to 30 if they were still alive, if I'm doing the mental math right. What if someone like..."
Tanisha's eyes stopped at the notable name of one girl.
"Venus Gwendolyn, as an example, would have kids or something if she were alive? Maybe some of these kids would be married or starting businesses or taking over family businesses. Maybe some of the artsy kids would have made famous artwork or hit songs or something. Like..."
Her eyes continued to glance.
"Maybe this Wanda Lovett girl had a lot going for her and it was all stripped away. She could have been a doctor, or a lawyer, or a scientist, or a cop, or anything. Maybe she, like all these other kids, had so much potential that was lost, and we'll never know what she could have been."
Tanisha sighed.
"Sorry, I guess it's a lot to think about."
Tanisha looked back over to Garren and Nona, then back to Ariana.
"And yeah, I guess we ought to keep an eye on them. Do you think Garren would be dumb enough to pull some shit at a memorial?"
The glare appeared back on Garren’s face for a moment, as a flash of anger crossed over him. So Nona didn’t think he was doing okay, huh? Well he was pretty sure he was, and you know what, he was pretty damn sure he knew his own feelings better than she did. Today had been going well so far, and this wasn’t about to change that.
But then he stopped to think for a moment, and he turned around to look at the memorial again, hands shoved into his pockets, and he didn’t say anything for a while. He felt that fog swirl around his head again, as he recognised name after name, and each video and photo attached to them, and each comment mocking and taunting them.
Maybe she had a point.
Garren turned back to look at Nona again, still not speaking, a curious look in his eyes. The light breeze gently tousled his hair, freshly washed and clean. It felt nice. Maybe a change of pace was the exact sorta thing he needed to actually get a consistent pattern of showering down.
“Yeah, fair enough. It’s…”
Garren closed his mouth, letting the sentence end there. He didn’t really need to say anything more. The memorial spoke for itself.
He really didn’t get it, though. Why the fuck had Nona decided to talk to him in the first place? His relationship with her at school had just been one-way traffic of insults and jibes, followed by him and Demetri walking off laughing about it, and her running the opposite direction, barely able to hide her tears. So… why, exactly, was she trying to make nice here? Ariana and Tanisha were right there, after all. Made way more sense in Garren’s mind for her to be all buddy-buddy with them.
He glanced over Nona’s shoulder at the pair of them. They were both wrapped up in conversation with each other, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were both keeping an eye on him, just in case, and his desire to defy them suddenly swelled.
“You, uh… You got anybody on here you… recognise?”
But then he stopped to think for a moment, and he turned around to look at the memorial again, hands shoved into his pockets, and he didn’t say anything for a while. He felt that fog swirl around his head again, as he recognised name after name, and each video and photo attached to them, and each comment mocking and taunting them.
Maybe she had a point.
Garren turned back to look at Nona again, still not speaking, a curious look in his eyes. The light breeze gently tousled his hair, freshly washed and clean. It felt nice. Maybe a change of pace was the exact sorta thing he needed to actually get a consistent pattern of showering down.
“Yeah, fair enough. It’s…”
Garren closed his mouth, letting the sentence end there. He didn’t really need to say anything more. The memorial spoke for itself.
He really didn’t get it, though. Why the fuck had Nona decided to talk to him in the first place? His relationship with her at school had just been one-way traffic of insults and jibes, followed by him and Demetri walking off laughing about it, and her running the opposite direction, barely able to hide her tears. So… why, exactly, was she trying to make nice here? Ariana and Tanisha were right there, after all. Made way more sense in Garren’s mind for her to be all buddy-buddy with them.
He glanced over Nona’s shoulder at the pair of them. They were both wrapped up in conversation with each other, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were both keeping an eye on him, just in case, and his desire to defy them suddenly swelled.
“You, uh… You got anybody on here you… recognise?”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Emprexx Plush
- Posts: 1678
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 3:37 pm
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Nona wanted to say no. She wanted to pretend she'd never even thought about looking at something so horrible. It didn't suit her. Anyone who knew her could imagine her shuddering under her blankets at the first pathetic whimper of someone realizing their life was over, or stooped over the toilet vomiting at the first spray of blood. It was too much for a girl like her to contemplate. She shouldn't even be looking at articles about it. Something fragile like her needed to be kept away from harsh realities. After all, she could barely handle a few cruel words.
She wanted all of it to be true. For the most part it was; it had made her sicker than anything she'd ever seen in her life, but it was hard to stop the curiosity.
Appropriately, it started with a name. One that looked just familiar enough for her to double take when she saw scrolling through her dashboard. A name led to pictures. Pictures led to clips. Clips led to the real thing. She'd watched him from the time he woke up until what happened to almost all of them happened. There was so much she wanted to forget in between, and for the most part she could. That was sort of messed up when she thought about it. Most of it she could just not think about, because it didn't feel real. Two things stuck with her though, two just moments apart. His smile, and the words after it broke.
"...I guess I felt happy that I was the one in control for once..."
Nona had no idea what that was like.
Even here in broad daylight instead of the blue tinted shadows of her bedroom, she was kind of afraid what would happen if she found out.
She nodded to Garren's question as she moved in to search. It didn't take long for her to find what she wanted. "I didn't know him. At least not, you know, before. I saw his name and um...it's hard not to find the results anymore."
Her finger trailed a name on the stone.
Brendan Harte.
She wanted all of it to be true. For the most part it was; it had made her sicker than anything she'd ever seen in her life, but it was hard to stop the curiosity.
Appropriately, it started with a name. One that looked just familiar enough for her to double take when she saw scrolling through her dashboard. A name led to pictures. Pictures led to clips. Clips led to the real thing. She'd watched him from the time he woke up until what happened to almost all of them happened. There was so much she wanted to forget in between, and for the most part she could. That was sort of messed up when she thought about it. Most of it she could just not think about, because it didn't feel real. Two things stuck with her though, two just moments apart. His smile, and the words after it broke.
"...I guess I felt happy that I was the one in control for once..."
Nona had no idea what that was like.
Even here in broad daylight instead of the blue tinted shadows of her bedroom, she was kind of afraid what would happen if she found out.
She nodded to Garren's question as she moved in to search. It didn't take long for her to find what she wanted. "I didn't know him. At least not, you know, before. I saw his name and um...it's hard not to find the results anymore."
Her finger trailed a name on the stone.
Brendan Harte.
Ariana grimaced at the thought. These kids would be almost thirty years old now. They were deprived of their lives, but what did that mean in the long run? Tanisha was right, there was much that they would miss. They wouldn't go to school and get an education. They wouldn't fall in love, get married, have children? They wouldn't be there to help usher in the next generation - their generation - and leave their own mark upon the world. That wasn't exactly true, though. If nothing else, they had most certainly left their mark.
She continued to look over the names carved into the rock.
"You don't have to apologize. It's heavy shit. It's the reason that for the last ten years, most schools don't do school trips anymore. That's the point; make everyone live in fear. Terrorism is a really fuckin' awful thing." She wasn't saying anything Tanisha didn't already know, but the gravity of it all was evident within her tone.
Looking over at the other monument again, she continued on.
"What really gets me is that all of this has gone on for so many years. You would think that after over a decade, that someone would have figured out who was behind it. Someone would have taken them down." Ariana shrugged, no answers to give. "But they haven't."
It was nice to think of a world where things like field trip safety briefings didn't exist. Of course, she knew that it hadn't been all that long ago that school shooting training hadn't needed to be a necessary evil, either. It were times like this that Ariana wondered if they as a society were truly moving in the right direction; for all of the 'progress' they made, it always seemed like something else came up to kick them back.
Another thought tugged at her as she gestured to the names in front of them.
"The other thing too - how many of these kids, these names? How many of them did horrible things while just trying to survive? To me, they're all names on wall. Who they were, what they did? There's a part of me that doesn't want to know." An even larger part of her knew that she'd undoubtedly look some of them up once she got back to the hotel.
Ross had been right. This monument had absolutely made her think, made her feel some emotions. Ariana felt even more resolute in her end goal than she ever had before, now. Good old Ross; he knew her well. The thought pushed her away from the gravity of long-deceased teenagers. Eyes back to Garren and Nona, Ariana cocked an eyebrow in surprise. They actually seemed to be having a normal, even pleasant conversation.
"I wouldn't put it past him to care where he is when he makes a scene," she muttered, "though you've got to give people enough rope to hang themselves with, so I guess we'll see."
She continued to look over the names carved into the rock.
"You don't have to apologize. It's heavy shit. It's the reason that for the last ten years, most schools don't do school trips anymore. That's the point; make everyone live in fear. Terrorism is a really fuckin' awful thing." She wasn't saying anything Tanisha didn't already know, but the gravity of it all was evident within her tone.
Looking over at the other monument again, she continued on.
"What really gets me is that all of this has gone on for so many years. You would think that after over a decade, that someone would have figured out who was behind it. Someone would have taken them down." Ariana shrugged, no answers to give. "But they haven't."
It was nice to think of a world where things like field trip safety briefings didn't exist. Of course, she knew that it hadn't been all that long ago that school shooting training hadn't needed to be a necessary evil, either. It were times like this that Ariana wondered if they as a society were truly moving in the right direction; for all of the 'progress' they made, it always seemed like something else came up to kick them back.
Another thought tugged at her as she gestured to the names in front of them.
"The other thing too - how many of these kids, these names? How many of them did horrible things while just trying to survive? To me, they're all names on wall. Who they were, what they did? There's a part of me that doesn't want to know." An even larger part of her knew that she'd undoubtedly look some of them up once she got back to the hotel.
Ross had been right. This monument had absolutely made her think, made her feel some emotions. Ariana felt even more resolute in her end goal than she ever had before, now. Good old Ross; he knew her well. The thought pushed her away from the gravity of long-deceased teenagers. Eyes back to Garren and Nona, Ariana cocked an eyebrow in surprise. They actually seemed to be having a normal, even pleasant conversation.
"I wouldn't put it past him to care where he is when he makes a scene," she muttered, "though you've got to give people enough rope to hang themselves with, so I guess we'll see."
Tanisha had to nod along to everything Ariana said. There wasn't really anything Ariana said that Tanisha disagreed with. Someone really should have stopped this after over ten years, and there was a lot they'd want to know about the kids beyond just a name on the wall. She had to wonder if Tanesha Lexx had interests like her or goals she wanted to achieve. That would be something to check once she was back on WiFi.
"Yeah. At the very least it should be easy to find info without ending up on the really bad sites," Tanisha said. "Some of this stuff should be public domain or something."
Tanisha looked around the area.
"Don't some of these memorials have like computers or kiosks where you can look up the names and see things about them? I think they have those at Arlington Cemetery and other landmarks."
"Yeah. At the very least it should be easy to find info without ending up on the really bad sites," Tanisha said. "Some of this stuff should be public domain or something."
Tanisha looked around the area.
"Don't some of these memorials have like computers or kiosks where you can look up the names and see things about them? I think they have those at Arlington Cemetery and other landmarks."
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Somersault
- Posts: 312
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:56 am
So, uh, wow. This was some pretty heavy stuff.
((Mike Brown has started his trip))
To be completely honest, no lies, 100% truthful, Mike honestly had no idea how he ended up here, of all places. Like, DC was nice, but nothing could beat home, at least in terms of places he knew. There was the White House, the Monument thingy, lot of real old stuff around, showcasing the pioneer spirit or something. He was pretty sure on that, or at least that was something he remembered writing down in his notes.
Either way, he’d been wandering, really, looking around for any big sites that seemed like they had interesting sights or souvenirs he could bring back to the fam, make ‘em real proud or something, and so he had walked. Walked for a while, sometimes taking photos, sometimes just staring into the sky, like yup, it was blue, it was clear, it was there, mmhmm.
He continued just like that, just strolling along, even if his feet began to ache like the devil after a while. If anything, it was still better than just being cooped up in his room, nothing except his ol’ six-string and roommates to keep him company. Not that his roommates were bad, nah, ‘cause they weren’t. Ron was okay, if a little too intense, and Ramsey was real chill, even if he wasn’t all into that electro stuff. Pulsing beats didn’t really get his engine going. Really, they were alright, and he could’ve managed some shooting the breeze, all natural and smooth, but DC was different, so he ‘sposed he should at least take the time to look around.
If he didn’t, Ma would get on his case about ‘not enjoying the experience’ or ‘not utilizing his utmost potential’, or something meaningful just like that. He was just bored, really, but that was as good a motivation as any, Mike reckoned, when he opened the hotel door to try to find something meaningful.
Maybe it was just a little rushed, but he was still going out there to do stuff, and so stuff was still being done, right? No bad logic there.
Maybe he’d even bump into someone he knew, someone real cool, or maybe he wouldn’t. Either was fine, so he was still going all around, finding something, before he spotted the big limestone tower-thing up ahead. At the very least, it was something different, and there were lots of people around it, which meant there had to be something worth seeing there. No reason people’d be there if there weren’t.
He took out his phone to just go check what all the ruckus was about, and a faint chill ran up his spine as he saw what exactly what the memorial was dedicated to on the map. Even in his green letterman jacket and plain white tee, even in his jeans, even his sock-covered feet in their Converse, he felt a chill from top to bottom. This wasn’t just any regular old memorial. It was the one for SOTF, the terrorist death-game thing where kids all got killed and stuff. Kids his age. That wasn't something easy to swallow.
Mike wasn’t one to dwell on stuff like that, and although he still had a slight frown on his face, he continued walking over there, if only because he was already heading, before his frown deepened a little more at the sight in front of him.
Garren, who, in all honesty, was kind of a douche, right next to a girl he had seen around in the hallways, looking like she was about to cry. Was something going on there? Not that he had any real want to get into a tussle, but that didn’t mean it was nice to see a lady get treated like that. To be fair, the girl did always look a bit sad, so maybe it was just some regular ol’ stuff, but he couldn’t be sure with the Notorious G right there.
“Uh..” He began, searching for words to continue his train of thought. “Y’all up to something?” No accusations, nothing like that, just some good talking.
A quick turn to his side, though, and he saw two other girls from school, who probably could’ve dealt with the whole thing. Tanisha was a whole lotta fun, and Ariana was cool too, even if he sorta knew her more than like really knew her. If they weren’t doing anything, that meant that everything going on between Nona and Garren was aight, right? Oops.
He offered a sheepish smile to Garren, as more of a non-verbal apology than anything else.
((Mike Brown has started his trip))
To be completely honest, no lies, 100% truthful, Mike honestly had no idea how he ended up here, of all places. Like, DC was nice, but nothing could beat home, at least in terms of places he knew. There was the White House, the Monument thingy, lot of real old stuff around, showcasing the pioneer spirit or something. He was pretty sure on that, or at least that was something he remembered writing down in his notes.
Either way, he’d been wandering, really, looking around for any big sites that seemed like they had interesting sights or souvenirs he could bring back to the fam, make ‘em real proud or something, and so he had walked. Walked for a while, sometimes taking photos, sometimes just staring into the sky, like yup, it was blue, it was clear, it was there, mmhmm.
He continued just like that, just strolling along, even if his feet began to ache like the devil after a while. If anything, it was still better than just being cooped up in his room, nothing except his ol’ six-string and roommates to keep him company. Not that his roommates were bad, nah, ‘cause they weren’t. Ron was okay, if a little too intense, and Ramsey was real chill, even if he wasn’t all into that electro stuff. Pulsing beats didn’t really get his engine going. Really, they were alright, and he could’ve managed some shooting the breeze, all natural and smooth, but DC was different, so he ‘sposed he should at least take the time to look around.
If he didn’t, Ma would get on his case about ‘not enjoying the experience’ or ‘not utilizing his utmost potential’, or something meaningful just like that. He was just bored, really, but that was as good a motivation as any, Mike reckoned, when he opened the hotel door to try to find something meaningful.
Maybe it was just a little rushed, but he was still going out there to do stuff, and so stuff was still being done, right? No bad logic there.
Maybe he’d even bump into someone he knew, someone real cool, or maybe he wouldn’t. Either was fine, so he was still going all around, finding something, before he spotted the big limestone tower-thing up ahead. At the very least, it was something different, and there were lots of people around it, which meant there had to be something worth seeing there. No reason people’d be there if there weren’t.
He took out his phone to just go check what all the ruckus was about, and a faint chill ran up his spine as he saw what exactly what the memorial was dedicated to on the map. Even in his green letterman jacket and plain white tee, even in his jeans, even his sock-covered feet in their Converse, he felt a chill from top to bottom. This wasn’t just any regular old memorial. It was the one for SOTF, the terrorist death-game thing where kids all got killed and stuff. Kids his age. That wasn't something easy to swallow.
Mike wasn’t one to dwell on stuff like that, and although he still had a slight frown on his face, he continued walking over there, if only because he was already heading, before his frown deepened a little more at the sight in front of him.
Garren, who, in all honesty, was kind of a douche, right next to a girl he had seen around in the hallways, looking like she was about to cry. Was something going on there? Not that he had any real want to get into a tussle, but that didn’t mean it was nice to see a lady get treated like that. To be fair, the girl did always look a bit sad, so maybe it was just some regular ol’ stuff, but he couldn’t be sure with the Notorious G right there.
“Uh..” He began, searching for words to continue his train of thought. “Y’all up to something?” No accusations, nothing like that, just some good talking.
A quick turn to his side, though, and he saw two other girls from school, who probably could’ve dealt with the whole thing. Tanisha was a whole lotta fun, and Ariana was cool too, even if he sorta knew her more than like really knew her. If they weren’t doing anything, that meant that everything going on between Nona and Garren was aight, right? Oops.
He offered a sheepish smile to Garren, as more of a non-verbal apology than anything else.
