((Maxwell Lombardi continued from Wake Me Up...))
Tracking, as it happened, was a lot harder in practice then it was made to look in the movies. Especially seeing as it was never really one of Maxwell's strong points. He'd been on a couple of fox hunting trips in the past, back when he used to live in England. Back then he tended to rely on his more experience comrades when it came to tracking down sneaky little bastards... Now though, it seemed all he had was his own wits when it came down to tracking down THIS sneaky little bastard.
Well, sneaky wasn't the best way to describe her. Neither was bastard for that matter. Every time Maxwell was about to give up and move on, he'd always come across another reason to go on. Sometimes he'd spot her in the distance, other times he'd come across a small footprint he was sure belonged to her. Never did he move on for an extended amount of time without finding some clue as to where she was headed... Until now, anyway.
He was finally convinced that he'd lost her trail after spending half an hour following a set of footprints that led to nowhere. He continued walking in the same direction long after the footprints had stopped, and by this point he was certain that he'd finally lost her.
Damnit! Now what? The chances of coming across another cretin on this damn island who i'm already acquainted with is practically nil...
After spending the past hour or so mainly looking the floor, he finally took the opportunity to take note of the surroundings. From the looks of things, nothing particularly special. Grassy ground, a tall hill, a couple of trees, a Ferris wheel, a bush or two...
... Wait, what?
At first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but sure enough there in the distance stood the undeniable shape of a large Ferris wheel.
Well thats... Unexpected. Guess I may as well check the map for any Ferris wheels so I can a better idea where one earth I am...
He quickly fetched the map from his pocket, where he'd folded up and kept for safe keeping, and after quickly looking over it spotted a location on the map labelled as the Fun Fair. Ah, that makes sense... Hmm, i'll have a better view atop that hill over there.
It wasn't exactly the highest hill he'd ever climbed, barely ten or so metres high, but even so it still provided a good enough view for Maxwell. As he reached the top he spotted two things. The first being that yes, there WAS Fun Fair... But he was much more interested in the the second thing. Namely that Reiko Ishida, the girl he'd been searching for the whole time, was right there in the Gazebo standing a yard or so directly in front of him.
Well now, what ARE the chances...
He froze. From the looks of things she hadn't spotted him yet, seeing as she was looking in the opposite direction and everything. Good. Maxwell wanted to be in complete control of the situation, which he couldn't have if Reiko had the element of surprise on her side.
Only problem now was how to approach her...
Wait wait... When she LAST saw me, I was still putting on that "Hugh Grant" act to impress Vanessa... No, wait. I meant Valerie... No, wait. I meant...... Oh whatever, i'm losing my train of thought... As far as this girl's aware, I'm just some dashingly handsome, albeit somewhat clumsy, gentleman who went out with a friend of her girlfriend... I suppose that'll mean i'll have to put on that very same act just to keep her from getting suspicious of me... Typical.
However, that doesn't change the fact that I've still yet to figure out a way of approaching her without raising too much suspicion... Hmm....
......
Maybe I can... No, that'd be too risky. Besides, i'll probably ruin my best suit in the process... Why the bloody hell did I bother to wear this to some camping trip anyway?!?
Then again, do I have any better ideas?
...
*Sigh*, alright then... God, I hope I don't end up breaking my neck by accident.
He unbuckled the shield from his left arm and tossed it down the hill, making sure it landed somewhere safe. After all, if he was really going to go through with this stupid idea, he may as well take some mild precautions as he did so. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and in an act of deliberate foolishness slipped down the hill like an idiot. He rolled over several times, cursing and shouting as he tumbled down. By the time he'd reached the bottom, his once clean white suit was covered in dirt, and several of his bodyparts were aching quite painfully.
"OW! Bugger, my arm!" he whined pitifully, partially to get Reiko's attention and partially because his arm really DID get hurt on the way down... Not too much though, but he made sure to make a bigger fuss about it than he usually would.
This had better damn well work...
The Right Thing for the Wrong Reasons
The Right Thing for the Wrong Reasons
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gambit508†
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:25 am
(Daniel Vaughan continued from I'll Need A Saviour)
Daniel rubbed his eyes, he had made it out of the woods awhile through and so far he hadn't seen eye, ear, tail, shoulder or mutant tentacle of anyone. His music continued to play and Daniel bopped his head a bit to the familiarity of the lyrics as he started to sing.
"Standing in the rain with his head hung low, couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show, heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene, Put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream, he heard one guitar, just blew him away, saw stars in his eyes and the very next day!" He continued singing along to the Foreigner song as he neared the gazebo. Daniel frowned as he looked at it, the familiarity was striking. On the other hand, there were people, so that always helped. One was a short-haired asian girl who Daniel swore couldn't of been taller than Toad standing in the gazebo itself. Probaly Reiko Ishida, one of the more famous people in their graduating class. The other was a kid Daniel knew yet at the same time didn't knew, but he seemed nice. The kid was in the process of climbing a hill as Daniel neared.
"Um....yo" Daniel said a bit warningly after the last group, when the kid threw something down the hill and proceeded to tumble down the hill. Daniel blinked at the sight, perhaps the kid had lost his step or something, only way to explain something like that. Said kid landed as he spoke in an accented tone, complaining about his arm. "Are you alright dude?"
Daniel rubbed his eyes, he had made it out of the woods awhile through and so far he hadn't seen eye, ear, tail, shoulder or mutant tentacle of anyone. His music continued to play and Daniel bopped his head a bit to the familiarity of the lyrics as he started to sing.
"Standing in the rain with his head hung low, couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show, heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene, Put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream, he heard one guitar, just blew him away, saw stars in his eyes and the very next day!" He continued singing along to the Foreigner song as he neared the gazebo. Daniel frowned as he looked at it, the familiarity was striking. On the other hand, there were people, so that always helped. One was a short-haired asian girl who Daniel swore couldn't of been taller than Toad standing in the gazebo itself. Probaly Reiko Ishida, one of the more famous people in their graduating class. The other was a kid Daniel knew yet at the same time didn't knew, but he seemed nice. The kid was in the process of climbing a hill as Daniel neared.
"Um....yo" Daniel said a bit warningly after the last group, when the kid threw something down the hill and proceeded to tumble down the hill. Daniel blinked at the sight, perhaps the kid had lost his step or something, only way to explain something like that. Said kid landed as he spoke in an accented tone, complaining about his arm. "Are you alright dude?"
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((Reiko Ishida continued from Wake Me Up...))
Reiko didn't know how much time had passed since she left her little cabin where she woke up in. She had never been one for wearing a watch, and the people running the game had taken her phone. Not that they would have even been accurate. There was no way of telling what timezone they were even in right now. All she knew is that when she had walked away from Remy and his sister, the sun had just been barely peeking over the horizon, and now it hung lazily in the sky, not quite at it's zenith, but quickly approaching.
The small girl hated the sun. Well, she hated heat was more accurate. Winter time was when she really felt in her element. She would have done anything to have had a situation like this arise when it was a little cooler. Actually, she would have done anything to not have this situation happen at all. She would much rather be on the camping trip, chatting it up with Paige, and Amber, and Sarah. Especially Sarah. Reiko wanted nothing more in that moment then to just be held in the loving arms of her girlfriend. First, she needed to find Reika though, to make sure she was okay. Sarah was a secondary concern at that point.
After a time, Reiko found herself on a steep incline overlooking a gazebo of some sort. She could tell that no one was in there, and it would offer a much needed break from the sun. Cautiously, the girl moved down the hill, keeping her balance until she reached the small structure. Walking up the stairs, Reiko felt relief wash over her as she found the shade the roof provided.
Reiko's relief was short lived however, as she heard someone crashing down the hill after her. Her initial reaction was to get annoyed that someone had followed her, but she quickly realized whoever it was may have been hurt. She looked over the barrier of the gazebo to see two male figures a little ways off. One was Maxwell, that kid who had been with Vera at prom, who seemed very uncomfortable being around her and Sarah. The second person was vaguely familiar, she felt like they had been in a class or two, but he was more or less forgettable. The latter was asking the former if he was okay, as Maxwell had apparently hurt his arm or something. Reiko didn't much care one way or the other. Neither of them were anyone of importance to her, so she wasn't planning on sticking around long.
"Think you could go be an idiot somewhere else?" Reiko said, unsympathetic to Maxwell's injured state. "I would rather be alone right now."
Reiko didn't know how much time had passed since she left her little cabin where she woke up in. She had never been one for wearing a watch, and the people running the game had taken her phone. Not that they would have even been accurate. There was no way of telling what timezone they were even in right now. All she knew is that when she had walked away from Remy and his sister, the sun had just been barely peeking over the horizon, and now it hung lazily in the sky, not quite at it's zenith, but quickly approaching.
The small girl hated the sun. Well, she hated heat was more accurate. Winter time was when she really felt in her element. She would have done anything to have had a situation like this arise when it was a little cooler. Actually, she would have done anything to not have this situation happen at all. She would much rather be on the camping trip, chatting it up with Paige, and Amber, and Sarah. Especially Sarah. Reiko wanted nothing more in that moment then to just be held in the loving arms of her girlfriend. First, she needed to find Reika though, to make sure she was okay. Sarah was a secondary concern at that point.
After a time, Reiko found herself on a steep incline overlooking a gazebo of some sort. She could tell that no one was in there, and it would offer a much needed break from the sun. Cautiously, the girl moved down the hill, keeping her balance until she reached the small structure. Walking up the stairs, Reiko felt relief wash over her as she found the shade the roof provided.
Reiko's relief was short lived however, as she heard someone crashing down the hill after her. Her initial reaction was to get annoyed that someone had followed her, but she quickly realized whoever it was may have been hurt. She looked over the barrier of the gazebo to see two male figures a little ways off. One was Maxwell, that kid who had been with Vera at prom, who seemed very uncomfortable being around her and Sarah. The second person was vaguely familiar, she felt like they had been in a class or two, but he was more or less forgettable. The latter was asking the former if he was okay, as Maxwell had apparently hurt his arm or something. Reiko didn't much care one way or the other. Neither of them were anyone of importance to her, so she wasn't planning on sticking around long.
"Think you could go be an idiot somewhere else?" Reiko said, unsympathetic to Maxwell's injured state. "I would rather be alone right now."
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BetaKnight
- Posts: 428
- Joined: Mon Aug 20, 2018 4:05 am
((G068-Evelyn Reed start))
"Thank Gawd," Evelyn huffed as a gazebo finally came into sight. "This whole thing sucks. I cannot believe this is happening to me. In the history of all things that suck, this has got to be the suckiest suckfest that has ever occurred," she groused as she trudged towards the structure. Her initial aimless wanderings had taken up most of the morning and accomplished nothing.
Frustrated after passing the same small clearing three times, she had finally picked a single direction and just started walking in the hopes of finding someone or something more useful than her assigned 'weapon'. "Stupid fucking Life," she muttered viciously, looking at her issued gear bag with distaste. "Define irony: being given one of the shittiest games in history to use to defend my life in some sick fuck's game. Fan-fucking-tastic."
Evelyn viewed the entire state of affairs with absolute disgust. This gazebo had been the first sign of civilization she had come across. Small, sad, rickety civilization, but hostages of bent, bloodthirsty madmen couldn't exactly be choosers. Civilization equals people. And people equal help.
The thought of finding help, or even better, her fellow cheerleaders, put a little spring in her step which caused her "weapon" to rattle about in her bag. As she began walking towards the simple structure, she saw someone come falling ass-over-tea kettle down the hill and start yelling.
"OW! Bugger, my arm!"
She snickered at his melodramatic wailing. "What a fuckin' 'tard. Too bad he didn't land on a useless body part like his head." As she watched, another boy headed over to Super 'Tard and a third person stood up inside the gazebo. She didn't recognize any of them, which meant that they were mostly likely some of the generally useless detritus that made up the student body of the school. Not a one of them exceptionally smart, athletic, or good looking. What a waste.
Heaving a sigh, Evelyn reminded herself that maybe they had come across something useful and would be willing to trade her for it. Or even better, maybe they'd seen Nik, the heifers from the squad, or Sally about and could point her in a general direction.
Pasting on the fakest cheeriest grin she could manage, Evelyn waved at the little gathering. "Hello in the gazebo!"
"Thank Gawd," Evelyn huffed as a gazebo finally came into sight. "This whole thing sucks. I cannot believe this is happening to me. In the history of all things that suck, this has got to be the suckiest suckfest that has ever occurred," she groused as she trudged towards the structure. Her initial aimless wanderings had taken up most of the morning and accomplished nothing.
Frustrated after passing the same small clearing three times, she had finally picked a single direction and just started walking in the hopes of finding someone or something more useful than her assigned 'weapon'. "Stupid fucking Life," she muttered viciously, looking at her issued gear bag with distaste. "Define irony: being given one of the shittiest games in history to use to defend my life in some sick fuck's game. Fan-fucking-tastic."
Evelyn viewed the entire state of affairs with absolute disgust. This gazebo had been the first sign of civilization she had come across. Small, sad, rickety civilization, but hostages of bent, bloodthirsty madmen couldn't exactly be choosers. Civilization equals people. And people equal help.
The thought of finding help, or even better, her fellow cheerleaders, put a little spring in her step which caused her "weapon" to rattle about in her bag. As she began walking towards the simple structure, she saw someone come falling ass-over-tea kettle down the hill and start yelling.
"OW! Bugger, my arm!"
She snickered at his melodramatic wailing. "What a fuckin' 'tard. Too bad he didn't land on a useless body part like his head." As she watched, another boy headed over to Super 'Tard and a third person stood up inside the gazebo. She didn't recognize any of them, which meant that they were mostly likely some of the generally useless detritus that made up the student body of the school. Not a one of them exceptionally smart, athletic, or good looking. What a waste.
Heaving a sigh, Evelyn reminded herself that maybe they had come across something useful and would be willing to trade her for it. Or even better, maybe they'd seen Nik, the heifers from the squad, or Sally about and could point her in a general direction.
Pasting on the fakest cheeriest grin she could manage, Evelyn waved at the little gathering. "Hello in the gazebo!"
Sure enough, Maxwell's little stunt had drawn the little oriental girl's attention quite masterfully. After all, even a deaf man could have heard that (Intentionally) pathetic cry of pain that he'd just let out. Now all he had to do is convince her to......
"Are you alright dude?"
What the devil?!?
Seems his plan had worked a little TOO well. Not only did he attract Reiko's attention whilst keeping up his façade as a charmingly awkward gentleman, but from the looks of things he also attracted the attention of some ginger-haired simpleton as well...
How the bloody hell did I not spot him earlier?!? Its not like he's inconspicuous or anything, the bastard stands out like a sore thumb!
Hmm... Guess I should reply.
"What? OH! Oh, don't worry. I'm fine!" he stuttered, slowly getting up from his sprawled state on the floor as he dusted himself off. He managed to get most of the dry dirt off of him, although that didn't change the fact that his once white jacket and trousers would from now on have a distinctly brown tone to them...
"I just slipped, thats all! Barely a scratch on me..." Well... Okay, maybe one or two bruises. But nothing serious that's for sure...
"Think you could go be an idiot somewhere else? I would rather be alone right now."
Oh... You little bitch.
Admittedly, he probably should have expected such a remark from her. After all, that's precisely the kind of thing he'd of said to someone who'd just tumbled down a hill like an idiot. That being said, he didn't expect Reiko to have been the kind of girl to say such a thing. She seemed so... Quiet, back at the prom. Never once did he ever even HEAR her utter so much as a word. He assumed at the time that she must have been one of those "Shrinking Violet" types... However, from the looks of things, she was just as capable of shrewish remarks as that supposedly "innocent" girl he'd gone to the prom with. Shrewish remarks which just so happened to rub Maxwell the wrong way, so to speak...
Who do you think you are? Speaking down at me like that you little slut! Does YOUR family take you on exquisite trips to the Mediterranean as a weekend treat? I think not... You haven't any right to criticize me, whore. I don't see why I should...
... Damnit, get a grip Maxwell! What do you expect her to say after what you just did? Congratulate you on your amazing ability to tumble down hills like a lemon? Just be glad that she still hasn't caught onto the fact you've been putting on an act the whole time... Pride can take a backseat for now.
Easier said than done, seeing as Maxwell had an ego the size of a planet. Such a simple comment as that was usually enough to enrage him... The only thing stopping him from doing so being his own self control.
"R, r, Reiko? Is that... You?" he asked nervously.
Easy now...
"My word, it is! Thank christ... Its me Maxwell, remember? I spoke to your boy... I mean, girlfriend at the prom remember? I was dating Vicky at the time?"
Or was it Violet? Can't for the life of me remember...
"Hello in the gazebo!"
Oh for crying out loud...
"Are you alright dude?"
What the devil?!?
Seems his plan had worked a little TOO well. Not only did he attract Reiko's attention whilst keeping up his façade as a charmingly awkward gentleman, but from the looks of things he also attracted the attention of some ginger-haired simpleton as well...
How the bloody hell did I not spot him earlier?!? Its not like he's inconspicuous or anything, the bastard stands out like a sore thumb!
Hmm... Guess I should reply.
"What? OH! Oh, don't worry. I'm fine!" he stuttered, slowly getting up from his sprawled state on the floor as he dusted himself off. He managed to get most of the dry dirt off of him, although that didn't change the fact that his once white jacket and trousers would from now on have a distinctly brown tone to them...
"I just slipped, thats all! Barely a scratch on me..." Well... Okay, maybe one or two bruises. But nothing serious that's for sure...
"Think you could go be an idiot somewhere else? I would rather be alone right now."
Oh... You little bitch.
Admittedly, he probably should have expected such a remark from her. After all, that's precisely the kind of thing he'd of said to someone who'd just tumbled down a hill like an idiot. That being said, he didn't expect Reiko to have been the kind of girl to say such a thing. She seemed so... Quiet, back at the prom. Never once did he ever even HEAR her utter so much as a word. He assumed at the time that she must have been one of those "Shrinking Violet" types... However, from the looks of things, she was just as capable of shrewish remarks as that supposedly "innocent" girl he'd gone to the prom with. Shrewish remarks which just so happened to rub Maxwell the wrong way, so to speak...
Who do you think you are? Speaking down at me like that you little slut! Does YOUR family take you on exquisite trips to the Mediterranean as a weekend treat? I think not... You haven't any right to criticize me, whore. I don't see why I should...
... Damnit, get a grip Maxwell! What do you expect her to say after what you just did? Congratulate you on your amazing ability to tumble down hills like a lemon? Just be glad that she still hasn't caught onto the fact you've been putting on an act the whole time... Pride can take a backseat for now.
Easier said than done, seeing as Maxwell had an ego the size of a planet. Such a simple comment as that was usually enough to enrage him... The only thing stopping him from doing so being his own self control.
"R, r, Reiko? Is that... You?" he asked nervously.
Easy now...
"My word, it is! Thank christ... Its me Maxwell, remember? I spoke to your boy... I mean, girlfriend at the prom remember? I was dating Vicky at the time?"
Or was it Violet? Can't for the life of me remember...
"Hello in the gazebo!"
Oh for crying out loud...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fiori. 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.
Where the hell do these people come from? Reiko thought to herself as more and more people seemed to appear out of God knows where. Naturally, none of them were anyone she wanted to see at that point. If this damn island was going to keep throwing people at her, why couldn't at least one of them be someone she was friends with? People were needy, and that was not something she needed right now.
The kid who had fallen down the hill started speaking. He said something about prom, and talking to Sarah. Reiko noted the slip up of him calling Sarah her boyfriend, before quickly correcting himself. The tone as he said "girlfriend" was not one that rubbed the asian girl the right way. She debated on whether or not Maxwell deserved to be dignified with a response.
She didn't get much time to ponder this until yet another voice called out, this time female. It took all of Reiko's self control to not audibly groan when she saw who it was. Evelyn Reed. One of those prissy cheerleader bitches who thought they were the toast of the town or something. She was also friends with Sally, who had taken it upon herself to try and make her life a living hell since she lost to Reiko in that figure skating contest a couple years back. In short, it was just another person Reiko didn't want to be around. Which meant it was time for the tiny girl to make her exit yet again.
"Apparently you didn't understand me the first time when I said I wanted to be alone." Reiko said, her tone flat, but menacing. "If you're not going to leave, then I will. I would appreciate it if you would stay here." throwing her bags over her shoulder again, Reiko stepped off the gazebo, and started to walk away. She passed by Maxwell, and stopped for a brief moment. "And your date's name was Vera, you ass." With that, Reiko continued on her way, not even acknowledging the presence of Evelyn.
((Reiko Ishida continued in Out of The Darkness and Into The Light))
The kid who had fallen down the hill started speaking. He said something about prom, and talking to Sarah. Reiko noted the slip up of him calling Sarah her boyfriend, before quickly correcting himself. The tone as he said "girlfriend" was not one that rubbed the asian girl the right way. She debated on whether or not Maxwell deserved to be dignified with a response.
She didn't get much time to ponder this until yet another voice called out, this time female. It took all of Reiko's self control to not audibly groan when she saw who it was. Evelyn Reed. One of those prissy cheerleader bitches who thought they were the toast of the town or something. She was also friends with Sally, who had taken it upon herself to try and make her life a living hell since she lost to Reiko in that figure skating contest a couple years back. In short, it was just another person Reiko didn't want to be around. Which meant it was time for the tiny girl to make her exit yet again.
"Apparently you didn't understand me the first time when I said I wanted to be alone." Reiko said, her tone flat, but menacing. "If you're not going to leave, then I will. I would appreciate it if you would stay here." throwing her bags over her shoulder again, Reiko stepped off the gazebo, and started to walk away. She passed by Maxwell, and stopped for a brief moment. "And your date's name was Vera, you ass." With that, Reiko continued on her way, not even acknowledging the presence of Evelyn.
((Reiko Ishida continued in Out of The Darkness and Into The Light))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
((Janet Claymont Start))
Janet Claymont snored quietly away in the flowerbeds; she had always been a deep sleeper, and so even as the day carried on she slept away peacefully on the opposite side of the gazebo, blissfully unaware of the other students standing not feet away from her, and blissfully unaware of the hell she had been thrust into.
Though the commotion made by her fellow students failed to rouse her, a bee that started buzzing around her face did. Wrinkling her nose reflexively in irritation, she blew at the insect in a half-sleeping state, trying to rid herself of the buzzing bother. It was to no avail though, as the bug landed squarely on her nose, and Janet's eyes finally blinked open and stared into the bug's compounded eyes.
She let out a loud shriek, pushing herself against the dirt of the flowerbed and sending the bug on its merry way, as it landed on a nearby flower and started searching for pollen. Startled by her rude awakening, Janet looked around and realised she was not in familiar territory. At first, she wondered if she hadn't passed out after going out drinking again, as she stretched herself to an upright sitting position.
Searching to see something she remembered, she scratched her head in confusion, trying to figure out exactly where she was. If she had passed out drunk, she must've been really wasted to get this far out of the places she knew, and that didn't seem that likely, since she hadn't drunk nearly as much since the whole Rizzo thing.
Looking down at her feet, she saw two bags in front of her, wondering where they had come from as well, not realising one was her belongings for the trip, and the other contained her randomly assigned instrument of murder. Slowly it came back to her that she had gone on the bus earlier on the way to the senior trip, Chadd sat next to her as always, and she realised that no matter how wasted she had gotten, she couldn't have gotten this far off a bus. Hell, she didn't think she had drunk anything on the bus at all, so this was making less and less sense by the second.
Struggling to her feet, she yawned, still tired despite her long rest, and looked around, scratching her stomach, the need to pee after sleeping so long prominent in her bladder. It quickly became apparent that there were other people on the other side of the gazebo, since they were hardly making an effort to hide themselves, and so Janet decided the best course of action was to go and see what they were doing. Still not comprehending the nature of her situation, she lazily turned to face them, walking forwards and leaving her bags behind without a care. It wasn't hard now to see the other students, and whilst she could recognise them as from her school, her slow mind could not piece together what they were up to, so instead, incapable of thinking of something better to say, she gracelessly blurted out:
"What the fuck are you guys doing?"
Janet Claymont snored quietly away in the flowerbeds; she had always been a deep sleeper, and so even as the day carried on she slept away peacefully on the opposite side of the gazebo, blissfully unaware of the other students standing not feet away from her, and blissfully unaware of the hell she had been thrust into.
Though the commotion made by her fellow students failed to rouse her, a bee that started buzzing around her face did. Wrinkling her nose reflexively in irritation, she blew at the insect in a half-sleeping state, trying to rid herself of the buzzing bother. It was to no avail though, as the bug landed squarely on her nose, and Janet's eyes finally blinked open and stared into the bug's compounded eyes.
She let out a loud shriek, pushing herself against the dirt of the flowerbed and sending the bug on its merry way, as it landed on a nearby flower and started searching for pollen. Startled by her rude awakening, Janet looked around and realised she was not in familiar territory. At first, she wondered if she hadn't passed out after going out drinking again, as she stretched herself to an upright sitting position.
Searching to see something she remembered, she scratched her head in confusion, trying to figure out exactly where she was. If she had passed out drunk, she must've been really wasted to get this far out of the places she knew, and that didn't seem that likely, since she hadn't drunk nearly as much since the whole Rizzo thing.
Looking down at her feet, she saw two bags in front of her, wondering where they had come from as well, not realising one was her belongings for the trip, and the other contained her randomly assigned instrument of murder. Slowly it came back to her that she had gone on the bus earlier on the way to the senior trip, Chadd sat next to her as always, and she realised that no matter how wasted she had gotten, she couldn't have gotten this far off a bus. Hell, she didn't think she had drunk anything on the bus at all, so this was making less and less sense by the second.
Struggling to her feet, she yawned, still tired despite her long rest, and looked around, scratching her stomach, the need to pee after sleeping so long prominent in her bladder. It quickly became apparent that there were other people on the other side of the gazebo, since they were hardly making an effort to hide themselves, and so Janet decided the best course of action was to go and see what they were doing. Still not comprehending the nature of her situation, she lazily turned to face them, walking forwards and leaving her bags behind without a care. It wasn't hard now to see the other students, and whilst she could recognise them as from her school, her slow mind could not piece together what they were up to, so instead, incapable of thinking of something better to say, she gracelessly blurted out:
"What the fuck are you guys doing?"
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gambit508†
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:25 am
Daniel stepped back as the kid rose from his spot, brushing himself off. Daniel looked at his dirty wardrobe and shrugged as the girl spoke, asking them to be idiots somewhere else. Daniel moved away, turning up his music as it turned into the Boomtown Rats song "I Like Mondays." Daniel's fingers moved quickly to the skip button, as some nice "Safety Dance" came in, the former song was about a girl killing people at a school. An almost perfect soundtrack to what the bastard watching them wanted them to be like. He heard another voice, feminine as he looked up to see one of the cheerleaders. He didn't hang around with that group much, most of them were very rude, and he had heard some people refer to them with some very choice words. Daniel waved hello, as he grinned. "How are you?" he asked, hoping that he could finally find some people who weren't trying to kill him or thinking he was trying to kill them. It didn't seem like it, though seeing as both previous groups were wielding guns, he didn't think too highly of his chances.
Daniel paused, he thought back to his sister. Was Sadie watching him, was Jude....Daniel shook his head, no, he couldn't think like that. He always thought show was played later on anyway. They couldn't show every single bit, could they? He sighed as Reiko stomped off, Mr. Rolly say something wrong, Daniel assumed as he heard a voice behind him, asking what the fuck they were doing.
"I'm standing here" Daniel said as he turned around to see the newcomer, he remembered her, she worked at the Cinema. "How are you doing?"
Daniel paused, he thought back to his sister. Was Sadie watching him, was Jude....Daniel shook his head, no, he couldn't think like that. He always thought show was played later on anyway. They couldn't show every single bit, could they? He sighed as Reiko stomped off, Mr. Rolly say something wrong, Daniel assumed as he heard a voice behind him, asking what the fuck they were doing.
"I'm standing here" Daniel said as he turned around to see the newcomer, he remembered her, she worked at the Cinema. "How are you doing?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler gambit508.
((Samantha Ridley continued from The Cult of...))
Samantha Ridley wandered aimlessly through the trees covering the island, still thinking of anything she could to take her mind off of the situation she found herself in. Although, the subject matter was occasionally related to her situation.
I wonder why I didn't get a quiver. Aren't those supposed to be like, I dunno, basic archery equipment or whatever? Loose arrows can not be safe. Hmmm... Can I make one? Maybe if I cut out one end of one of these duffel bags... no, it's to long... unless... What if I stuffed one end with my spare clothes and other stuff I wanna keep? That could work! Fuck yeah! This could really work! Now I just need to find something sharp enough to cut through the bag, and...
She stopped walking and scratched her head, it'd be much easier to look for what she needed if she actually knew where she was. She put her stuff on the ground so she could search her bags for her map and compass more easily. When she found them she looked around for any landmarks in the area. The Ferris Wheel seemed the most obvious point of reference compared to the map, and when comparing the map and the compass... If she was right she was in the general vicinity of the place marked 'The Gazebo.' If she found that she could pin down her location, and maybe not get lost again.
"Alright," she spoke softly to herself, "this way then...."
Samantha Ridley wandered aimlessly through the trees covering the island, still thinking of anything she could to take her mind off of the situation she found herself in. Although, the subject matter was occasionally related to her situation.
I wonder why I didn't get a quiver. Aren't those supposed to be like, I dunno, basic archery equipment or whatever? Loose arrows can not be safe. Hmmm... Can I make one? Maybe if I cut out one end of one of these duffel bags... no, it's to long... unless... What if I stuffed one end with my spare clothes and other stuff I wanna keep? That could work! Fuck yeah! This could really work! Now I just need to find something sharp enough to cut through the bag, and...
She stopped walking and scratched her head, it'd be much easier to look for what she needed if she actually knew where she was. She put her stuff on the ground so she could search her bags for her map and compass more easily. When she found them she looked around for any landmarks in the area. The Ferris Wheel seemed the most obvious point of reference compared to the map, and when comparing the map and the compass... If she was right she was in the general vicinity of the place marked 'The Gazebo.' If she found that she could pin down her location, and maybe not get lost again.
"Alright," she spoke softly to herself, "this way then...."
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BetaKnight
- Posts: 428
- Joined: Mon Aug 20, 2018 4:05 am
Evelyn was completely nonplused by the aura of bad attitude floating around the gazebo. Lord Fucktard revealed himself to be none other than Max Lombardi. Suave-poser eats shit down a hill. Who was surprised? Were you surprised? I was surprised, Evelyn snarked silently while maintaining her smile.
The Asian girl in the gazebo pissily stalked off. It was one of the Ishi-something twins. Ricky or Ricka or something. They were identical and their parents thought it was cutesy to name their girls like, the exact same name, or some crap. And one of them was an ice skater. Sally would know, but of course, she's not here. Not that it mattered since the girl was leaving anyway. That's okay. I get along better with boys anyway.
The second boy asked her how she was doing. He seemed normal enough, and at least had the decency to not be all emo or lame like his compatriots. "I'm doing okay enough. Actually, I was wond-."
Evelyn's sentence got cut off as Janet Claymont rose from a flowerbed like some kind of trailer trash Venus rising from the sea. But that would imply Janet had some of Venus' beauty, grace, or glamour. Mostly, Janet just looked like some low-class hungover skank who was in the first stages of sobering up. The question she barked out did nothing to endear her to Evelyn.
She gritted her teeth to keep the exasperated sigh from escaping her. Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE! Just look at her! Granted we're on this...where ever the fuck we are, but this shit is being broadcast and we have an image to up hold! And just WHO does this bitch think she's talking to?!
Evelyn bounced forward towards Janet, her arms open wide. "Janet," she cooed. "I'm so glad to see you!" Embracing the other girl in a punishing hug, Evelyn squeezed as hard as she could before releasing Janet and stepping back. Giving her a critical once over, she flashed the other cheerleader a concerned look. "Honey, what happened to you? You're a hot mess. Have you seen any of the other girls?"
Evelyn brushed off the stray flower and few twigs that Janet had so thoughtfully transferred onto her shirt during their contact and fluffed her hair before addressing the boy and Maxwell. "Speaking of which, have either of you seen any of the cheerleaders? I mean, besides Princess Flowerbed here. Oh, and Nik Kronwall."
The Asian girl in the gazebo pissily stalked off. It was one of the Ishi-something twins. Ricky or Ricka or something. They were identical and their parents thought it was cutesy to name their girls like, the exact same name, or some crap. And one of them was an ice skater. Sally would know, but of course, she's not here. Not that it mattered since the girl was leaving anyway. That's okay. I get along better with boys anyway.
The second boy asked her how she was doing. He seemed normal enough, and at least had the decency to not be all emo or lame like his compatriots. "I'm doing okay enough. Actually, I was wond-."
Evelyn's sentence got cut off as Janet Claymont rose from a flowerbed like some kind of trailer trash Venus rising from the sea. But that would imply Janet had some of Venus' beauty, grace, or glamour. Mostly, Janet just looked like some low-class hungover skank who was in the first stages of sobering up. The question she barked out did nothing to endear her to Evelyn.
She gritted her teeth to keep the exasperated sigh from escaping her. Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE! Just look at her! Granted we're on this...where ever the fuck we are, but this shit is being broadcast and we have an image to up hold! And just WHO does this bitch think she's talking to?!
Evelyn bounced forward towards Janet, her arms open wide. "Janet," she cooed. "I'm so glad to see you!" Embracing the other girl in a punishing hug, Evelyn squeezed as hard as she could before releasing Janet and stepping back. Giving her a critical once over, she flashed the other cheerleader a concerned look. "Honey, what happened to you? You're a hot mess. Have you seen any of the other girls?"
Evelyn brushed off the stray flower and few twigs that Janet had so thoughtfully transferred onto her shirt during their contact and fluffed her hair before addressing the boy and Maxwell. "Speaking of which, have either of you seen any of the cheerleaders? I mean, besides Princess Flowerbed here. Oh, and Nik Kronwall."
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
((Nick Reid continued from Waking Up is Hard to do))
(GM-ish stuff approved and whatnot))
Nick Reid was having a bad day. A very bad day indeed. He ached physically and mentally from the altercation in the forest. It was the very beginning of day one, and he had lost his cool already, gotten into a fight with someone bigger and stronger, survived through a combination of luck and what was either vindictiveness or twisted camaraderie. He hadn't thanked Andrea, but he supposed he owed her one if they saw each other again while they were still breathing. Yes, he thought bitterly, inhaling fumes and feeling the protests of his sore, aching body, he was reaping his reward.
He wiped his brow, peeling a thin crust of grime off of it, fingers slick with sweat. It was everywhere, soaking his back and shoulder where his bag rested against his body, running down his temples, glistening on his reddened cheeks. He spiked his hair with it, then gave a deadened sort of chuckle, as if suddenly remembering that humor was a capital crime, and flattened it again.
Unruly hair and one stylishly wrapped arm, all I need now is a superfluous pair of goggles and I could be an anime character.
His right forearm was indeed wrapped in formerly-white bandages, now dingy grey or splotchy pink with blood and dust. It was more, perhaps, than strictly necessary, but it was sturdy and could go awhile without attention if need be. The downside, of course, was that it looked like those fingerless gloves those weird kids wore - and just one of them at that, which earned you extra weird points.
He frowned and continued eastward, curving around the southern portion a cliff face. As he walked, it lowered gradually to the level of the ground at its foot, and where it finally became passable, the distant shape of the Ferris wheel could be seen in one direction, the pointed top of the gazebo off to the side. A weak remnant of the cool sea breeze came in wisps and tatters, obfuscating the voices on the other side of it, while the building itself hid the speakers from view. A keen, discerning Nick might have discovered the presence of the others, but for the surly and depressed Nick, more important matters were pressing from within than without.
Screw this breeze, it's cold and then it's not and then I'm sweating and then it cools and leaves me shivering in a mire of my own sweat. Screw that gazebo, and these bandages, and Alex White. Stupid little son of a monkey couldn't pull one over on a mollusk. And this aching and bruising and wandering, screw that too.
He shivered, then opened his pack and pulled out his hoodie, wringing a sleeve ineffectually to clear off sweat and blood and horrible reeking oily fuel, cursing that too, and throwing it on. The sun's rays glinted for a moment off of a camera lens as he straightened up again, and suddenly Nick felt even worse.
And those things, those infernal cameras, staring like a stupid little wide-eyed toddler, prying into every situation, every thing I ever say or do or show, feeding it to the stupid vapid kids that can just go jump off a cliff, like this is fun, like this is a game, like this is entertainment. And you can't win, because playing to the audience is exactly what he wants, with blood and gore and rape and murder and falling right into the freaking trap, and if you don't then you're just where he wants you anyways, trying be be all stoic, but he knows he's getting to you, and you're just defiant because you think you can be cool or win or whatever and you're already screwed, I'm already screwed, there's nothing anyone can do and he knows it and the best ones to crush is his stupid fat hands are the ones who try so hard to stop it, and..."
He turned and faced directly at a camera for the first time on the island.
"I hope a dog eats your testicles, sir."
That would be a hit, he was sure, exploited and played and replayed for laughter at the miserable bedraggled kid standing there, who was being so stupid. And he was being stupid, he knew it - this was no mindset for a survivor. The nether regions of his unconscious mind knew that he enjoyed getting worked up like this, because a searing, venomous hatred was a heck of an emotion, so strong and distinct and feeling. But it never quite surfaced into his conscious thought, and he just chalked it up to the tendency borne of depression to kick logical thought to the curb for no good reason. He knew those logical gaps happened, but only in hindsight, which drove him up the wall. Even now, logic was giving him a miss as he looked back down at his bag, seeing a white cloth fuse drooping lazily over the side.
Nick snatched it up, tossing the molotov to himself, hefting the bottle in his hand. It was no use for combat, no use at all. But melee potential was just a tiny facet of design for devious and dangerous devices. One hand strayed into his pocket, gripping the lighter he had found in his medkit when he had been patching himself up. How nice that it was there - he suspected that his was purposely left in for use with the cocktails. He brought it out and flicked it a few times - a wonderfully crisp, hot flame on demand.
Molten lead dripped into his stomach, another jolt from an overtaxed adrenal gland. Fire was fun. There was no denying that. And here in his hands were the tools for quite an abundance of fun. The gazebo, surely, was left standing as a staging ground for stupid senseless drama, the kind he felt so far above yet knew he must succumb to during his stay here. And while biting epithets and poisoned speeches were the kind of resistance that Danya thrived on, he had a chance here to give him the finger without eating out of his hand or finding himself suddenly a head and neck shorter.
Arson. The word flitted through his mind, and he gave another empty guffaw. Of course it wasn't arson, there was no law here. No law whatsoever. Unless you counted the Kangaroo court of public opinion, where gormless teens decided who lived and who died at the drop of a hat, the turn of a phrase. No, what he was doing wasn't illegal. It was sensible, wasn't it? He flicked the lighter again. He could do it, he could do it, he really could. He stared at the gazebo, and a camera pointing out between the vertical beams caught his eye. Right out in the open, relatively speaking, or at least a clear shot. The lighter passed under the white rag hanging from the bottle, and it caught quickly. They must've coated it with some sort of wax or something, he thought briefly, as all the alcohol would've evaporated by now. His heart beat, and he was positively sick from adrenaline.
A good swing starts at the ankles, doesn't it? A good throw should work out the same way...
He ran forward a dozen or so feet, and launched it at the camera in a body-jarring all-out pitch.
It missed the camera.
In fact, it missed the gazebo entirely.
There was a sharp yell, and then screaming.
(GM-ish stuff approved and whatnot))
Nick Reid was having a bad day. A very bad day indeed. He ached physically and mentally from the altercation in the forest. It was the very beginning of day one, and he had lost his cool already, gotten into a fight with someone bigger and stronger, survived through a combination of luck and what was either vindictiveness or twisted camaraderie. He hadn't thanked Andrea, but he supposed he owed her one if they saw each other again while they were still breathing. Yes, he thought bitterly, inhaling fumes and feeling the protests of his sore, aching body, he was reaping his reward.
He wiped his brow, peeling a thin crust of grime off of it, fingers slick with sweat. It was everywhere, soaking his back and shoulder where his bag rested against his body, running down his temples, glistening on his reddened cheeks. He spiked his hair with it, then gave a deadened sort of chuckle, as if suddenly remembering that humor was a capital crime, and flattened it again.
Unruly hair and one stylishly wrapped arm, all I need now is a superfluous pair of goggles and I could be an anime character.
His right forearm was indeed wrapped in formerly-white bandages, now dingy grey or splotchy pink with blood and dust. It was more, perhaps, than strictly necessary, but it was sturdy and could go awhile without attention if need be. The downside, of course, was that it looked like those fingerless gloves those weird kids wore - and just one of them at that, which earned you extra weird points.
He frowned and continued eastward, curving around the southern portion a cliff face. As he walked, it lowered gradually to the level of the ground at its foot, and where it finally became passable, the distant shape of the Ferris wheel could be seen in one direction, the pointed top of the gazebo off to the side. A weak remnant of the cool sea breeze came in wisps and tatters, obfuscating the voices on the other side of it, while the building itself hid the speakers from view. A keen, discerning Nick might have discovered the presence of the others, but for the surly and depressed Nick, more important matters were pressing from within than without.
Screw this breeze, it's cold and then it's not and then I'm sweating and then it cools and leaves me shivering in a mire of my own sweat. Screw that gazebo, and these bandages, and Alex White. Stupid little son of a monkey couldn't pull one over on a mollusk. And this aching and bruising and wandering, screw that too.
He shivered, then opened his pack and pulled out his hoodie, wringing a sleeve ineffectually to clear off sweat and blood and horrible reeking oily fuel, cursing that too, and throwing it on. The sun's rays glinted for a moment off of a camera lens as he straightened up again, and suddenly Nick felt even worse.
And those things, those infernal cameras, staring like a stupid little wide-eyed toddler, prying into every situation, every thing I ever say or do or show, feeding it to the stupid vapid kids that can just go jump off a cliff, like this is fun, like this is a game, like this is entertainment. And you can't win, because playing to the audience is exactly what he wants, with blood and gore and rape and murder and falling right into the freaking trap, and if you don't then you're just where he wants you anyways, trying be be all stoic, but he knows he's getting to you, and you're just defiant because you think you can be cool or win or whatever and you're already screwed, I'm already screwed, there's nothing anyone can do and he knows it and the best ones to crush is his stupid fat hands are the ones who try so hard to stop it, and..."
He turned and faced directly at a camera for the first time on the island.
"I hope a dog eats your testicles, sir."
That would be a hit, he was sure, exploited and played and replayed for laughter at the miserable bedraggled kid standing there, who was being so stupid. And he was being stupid, he knew it - this was no mindset for a survivor. The nether regions of his unconscious mind knew that he enjoyed getting worked up like this, because a searing, venomous hatred was a heck of an emotion, so strong and distinct and feeling. But it never quite surfaced into his conscious thought, and he just chalked it up to the tendency borne of depression to kick logical thought to the curb for no good reason. He knew those logical gaps happened, but only in hindsight, which drove him up the wall. Even now, logic was giving him a miss as he looked back down at his bag, seeing a white cloth fuse drooping lazily over the side.
Nick snatched it up, tossing the molotov to himself, hefting the bottle in his hand. It was no use for combat, no use at all. But melee potential was just a tiny facet of design for devious and dangerous devices. One hand strayed into his pocket, gripping the lighter he had found in his medkit when he had been patching himself up. How nice that it was there - he suspected that his was purposely left in for use with the cocktails. He brought it out and flicked it a few times - a wonderfully crisp, hot flame on demand.
Molten lead dripped into his stomach, another jolt from an overtaxed adrenal gland. Fire was fun. There was no denying that. And here in his hands were the tools for quite an abundance of fun. The gazebo, surely, was left standing as a staging ground for stupid senseless drama, the kind he felt so far above yet knew he must succumb to during his stay here. And while biting epithets and poisoned speeches were the kind of resistance that Danya thrived on, he had a chance here to give him the finger without eating out of his hand or finding himself suddenly a head and neck shorter.
Arson. The word flitted through his mind, and he gave another empty guffaw. Of course it wasn't arson, there was no law here. No law whatsoever. Unless you counted the Kangaroo court of public opinion, where gormless teens decided who lived and who died at the drop of a hat, the turn of a phrase. No, what he was doing wasn't illegal. It was sensible, wasn't it? He flicked the lighter again. He could do it, he could do it, he really could. He stared at the gazebo, and a camera pointing out between the vertical beams caught his eye. Right out in the open, relatively speaking, or at least a clear shot. The lighter passed under the white rag hanging from the bottle, and it caught quickly. They must've coated it with some sort of wax or something, he thought briefly, as all the alcohol would've evaporated by now. His heart beat, and he was positively sick from adrenaline.
A good swing starts at the ankles, doesn't it? A good throw should work out the same way...
He ran forward a dozen or so feet, and launched it at the camera in a body-jarring all-out pitch.
It missed the camera.
In fact, it missed the gazebo entirely.
There was a sharp yell, and then screaming.
-
gambit508†
- Posts: 90
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:25 am
Daniel shook his head as the first girl to come after him asked him the location of some people. "All I've seen so far are you guys, Jay Holland, JJ Sturn and some other people"
Daniel turned as he saw the new person enter. It was a grimy looking kid with a bandaged arm. Daniel's eyes widened in surprise when he saw the kid chuck something toward the Gazebo. Daniel turned around quickly, the mp3 player dropping from his hand. He started to call out to the others to leave when it slammed against the back of his head. Suddenly Daniel felt a burning sensation cover his scalp. He started to call out in pain. "Aaarghlbele" he yelled as the flames covered his head. His shirt lit up as well, the flames spreading even faster. His brain searched for a way to stop this.
He waved his hands as he spotted the others through his pain. Trying to get their attention drawn to him. Asking for their help as he screamed in pain
Daniel stumped a bit before falling to the ground. The red head started rolling around on the ground as he flailed about. His skin burned, his mouth burned, his throat burned, his very soul burned. He tried to pat the fire out, his fingers burning as he did. He tried to rise to his feet, but his legs refuse to listen and he collapsed to the grass. His body was over wrought with the burning sensation. His throat gasped for air. The fire choking him like it was a demon choking an innocent victim. This was how it ended. He failed. Jude, forgive me. Daniel's mind started to call back to the past, when life was less burning death of agony.
-------------------------------
A small red-haired child, wide gap-tooth grin on his face as the TV plays an 8-bit soundtrack "Hey Mummy! I beat Dr. Wily!"
........
The child, slightly older, paper held up as he stares at a class, getting ready to give a speech "I chose the 80's as my favorite decade and here's why..."
.........
The child dressed in a gi as he kicks outward, "Hi-yah"
...........
A young teenager taking notes as a teacher talks about Mitosis "The next phase is metaphase. In this phase....
.......
The same teenager, hair in a ponytail, standing with his family grinning as a short red-haired girl waves from the entrance of her dorm "I'll see you guys at Christmas!"
.........
The red-head grinning as he looks at another ponytailed kid in denim, "Dude, this music rules!"
.........
The teenager, cheek covered in blood as he lashes forward at a man holding a knife, "JUDE! RUN!"
.........
The teen, cheek bandaged as his father places a hand on his shoulder. "You did good son, as his older brother, it is up to you to protect Jude."
.............
The teen grinning as his friends approach at prom, "Can you believe this song? They're glad I'm here so they can play some good music."
.........
The kid, eyes wide in fear as he chucks an AED Machine toward an unseen figure "Don't kill me"
........
The kid, face red with fury as he chucks a duffel bag toward some trees, "FUCK THIS"
-------------------------------
Daniel had long ago stopped flailing, he was now gasping for air, the gasps growing shorter and shorter as he suffocated beneath the flames, his throat aching for air before ceasing to entirely. His skin felt like knives had been slid under them, slowly carving his cells. Death had finally taken him, game over, no continues, no extra lives.
STUDENT B23 – DANIEL VAUGHAN- DECEASED
Daniel turned as he saw the new person enter. It was a grimy looking kid with a bandaged arm. Daniel's eyes widened in surprise when he saw the kid chuck something toward the Gazebo. Daniel turned around quickly, the mp3 player dropping from his hand. He started to call out to the others to leave when it slammed against the back of his head. Suddenly Daniel felt a burning sensation cover his scalp. He started to call out in pain. "Aaarghlbele" he yelled as the flames covered his head. His shirt lit up as well, the flames spreading even faster. His brain searched for a way to stop this.
He waved his hands as he spotted the others through his pain. Trying to get their attention drawn to him. Asking for their help as he screamed in pain
Daniel stumped a bit before falling to the ground. The red head started rolling around on the ground as he flailed about. His skin burned, his mouth burned, his throat burned, his very soul burned. He tried to pat the fire out, his fingers burning as he did. He tried to rise to his feet, but his legs refuse to listen and he collapsed to the grass. His body was over wrought with the burning sensation. His throat gasped for air. The fire choking him like it was a demon choking an innocent victim. This was how it ended. He failed. Jude, forgive me. Daniel's mind started to call back to the past, when life was less burning death of agony.
-------------------------------
A small red-haired child, wide gap-tooth grin on his face as the TV plays an 8-bit soundtrack "Hey Mummy! I beat Dr. Wily!"
........
The child, slightly older, paper held up as he stares at a class, getting ready to give a speech "I chose the 80's as my favorite decade and here's why..."
.........
The child dressed in a gi as he kicks outward, "Hi-yah"
...........
A young teenager taking notes as a teacher talks about Mitosis "The next phase is metaphase. In this phase....
.......
The same teenager, hair in a ponytail, standing with his family grinning as a short red-haired girl waves from the entrance of her dorm "I'll see you guys at Christmas!"
.........
The red-head grinning as he looks at another ponytailed kid in denim, "Dude, this music rules!"
.........
The teenager, cheek covered in blood as he lashes forward at a man holding a knife, "JUDE! RUN!"
.........
The teen, cheek bandaged as his father places a hand on his shoulder. "You did good son, as his older brother, it is up to you to protect Jude."
.............
The teen grinning as his friends approach at prom, "Can you believe this song? They're glad I'm here so they can play some good music."
.........
The kid, eyes wide in fear as he chucks an AED Machine toward an unseen figure "Don't kill me"
........
The kid, face red with fury as he chucks a duffel bag toward some trees, "FUCK THIS"
-------------------------------
Daniel had long ago stopped flailing, he was now gasping for air, the gasps growing shorter and shorter as he suffocated beneath the flames, his throat aching for air before ceasing to entirely. His skin felt like knives had been slid under them, slowly carving his cells. Death had finally taken him, game over, no continues, no extra lives.
STUDENT B23 – DANIEL VAUGHAN- DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler gambit508.
(Any GMing of Nick was done with his permission)
It seemed so simple at first... All he had to do was earn the trust of ONE tiny oriental girl, who from the looks of things had quite a mouth on her (The little skank...). But then some red-haired imbecile had to show up and complicate matters, only to THEN be followed by some blonde bimbo who distracted Maxwell from his already unstable train of thought...
Damnit! Where the hell are all these people coming from?!? Did they all just suddenly materialize out of thin air or something?
He had to say something... Anything! Standing around like some slack jawed yokel was only making himself look even more idiotic then he originally intended. But right before he could say anything, the oriental girl began to talk again. This time in was seemed to be a "threatening" tone of voice. Does she really think she can intimidate ME? I'm twice her size, the insipid little cow. Who does she think she...
... Wait, what?!? She's leaving!?! No, DAMNIT! NO! Don't you DARE leave me alone with these morons! And least YOU have some semblance on intelligence behind that shrewish tongue of yours!
Maxwell was practically at the end of his rope by this point. He didn't like it when things didn't go according to plan... And things had definitely NOT gone to plan... All it'd take now to infuriate Maxwell to the point of dropping his act would be one more little comment from Miss Reiko "Bitchalot". And, sure enough, as she passed Maxwell...
"And your date's name was Vera, you ass."
That was the last straw... There was only so much Maxwell's ego could take before he'd finally had enough of Reiko's little comments. Who did she think she was, talking down at him like that? He was Maxwell Lombardi! A true gentleman, a man of great taste... NOBODY spoke to him like that at got away with it... Nobody...
Enough games. He wasn't going to just stand here and let her insult him like this! Like he was just another sheep in the herd of idiocy otherwise known as the students of Bayview Secondary School. He was going to show her a piece of her mind, show her what he was REALLY like! Putting on the goofy act was an idiotic idea to start with, Maxwell realised that now... Nobody would respect a man who just tripped over themselves on their way down a hill, would they? If he was going to be treated with the respect and manners that a refined gentleman like himself deserved, then Reiko here would need to be taught some manners...
"Now see here..." he started, the polite tone from earlier completely absent. But before he could begin his little tirade against the girl who'd insulted him once too often, yet ANOTHER student had popped up completely out of the blue.
W... W, What? WHAT?!? Oh you have GOT to be joking!
He was so distracted by this new arrival that he barely noticed Reiko as she walked off into the distance. By the time he finally noticed what had happened it was far too late to do anything about it...
No no NO! God DAMNIT, she's gone!
He was furious. Absolutely furious. She'd gotten away, gotten away with INSULTING him like that! The fact that'd she dared demean him was bad enough, but to actually get away with it without letting him at least make a witty retort? Unforgivable... Truly unforgivable...
That blonde girl then began to ask them some inane question about where she could find any of the cheerleaders, or some cock by the name of Nik Kronwall. The redhaired idiot seemed to answer for him, mentioning two more people Maxwell didn't give a damn about. There was only one reply Maxwell personally felt like giving at that moment in time for the annoying airheads that seemed to have swarmed around him...
"Oh, will you all just shut the FUCK UP!"
Then, almost as if it were on cue, a Molotov cocktail flew in right the hell out of nowhere and hit the redhead in the back of the head, lighting him up like a giant matchstick.
......
...Oh, fuck you. Fuck you! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!
He barely got out of the way in time as the flaming redhead began to flail about, screaming unintelligently as he was quickly engulfed in flames. There wasn't really any way to describe the sheer horror of what was happening. Never in all his days had Maxwell been more shocked, more disgusted by the unimaginably disturbing sight before him. The horrific screaming, the helpless flailing, the smell of burning flesh... Little to say, the image of Daniel burning away like that was doomed to stick in Maxwell's mind for the rest of life.
After the initial shock wore off, it didn't take long for it to transpire into pure unhinged rage as he came to the realization that somebody has just tried to murder him.
Somebody is trying to kill us! KILL us! KILL ME! The BASTARD! THE STUPID FUCKING BASTARD!
His eyes darted about quickly, trying to pinpoint the location of their attacker. He spotted him within seconds, an injured boy with a lighter in his hand. Yet ANOTHER bastard who'd suddenly popped out of complete nowhere, only this time he wasn't interested in initiating in small talk.
He's unarmed... And injured for that matter. If i'm quick, then perhaps I could...
He turned to the others, quickly stating "Well don't just stand there! Put the poor bastard out!" before making a dash towards their assailant who as it seemed was already trying and make a run for it. Hopefully, if they acted quick and DIDN'T stand around like a bunch of lemmings waiting their turn to be immolated then perhaps they could actually save the poor guy's life... Who Maxwell was surprisingly concerned about. Not that he suddenly liked the guy or anything, but the idea of somebody burning to death like that was just the most horrific thing Maxwell could imagine. And quite frankly, NOBODY deserved that kind of fate...
He quickly caught up with the boy, giving him a well deserved punch to the face, knocking him to the floor with a heavy thump. He tried to roll out the way, desperately trying to escape before Maxwell delivered a kick to his injured arm. "Oh no... you're not getting away THAT easily!".
He gave Nick another kick, this time to the defenceless boy's stomach, causing him to cough uncomfortably. After delivering the brutal blow, Maxwell quickly turned the boy over and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He struggled for a moment, elbowing Maxwell in the shoulder blade before being on the receiving end of Maxwell's fist once again. "Do you have ANY idea what the hell you've just DONE!" he said through gritted teeth, hoisting the boy up before giving him another thwack to the face. "You BASTARD! Its because of cunts like you that most of the people on this island are going to wind up dead! Dead you fucking hear me! DEAD! All because of selfish BASTARDS like you!" he shouted at the boy, emphasising the "bastards" at the end with yet another punch to the face.
In an act of desperation, Nick's head shot up suddenly and smacked Maxwell on the nose, causing him to stumble back somewhat. ARGH! Cheap bastard! My fucking nose is bleeding! Son of a BITCH!
The lanky boy tried to struggle to his feet after being on the receiving end of so many harsh blows, only to be knocked to the floor once more as Maxwell delivered another brutal kick to the boy's unprotected side. From there on out, Maxwell dealt out a smooth succession of kicks to the already injured Nick Reid as he struggled hopelessly to get away. As much as he didn't want to accidentally kill the guy, the very fact that this lowlife had caused him to literally bleed had clouded his judgement somewhat. Not that he didn't try to pull his kicks or anything, but in all the excitement he was starting to get somewhat... Carried away.
Unless somebody intervened soon, there was a very distinct possibility that Maxwell could end up doing the exact same thing he was chastising Nick for...
It seemed so simple at first... All he had to do was earn the trust of ONE tiny oriental girl, who from the looks of things had quite a mouth on her (The little skank...). But then some red-haired imbecile had to show up and complicate matters, only to THEN be followed by some blonde bimbo who distracted Maxwell from his already unstable train of thought...
Damnit! Where the hell are all these people coming from?!? Did they all just suddenly materialize out of thin air or something?
He had to say something... Anything! Standing around like some slack jawed yokel was only making himself look even more idiotic then he originally intended. But right before he could say anything, the oriental girl began to talk again. This time in was seemed to be a "threatening" tone of voice. Does she really think she can intimidate ME? I'm twice her size, the insipid little cow. Who does she think she...
... Wait, what?!? She's leaving!?! No, DAMNIT! NO! Don't you DARE leave me alone with these morons! And least YOU have some semblance on intelligence behind that shrewish tongue of yours!
Maxwell was practically at the end of his rope by this point. He didn't like it when things didn't go according to plan... And things had definitely NOT gone to plan... All it'd take now to infuriate Maxwell to the point of dropping his act would be one more little comment from Miss Reiko "Bitchalot". And, sure enough, as she passed Maxwell...
"And your date's name was Vera, you ass."
That was the last straw... There was only so much Maxwell's ego could take before he'd finally had enough of Reiko's little comments. Who did she think she was, talking down at him like that? He was Maxwell Lombardi! A true gentleman, a man of great taste... NOBODY spoke to him like that at got away with it... Nobody...
Enough games. He wasn't going to just stand here and let her insult him like this! Like he was just another sheep in the herd of idiocy otherwise known as the students of Bayview Secondary School. He was going to show her a piece of her mind, show her what he was REALLY like! Putting on the goofy act was an idiotic idea to start with, Maxwell realised that now... Nobody would respect a man who just tripped over themselves on their way down a hill, would they? If he was going to be treated with the respect and manners that a refined gentleman like himself deserved, then Reiko here would need to be taught some manners...
"Now see here..." he started, the polite tone from earlier completely absent. But before he could begin his little tirade against the girl who'd insulted him once too often, yet ANOTHER student had popped up completely out of the blue.
W... W, What? WHAT?!? Oh you have GOT to be joking!
He was so distracted by this new arrival that he barely noticed Reiko as she walked off into the distance. By the time he finally noticed what had happened it was far too late to do anything about it...
No no NO! God DAMNIT, she's gone!
He was furious. Absolutely furious. She'd gotten away, gotten away with INSULTING him like that! The fact that'd she dared demean him was bad enough, but to actually get away with it without letting him at least make a witty retort? Unforgivable... Truly unforgivable...
That blonde girl then began to ask them some inane question about where she could find any of the cheerleaders, or some cock by the name of Nik Kronwall. The redhaired idiot seemed to answer for him, mentioning two more people Maxwell didn't give a damn about. There was only one reply Maxwell personally felt like giving at that moment in time for the annoying airheads that seemed to have swarmed around him...
"Oh, will you all just shut the FUCK UP!"
Then, almost as if it were on cue, a Molotov cocktail flew in right the hell out of nowhere and hit the redhead in the back of the head, lighting him up like a giant matchstick.
......
...Oh, fuck you. Fuck you! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!
He barely got out of the way in time as the flaming redhead began to flail about, screaming unintelligently as he was quickly engulfed in flames. There wasn't really any way to describe the sheer horror of what was happening. Never in all his days had Maxwell been more shocked, more disgusted by the unimaginably disturbing sight before him. The horrific screaming, the helpless flailing, the smell of burning flesh... Little to say, the image of Daniel burning away like that was doomed to stick in Maxwell's mind for the rest of life.
After the initial shock wore off, it didn't take long for it to transpire into pure unhinged rage as he came to the realization that somebody has just tried to murder him.
Somebody is trying to kill us! KILL us! KILL ME! The BASTARD! THE STUPID FUCKING BASTARD!
His eyes darted about quickly, trying to pinpoint the location of their attacker. He spotted him within seconds, an injured boy with a lighter in his hand. Yet ANOTHER bastard who'd suddenly popped out of complete nowhere, only this time he wasn't interested in initiating in small talk.
He's unarmed... And injured for that matter. If i'm quick, then perhaps I could...
He turned to the others, quickly stating "Well don't just stand there! Put the poor bastard out!" before making a dash towards their assailant who as it seemed was already trying and make a run for it. Hopefully, if they acted quick and DIDN'T stand around like a bunch of lemmings waiting their turn to be immolated then perhaps they could actually save the poor guy's life... Who Maxwell was surprisingly concerned about. Not that he suddenly liked the guy or anything, but the idea of somebody burning to death like that was just the most horrific thing Maxwell could imagine. And quite frankly, NOBODY deserved that kind of fate...
He quickly caught up with the boy, giving him a well deserved punch to the face, knocking him to the floor with a heavy thump. He tried to roll out the way, desperately trying to escape before Maxwell delivered a kick to his injured arm. "Oh no... you're not getting away THAT easily!".
He gave Nick another kick, this time to the defenceless boy's stomach, causing him to cough uncomfortably. After delivering the brutal blow, Maxwell quickly turned the boy over and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He struggled for a moment, elbowing Maxwell in the shoulder blade before being on the receiving end of Maxwell's fist once again. "Do you have ANY idea what the hell you've just DONE!" he said through gritted teeth, hoisting the boy up before giving him another thwack to the face. "You BASTARD! Its because of cunts like you that most of the people on this island are going to wind up dead! Dead you fucking hear me! DEAD! All because of selfish BASTARDS like you!" he shouted at the boy, emphasising the "bastards" at the end with yet another punch to the face.
In an act of desperation, Nick's head shot up suddenly and smacked Maxwell on the nose, causing him to stumble back somewhat. ARGH! Cheap bastard! My fucking nose is bleeding! Son of a BITCH!
The lanky boy tried to struggle to his feet after being on the receiving end of so many harsh blows, only to be knocked to the floor once more as Maxwell delivered another brutal kick to the boy's unprotected side. From there on out, Maxwell dealt out a smooth succession of kicks to the already injured Nick Reid as he struggled hopelessly to get away. As much as he didn't want to accidentally kill the guy, the very fact that this lowlife had caused him to literally bleed had clouded his judgement somewhat. Not that he didn't try to pull his kicks or anything, but in all the excitement he was starting to get somewhat... Carried away.
Unless somebody intervened soon, there was a very distinct possibility that Maxwell could end up doing the exact same thing he was chastising Nick for...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fiori. 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.
Through the darkness there was a burst of light and noise. That can't be good, Sam thought as she rushed to the scene. When she arrived she saw that her assumption was correct, it wasn't good. There was a smoldering corpse and a fist fight, and there was probably a relation between the two.
"Fuck! Can someone bring me up to speed before this gets anymore out of hand?"
((Sorry for the crap-tacular post, but I have a bit of writer's block and I needed to post today to avoid inactivity and yeah...))
"Fuck! Can someone bring me up to speed before this gets anymore out of hand?"
((Sorry for the crap-tacular post, but I have a bit of writer's block and I needed to post today to avoid inactivity and yeah...))
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
((RS: Level 4 Island Tech: Avoid Inactivity!))
Crap...
Crap!
CRAP!
Nick Reid watched in annoyance as the cocktail missed the Gazebo entirely.
Watched in shock as the screaming started.
Watched in horror as the world went to hell in a handbasket.
The term "bloodcurdling" has been overused enough that it fails to properly convey the sheer icy terror a primal scream evokes - an emanation straight from soul to soul, describing precisely what words utterly fail to convey, a keening note of terror that can shake a man to his very core. Daniel's horrible cacophonous shrieking pierced Nick like a brutal arctic wind, rooting him to the spot, replacing his warm blood with pure liquid nitrogen.
The world simply didn't make sense anymore. He looked at the world through a sort of filter, dreamlike and yet more surreal. He must have moved, but he didn't remember doing so, because now there was an insignificant little speck racing towards him at the corner of the reeling, distorted camera shot. It shouted something—"Put the bastard out!"—and he wasn't sure whether he meant him or the newly-minted human torch. Before he knew it, the world spun in an explosion of color and pain, and Nick snapped harshly back to reality.
Now he was on the ground. Something hit his arm. It didn't hurt terribly bad owing to the bandages and limited extent of his injuries. And then something hit his stomach. That did hurt terribly bad. The shock of it reverberated through his lean frame, echoing cruelly in his empty stomach, forcing a spluttering cough through his lips. Then Maxwell lifted him bodily off the ground, and he saw his attacker's face clearly for the first time.
There was no time to get his bearings. Nick threw out an ineffectual elbow, and was rewarded with another brutal blow to his face. And then another, and another. He could see blood on Maxwell's fist - not the glistening sheen that had covered his own arm not long ago, but an ugly, brutal, muddy smear. A barrage of wounding words accompanied the beating. About how it was all his fault, how everyone would die because of people like him, calling him a selfish bastard. A fiery knot rose in his stomach, and he smashed his forehead into his opponent's face.
That seemed to do the trick. Wound and run, that was all he could hope for. But no sooner did he unfold himself from the grass than another furious kick bowled him over once more. Anger receded swiftly, leaving only misery, pleading, regret. And, as Maxwell continued, a sliver of fear, growing and spreading infectiously. Was he going to die now, beaten to death in retribution for his poor judgment and poorer aim? It seemed inescapable. Hugging his arms across himself to protect his torso, he began to shiver. And then, unexpectedly, a tear ran down his face. Nick Reid began to cry.
He wept for Daniel, dying in one of the most horrible, painful, brutal ways imaginable. He wept for his classmates, all forced to endure the same sort of agony. He wept for Maxwell, swept along helplessly into the grip of the game. But most of all, he wept for himself. But not because of the pain, or at least not primarily. He wept instead for the ending of his life, if you could call it that. Torn by embarrassment, uncertainty, fear of the world and fear of the future. Rent by this island an all that it stood for, for the breaking of humanity and the inevitable painful doom that awaited them all. Wracked by depression, that all-powerful force which creeped into every nook and cranny of his existence, warping and spoiling and poisoning. There was no life for him to lose. Only a twisted, broken, blackened stump of blank, indescribably mental agony and lies. Lies to himself, lies to his family, lies to his friends, a lie for every smile and every laugh that had escaped his lips for years. It wasn't losing his life that he feared and abhorred. It was never having acquired one in the first place. The thought burned inside him. life. But there was still time. He could make it. He could forge a new life for himself, whether he had hours or days or years to live - but certainly not minutes or seconds. A burning, surreal sensation permeated his body, the lifesaving emissions of an adrenal gland that must be worthy of a medal of honor by now.
He knew what to do. He rolled away, tumbling up onto his feet, draped over an invisible pole, then straightened. He spat, spewing a mixture of blood, snot, tears, sweat, and dirt onto the grass. Face burning, heart pumping, body shaking, eyes boring into Maxwell's.
"I am leaving. There will be no questions. Try to kill me, all bets are off. That's the end of that. See you in Hell."
Then, looking beyond him, "Good day to all of you."
There was no doubt in Nick's mind that he could kill Maxwell with a single blow, a gesture, even a look. Surely this is what Godhood felt like. The icy clarity, the overpowering, pulsating feeling of energy, the strength to crush cities in the palm of his hand. He knew now more than he had ever known anything that he would not die here, not now. But he had to leave, and quick. Surely every stunted, malfunctioning neurochemical secretion site was working overdrive, burning the candle at both ends. It would be a horrible, horrible crash to endure in the next hour or so, but Nick was determined to ride the high to safety.
He scooped up is bag, throwing in his hoodie and shouldering it. He was no distance runner, he knew that. But he could pull off a decent sprint, and sprint is what he did.
((Nick Reid continued in Spelunking))
Crap...
Crap!
CRAP!
Nick Reid watched in annoyance as the cocktail missed the Gazebo entirely.
Watched in shock as the screaming started.
Watched in horror as the world went to hell in a handbasket.
The term "bloodcurdling" has been overused enough that it fails to properly convey the sheer icy terror a primal scream evokes - an emanation straight from soul to soul, describing precisely what words utterly fail to convey, a keening note of terror that can shake a man to his very core. Daniel's horrible cacophonous shrieking pierced Nick like a brutal arctic wind, rooting him to the spot, replacing his warm blood with pure liquid nitrogen.
The world simply didn't make sense anymore. He looked at the world through a sort of filter, dreamlike and yet more surreal. He must have moved, but he didn't remember doing so, because now there was an insignificant little speck racing towards him at the corner of the reeling, distorted camera shot. It shouted something—"Put the bastard out!"—and he wasn't sure whether he meant him or the newly-minted human torch. Before he knew it, the world spun in an explosion of color and pain, and Nick snapped harshly back to reality.
Now he was on the ground. Something hit his arm. It didn't hurt terribly bad owing to the bandages and limited extent of his injuries. And then something hit his stomach. That did hurt terribly bad. The shock of it reverberated through his lean frame, echoing cruelly in his empty stomach, forcing a spluttering cough through his lips. Then Maxwell lifted him bodily off the ground, and he saw his attacker's face clearly for the first time.
There was no time to get his bearings. Nick threw out an ineffectual elbow, and was rewarded with another brutal blow to his face. And then another, and another. He could see blood on Maxwell's fist - not the glistening sheen that had covered his own arm not long ago, but an ugly, brutal, muddy smear. A barrage of wounding words accompanied the beating. About how it was all his fault, how everyone would die because of people like him, calling him a selfish bastard. A fiery knot rose in his stomach, and he smashed his forehead into his opponent's face.
That seemed to do the trick. Wound and run, that was all he could hope for. But no sooner did he unfold himself from the grass than another furious kick bowled him over once more. Anger receded swiftly, leaving only misery, pleading, regret. And, as Maxwell continued, a sliver of fear, growing and spreading infectiously. Was he going to die now, beaten to death in retribution for his poor judgment and poorer aim? It seemed inescapable. Hugging his arms across himself to protect his torso, he began to shiver. And then, unexpectedly, a tear ran down his face. Nick Reid began to cry.
He wept for Daniel, dying in one of the most horrible, painful, brutal ways imaginable. He wept for his classmates, all forced to endure the same sort of agony. He wept for Maxwell, swept along helplessly into the grip of the game. But most of all, he wept for himself. But not because of the pain, or at least not primarily. He wept instead for the ending of his life, if you could call it that. Torn by embarrassment, uncertainty, fear of the world and fear of the future. Rent by this island an all that it stood for, for the breaking of humanity and the inevitable painful doom that awaited them all. Wracked by depression, that all-powerful force which creeped into every nook and cranny of his existence, warping and spoiling and poisoning. There was no life for him to lose. Only a twisted, broken, blackened stump of blank, indescribably mental agony and lies. Lies to himself, lies to his family, lies to his friends, a lie for every smile and every laugh that had escaped his lips for years. It wasn't losing his life that he feared and abhorred. It was never having acquired one in the first place. The thought burned inside him. life. But there was still time. He could make it. He could forge a new life for himself, whether he had hours or days or years to live - but certainly not minutes or seconds. A burning, surreal sensation permeated his body, the lifesaving emissions of an adrenal gland that must be worthy of a medal of honor by now.
He knew what to do. He rolled away, tumbling up onto his feet, draped over an invisible pole, then straightened. He spat, spewing a mixture of blood, snot, tears, sweat, and dirt onto the grass. Face burning, heart pumping, body shaking, eyes boring into Maxwell's.
"I am leaving. There will be no questions. Try to kill me, all bets are off. That's the end of that. See you in Hell."
Then, looking beyond him, "Good day to all of you."
There was no doubt in Nick's mind that he could kill Maxwell with a single blow, a gesture, even a look. Surely this is what Godhood felt like. The icy clarity, the overpowering, pulsating feeling of energy, the strength to crush cities in the palm of his hand. He knew now more than he had ever known anything that he would not die here, not now. But he had to leave, and quick. Surely every stunted, malfunctioning neurochemical secretion site was working overdrive, burning the candle at both ends. It would be a horrible, horrible crash to endure in the next hour or so, but Nick was determined to ride the high to safety.
He scooped up is bag, throwing in his hoodie and shouldering it. He was no distance runner, he knew that. But he could pull off a decent sprint, and sprint is what he did.
((Nick Reid continued in Spelunking))