Chase felt her foot connect with Gracie's shoulder, very hard. She knew it would hurt, but right now all she was focused on was escaping. Oh god, she should have run the other way, she should have watched where she was going, she could have done any number of things!
People in the movies she watched, they always ran from the bad guy and would trip over something, only for them to be caught up with and murdered. Chase had always rolled her eyes at this trope, as not only was it tired and cliche, but it could be easily avoided by just looking behind her. But now? She had no reason to laugh, seeing as it was happening to her. Oh shit! She could have easily avoided this, she could have just gotten back up, she could have just done a better job at keeping herself alive!
Chase continued swinging her leg around, not knowing what was going on or anything like that. Eventually, though, she felt something sharp at the back of her head, and she realized that Nancy was tugging on her hair. Oh shit! She had her by the hair!
Nancy had apparently sat back up, bending Chase's neck back painfully. Her face contorted with a mixture of fear and pain, turning red and scrunched up. It hurt and she was going to die and she was blind and those people who always watched this were going to laugh at her and god knows what else! She couldn't die here! She had so many things she had to do, so many things she wanted to say! Chase wasn't a victim! She wanted to live!
Nancy had shaken her head a bit while still having her fingers intertwined very tightly, causing Chase to be disorientated further. She could hear her shouting to the boy who had attacked her if he could hit her a second time. She could hear Kitty talking, saying it didn't need to get messy, and talking to the guy who had hit Nancy, asking what was the bright thing to do in a sarcastic manner. Everything seemed to blur together even more, as if it was a dream she was having where Nancy Wainright was robbing her after they all had been abducted. Was that it? All a dream? No, it wasn't, the pain in her head and neck was telling her otherwise! Chase was even having trouble breathing from the odd angle her neck was at, for crying out loud!
Chase squirmed and struggled inside Nancy's grip, moving her arms and legs rapidly in an attempt to escape. After all, they were free! She wasn't sure if it was any use, though, as the grip Nancy had on her was very tight and the grip on her hair combined with her own movements only made things hurt further. God damn it, she was having trouble breathing, and her heart was beating like a drum!
"Let... let GO!" she managed to shout, trying her best to struggle her way out. Her voice came out in a loud, hoarse, and almost inhuman screech. "HELP MEE!"
Break Up And Break Down
Start of (the end of) G010
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armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
((Apologies for screwing up the already changed post order, but Mimi said I should post a response to Gracie. So I will.))
Kyle was happily surprised that plan had worked so well. When Gracie was still conscious, the happy surprise turned to astonishment. He hadn't expected that to be the case. With bemusement on his face, he watched the girl crawl rapidly away, before she grabbed Anna. He wasn't surprised by the opportunistic action. It was precisely what he would have done in that situation. If he thought the attacker cared. Which she apparently did.
He briefly considered the knife in his hand. The thought made his stomach turn. Despite his personal bravado earlier, killing his classmates was something he would have to work his way up to. His ears poked him in the brain, letting him know that Gracie had said something.
"Hit you now? Wouldn't be difficult. What would you do, shoot her? Why should I care about that? You were the target because you had the most threatening weapon, not because you were a specific target, or for some noble purpose. Frankly, I didn't expect you to stand up again, at least not so quickly," Kyle said, nonchalantly spinning the knife in his hand. 'Don't let them know you won't kill them. Make them think you're dangerous. Best idea.... What if she decides to shoot me...?'
And now the other girl... Cat, was telling him off. Barely, Kyle's eye twitched. This was why he felt nothing for these people. All so stupid....
"Oh, because dropping a canister of smoke was so much better an idea? The only person getting hurt here is Anna. Oh, and Gracie. But that hardly matters," he said, not taking his eyes off of Gracie. Fallen Grace. He laughed to himself at that. He would have to tell that one to... Hayley. Crap. Where was she? He fervently hoped she wasn't in trouble, but already the anxiety was settling into his stomach. 'Crap. CRAP! They shouldn't have worn off already! I should have had more time than this!'
Carefully, so as to not call attention to it, Kyle began tapping the side of his leg in a pattern of threes. One... two three. One two... three. One two three one two three focus on the repetition, not the anxiety onetwothree.
Kyle was happily surprised that plan had worked so well. When Gracie was still conscious, the happy surprise turned to astonishment. He hadn't expected that to be the case. With bemusement on his face, he watched the girl crawl rapidly away, before she grabbed Anna. He wasn't surprised by the opportunistic action. It was precisely what he would have done in that situation. If he thought the attacker cared. Which she apparently did.
He briefly considered the knife in his hand. The thought made his stomach turn. Despite his personal bravado earlier, killing his classmates was something he would have to work his way up to. His ears poked him in the brain, letting him know that Gracie had said something.
"Hit you now? Wouldn't be difficult. What would you do, shoot her? Why should I care about that? You were the target because you had the most threatening weapon, not because you were a specific target, or for some noble purpose. Frankly, I didn't expect you to stand up again, at least not so quickly," Kyle said, nonchalantly spinning the knife in his hand. 'Don't let them know you won't kill them. Make them think you're dangerous. Best idea.... What if she decides to shoot me...?'
And now the other girl... Cat, was telling him off. Barely, Kyle's eye twitched. This was why he felt nothing for these people. All so stupid....
"Oh, because dropping a canister of smoke was so much better an idea? The only person getting hurt here is Anna. Oh, and Gracie. But that hardly matters," he said, not taking his eyes off of Gracie. Fallen Grace. He laughed to himself at that. He would have to tell that one to... Hayley. Crap. Where was she? He fervently hoped she wasn't in trouble, but already the anxiety was settling into his stomach. 'Crap. CRAP! They shouldn't have worn off already! I should have had more time than this!'
Carefully, so as to not call attention to it, Kyle began tapping the side of his leg in a pattern of threes. One... two three. One two... three. One two three one two three focus on the repetition, not the anxiety onetwothree.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. 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.
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Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
Enough was enough. For Leila at least, things were getting far too out of hand, and she wasn't ready to stick around and wait for the inevitable fireworks display. She wasn't a hero, was she? It wasn't as though she could run over and sort the whole mess out by punching Gracie in the face. No, she didn't have the guts for that, or any of the moral fibre attached to rescuing one of her classmates. It's not like she was even friends with the poor girl, so why was it her responsibility to help her out? It wasn't, she reassured herself, and that meant she couldn't stick around another minute longer - lest someone spotted her and got her involved.
Clutching the daypack in her shaking arms, she raised herself slightly as she began to step away from the stall. She kept her eyes glued forward as she started back, holding her breath to stop them from hearing her. Of course they couldn't hear someone breathing so quietly as she had been, but she wasn't going to risk it, not while everyone was in such a panic. Back, back, back she stepped, stepping over bits of rock and hardened earth as she went; it was all she could do to stop herself from shouting in pain as the soles of her feet began to ache and throb. Just a little further though, just a little more. A few more dozen steps and she'd be far enough to start running. Her heart dropped at the thought of running without any footwear, but that was something she'd have to think about later, not now.
The wind cooled down her body as she moved ever backwards, and for once she appreciated it. Her blood had been alight with adrenaline before, but now she was beginning to shiver a little as her heartbeat slowed the further she got away from the crowd. She needed to find a way out, but she was afraid to take her eyes off the shrinking, shouting people ahead of her, but then she almost shrieked as she felt herself walk right into something heavy. Sharply twisting her neck, she looked behind her to see - the Ferris wheel. She'd walked right into the base of the Ferris wheel and was now trembling as she accidentally loosened the string around her jangled bag of nerves.
"F-fuck... fucking thing." She muttered as she looked up at the great, rusting behemoth. Glancing over its worn-down body, she noticed a shiny black strip of leather hanging off the edge of one of the seats. Staring up intensely, she realized what she was looking at. It was too high to reach, way up in one of the top-most seats, but there it was - her duffel bag. Knowing that a scream would alert the others to her whereabouts, she settled for a good old-fashioned fist biting to let out her rage. The one thing she needed and it was stuck way up high in a fairground ride which she'd never be able to turn on. Well, wasn't that fantastic?
Cursing whoever it was that dropped her into the fun fair, she took one last cautionary look at the people behind her before dashing over (as quietly as she could) to the fence across the grounds. The whole place was run-down and in shambles, and so a lot of the fencing had broken off either as a result of the weather or just plain old vandalism. And so, once she'd made her way over to the other side of the fair, she threw her daypack over the boards and quickly followed suit. Though not without giving herself some nasty splinters first.
((Leila Langford continued in The Only Way Is Up))
Clutching the daypack in her shaking arms, she raised herself slightly as she began to step away from the stall. She kept her eyes glued forward as she started back, holding her breath to stop them from hearing her. Of course they couldn't hear someone breathing so quietly as she had been, but she wasn't going to risk it, not while everyone was in such a panic. Back, back, back she stepped, stepping over bits of rock and hardened earth as she went; it was all she could do to stop herself from shouting in pain as the soles of her feet began to ache and throb. Just a little further though, just a little more. A few more dozen steps and she'd be far enough to start running. Her heart dropped at the thought of running without any footwear, but that was something she'd have to think about later, not now.
The wind cooled down her body as she moved ever backwards, and for once she appreciated it. Her blood had been alight with adrenaline before, but now she was beginning to shiver a little as her heartbeat slowed the further she got away from the crowd. She needed to find a way out, but she was afraid to take her eyes off the shrinking, shouting people ahead of her, but then she almost shrieked as she felt herself walk right into something heavy. Sharply twisting her neck, she looked behind her to see - the Ferris wheel. She'd walked right into the base of the Ferris wheel and was now trembling as she accidentally loosened the string around her jangled bag of nerves.
"F-fuck... fucking thing." She muttered as she looked up at the great, rusting behemoth. Glancing over its worn-down body, she noticed a shiny black strip of leather hanging off the edge of one of the seats. Staring up intensely, she realized what she was looking at. It was too high to reach, way up in one of the top-most seats, but there it was - her duffel bag. Knowing that a scream would alert the others to her whereabouts, she settled for a good old-fashioned fist biting to let out her rage. The one thing she needed and it was stuck way up high in a fairground ride which she'd never be able to turn on. Well, wasn't that fantastic?
Cursing whoever it was that dropped her into the fun fair, she took one last cautionary look at the people behind her before dashing over (as quietly as she could) to the fence across the grounds. The whole place was run-down and in shambles, and so a lot of the fencing had broken off either as a result of the weather or just plain old vandalism. And so, once she'd made her way over to the other side of the fair, she threw her daypack over the boards and quickly followed suit. Though not without giving herself some nasty splinters first.
((Leila Langford continued in The Only Way Is Up))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hallucinojelly. 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.
Seriously? 'We're all friends here'? Uh, she wasn't sure what school freakin' Pussy Galore over there went to, but it sure as shit wasn't Bayview. Was there ever a time Gracie sat at her lunch table? No. Was there ever a time when she was invited to chill with Rainbow Brite and the friggin' Color Kids? Again, no. And yet, Kitty was standing there preaching a bunch of bullshit about being friends. If she really wanted to 'be friends', she should have made an effort back in school. Too late, now. Too freaking late.
The world was eating her whole—devouring her as she shrank into her clothing, feasting on her anxiety. She felt so incredibly small, so helpless and like such a screw-up. The gravity of the situation they had been tossed into was finally beginning to dawn on her, the glint of the blade in Kyle's hand and the shaking of Anna's body serving as a wake-up call. This wasn't a game. She was screwing around with other people's lives, making their families watch and pray that she wouldn't kill them. If anyone made her parents or her siblings freak out like that, she wouldn't hesitate to punch them in the face. And hey, look at that. She was that person. She just wanted the freaking bag, Jesus. Did it really have to escalate to a full on domestic disturbance? Like, honestly? If that cockroach hadn't decided to play friggin' He-Man it'd have ended fine. Anna and Kitty could have skipped off into the sunset and she'd be another bag richer, but no. Let's smack Gracie around a little bit, because she's clearly dangerous.
The throbbing of her still-forming bruise synced sinfully with the racing of her heart, but at least she still had a heart that could beat. Her eyes trained on the knife in Kyle's hand. It could have ended sooo badly. The very thought that he could've shanked her like a pig scared her more than she was comfortable admitting, and more so than that it pissed her off. And then to say that she didn't matter? Uh, hate to break it to you, Ralph Macchio, but that was so far from the truth. She had a family who cared about her, they all had freaking families who were sitting on their couches and being forced to watch their kids lose their shit. Sure, she was more than likely globally embarrassing them as that little fat curvy girl who took Creepy Susie hostage, but there was one thing she didn't do that Kyle did. One thing that separated them. One thing that made her matter. He stepped his narrow little ass into crazy-ville the minute he decided to harm someone. For Christ's sake, her gun wasn't even loaded. So SCREW him and the white freaking horse he rode in on. Bitch.
From her unfaltering gaze on Kyle, Gracie could make out a curious looking lump in her peripheral vision, lying some feet away from Kyle. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest
as she made out the words stenciled on the side; G010 CHASE, ANNA. Seriously? First of all; how the hell did she miss that when she came in? She blamed it on the adrenaline, but Jesus. Please to be paying more attention next time, thanks. Second of all; Uh, thank freakin' GOD. She could drag retard baby's sorry ass out of the stupid freakin' devil-fair and get the hell away with what's left of her life and a be a bag richer. Third of all; why the hell was that Beetle-Juice wannabe hoe Girl Ten? Like, how was that fair? Eighty-One sucked and ten just so happened to be her lucky number. Whatever.
Gracie slowly got to her feet, dragging Anna up by the hair as she did so. Her rifle awkwardly smacked against the ground a few times as she struggled to get up, though her grip on its midsection and Anna's hair didn't falter. Trepidation threatened to swallow her whole as she glanced at Kyle, then Kitty, and back again.
"Okay, so," Gracie started, taking a heavy breath so as to calm her racing heart, "I'm just gonna leave, okay? I'm not gonna hurt anyone, so don't hurt me. Don't, like, throw shit at my head or stab me or anything and we'll all be cool. Just be chill, right?" She offered, her voice shaking, though not as much as her body. Things would be fine. Everything would be fine. She had Anna and they wouldn't dare try and cut her up or smoke her out or anything.
Right?
She cautiously made toward Anna's daypack, the dipshit duo on either side of her. She wasn't gonna a freakin' retard again and turn her back to anyone, screw that. Their eyes burned holes into her, watching her like nasty little vultures. Waiting for her to mess up. Joke was on them though. Gracie made sure to keep the eye contact as she bent over to grab the dayback, her fingers lingered over it for a split second before swooping it up and straightening her body. Guilt tickled at her heart, but it'd have to get a freakin' raincheck. Anna had people to help her—she had people who'd risk their lives for her. Gracie didn't. The only person Gracie had was Gracie.
Whatever.
Pulling Anna down past Kyle was far scarier than she would have liked to admit. Visions of him jumping at her and slicing her up like Thanksgiving Dinner flashed through her mind and her chest tightened around her heart. Screw him. He wasn't going to push her around; he'd be the one who had to live with killing someone, not her. She'd never kill anyone. Kyle was a piece of shit, she wasn't anything like that. She wasn't. Gracie glared at him, her sleepy eyes attempting to make him spontaneously combust right there on the spot. To become the dirt that he was lower then.
Maybe she'd get Anna to teach her a few spells later.
As they rounded the bend, with tangible freedom lying only a few feet away, Gracie stopped in her tracks. She turned to face Anna, untangling her long fingers from the girl's hair. A burst of guilt rushed over her, her eyes locking with the hard ground.
"Sorry," Gracie said softly, "I just wanted your bag, no hard feelings. Good luck, okay?" With that, she turned and jogged out of what might as well have been the Pearl Gates of the Fun Fair.
Don't die, okay?
[[Gracie Wainwright continued Twists and Turns]]
[[GMing approved]]
The world was eating her whole—devouring her as she shrank into her clothing, feasting on her anxiety. She felt so incredibly small, so helpless and like such a screw-up. The gravity of the situation they had been tossed into was finally beginning to dawn on her, the glint of the blade in Kyle's hand and the shaking of Anna's body serving as a wake-up call. This wasn't a game. She was screwing around with other people's lives, making their families watch and pray that she wouldn't kill them. If anyone made her parents or her siblings freak out like that, she wouldn't hesitate to punch them in the face. And hey, look at that. She was that person. She just wanted the freaking bag, Jesus. Did it really have to escalate to a full on domestic disturbance? Like, honestly? If that cockroach hadn't decided to play friggin' He-Man it'd have ended fine. Anna and Kitty could have skipped off into the sunset and she'd be another bag richer, but no. Let's smack Gracie around a little bit, because she's clearly dangerous.
The throbbing of her still-forming bruise synced sinfully with the racing of her heart, but at least she still had a heart that could beat. Her eyes trained on the knife in Kyle's hand. It could have ended sooo badly. The very thought that he could've shanked her like a pig scared her more than she was comfortable admitting, and more so than that it pissed her off. And then to say that she didn't matter? Uh, hate to break it to you, Ralph Macchio, but that was so far from the truth. She had a family who cared about her, they all had freaking families who were sitting on their couches and being forced to watch their kids lose their shit. Sure, she was more than likely globally embarrassing them as that little fat curvy girl who took Creepy Susie hostage, but there was one thing she didn't do that Kyle did. One thing that separated them. One thing that made her matter. He stepped his narrow little ass into crazy-ville the minute he decided to harm someone. For Christ's sake, her gun wasn't even loaded. So SCREW him and the white freaking horse he rode in on. Bitch.
From her unfaltering gaze on Kyle, Gracie could make out a curious looking lump in her peripheral vision, lying some feet away from Kyle. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest
as she made out the words stenciled on the side; G010 CHASE, ANNA. Seriously? First of all; how the hell did she miss that when she came in? She blamed it on the adrenaline, but Jesus. Please to be paying more attention next time, thanks. Second of all; Uh, thank freakin' GOD. She could drag retard baby's sorry ass out of the stupid freakin' devil-fair and get the hell away with what's left of her life and a be a bag richer. Third of all; why the hell was that Beetle-Juice wannabe hoe Girl Ten? Like, how was that fair? Eighty-One sucked and ten just so happened to be her lucky number. Whatever.
Gracie slowly got to her feet, dragging Anna up by the hair as she did so. Her rifle awkwardly smacked against the ground a few times as she struggled to get up, though her grip on its midsection and Anna's hair didn't falter. Trepidation threatened to swallow her whole as she glanced at Kyle, then Kitty, and back again.
"Okay, so," Gracie started, taking a heavy breath so as to calm her racing heart, "I'm just gonna leave, okay? I'm not gonna hurt anyone, so don't hurt me. Don't, like, throw shit at my head or stab me or anything and we'll all be cool. Just be chill, right?" She offered, her voice shaking, though not as much as her body. Things would be fine. Everything would be fine. She had Anna and they wouldn't dare try and cut her up or smoke her out or anything.
Right?
She cautiously made toward Anna's daypack, the dipshit duo on either side of her. She wasn't gonna a freakin' retard again and turn her back to anyone, screw that. Their eyes burned holes into her, watching her like nasty little vultures. Waiting for her to mess up. Joke was on them though. Gracie made sure to keep the eye contact as she bent over to grab the dayback, her fingers lingered over it for a split second before swooping it up and straightening her body. Guilt tickled at her heart, but it'd have to get a freakin' raincheck. Anna had people to help her—she had people who'd risk their lives for her. Gracie didn't. The only person Gracie had was Gracie.
Whatever.
Pulling Anna down past Kyle was far scarier than she would have liked to admit. Visions of him jumping at her and slicing her up like Thanksgiving Dinner flashed through her mind and her chest tightened around her heart. Screw him. He wasn't going to push her around; he'd be the one who had to live with killing someone, not her. She'd never kill anyone. Kyle was a piece of shit, she wasn't anything like that. She wasn't. Gracie glared at him, her sleepy eyes attempting to make him spontaneously combust right there on the spot. To become the dirt that he was lower then.
Maybe she'd get Anna to teach her a few spells later.
As they rounded the bend, with tangible freedom lying only a few feet away, Gracie stopped in her tracks. She turned to face Anna, untangling her long fingers from the girl's hair. A burst of guilt rushed over her, her eyes locking with the hard ground.
"Sorry," Gracie said softly, "I just wanted your bag, no hard feelings. Good luck, okay?" With that, she turned and jogged out of what might as well have been the Pearl Gates of the Fun Fair.
Don't die, okay?
[[Gracie Wainwright continued Twists and Turns]]
[[GMing approved]]
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
((GMing and stuff approved an' all that!))
"Shit, that's Kyle, I think... and Gracie?" Dave whispered from beside him. Roland casted a glance over at the boy before turning back to the scene at hand.
"Think so..." Roland whispered.
Roland watched with gritted teeth as Gracie dragged the squealing Goth girl towards the exit of the fun fair. He could feel his muscles tense and his brow furrow in anger.
Gracie Wainright, exiting holding hostage. Kyle and Kitty, making no moves to stop he- shit!
Roland's eyes grew wide as Gracie shifted, hefting what looked to be a rifle up. She pointed it at the pair as she backed away. Roland momentarily ducked back down, he felt his hand tighten around Charlene.
He could hear Dave talking again beside him.
"Roland, don't do it, Bro. Gracie's an obnoxious bitch, but she don't have it in her to be a murderer. She's probably just angry the emo tried to steal her happy meal or something."
Meredith flashed through his mind again. He wanted Dave to be right, but try as he might he couldn't bring himself to twist what he was seeing to make it seem okay. The girl was being held hostage, and Gracie had a weapon.
Rifle, she's got a fucking rifle. Does she know how to use it though? And can she operate it holding a hostage? Would Kyle and Kitty oppose a direct assault, or are they looking to free her too? Kitty has that grenade, what is it? Fake? Smoke, flashbang? Too many questions.
Roland peaked his head back up over the makeshift cover. Gracie and the girl were nearly at the gates.
If I hit now, she wouldn't be able to turn. She wouldn't be able to turn, Rifle is too bulky. She doesn't seem to know how to use it. Jump behind her, throw my hands around her neck. Wrestle her to the ground, place Charlene to her neck. Hold until she stops kicking. I could do it. I can kill Gracie. I... I can...
I can save her. I can save someone. You watching Dad? Are you sitting at home, watching me? I'll give you a show. I'll give them all a show. I'll show you what happens when you put a future United States Marine on some sick and twisted game show, and expect him to bend to your will...
Dave was still talking, blathering on about holding back and letting the situation play out. Roland wasn't listening, and he didn't let the boy finish. He motioned with his hand and stood, preparing to rush in. He flipped Charlene around in his left hand. He was amazed how light it seemed all the sudden. Looking up he grinned, Gracie hadn't seen him yet.
"I'm going to get that girl bac-"
Roland suddenly felt a weight crash into him from behind and he fell, letting out a gasp of shock. His weapon fell out of his hand and he went crashing to the hard concrete, twisting around he could see Dave holding him down. His first thought was that this was a rebellion, that Dave would end up stabbing him to death and collect his first kill. However, reasoning soon took over as Roland struggled to free himself. He looked back up, panic in his eyes. Gracie and the girl were nearing the entrance.
"Dave, what the! Stop it, we can't just let them get away!" He cursed and squirmed, trying to push the other boy off of him.
"Let go, you can't expect me to just sit here and watch!" However try as he might, the damage was done. Roland looked up to see the pair exiting the Carnival. Twisting about, Roland finally managed to shove his captor away from him.
"Fuck!" He cursed, glaring at Dave. He looked back over towards the entrance, they were gone, vanished from sight.
"Dave, what the fuck have you done?"
"Shit, that's Kyle, I think... and Gracie?" Dave whispered from beside him. Roland casted a glance over at the boy before turning back to the scene at hand.
"Think so..." Roland whispered.
Roland watched with gritted teeth as Gracie dragged the squealing Goth girl towards the exit of the fun fair. He could feel his muscles tense and his brow furrow in anger.
Gracie Wainright, exiting holding hostage. Kyle and Kitty, making no moves to stop he- shit!
Roland's eyes grew wide as Gracie shifted, hefting what looked to be a rifle up. She pointed it at the pair as she backed away. Roland momentarily ducked back down, he felt his hand tighten around Charlene.
He could hear Dave talking again beside him.
"Roland, don't do it, Bro. Gracie's an obnoxious bitch, but she don't have it in her to be a murderer. She's probably just angry the emo tried to steal her happy meal or something."
Meredith flashed through his mind again. He wanted Dave to be right, but try as he might he couldn't bring himself to twist what he was seeing to make it seem okay. The girl was being held hostage, and Gracie had a weapon.
Rifle, she's got a fucking rifle. Does she know how to use it though? And can she operate it holding a hostage? Would Kyle and Kitty oppose a direct assault, or are they looking to free her too? Kitty has that grenade, what is it? Fake? Smoke, flashbang? Too many questions.
Roland peaked his head back up over the makeshift cover. Gracie and the girl were nearly at the gates.
If I hit now, she wouldn't be able to turn. She wouldn't be able to turn, Rifle is too bulky. She doesn't seem to know how to use it. Jump behind her, throw my hands around her neck. Wrestle her to the ground, place Charlene to her neck. Hold until she stops kicking. I could do it. I can kill Gracie. I... I can...
I can save her. I can save someone. You watching Dad? Are you sitting at home, watching me? I'll give you a show. I'll give them all a show. I'll show you what happens when you put a future United States Marine on some sick and twisted game show, and expect him to bend to your will...
Dave was still talking, blathering on about holding back and letting the situation play out. Roland wasn't listening, and he didn't let the boy finish. He motioned with his hand and stood, preparing to rush in. He flipped Charlene around in his left hand. He was amazed how light it seemed all the sudden. Looking up he grinned, Gracie hadn't seen him yet.
"I'm going to get that girl bac-"
Roland suddenly felt a weight crash into him from behind and he fell, letting out a gasp of shock. His weapon fell out of his hand and he went crashing to the hard concrete, twisting around he could see Dave holding him down. His first thought was that this was a rebellion, that Dave would end up stabbing him to death and collect his first kill. However, reasoning soon took over as Roland struggled to free himself. He looked back up, panic in his eyes. Gracie and the girl were nearing the entrance.
"Dave, what the! Stop it, we can't just let them get away!" He cursed and squirmed, trying to push the other boy off of him.
"Let go, you can't expect me to just sit here and watch!" However try as he might, the damage was done. Roland looked up to see the pair exiting the Carnival. Twisting about, Roland finally managed to shove his captor away from him.
"Fuck!" He cursed, glaring at Dave. He looked back over towards the entrance, they were gone, vanished from sight.
"Dave, what the fuck have you done?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.
Kitty felt only the slightest twinge of guilt for not doing anything for Anna, but then she would remember that Kitty had never really cared about Anna and that she was mostly scared of the gun rather than the chances of Anna dying. Cold, very much so, but it was only logical to just let Nancy cart Anna away. At the least the gun situation was over, and Kitty felt her shoulders sink and her breath go slowly. Kitty turned to Kyle with only a simple message.
"And no matter how you can try to push the blame on me," Kitty started with a smile. "I'd just like to remind you that that was all your fault." Her voice grew grim. "And if she dies, it'll be on your shoulders."
Kitty didn't give him a word in edgewise. She walked past Kyle, ignoring anything he had to say. She didn't care what he had to say anyway. Kitty had won. That was the only thing that mattered.
Kitty found herself wandering to the other side of the fair without really thinking about it. No electricity, Kitty gathered in the depths of her mind. A shame too. It would have been very exciting, what with all the booths and lights. Yes, and oh so alone.
That was when the smile left her face, and all that was left was a blank expression that betrayed nothing but explained everything.
Kitty wondered for just a fleeting moment if she should have tried to save Anna. After all it had been her intention to partner up with someone, a meatshild, a pawn, and Anna fit the bill. Then Kitty remembered that Kitty gave nothing of Anna, and with the payoff of saving her was far less than letting Nancy take her away. At least then if the girl actually killed her the head count would drop. It was morbid, something that Kitty herself knew all too well through art. Kitty was used to seeing and thinking morbid things. She had never done anything morbid though...
It didn't matter. Anna was lower than Kitty. That was all that mattered.
"Pathetic," Kitty muttered, fingering the canister mindlessly. "Couldn't even run away. What use would she have served?"
Kitty had seen SOTF and to call her a fan would be true. She had watched the show while her parents weren't around. They wouldn't have minded - disgusted in their daughter's choice but not disappointed. In fact the only reason she never really told her parents was to simply save face. Kitty was perfect in every way to her parents, and Kitty wanted to keep it that way. Her parents knew as little about her affection for the show as they were aware of the fact that Kitty had absolutely no direction in life, floating in and out of school with no social stretching outside of the walls of Bayview. Or the fact that she had to fake every smile she gave them.
Art is a beautiful thing. It could show so many shades of human emotion in so very little works. A single painting could hold so many emotions that it could overwhelm you, twisting your feelings like a rainbow-colored dishrag. Kitty had known about art and loved everything about it. Art had a dark side though, and Kitty was all too familiar with it. Art could be lovely, but it also shows you the ugly side of human nature that most people tried to push aside. Kitty simply knew that her world was a dirty meadow, filled with self-possessive sheep that live to only eat grass, make nothing of themselves. Herself included.
The only difference between her and the rest of the sheep laying here is that she knew the game like the back of her hand.
Who knows, maybe Kitty was a wolf in sheep's clothing. When it came to killing though, Kitty was very conflicted. Killing didn't seem hard in theory. A bullet through the shoulder would do. Kitty had no gun of her own though so that was shot down.Her mind ran to Franco Sebberts, one of her personal favorites from Season two. Killed people, played it smart, ouf of sight. That's how Kitty wanted to play. Of course, Franco got a grenade launcher and Kitty...
Kitty sighed. What difference did it matter? Just find a new Anna Chase, one with a good weapon. Maybe one that was useful. Find them, flash a smile and ask how they're doing. That's how you get people to trust you, act like you care and just smile. That's all that emotional connections meant to Kitty -just another way to stroke one's ego. Such is the way that Kitty mind works. Maybe that's why she had no friends.
Kitty felt the urge to smoke. A nasty habit that Kitty managed to keep under wraps until now. Kitty didn't need smoke, but right now it was something she wanted. She took out her bag of cigarettes that she had forgotten the brand of but didn't care either way. She held the lone cigarette to her lips and struggled to turn the Zippo on. Of all the times for the lighter not to - she got it, and smiled the first real smile the whole day.
As Kitty exhaled and let the the world back, and Kitty finally realized that she was alone in the middle of an amusement park. So quiet. So empty. It was almost dripping with sadness. Perhaps a metaphor for desire. The overall shoddiness of it all could also represent the desires that the victims wished for, that they will never fulfill. Sick, yes. Of course. Kitty quite liked it though,
"And no matter how you can try to push the blame on me," Kitty started with a smile. "I'd just like to remind you that that was all your fault." Her voice grew grim. "And if she dies, it'll be on your shoulders."
Kitty didn't give him a word in edgewise. She walked past Kyle, ignoring anything he had to say. She didn't care what he had to say anyway. Kitty had won. That was the only thing that mattered.
Kitty found herself wandering to the other side of the fair without really thinking about it. No electricity, Kitty gathered in the depths of her mind. A shame too. It would have been very exciting, what with all the booths and lights. Yes, and oh so alone.
That was when the smile left her face, and all that was left was a blank expression that betrayed nothing but explained everything.
Kitty wondered for just a fleeting moment if she should have tried to save Anna. After all it had been her intention to partner up with someone, a meatshild, a pawn, and Anna fit the bill. Then Kitty remembered that Kitty gave nothing of Anna, and with the payoff of saving her was far less than letting Nancy take her away. At least then if the girl actually killed her the head count would drop. It was morbid, something that Kitty herself knew all too well through art. Kitty was used to seeing and thinking morbid things. She had never done anything morbid though...
It didn't matter. Anna was lower than Kitty. That was all that mattered.
"Pathetic," Kitty muttered, fingering the canister mindlessly. "Couldn't even run away. What use would she have served?"
Kitty had seen SOTF and to call her a fan would be true. She had watched the show while her parents weren't around. They wouldn't have minded - disgusted in their daughter's choice but not disappointed. In fact the only reason she never really told her parents was to simply save face. Kitty was perfect in every way to her parents, and Kitty wanted to keep it that way. Her parents knew as little about her affection for the show as they were aware of the fact that Kitty had absolutely no direction in life, floating in and out of school with no social stretching outside of the walls of Bayview. Or the fact that she had to fake every smile she gave them.
Art is a beautiful thing. It could show so many shades of human emotion in so very little works. A single painting could hold so many emotions that it could overwhelm you, twisting your feelings like a rainbow-colored dishrag. Kitty had known about art and loved everything about it. Art had a dark side though, and Kitty was all too familiar with it. Art could be lovely, but it also shows you the ugly side of human nature that most people tried to push aside. Kitty simply knew that her world was a dirty meadow, filled with self-possessive sheep that live to only eat grass, make nothing of themselves. Herself included.
The only difference between her and the rest of the sheep laying here is that she knew the game like the back of her hand.
Who knows, maybe Kitty was a wolf in sheep's clothing. When it came to killing though, Kitty was very conflicted. Killing didn't seem hard in theory. A bullet through the shoulder would do. Kitty had no gun of her own though so that was shot down.Her mind ran to Franco Sebberts, one of her personal favorites from Season two. Killed people, played it smart, ouf of sight. That's how Kitty wanted to play. Of course, Franco got a grenade launcher and Kitty...
Kitty sighed. What difference did it matter? Just find a new Anna Chase, one with a good weapon. Maybe one that was useful. Find them, flash a smile and ask how they're doing. That's how you get people to trust you, act like you care and just smile. That's all that emotional connections meant to Kitty -just another way to stroke one's ego. Such is the way that Kitty mind works. Maybe that's why she had no friends.
Kitty felt the urge to smoke. A nasty habit that Kitty managed to keep under wraps until now. Kitty didn't need smoke, but right now it was something she wanted. She took out her bag of cigarettes that she had forgotten the brand of but didn't care either way. She held the lone cigarette to her lips and struggled to turn the Zippo on. Of all the times for the lighter not to - she got it, and smiled the first real smile the whole day.
As Kitty exhaled and let the the world back, and Kitty finally realized that she was alone in the middle of an amusement park. So quiet. So empty. It was almost dripping with sadness. Perhaps a metaphor for desire. The overall shoddiness of it all could also represent the desires that the victims wished for, that they will never fulfill. Sick, yes. Of course. Kitty quite liked it though,
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
In some part of Chase's mind that wasn't replaced by fear, she could hear Kitty and the other guy arguing. It sounded very distant, but she could hear the other guy saying that he didn't attack Nancy for some noble purpose, or because she was a specific target. She could hear him rant at Kitty about how throwing a smoke bomb wasn't going to help.
So that was it, huh?
The revelation hit her like a bat over the head.
She wasn't going to be saved at this rate. Kitty and that other kid were busy arguing. And one of them seemed to care more about the gun more than her well-being. Chase was going to die here...
No! She can't die here!
She had a family, a home... friends! And it would be, well, she wasn't the type of person to get killed this easily! She didn't want to! And she did not want to give up so soon!
Not now. Not ever.
If she gave up so soon, she would be a coward. She had already done some pretty cowardly stuff in recent history, she had to admit, but it didn't mean she was going to allow herself to die!
Chase had so many things to live for. So many things to see. So many things to say. So many things to do.
She had to live.
For Brendan.
For Lexie.
For Dawne.
For Jon.
For herself.
Chase had stopped struggling for a few seconds, but soon after she noticed Nancy had stood up, she started up again, just as defiant as ever.
She was going to live, at any cost.
Nancy was talking again. Chase could barely make it out. It wasn't that Nancy was far away, it was that fear made it hard to process. It was as if some other part of her brain was listening, while her conscious self was elsewhere, curled up in the fetal position in the corner of her mind. What was Nancy saying? Something about her voice seemed... just as scared? No, couldn't be.
Chase felt herself being dragged away, in spite of her protests. She really had no clue what was going on. She knew she was being dragged past the kid who had attacked Nancy, but that was about it. It also seemed that Nancy had reached to pick something off the ground. Chase continued to struggle, until they went around a turn and...
Nancy let go?
Chase found herself looking at her attacker with a mixture of fear and confusion. What was happening? Chase's heart rate went even faster, pounding in her chest like a drum.
Then the blurry form of Nancy uttered an apology, and started running away while holding what appeared to be a bag of some kind and her gun from before. Chase could only stare in confusion, watching Nancy run off.
She only wanted the bag...?
Her bag. Nancy wanted her bag. "Your bag". Her specific words.
And then it hit her.
Nancy had her daypack. That was what she was putting her hands all over just before Kitty approached. Why didn't she realize it sooner?
A feeling of dread passed over Chase. Oh god... that had her weapon and stuff, didn't it? She couldn't defend herself now, especially while being unable to see. And what if her glasses were in there? What then? She was blind, truly alone, and completely defenseless.
"Nancy, come back here!"
She ran a couple of feet towards the fleeing blur of Nancy Wainright, but it was too late. Nancy was already far off, and soon she was only an extremely faint blur, that Chase could only see if she squinted very hard. It was no use, really. Nancy could see, had a gun, was much bigger, and seemed more coherent right now. Chase, on the other hand, was a petite girl who couldn't see, didn't have a weapon, and not only did she have a headache and couldn't see straight, she was scared out of her wits. One of the things that people found surprising about Chase was that in spite of her seemingly meek temperament and speech impediment, she was a lot more stubborn than she let on. However, even in her current state, she knew very well not to attempt a fight she was almost guaranteed to lose.
Chase just stood there in place, in shock. That thought was coming again... she was going to die very soon. Some a-hole was going to take advantage of her nearsightedness and lack of weapon, and then she would die some horrible death, aired for the viewing entertainment of people all over the country. This was how she was going to die, at a young age, with all opportunities taken from her. A shudder passed over her body. Not like this! If anything, she wanted to live a long happy life! And that was gone. Everything was gone.
Chase felt the tears build up again. It was so tempting... just to collapse and cry, waiting for her eventual death. Oh, how much she wished she could do that. But, even though she was barely trying to stop herself, they weren't coming for some reason. And so, Chase continued to stare off into the distance, trembling quietly.
No. She couldn't die. She refused to be killed.
She knew she wasn't prepared to kill, but even in this state, she knew that she was going to have to do a better job of defending herself. But how? No weapon, no eyesight.
And Nancy's parting words made no sense. Good luck? How? She took her stuff! How was she supposed to have good luck without anything? It only made her confused even more. Why did she seem so... afraid and apologetic? She had basically mugged her.
There was only one option she had now, and that was to return the way she came. Chase turned around, and stepped in the opposite direction.
As she walked, Chase felt as if she was a zombie. There was a certain feeling there, but she couldn't place her finger on it. It was as if nothing right now was real, and she was in a dream or was in a trance of some kind. Chase felt herself continue to tremble as she slowly walked, looking towards the ground.
What was there to do? Hopefully the contents of her backpack were intact, and not with Nancy. Hopefully she would encounter one of her friends very soon. Heck, even Jon was peachy. And hopefully, there was a way out.
There had to be a way out.
So that was it, huh?
The revelation hit her like a bat over the head.
She wasn't going to be saved at this rate. Kitty and that other kid were busy arguing. And one of them seemed to care more about the gun more than her well-being. Chase was going to die here...
No! She can't die here!
She had a family, a home... friends! And it would be, well, she wasn't the type of person to get killed this easily! She didn't want to! And she did not want to give up so soon!
Not now. Not ever.
If she gave up so soon, she would be a coward. She had already done some pretty cowardly stuff in recent history, she had to admit, but it didn't mean she was going to allow herself to die!
Chase had so many things to live for. So many things to see. So many things to say. So many things to do.
She had to live.
For Brendan.
For Lexie.
For Dawne.
For Jon.
For herself.
Chase had stopped struggling for a few seconds, but soon after she noticed Nancy had stood up, she started up again, just as defiant as ever.
She was going to live, at any cost.
Nancy was talking again. Chase could barely make it out. It wasn't that Nancy was far away, it was that fear made it hard to process. It was as if some other part of her brain was listening, while her conscious self was elsewhere, curled up in the fetal position in the corner of her mind. What was Nancy saying? Something about her voice seemed... just as scared? No, couldn't be.
Chase felt herself being dragged away, in spite of her protests. She really had no clue what was going on. She knew she was being dragged past the kid who had attacked Nancy, but that was about it. It also seemed that Nancy had reached to pick something off the ground. Chase continued to struggle, until they went around a turn and...
Nancy let go?
Chase found herself looking at her attacker with a mixture of fear and confusion. What was happening? Chase's heart rate went even faster, pounding in her chest like a drum.
Then the blurry form of Nancy uttered an apology, and started running away while holding what appeared to be a bag of some kind and her gun from before. Chase could only stare in confusion, watching Nancy run off.
She only wanted the bag...?
Her bag. Nancy wanted her bag. "Your bag". Her specific words.
And then it hit her.
Nancy had her daypack. That was what she was putting her hands all over just before Kitty approached. Why didn't she realize it sooner?
A feeling of dread passed over Chase. Oh god... that had her weapon and stuff, didn't it? She couldn't defend herself now, especially while being unable to see. And what if her glasses were in there? What then? She was blind, truly alone, and completely defenseless.
"Nancy, come back here!"
She ran a couple of feet towards the fleeing blur of Nancy Wainright, but it was too late. Nancy was already far off, and soon she was only an extremely faint blur, that Chase could only see if she squinted very hard. It was no use, really. Nancy could see, had a gun, was much bigger, and seemed more coherent right now. Chase, on the other hand, was a petite girl who couldn't see, didn't have a weapon, and not only did she have a headache and couldn't see straight, she was scared out of her wits. One of the things that people found surprising about Chase was that in spite of her seemingly meek temperament and speech impediment, she was a lot more stubborn than she let on. However, even in her current state, she knew very well not to attempt a fight she was almost guaranteed to lose.
Chase just stood there in place, in shock. That thought was coming again... she was going to die very soon. Some a-hole was going to take advantage of her nearsightedness and lack of weapon, and then she would die some horrible death, aired for the viewing entertainment of people all over the country. This was how she was going to die, at a young age, with all opportunities taken from her. A shudder passed over her body. Not like this! If anything, she wanted to live a long happy life! And that was gone. Everything was gone.
Chase felt the tears build up again. It was so tempting... just to collapse and cry, waiting for her eventual death. Oh, how much she wished she could do that. But, even though she was barely trying to stop herself, they weren't coming for some reason. And so, Chase continued to stare off into the distance, trembling quietly.
No. She couldn't die. She refused to be killed.
She knew she wasn't prepared to kill, but even in this state, she knew that she was going to have to do a better job of defending herself. But how? No weapon, no eyesight.
And Nancy's parting words made no sense. Good luck? How? She took her stuff! How was she supposed to have good luck without anything? It only made her confused even more. Why did she seem so... afraid and apologetic? She had basically mugged her.
There was only one option she had now, and that was to return the way she came. Chase turned around, and stepped in the opposite direction.
As she walked, Chase felt as if she was a zombie. There was a certain feeling there, but she couldn't place her finger on it. It was as if nothing right now was real, and she was in a dream or was in a trance of some kind. Chase felt herself continue to tremble as she slowly walked, looking towards the ground.
What was there to do? Hopefully the contents of her backpack were intact, and not with Nancy. Hopefully she would encounter one of her friends very soon. Heck, even Jon was peachy. And hopefully, there was a way out.
There had to be a way out.
((GMing approved.))
Roland had his back turned, using some crazy military hand gesture for Dave and the girl to follow him in what was undoubtedly some suicide attack against the huge bitch holding a goddamn rifle.
""I'm going to get that girl bac-"
Alright Dave, Now or never.
Dave rushed forwards, arms outstretched, staying low and picking up whatever speed he could before tackling Roland to the ground. Despite Roland's size advantage, Dave managed to take him down pretty easily. Dave stayed on him, trying to shift his weight to keep Roland face down on the floor. It didn't work, Roland managed to turn over. He debated just putting his knife to his throat and stopping him that way, but decided against it. He was struggling too much, Dave figured he would've ended up slashing his throat by accident or some other stupid fucking twist of fate.
"Roland, let her go." He grunted, still struggling to restrain Roland. "Either we let her go, or the three of us are getting intimate with the business end of that goddamned rifle she's holding."
Roland said something cliched about not letting her get away, and Dave gritted his teeth.
"Yes we fucking can, okay?" Dave's hands were getting numb, he felt his grip weaken. Roland must've realised, cause he took the opportunity and ran with it, trying to shove Dave back. He shouted something about not wanting to sit back and watch, and Dave almost burst out laughing. "Fuck, I'll cover your eyes, then."
Dave grunted, this was taking more out of him than he'd thought. He managed to keep his grip for a few seconds longer before Roland's elbow caught him in the nose and finally broke his hold. Dave got back up and felt the small trickle of blood coming down his upper lip. Roland looked over at where the whole hostage deal had taken place, before looking back at Dave and asking him what he'd just done.
"I just stopped you getting us fucking murdered, that's what!" Dave pulled out a tissue from his pocket and put it up to his bleeding nostril. "Or was your plan to use me as a fucking meat-shield all along?"
Roland had his back turned, using some crazy military hand gesture for Dave and the girl to follow him in what was undoubtedly some suicide attack against the huge bitch holding a goddamn rifle.
""I'm going to get that girl bac-"
Alright Dave, Now or never.
Dave rushed forwards, arms outstretched, staying low and picking up whatever speed he could before tackling Roland to the ground. Despite Roland's size advantage, Dave managed to take him down pretty easily. Dave stayed on him, trying to shift his weight to keep Roland face down on the floor. It didn't work, Roland managed to turn over. He debated just putting his knife to his throat and stopping him that way, but decided against it. He was struggling too much, Dave figured he would've ended up slashing his throat by accident or some other stupid fucking twist of fate.
"Roland, let her go." He grunted, still struggling to restrain Roland. "Either we let her go, or the three of us are getting intimate with the business end of that goddamned rifle she's holding."
Roland said something cliched about not letting her get away, and Dave gritted his teeth.
"Yes we fucking can, okay?" Dave's hands were getting numb, he felt his grip weaken. Roland must've realised, cause he took the opportunity and ran with it, trying to shove Dave back. He shouted something about not wanting to sit back and watch, and Dave almost burst out laughing. "Fuck, I'll cover your eyes, then."
Dave grunted, this was taking more out of him than he'd thought. He managed to keep his grip for a few seconds longer before Roland's elbow caught him in the nose and finally broke his hold. Dave got back up and felt the small trickle of blood coming down his upper lip. Roland looked over at where the whole hostage deal had taken place, before looking back at Dave and asking him what he'd just done.
"I just stopped you getting us fucking murdered, that's what!" Dave pulled out a tissue from his pocket and put it up to his bleeding nostril. "Or was your plan to use me as a fucking meat-shield all along?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Badb.
-
AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
((Alex Rasputin continued from Feeling Kind of Anxious))
((Any GMing on Kitty by me was pre-approved by Ciel))
((Sorry for the delay. I lost this post once, and managed to cut my thumb and index finger on a push-pin. How? I don't really know. Also, long post is long.))
...Does this road ever end?
Alex Rasputin was beginning to feel the strain of running across the seemingly endless dirt road that stretched across the island. It had been only a short while since the incident at the cliffs, and he was now considerably tired from the ordeal. Distance running wasn't something Alex was too much into anymore, on account of the fact that he'd lost a good chunk of his left big toe. It didn't hinder him too much, but running for too long hurt quite a bit.
Luckily, it seemed that the road (or rather, trail - it was too narrow to drive anything larger than an ATV down) would finally come to an end. Where it ended, though...
"A fairground? What the fuck?"
Most of the rides had rusted and broken down, and the dilapidated stands where games once stood were now torn apart and were in the process of being slowly consumed by the elements. Carnivals were fucking scary in the first place - an old, abandoned carnival full of heavily armed and paranoid teenagers was just terrifying. The relative quiet brought on by Alex's sudden stop at the fairground made it all the worse. Judging from the voices he heard faintly, there were most likely people inside of the fairground, but he wasn't about to chance an encounter with Bayview High School's more psychotic students.
Breathing heavily, Alex opted to take a break against a tree at the side of the road. While Alex was known for not being afraid of much, being in SOTF was something that nobody was really prepared for. Sure, he could kick someone's ass if he needed to. He'd done it before. But nobody was coming at him with knives and guns before. It wasn't like his life was on the line when he'd gotten in fights at home.
As he held his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath, he was reminded of the decently-sized gash across his face. Eric's knife didn't cut too deep, but deep enough to draw a nasty amount of blood. It had since caked and dried on his face, and felt a bit awkward. It scraped off his face pretty easily, but Alex wasn't really in the business of opening old wounds. The daypack, with a hastily stenciled BO45 on the front of it, contained meager supplies. Alex began digging through it, removing the more useless items and trying to lessen what he had to carry with him on the island. Stuff like the sweater he'd brought along, and the food rations could stay - things like a manual titled "YOUR BAT AND YOU!" would not. The crackers and water bottle were packed at the very bottom. Which meant that the crackers were now mostly crushed. Less than pleased, Alex quickly retreived the watter bottle from the pack, and opened it with the familiar plastic snap.
"Hooray, Aquafina. The fina-est Aqua around."
This shit tastes of plastic and nasty. What kind of sick fucks are these people, giving us Aquafina... Jesus.
After taking a few quick gulps, he poured a bit of it on his hand, then began to rub the blood off of his face. It came off pretty easily, and the lukewarm water woke him up from the slight stupor he'd fell into while he ran blindly across the island.
Alex would've liked to end up at somewhere a little more useful, and less creepy. Maybe a warehouse full of food and weapons? Hell, maybe an airstrip with a plane that would just fly him right off the island. That would be nice. But no, he had to end up at a fairground where he was now legitimately concerned a clown was going to claw it's way out of the carousel and eat his soul. All thanks to that Stephen King miniseries that his Dad watched, he now was terrified of clowns.
Even worse was the fact that should a deranged clown, or more likely a deraged student of Bayview High were to emerge from the fair, Alex only had a metal baseball bat to defend himself with. It was decently heavy, and pretty hard, and there's no doubt he could take someone down with it. But if someone had a gun, or even got a lucky shot with a knife - he would be dead. People always assumed Alex was just another big stupid jock, and sometimes he sounded like it; it still felt like an insult that they gave him basically the equivalent of a club to defend himself with.
Closing the half-empty water bottle, Alex got up off of the tree. Break time was over. The longer he stood tiredly in one place, the more likely someone was going to pop out from the bushes and murder him; or, Danya would make the area a danger zone, and Alex would then have to worry about his head spontaneously exploding. Oh, the day-to-day life of a Bayview Senior. Alex zipped up the much lighter pack, grabbed the bat, and began to walk back up the road. He passed a slight diversion in the path a little ways down - it was worth taking a look at.
As he was about to leave, however, the strong, sickly smell of cigarettes caught his attention. Out of either curiosity or stupidity (or both) Alex turned around and began once again towards the fairground. As he turned a corner around the carousel, he saw a glint of blue hair.
Oh, you're fucking kidding me!
To Alex's suprise, what he saw was not a cigarette-smoking clown, but a small, frail looking girl with blue hair. She was taking a drag of a cigarette, and had her back to Alex. She didn't seem to notice that he was there.
What mainly caught his attention now, aside from her hair, was the fact that she appeared to be holding a grenade. A legitimate, honest-to-goodness grenade. A weapon that was dangerous enough to make his baseball bat look as threatening as a toothpick. Something that took little skill to use and could not only kill multiple people at the same time, but it would send everyone else running. And it was in possession of a girl who was nearly a foot shorter than he was, and looked like a strong gust of wind could knock her over. To use a cliche, it would be like taking candy from a baby.
As terrible a thought it was to rob this girl of her only way of defending herself, it was neccessary. Alex wasn't sure if he had, in fact, killed Eric Lorenz at the cliffs. If he did, the terrorists would announce him as a killer across the entire island, and Alex would become a very large target. It wasn't like they would tell everyone on the island that he didn't intend to kill Eric - they would applaud him for it. If that happened, some kind of weapon other than a baseball bat would be very, very helpful. From what he saw, it didn't look like Eric was getting up any time soon.
So Alex stood behind this blue haired girl. Her name escaped him, but he had definitely seen her around the school. It wasn't like it really mattered anyway. On the island, they were just numbers, really. Or at least, that was an easier way for Alex to see it.
She was about forty feet away - it would be simple to cover the distance before she noticed him running towards her. A shot from the bat to her back could wind her. Once she fell over, Alex could simply take the grenades and keep running. It would be simple. Hopefully.
If I don't do it now I'll miss my chance. Without some kind of weapon, it'll be a fucking hard time fighting anybody who's got half a mind to hurt me.
It didn't feel right, but it was Survival of the "Fittest" after all. His life was now completely his responsibility. No one was out to save Alex, and when that announcement came on, his peers would be out to kill him. He dug his heel into the dirt, and broke out into a run, the bat ready to strike.
Alex covered the distance before the blue-haired girl even had a chance to turn around. Unfortunately for Alex (and fortunately for Kitty) his intended shot to her lower back missed on account of his height, and instead struck her in the left shoulder blade. The shot still sent her sprawling, crying out in pain as she did so.
"Fuck!"
The mistake he'd made in striking her became painfully obvious when Alex turned around. It took him a short distance to slow down, and when he looked back he saw that the girl was already rising to her feet. Most disturbingly, she had pulled the pin on one of the canisters and had now lobbed it in Alex's direction.
Now, Alex was no baseball player. Track and Hockey had occupied him enough, and he found the sport boring. The chance to play never came up, really. Sure, he'd gone to a few games here and there with friends, but that was about it. So when he saw the canister being thrown at his face it was only quick thinking that lead to him swinging the bat, and sending the canister careening into the side of the carousel, making a loud dent as it did so.
To his dismay, he also realized now that they weren't actually explosive canisters that he had attempted to steal. The small grey cylinder popped open when it hit the carousel, and began to release a thick, grey smoke. They were smoke bombs. Almost completely useless to Alex, and made this whole endeavour a waste of time. A giant fucking waste of time and energy.
In a fit of rage, Alex threw the bat into the air. It didn't matter where it landed, it didn't matter if he even found it again. He just didn't care anymore. The girl was slowly getting to her feet, and it seemed he might've caused some serious injury to her shoulder. Cautiously, he took a few steps closer to her. To his suprise, she made an attempt at retaliating, lunging at Alex. But Alex was out for blood now, and the girl didn't really stand much of a chance. He grabbed her wrists and threw her to the dirt.
It seemed like the rest of the world disappeared as Alex's one goal was rending this girl incapable of anything close to a movement. A straight punch to her jaw sent her sprawling to the ground once again. Alex walked closer and he was nearly lifted from the ground when he kicked her sharply in the abdomen. No reasoning or thought was behind his assault. He just wanted to destroy something, and this poor girl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As he grabbed her once again by the collar, she threw a clump of dirt into his face, interrupting the savage beating. A small rock struck Alex in the eye, and caused him to cry out numerous russian obsceneties. He opened his eyes to find her attempting to pick up the discarded baseball bat. Smoke filled the air, and Alex's voice was now as hoarse as it was loud.
"YOU....BITCH.... WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING DIFFICULT?!"
With very little effort, he simply grabbed her by the throat and thigh, and tossed her into one of the booths that once held some kind of game. She landed with a loud thud. It seemed that the girl wouldn't be a nuisance, for a short while anyways. Alex could see movement, but he wasn't convinced that she would retaliate anymore. As his senses returned to him, he looked around for the smoke grenades. They weren't exactly a fantastic weapon, but they could still be useful.
"Oh, what's the point? Fucking idiot! Can't have given her real grenades, no! God-damnit! Stupid useless funfair and it's stupid blue-haired.... FUCK!"
Not quite finished his little shit-fit, Alex reserved to standing, staring at the girl. He wasn't sure what to do. No good thoughts came to mind.
((Any GMing on Kitty by me was pre-approved by Ciel))
((Sorry for the delay. I lost this post once, and managed to cut my thumb and index finger on a push-pin. How? I don't really know. Also, long post is long.))
...Does this road ever end?
Alex Rasputin was beginning to feel the strain of running across the seemingly endless dirt road that stretched across the island. It had been only a short while since the incident at the cliffs, and he was now considerably tired from the ordeal. Distance running wasn't something Alex was too much into anymore, on account of the fact that he'd lost a good chunk of his left big toe. It didn't hinder him too much, but running for too long hurt quite a bit.
Luckily, it seemed that the road (or rather, trail - it was too narrow to drive anything larger than an ATV down) would finally come to an end. Where it ended, though...
"A fairground? What the fuck?"
Most of the rides had rusted and broken down, and the dilapidated stands where games once stood were now torn apart and were in the process of being slowly consumed by the elements. Carnivals were fucking scary in the first place - an old, abandoned carnival full of heavily armed and paranoid teenagers was just terrifying. The relative quiet brought on by Alex's sudden stop at the fairground made it all the worse. Judging from the voices he heard faintly, there were most likely people inside of the fairground, but he wasn't about to chance an encounter with Bayview High School's more psychotic students.
Breathing heavily, Alex opted to take a break against a tree at the side of the road. While Alex was known for not being afraid of much, being in SOTF was something that nobody was really prepared for. Sure, he could kick someone's ass if he needed to. He'd done it before. But nobody was coming at him with knives and guns before. It wasn't like his life was on the line when he'd gotten in fights at home.
As he held his head in his hands, trying to catch his breath, he was reminded of the decently-sized gash across his face. Eric's knife didn't cut too deep, but deep enough to draw a nasty amount of blood. It had since caked and dried on his face, and felt a bit awkward. It scraped off his face pretty easily, but Alex wasn't really in the business of opening old wounds. The daypack, with a hastily stenciled BO45 on the front of it, contained meager supplies. Alex began digging through it, removing the more useless items and trying to lessen what he had to carry with him on the island. Stuff like the sweater he'd brought along, and the food rations could stay - things like a manual titled "YOUR BAT AND YOU!" would not. The crackers and water bottle were packed at the very bottom. Which meant that the crackers were now mostly crushed. Less than pleased, Alex quickly retreived the watter bottle from the pack, and opened it with the familiar plastic snap.
"Hooray, Aquafina. The fina-est Aqua around."
This shit tastes of plastic and nasty. What kind of sick fucks are these people, giving us Aquafina... Jesus.
After taking a few quick gulps, he poured a bit of it on his hand, then began to rub the blood off of his face. It came off pretty easily, and the lukewarm water woke him up from the slight stupor he'd fell into while he ran blindly across the island.
Alex would've liked to end up at somewhere a little more useful, and less creepy. Maybe a warehouse full of food and weapons? Hell, maybe an airstrip with a plane that would just fly him right off the island. That would be nice. But no, he had to end up at a fairground where he was now legitimately concerned a clown was going to claw it's way out of the carousel and eat his soul. All thanks to that Stephen King miniseries that his Dad watched, he now was terrified of clowns.
Even worse was the fact that should a deranged clown, or more likely a deraged student of Bayview High were to emerge from the fair, Alex only had a metal baseball bat to defend himself with. It was decently heavy, and pretty hard, and there's no doubt he could take someone down with it. But if someone had a gun, or even got a lucky shot with a knife - he would be dead. People always assumed Alex was just another big stupid jock, and sometimes he sounded like it; it still felt like an insult that they gave him basically the equivalent of a club to defend himself with.
Closing the half-empty water bottle, Alex got up off of the tree. Break time was over. The longer he stood tiredly in one place, the more likely someone was going to pop out from the bushes and murder him; or, Danya would make the area a danger zone, and Alex would then have to worry about his head spontaneously exploding. Oh, the day-to-day life of a Bayview Senior. Alex zipped up the much lighter pack, grabbed the bat, and began to walk back up the road. He passed a slight diversion in the path a little ways down - it was worth taking a look at.
As he was about to leave, however, the strong, sickly smell of cigarettes caught his attention. Out of either curiosity or stupidity (or both) Alex turned around and began once again towards the fairground. As he turned a corner around the carousel, he saw a glint of blue hair.
Oh, you're fucking kidding me!
To Alex's suprise, what he saw was not a cigarette-smoking clown, but a small, frail looking girl with blue hair. She was taking a drag of a cigarette, and had her back to Alex. She didn't seem to notice that he was there.
What mainly caught his attention now, aside from her hair, was the fact that she appeared to be holding a grenade. A legitimate, honest-to-goodness grenade. A weapon that was dangerous enough to make his baseball bat look as threatening as a toothpick. Something that took little skill to use and could not only kill multiple people at the same time, but it would send everyone else running. And it was in possession of a girl who was nearly a foot shorter than he was, and looked like a strong gust of wind could knock her over. To use a cliche, it would be like taking candy from a baby.
As terrible a thought it was to rob this girl of her only way of defending herself, it was neccessary. Alex wasn't sure if he had, in fact, killed Eric Lorenz at the cliffs. If he did, the terrorists would announce him as a killer across the entire island, and Alex would become a very large target. It wasn't like they would tell everyone on the island that he didn't intend to kill Eric - they would applaud him for it. If that happened, some kind of weapon other than a baseball bat would be very, very helpful. From what he saw, it didn't look like Eric was getting up any time soon.
So Alex stood behind this blue haired girl. Her name escaped him, but he had definitely seen her around the school. It wasn't like it really mattered anyway. On the island, they were just numbers, really. Or at least, that was an easier way for Alex to see it.
She was about forty feet away - it would be simple to cover the distance before she noticed him running towards her. A shot from the bat to her back could wind her. Once she fell over, Alex could simply take the grenades and keep running. It would be simple. Hopefully.
If I don't do it now I'll miss my chance. Without some kind of weapon, it'll be a fucking hard time fighting anybody who's got half a mind to hurt me.
It didn't feel right, but it was Survival of the "Fittest" after all. His life was now completely his responsibility. No one was out to save Alex, and when that announcement came on, his peers would be out to kill him. He dug his heel into the dirt, and broke out into a run, the bat ready to strike.
Alex covered the distance before the blue-haired girl even had a chance to turn around. Unfortunately for Alex (and fortunately for Kitty) his intended shot to her lower back missed on account of his height, and instead struck her in the left shoulder blade. The shot still sent her sprawling, crying out in pain as she did so.
"Fuck!"
The mistake he'd made in striking her became painfully obvious when Alex turned around. It took him a short distance to slow down, and when he looked back he saw that the girl was already rising to her feet. Most disturbingly, she had pulled the pin on one of the canisters and had now lobbed it in Alex's direction.
Now, Alex was no baseball player. Track and Hockey had occupied him enough, and he found the sport boring. The chance to play never came up, really. Sure, he'd gone to a few games here and there with friends, but that was about it. So when he saw the canister being thrown at his face it was only quick thinking that lead to him swinging the bat, and sending the canister careening into the side of the carousel, making a loud dent as it did so.
To his dismay, he also realized now that they weren't actually explosive canisters that he had attempted to steal. The small grey cylinder popped open when it hit the carousel, and began to release a thick, grey smoke. They were smoke bombs. Almost completely useless to Alex, and made this whole endeavour a waste of time. A giant fucking waste of time and energy.
In a fit of rage, Alex threw the bat into the air. It didn't matter where it landed, it didn't matter if he even found it again. He just didn't care anymore. The girl was slowly getting to her feet, and it seemed he might've caused some serious injury to her shoulder. Cautiously, he took a few steps closer to her. To his suprise, she made an attempt at retaliating, lunging at Alex. But Alex was out for blood now, and the girl didn't really stand much of a chance. He grabbed her wrists and threw her to the dirt.
It seemed like the rest of the world disappeared as Alex's one goal was rending this girl incapable of anything close to a movement. A straight punch to her jaw sent her sprawling to the ground once again. Alex walked closer and he was nearly lifted from the ground when he kicked her sharply in the abdomen. No reasoning or thought was behind his assault. He just wanted to destroy something, and this poor girl was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As he grabbed her once again by the collar, she threw a clump of dirt into his face, interrupting the savage beating. A small rock struck Alex in the eye, and caused him to cry out numerous russian obsceneties. He opened his eyes to find her attempting to pick up the discarded baseball bat. Smoke filled the air, and Alex's voice was now as hoarse as it was loud.
"YOU....BITCH.... WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING DIFFICULT?!"
With very little effort, he simply grabbed her by the throat and thigh, and tossed her into one of the booths that once held some kind of game. She landed with a loud thud. It seemed that the girl wouldn't be a nuisance, for a short while anyways. Alex could see movement, but he wasn't convinced that she would retaliate anymore. As his senses returned to him, he looked around for the smoke grenades. They weren't exactly a fantastic weapon, but they could still be useful.
"Oh, what's the point? Fucking idiot! Can't have given her real grenades, no! God-damnit! Stupid useless funfair and it's stupid blue-haired.... FUCK!"
Not quite finished his little shit-fit, Alex reserved to standing, staring at the girl. He wasn't sure what to do. No good thoughts came to mind.
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armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
((Robert Lerger continued from Shelter From The Storm))
The road stretched still further on, passing on the outskirts of the faire. These things always seemed to be larger on the outside than they were on the inside, and this seemed no exception. As Robert approached the side entrance, he focused on the Ferris Wheel in order to keep his bearings. It didn't help much; his arm's constant pain and the feeling of the chainsaw's chain digging into the flesh of his shoulder kept him just distracted enough to walk past the entrance twice. Finally, he found his way in and immediately noticed the sound of a kerfuffle. A very loud kerfuffle.
Robert pushed his way through decimated and dissolving mini-games, taking no small pleasure in knocking over the stack of milk bottles set up for one of those ball throwing games. To his chagrin, of course, they didn't fall over. Stupid cheating gamesmiths. After this mild digression, Robert emerged from the forest of Mini-games to see a rather disturbing scene. There was smoke in the air, colored yellow. It was probably some sort of smoke bomb or something. From what he could see, which was admittedly not a lot, some dumb jock had just bodily thrown a girl into a booth. And that shit did not fly.
"Hey!"
Robert stepped forward, revving the chainsaw in a menacing manner, not that there is any other manner to rev a chainsaw in. "I don't care why you're doing it. But step away from the girl or there will be... consequences," he said, dropping his voice to a menacing low.
It was about then that his brain caught up with his body. 'SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING? This guy is, like, twice my size sitting down, I've got a gimp arm and I don't even know the girl! Run you stupid bastard run!'
The more brave and less smart part of him kept it's grip, mentally berating the cowardly part of him for it's cowardice. 'Consider this a stand made. I will not allow people to become animals just because we're in a cage. Be the best of humanity, not the worst!'
The mental arguments were rather distracting, but Robert kept his gaze focused on the jock. He revved the chainsaw again, just to punctuate his point.
-------------
(Edited to keep Kyle from being inactive.)
Kyle kept his gaze on Nancy as she led Anna away. He didn't really care either way what happened to her. A part of him doubted Nancy would kill Anna in cold blood. Take away her only means of survival, certainly. Kill her? Probably not. It made his heart shiver with joy as he saw the fear on Nancy's face. Power was a nice thing to have, to be certain. That was what would make people into players here. That feeling of power.
Kitty was saying something. Something annoying. Kyle tuned her out. She wasn't important. He barely noticed when she walked away. He started to space out slightly, trying to keep his mind busy. Math helped a lot, surprisingly, and kept him from creating scenes and increasing his anxiety. Scenes like Hayley getting.... NO! He shook his head violently, pressing his palms to his temples. He took deep breaths, trying to keep his cool. Hayley was fine. She was strong, she was smart, she would be fine. She was fine. The sound of dirt crunching to his left made him spin, half-expecting it to be Nancy coming back for revenge already.
Instead, it was Anna Chase, who was walking forward slowly. Probably to avoid tripping over anything. Pity welled up in Kyle's heart. It felt odd. He glanced around quickly and noticed a red backpack not too far away from where the dufflebag Nancy had taken had been. He stored the information away, but didn't say anything yet. He really didn't want a weak hangers on with no weapons, and he was loathe to give up his in the event of his conscience overpowering his brain on the matter of grouping up. He doubted Anna would be willing or able to hurt him, even after the callousness of what he had said, but better safe than sorry, right?
The road stretched still further on, passing on the outskirts of the faire. These things always seemed to be larger on the outside than they were on the inside, and this seemed no exception. As Robert approached the side entrance, he focused on the Ferris Wheel in order to keep his bearings. It didn't help much; his arm's constant pain and the feeling of the chainsaw's chain digging into the flesh of his shoulder kept him just distracted enough to walk past the entrance twice. Finally, he found his way in and immediately noticed the sound of a kerfuffle. A very loud kerfuffle.
Robert pushed his way through decimated and dissolving mini-games, taking no small pleasure in knocking over the stack of milk bottles set up for one of those ball throwing games. To his chagrin, of course, they didn't fall over. Stupid cheating gamesmiths. After this mild digression, Robert emerged from the forest of Mini-games to see a rather disturbing scene. There was smoke in the air, colored yellow. It was probably some sort of smoke bomb or something. From what he could see, which was admittedly not a lot, some dumb jock had just bodily thrown a girl into a booth. And that shit did not fly.
"Hey!"
Robert stepped forward, revving the chainsaw in a menacing manner, not that there is any other manner to rev a chainsaw in. "I don't care why you're doing it. But step away from the girl or there will be... consequences," he said, dropping his voice to a menacing low.
It was about then that his brain caught up with his body. 'SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING? This guy is, like, twice my size sitting down, I've got a gimp arm and I don't even know the girl! Run you stupid bastard run!'
The more brave and less smart part of him kept it's grip, mentally berating the cowardly part of him for it's cowardice. 'Consider this a stand made. I will not allow people to become animals just because we're in a cage. Be the best of humanity, not the worst!'
The mental arguments were rather distracting, but Robert kept his gaze focused on the jock. He revved the chainsaw again, just to punctuate his point.
-------------
(Edited to keep Kyle from being inactive.)
Kyle kept his gaze on Nancy as she led Anna away. He didn't really care either way what happened to her. A part of him doubted Nancy would kill Anna in cold blood. Take away her only means of survival, certainly. Kill her? Probably not. It made his heart shiver with joy as he saw the fear on Nancy's face. Power was a nice thing to have, to be certain. That was what would make people into players here. That feeling of power.
Kitty was saying something. Something annoying. Kyle tuned her out. She wasn't important. He barely noticed when she walked away. He started to space out slightly, trying to keep his mind busy. Math helped a lot, surprisingly, and kept him from creating scenes and increasing his anxiety. Scenes like Hayley getting.... NO! He shook his head violently, pressing his palms to his temples. He took deep breaths, trying to keep his cool. Hayley was fine. She was strong, she was smart, she would be fine. She was fine. The sound of dirt crunching to his left made him spin, half-expecting it to be Nancy coming back for revenge already.
Instead, it was Anna Chase, who was walking forward slowly. Probably to avoid tripping over anything. Pity welled up in Kyle's heart. It felt odd. He glanced around quickly and noticed a red backpack not too far away from where the dufflebag Nancy had taken had been. He stored the information away, but didn't say anything yet. He really didn't want a weak hangers on with no weapons, and he was loathe to give up his in the event of his conscience overpowering his brain on the matter of grouping up. He doubted Anna would be willing or able to hurt him, even after the callousness of what he had said, but better safe than sorry, right?
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Go in after her?
It was a stupid idea, one that would most likely get him killed, but if he wanted to do it, she wasn't going to stop him. Maybe he'd be enough of a distraction that she MIGHT consider getting Kyle.
Suddenly Roland was flattened by Dave. She swerved, kicking her trumpet and causing the glass to cut through the gauze, destroying her improvised weapon. She sighed, put her fingers up to her temples and crawled to the boys.
"Would you two cut it out!?" she hissed at them. "I agree that it wasn't a good plan, but if he wants to be a hero, it's not any of our business, is it?" she whispered sternly.
"And you," she said turning to Dave. "I think that a firm hold of his arm and an 'I think you shouldn't do this' would have sufficed! People are going to think we're insane" she finished, mumbling.
Isabel took a deep breath and collected the components of her shiv, shoving everything but the trumpet back in her back.
What am I doing here? I'm never going to survive this. I don't think that I can. God, it's not like anyone's going to miss me anyway. But still....why do I feel like I have to at least try?
Another deep breath. She closed her eyes and grabbed hold of her now average trumpet. "We need to communicate better."
It was a stupid idea, one that would most likely get him killed, but if he wanted to do it, she wasn't going to stop him. Maybe he'd be enough of a distraction that she MIGHT consider getting Kyle.
Suddenly Roland was flattened by Dave. She swerved, kicking her trumpet and causing the glass to cut through the gauze, destroying her improvised weapon. She sighed, put her fingers up to her temples and crawled to the boys.
"Would you two cut it out!?" she hissed at them. "I agree that it wasn't a good plan, but if he wants to be a hero, it's not any of our business, is it?" she whispered sternly.
"And you," she said turning to Dave. "I think that a firm hold of his arm and an 'I think you shouldn't do this' would have sufficed! People are going to think we're insane" she finished, mumbling.
Isabel took a deep breath and collected the components of her shiv, shoving everything but the trumpet back in her back.
What am I doing here? I'm never going to survive this. I don't think that I can. God, it's not like anyone's going to miss me anyway. But still....why do I feel like I have to at least try?
Another deep breath. She closed her eyes and grabbed hold of her now average trumpet. "We need to communicate better."
Kitty was not as alone as she thought she was. The steps, the panting, every sound that her attacker made went completely unnoticed. Until the bat hit her in the shoulder, she was completely clueless. Naive. One might say that she didn't know what hit her.
The first thing she felt was pain. That bat had hit her so hard that at first she wasn't sure what had happened. She went spinning like a ballerina, balancing on her tiptoes as though she had planned for it all along. She landed on her knees, clutching her shoulder, oh jesus did someone just shoot her? Was that it? It felt like her fucking shoulder popped out of place! There was no blood, no, no one had shot her. She put this in mind that she wasn't shot, and kept her arm close to her chest.
The next thing she felt was fear. Was her attacker still behind her, waiting to finish her off? Kitty turned around and looked. No one. She looked back, wincing in pain as her hurt shoulder moved just slightly. That's when she saw him, Alex, bag in his shoulder, running away. She hadn't noticed the boy run past and take her pack but it took her only a second to register what had happened. Someone had just robbed her!
And then, lastly, she felt anger. Blood-boiling, teeth gritting anger. No, fuck, FUCK, she was not like Anna. She was strong. S-She was supposed to be the one taking stuff, not getting her own weapons taken away. The boy turned around and Kitty did the only thing she could do - she retaliated.
"Y-You give me that back!" Kitty said as she finally managed to pull the pin off.
She threw the grenade at Alex's face and turned away reflexively. Kitty prayed to god it would belt him in the face and knock him out. She tried to gather herself. Her only thought was to get her weapons and leave. Of course Alex had to bat the thing away. Kitty didn't realize this. She didn't actually think you could bat away a grenade like some sort of makeshift baseball.
And the only think Kitty felt was blinding fear.
"Y-You stay... G-Get away from me!" She screamed, her eyes wide, taking an accidental step forward.
Quite honestly the boy thought she was looking to attack him. The thought had crossed her mind but she knew it would be impossible. Maybe a shrimp like Anna but not a six-foot long beast of a man. Why would she ever -
Alex grabbed both of Kitty's wrists, causing the pain in Kitty's shoulder to skyrocket. She tried to pull away, to get out of his grasp but before she could even think she was thrown to her hands and knees. She coughed and tried her best to get up knowing she had to get up, but he punched her to the ground and kicked her while she was down. All she could do was whimper like a sick puppy. He grabbed her by the collar.
The rage was back again. Who did he think she was? She was Kitty Gittschall. She didn't have to take this shit. She grabbed a fistful of dirt as he grabbed her by the collar and threw it in his face, making the boy groan and let go of her.
"I SAID GET AWAY!" She gurgled, the cut she made when she bit down on her inner lip making her mouth taste of dirty metal.
She finally scrambled to her hands and knees when she saw it - the bat, her savior. She was supposed to be in tune with the game but this, what was happening right now, was no longer a game for her. This was a matter of life or death. She had to get this bat or this guy was going to kill her. She ignored the pain running through her body as she crawled towards the bat, clenching it with both of her hands. Yes, she was safe.
Then before she knew what was happening, she was lifted off the ground and found herself flying towards one of the stalls. She screamed and everything went dark.
The first thing she felt was pain. That bat had hit her so hard that at first she wasn't sure what had happened. She went spinning like a ballerina, balancing on her tiptoes as though she had planned for it all along. She landed on her knees, clutching her shoulder, oh jesus did someone just shoot her? Was that it? It felt like her fucking shoulder popped out of place! There was no blood, no, no one had shot her. She put this in mind that she wasn't shot, and kept her arm close to her chest.
The next thing she felt was fear. Was her attacker still behind her, waiting to finish her off? Kitty turned around and looked. No one. She looked back, wincing in pain as her hurt shoulder moved just slightly. That's when she saw him, Alex, bag in his shoulder, running away. She hadn't noticed the boy run past and take her pack but it took her only a second to register what had happened. Someone had just robbed her!
And then, lastly, she felt anger. Blood-boiling, teeth gritting anger. No, fuck, FUCK, she was not like Anna. She was strong. S-She was supposed to be the one taking stuff, not getting her own weapons taken away. The boy turned around and Kitty did the only thing she could do - she retaliated.
"Y-You give me that back!" Kitty said as she finally managed to pull the pin off.
She threw the grenade at Alex's face and turned away reflexively. Kitty prayed to god it would belt him in the face and knock him out. She tried to gather herself. Her only thought was to get her weapons and leave. Of course Alex had to bat the thing away. Kitty didn't realize this. She didn't actually think you could bat away a grenade like some sort of makeshift baseball.
And the only think Kitty felt was blinding fear.
"Y-You stay... G-Get away from me!" She screamed, her eyes wide, taking an accidental step forward.
Quite honestly the boy thought she was looking to attack him. The thought had crossed her mind but she knew it would be impossible. Maybe a shrimp like Anna but not a six-foot long beast of a man. Why would she ever -
Alex grabbed both of Kitty's wrists, causing the pain in Kitty's shoulder to skyrocket. She tried to pull away, to get out of his grasp but before she could even think she was thrown to her hands and knees. She coughed and tried her best to get up knowing she had to get up, but he punched her to the ground and kicked her while she was down. All she could do was whimper like a sick puppy. He grabbed her by the collar.
The rage was back again. Who did he think she was? She was Kitty Gittschall. She didn't have to take this shit. She grabbed a fistful of dirt as he grabbed her by the collar and threw it in his face, making the boy groan and let go of her.
"I SAID GET AWAY!" She gurgled, the cut she made when she bit down on her inner lip making her mouth taste of dirty metal.
She finally scrambled to her hands and knees when she saw it - the bat, her savior. She was supposed to be in tune with the game but this, what was happening right now, was no longer a game for her. This was a matter of life or death. She had to get this bat or this guy was going to kill her. She ignored the pain running through her body as she crawled towards the bat, clenching it with both of her hands. Yes, she was safe.
Then before she knew what was happening, she was lifted off the ground and found herself flying towards one of the stalls. She screamed and everything went dark.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Roland was fuming with rage. He let out a deep breath, and pushed his glasses up on his face, trying to control his temper. Dave lay on his back, tending to his bloody nose. To be completely honest, Roland didn't know when he'd smacked the boy hard enough to give him such an injury.
He's god damn lucky I don't try to hurt him next time.
"I just stopped you getting us fucking murdered, that's what!" Dave was saying, pulling a white tissue from his pocket and gingerly touching it to his bleeding nose.
"Or was your plan to use me as a fucking meat-shield all along?"
Roland's scowl deepened. He reached over, picking his sword up off the group. Flipping it over in his hands he breathed deep, trying to withhold his anger. He looked over towards the entrance of the fair. He didn't even know who she was. Her face was burned into the back of his mind. Filled with fear.
She was afraid, afraid and alone. And we didn't even help her. God damn it. God fucking damn it.
He looked back towards Dave, rage filling him. Isabel was saying something, something about communication. He could barely hear her. He gripped Charlene tight.
It's his fault. If he hadn't have held me back, I'd have rescued her. He doesn't know what needs to be done. He doesn't know jackshit, and he's going to keep holding me back. Can I afford these distractions, now that it's down to the wire?
Roland raised the weapon, pointing the tip at his downed comrade.
"Look, Dave. You need to get something clear about me, and about this game. Survival of the Fittest isn't simple. It's not 'Play' or 'Not Play'. That sick fuck has designed this game so even if we don't play, we can turn into monsters all the same. People are changing, losing grip, Meredith and Gracie are just the first. If we sit by and let them get away with their sins, we're letting everyone who's watching know that we think it's 'Okay' to look out for number one. It isn't okay. There isn't a number one, there isn't a winner in this. We can't just watch out for ourselves, we need to watch out for each other. Not just psychically, psychologically. This game is psychological warfare. We forget what it's like to be human, to help others in need, we're just as much at fault as the cold-blooded killers out here. And one more thing."
He gritted his teeth, lowering the weapon to his side. He jabbed his finger out towards Dave, disgust on his face.
"You are not a meat-shield. You are a member of my fucking team, and it's my job to get you and anyone else I can home. Don't you ever say that shit again."
Roland turned, looking once more towards the exit. He cursed under his breath.
God dammit, this long into the game and I'm already feeling guilty, already failing?
"Alright look, I guess the situation is diffused... I don't think we should try approaching those others, Kyle and Kitty. They've probably split alread-"
Roland heard a strange noise, something banging to the ground, his ears pricked up. He stopped midsentence, looking around confused. He glanced at his companions.
"Wait, did you hear..."
Roland looked around the stand they were using as cover. A plume of smoke was rising through the air. Roland could make out vague shapes in the distance, shapes... fighting?
Holy shit. Smoke. What the hell is going on!?
"Shit. Looks like we've got more trouble." He said, motioning to his team to move forward and take a look.
He's god damn lucky I don't try to hurt him next time.
"I just stopped you getting us fucking murdered, that's what!" Dave was saying, pulling a white tissue from his pocket and gingerly touching it to his bleeding nose.
"Or was your plan to use me as a fucking meat-shield all along?"
Roland's scowl deepened. He reached over, picking his sword up off the group. Flipping it over in his hands he breathed deep, trying to withhold his anger. He looked over towards the entrance of the fair. He didn't even know who she was. Her face was burned into the back of his mind. Filled with fear.
She was afraid, afraid and alone. And we didn't even help her. God damn it. God fucking damn it.
He looked back towards Dave, rage filling him. Isabel was saying something, something about communication. He could barely hear her. He gripped Charlene tight.
It's his fault. If he hadn't have held me back, I'd have rescued her. He doesn't know what needs to be done. He doesn't know jackshit, and he's going to keep holding me back. Can I afford these distractions, now that it's down to the wire?
Roland raised the weapon, pointing the tip at his downed comrade.
"Look, Dave. You need to get something clear about me, and about this game. Survival of the Fittest isn't simple. It's not 'Play' or 'Not Play'. That sick fuck has designed this game so even if we don't play, we can turn into monsters all the same. People are changing, losing grip, Meredith and Gracie are just the first. If we sit by and let them get away with their sins, we're letting everyone who's watching know that we think it's 'Okay' to look out for number one. It isn't okay. There isn't a number one, there isn't a winner in this. We can't just watch out for ourselves, we need to watch out for each other. Not just psychically, psychologically. This game is psychological warfare. We forget what it's like to be human, to help others in need, we're just as much at fault as the cold-blooded killers out here. And one more thing."
He gritted his teeth, lowering the weapon to his side. He jabbed his finger out towards Dave, disgust on his face.
"You are not a meat-shield. You are a member of my fucking team, and it's my job to get you and anyone else I can home. Don't you ever say that shit again."
Roland turned, looking once more towards the exit. He cursed under his breath.
God dammit, this long into the game and I'm already feeling guilty, already failing?
"Alright look, I guess the situation is diffused... I don't think we should try approaching those others, Kyle and Kitty. They've probably split alread-"
Roland heard a strange noise, something banging to the ground, his ears pricked up. He stopped midsentence, looking around confused. He glanced at his companions.
"Wait, did you hear..."
Roland looked around the stand they were using as cover. A plume of smoke was rising through the air. Roland could make out vague shapes in the distance, shapes... fighting?
Holy shit. Smoke. What the hell is going on!?
"Shit. Looks like we've got more trouble." He said, motioning to his team to move forward and take a look.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"I completely agree," Dave looked over to the other girl "Total fucking communication breakdown, right there."
Dave pulled himself backwards, resting his back on the stand. Roland pointed his sword at his gut, opting to go for the 'I have a sword, you should listen to me' method of morale boosting speech. He started bitching about psychological warfare and how deep down they were all evil, and all that kind of bullshit. Dave stopped paying attention about pretty quickly in, more focused now on his nose bleeding all over the place than anything else.
Roland took the sword away. Right, that was a start. Then he pointed at Dave to get his attention or something. He must've realised the sword wasn't working. Roland talked about how he was his team-mate, and how he was gonna get everyone off the island and be a huge fucking hero. Dave didn't buy it. Not one bit of it. He knew that when it came down to it Roland was just going to get himself killed. Hell, Dave just saved his ass from getting shot and the thanks he'd gotten was a bloody nose and threats.
"Listen." Dave folded his tissue in half, stuck it back up to his nose and looked back at Roland. "I'm not a part of any fucking team, alright? I don't have to take orders from you, or anyone. Right now, I'm content with the fact I still have a pulse and my head on my goddamned shoulders. Everyone else can quite frankly get fucked for all I care. Do I make myself clear?"
No fucking use. Roland completely fucking ignored him and went back on his idea of saving the other girl. His 'team' was certainly off to a flying start.
There was a loud thump, and Roland looked like he was about to piss himself. He asked the obvious question and glanced back around everywhere.
"Yeah, I fucking heard it."
Dave looked over the trash can and saw... smoke? The fuck? Great, to top all the rest of the shit that had already happened there was a goddamned arsonist running around. Dave looked at the mexican girl and then back at Roland. He was already motioning for them to follow him. Dave didn't think he had it in him to tackle him again, so he went for his back up plan.
"Y'know what?" Dave looked over at Roland. "If you wanna get yourself killed, this time I wont fucking stop you. Don't let me stand in your way. Just fucking go do your little suicide rush. But I'm staying right where I am, alright?"
Dave pulled himself backwards, resting his back on the stand. Roland pointed his sword at his gut, opting to go for the 'I have a sword, you should listen to me' method of morale boosting speech. He started bitching about psychological warfare and how deep down they were all evil, and all that kind of bullshit. Dave stopped paying attention about pretty quickly in, more focused now on his nose bleeding all over the place than anything else.
Roland took the sword away. Right, that was a start. Then he pointed at Dave to get his attention or something. He must've realised the sword wasn't working. Roland talked about how he was his team-mate, and how he was gonna get everyone off the island and be a huge fucking hero. Dave didn't buy it. Not one bit of it. He knew that when it came down to it Roland was just going to get himself killed. Hell, Dave just saved his ass from getting shot and the thanks he'd gotten was a bloody nose and threats.
"Listen." Dave folded his tissue in half, stuck it back up to his nose and looked back at Roland. "I'm not a part of any fucking team, alright? I don't have to take orders from you, or anyone. Right now, I'm content with the fact I still have a pulse and my head on my goddamned shoulders. Everyone else can quite frankly get fucked for all I care. Do I make myself clear?"
No fucking use. Roland completely fucking ignored him and went back on his idea of saving the other girl. His 'team' was certainly off to a flying start.
There was a loud thump, and Roland looked like he was about to piss himself. He asked the obvious question and glanced back around everywhere.
"Yeah, I fucking heard it."
Dave looked over the trash can and saw... smoke? The fuck? Great, to top all the rest of the shit that had already happened there was a goddamned arsonist running around. Dave looked at the mexican girl and then back at Roland. He was already motioning for them to follow him. Dave didn't think he had it in him to tackle him again, so he went for his back up plan.
"Y'know what?" Dave looked over at Roland. "If you wanna get yourself killed, this time I wont fucking stop you. Don't let me stand in your way. Just fucking go do your little suicide rush. But I'm staying right where I am, alright?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Badb.
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Ruggahissy
- Posts: 1593
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:13 pm
Isabel bit her lip and looked at Dave. He was bleeding a lot more than she initially thought he was. For a moment her hand moved to her bag to get some extra tissue or something to help with the bleeding, but she stopped just short, deciding not to.
As Roland started to talk about Survival of the Fittest and the importance of being human, Isabel slowly shook her head. At first she looked confused, but that gave way to a look of concern.
"No. You're the one who doesn't understand, Roland. In a good way, but all the same, you don't understand," she said sympathetically. "It has nothing to do with sins. You are right that there is no winner, but not in the way you think. There are only losers. We are all losers."
At the sound of a commotion nearby Isabel grabbed her trumpet and peered over in the direction of the ruckus. A plume of smoke was rapidly expanding and she could hear the sound of a girl scream. She looked back at Roland and Dave. Roland looked like he was going to charge in there and save whoever needed saving. Dave wanted to stay and put.
The smart thing to do would be to stay here with Dave and wait it out. Who cares who's in the smoke? Let them kill each other, two less people running around who could kill you. Of course, no one's gonna stop Roland, he's dead set on charging in. Yes, the smart thing to do would be to just sit this one out.
"Too bad I'm a freaking idiot," she mumbled to herself. She heaved an enormous sigh and gripped Partario tight. "Okay, but if I hear a single gunshot I am bolting out of there and tough if you're still in that mess."
She crawled forward a bit, then turned to Dave suddenly, then seemed to think better of it and turned back again.
As Roland started to talk about Survival of the Fittest and the importance of being human, Isabel slowly shook her head. At first she looked confused, but that gave way to a look of concern.
"No. You're the one who doesn't understand, Roland. In a good way, but all the same, you don't understand," she said sympathetically. "It has nothing to do with sins. You are right that there is no winner, but not in the way you think. There are only losers. We are all losers."
At the sound of a commotion nearby Isabel grabbed her trumpet and peered over in the direction of the ruckus. A plume of smoke was rapidly expanding and she could hear the sound of a girl scream. She looked back at Roland and Dave. Roland looked like he was going to charge in there and save whoever needed saving. Dave wanted to stay and put.
The smart thing to do would be to stay here with Dave and wait it out. Who cares who's in the smoke? Let them kill each other, two less people running around who could kill you. Of course, no one's gonna stop Roland, he's dead set on charging in. Yes, the smart thing to do would be to just sit this one out.
"Too bad I'm a freaking idiot," she mumbled to herself. She heaved an enormous sigh and gripped Partario tight. "Okay, but if I hear a single gunshot I am bolting out of there and tough if you're still in that mess."
She crawled forward a bit, then turned to Dave suddenly, then seemed to think better of it and turned back again.