(Kimmy Redmond continued from One by One)
(Private between Kimmy and Morgan Green, if you please.)
It seemed as though all Kimmy ever did anymore was run, and it was starting to eat away at her. Her legs and chest burned horribly from the constant action and when mixed with lack of sleep, it was mixture made for disaster. Her mind was in no better condition, either. The countless near death experiences and ever impending danger zones pushed the already present paranoia over the edge. The damn game was just a potluck of mind games and it frustrated her beyond belief. She was sick of it.
Kimmy's collar had ceased it's endless beeping some time after she ran from the hollow tree, but the girl didn't halt her sprint. She knew that the minute she stopped, she'd feel the aching pain of failure once again. The girl had once again failed to kill someone and she wasn't happy about it at all. She had Liam at her mercy, but she still managed to screw up. She couldn't even fathom the disappointed that her parents were probably feeling. They were expecting so much from her, but she wasn't able to do a damn thing. She was nothing but a schoolyard bully put into an extreme situation.
Her mind was pushed back into the surreal reality as she broke free of the jungle and into an area that housed a very old looking building. Bodies were littered among the area, like sick little reminders of what she could become at any second. She wouldn't let that happen, though. She was playing to win and that's exactly what she planned on doing. Losing wasn't an option anymore. She'd have to step up her game.
Kimmy lingered at the edge of the area, silently praying that the beeping that she knew so well wouldn't come back to haunt her. It seemed so incredibly uncharacteristic that even Kimmy herself was surprised. She felt like a wimp- one of those chess nerds who sat around and cried rather than taking action. The game and the island was really beginning to toy around with her, and it was winning by the looks of it.
A sigh escaped the girl as she walked toward the entrance of the shabby building. Pushing open the heavy door and stepping over the rotting body of a boy, Kimmy entered what appeared to be a waiting room of some sort. She didn't really care where she was, so long as she could sit down and collect her thoughts. Kimmy walked down the row of seats, running her fingers along the dirtied and tearing fabric as she did. A slam from behind startled Kimmy and she quickly twisted her head towards the sound. Thankfully, it was just the door slamming behind her and she continued her walk towards the desk at the front of the room.
Peering over the dusty wood, Kimmy noticed the spacious area behind it. Her legs begged her for rest, but Kimmy wasn't having it. She wanted to get this sick game over with as possible and go back home, and resting wasn't going to accomplish that goal.
Crrreaaakk
Kimmy's head again whipped back towards the door. The site this time was less pleasing then the first.
The heavy door was being pushed open, instantly sending Kimmy into a panic. She was sure it was Eris or Carson or someone from the tree coming to finish her off. Normally Kimmy would have taken the thread head on, but she was a mess. She knew she wouldn't be able to handle anyone in the mental condition she was in- she needed time to retrieve the momentum she had a few days prior.
Kimmy did the only thing she could think of. Hide. She just about threw herself over the desk and backed up against the wood. Her heart raced as she focused on the creaking of the door, followed by the soft thump of footsteps.
"I know you're in here!"
The voice sounded really familiar, but she couldn't place her finger on where she had heard it before. Kimmy's hands nervously scanned the area for her flag, as if it could somehow magically ward off the intruder, but instead her hand found something hard.
Darting her eyes over to the object, Kimmy suddenly felt forty times better than she had ever felt before. The site was just the godsend she needed.
A morning star.
Kimmy grasped the hard handle of the weapon and emerged from her hiding place, fully ready to take on the unwelcome visitor.
She was right about one thing- the person in the room was someone from the tree, but he was the last person she was expecting to see. Still, she didn't want him there one bit and she'd make it known. Kimmy swung the heavy weapon onto the wooden desk, breaking a large hole into the top of it.
"Get out. NOW!" Kimmy screamed.
She was deadly now.
Degenerates
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DetectiveArcher†
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((Morgan Green continued from One by One))
Morgan allowed his pace to fall back into a jog. No immediate danger. The adrenaline worked its way out of his body and was replaced by a bone deep weariness. This new announcement schedule and lack of information was starting to greatly annoy the bespectacled young man. It wasn't at all sporting to change the rules of the game midway through. It was simply, for lack of a better term, unsportsmanlike.
Oh well, no time to worry about that. Morgan had other annoyances to deal with. He'd lost his walking weapon. He scowled hard and stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling the comforting length of his straight razor. These setbacks were beginning to greatly wear on his nerves. He kicked at a small rock embedded in the damp soil, sending it skittering into the brush. "Some days," he muttered to nobody in particular, "things wouldn't go right if you put a gun to their head."
How many people were still alive? He thought somewhere around 80, but he'd lost count a while back. Not that it mattered at all. He supposed it was a callous thing to think, but self preservation had to come first. Of course, he'd rather not kill his classmates. As it stood, however, it came down between them and him. It was obvious that he was going to do his best to make sure it wasn't going to be him. And, if he took a certain smug satisfaction in outlasting his, clearly inferior, contemporaries, that was just an added bonus. He flexed his scarred right hand.
A loud slam caught his attention further down the trail. "Oh," he cooed, "what's this?" Hurrying down the trail, keeping an eye out for traps or ambushes, he came to a rundown building that the map identified as the hospital. He scoffed at the state of the structure. "Is everything around here broken down and useless?" Shrugging at the thought he pushed the door open with a loud creak that echoed in the musty darkness of the hospital. The dusty haired boy glared at the rusty hinges of the door, almost admonishing them for their outburst. No use in hiding my presence, I suppose.
"I know you're in here!" he called. Truly, he had no clue exactly who was here. He hoped it was the girl from the tree, but it wasn't exactly a sure thing. In fact, it might even be someone who would kill him on sight. Morgan cursed under his breath. The problems he kept running into must have dulled his reasoning. This was definitely a really stupid-
Old wood splintered and cracked as the girl from the tree rose from behind the reception desk and slammed a large spiked club down with reckless abandon. Morgan leapt back, his razor jumping into his hand and unfolding with surprising ease. The girl's shoulders were hunched and her breath was coming in large, heavy gulps. "Get out. NOW!" she warned as much as demanded. Her eyes were wild, like a cornered animal's. This was definitely someone who could kill without much problem. Perfect.
Stretching his arms out, Morgan let the blade of his razor fold back into the handle. "Is that anyway to speak to someone who helped you?" He smiled slyly, taking a step back from the young lady's intense gaze. "Are you ready to calm down and discuss this situation with me rationally? I'll wait if you'd like me too. All in your own time, Ms..." he trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank before a thought struck him. Chuckling he shook his head and guarded his eyes. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Morgan, Morgan Green. And you are?"
Morgan allowed his pace to fall back into a jog. No immediate danger. The adrenaline worked its way out of his body and was replaced by a bone deep weariness. This new announcement schedule and lack of information was starting to greatly annoy the bespectacled young man. It wasn't at all sporting to change the rules of the game midway through. It was simply, for lack of a better term, unsportsmanlike.
Oh well, no time to worry about that. Morgan had other annoyances to deal with. He'd lost his walking weapon. He scowled hard and stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling the comforting length of his straight razor. These setbacks were beginning to greatly wear on his nerves. He kicked at a small rock embedded in the damp soil, sending it skittering into the brush. "Some days," he muttered to nobody in particular, "things wouldn't go right if you put a gun to their head."
How many people were still alive? He thought somewhere around 80, but he'd lost count a while back. Not that it mattered at all. He supposed it was a callous thing to think, but self preservation had to come first. Of course, he'd rather not kill his classmates. As it stood, however, it came down between them and him. It was obvious that he was going to do his best to make sure it wasn't going to be him. And, if he took a certain smug satisfaction in outlasting his, clearly inferior, contemporaries, that was just an added bonus. He flexed his scarred right hand.
A loud slam caught his attention further down the trail. "Oh," he cooed, "what's this?" Hurrying down the trail, keeping an eye out for traps or ambushes, he came to a rundown building that the map identified as the hospital. He scoffed at the state of the structure. "Is everything around here broken down and useless?" Shrugging at the thought he pushed the door open with a loud creak that echoed in the musty darkness of the hospital. The dusty haired boy glared at the rusty hinges of the door, almost admonishing them for their outburst. No use in hiding my presence, I suppose.
"I know you're in here!" he called. Truly, he had no clue exactly who was here. He hoped it was the girl from the tree, but it wasn't exactly a sure thing. In fact, it might even be someone who would kill him on sight. Morgan cursed under his breath. The problems he kept running into must have dulled his reasoning. This was definitely a really stupid-
Old wood splintered and cracked as the girl from the tree rose from behind the reception desk and slammed a large spiked club down with reckless abandon. Morgan leapt back, his razor jumping into his hand and unfolding with surprising ease. The girl's shoulders were hunched and her breath was coming in large, heavy gulps. "Get out. NOW!" she warned as much as demanded. Her eyes were wild, like a cornered animal's. This was definitely someone who could kill without much problem. Perfect.
Stretching his arms out, Morgan let the blade of his razor fold back into the handle. "Is that anyway to speak to someone who helped you?" He smiled slyly, taking a step back from the young lady's intense gaze. "Are you ready to calm down and discuss this situation with me rationally? I'll wait if you'd like me too. All in your own time, Ms..." he trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the blank before a thought struck him. Chuckling he shook his head and guarded his eyes. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Morgan, Morgan Green. And you are?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.
If looks could kill, Morgan would have been dead forty times over. The small girl's ice blue eyes bore deep into him, as if trying to kill the boy with a single glare. The abundance of cockiness that Morgan possessed was quickly burrowing under Kimmy's skin, only succeeding in annoying her more. Her grip on the handle of the morning star tightened as Morgan belittled the girl, talking to her as if she were a five year old.
"...Your name's Morgan?" Kimmy grinned, though it was none-to-happy at all, "Isn't that a girl's name? Well, I guess it's fitting for a pole-smoker like yourself. I mean, were your parent's planning on their child being a flaming faggot when they named you?"
Faux-innocence dripped from the girl's words. If he wanted to belittle her, she could play the exact same game and do it ten times better. Without waiting for a response, Kimmy continued her verbal assault against Morgan, though her voice carried a newfound sternness.
"I told you to get out, but you didn't listen and that pisses me off," All of the anger Kimmy felt went directly to the fist around the spiked mace, her knuckles turning white from the tight clutch. What little patience she had was quickly evaporating as she stared at the boy.
As much fun as tearing someone apart with words was, tearing someone apart physically was were it was at.
In a quick movement that caught even Kimmy off guard, the girl climbed over the old desk and sped towards Morgan, her trusty club held tightly in her hands. Her heartbeat pulsated in her ears and the ever-familiar adrenaline poured into her body once more.
She lived for moments like these.
"...Your name's Morgan?" Kimmy grinned, though it was none-to-happy at all, "Isn't that a girl's name? Well, I guess it's fitting for a pole-smoker like yourself. I mean, were your parent's planning on their child being a flaming faggot when they named you?"
Faux-innocence dripped from the girl's words. If he wanted to belittle her, she could play the exact same game and do it ten times better. Without waiting for a response, Kimmy continued her verbal assault against Morgan, though her voice carried a newfound sternness.
"I told you to get out, but you didn't listen and that pisses me off," All of the anger Kimmy felt went directly to the fist around the spiked mace, her knuckles turning white from the tight clutch. What little patience she had was quickly evaporating as she stared at the boy.
As much fun as tearing someone apart with words was, tearing someone apart physically was were it was at.
In a quick movement that caught even Kimmy off guard, the girl climbed over the old desk and sped towards Morgan, her trusty club held tightly in her hands. Her heartbeat pulsated in her ears and the ever-familiar adrenaline poured into her body once more.
She lived for moments like these.
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DetectiveArcher†
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Those animal eyes never once faltered or turned away. The girl's icy orbs bore a hole through Morgan's chest as he did his best to appear unimpressed. He hoped the look came across more impressive than he felt. She probably hadn't even heard what he'd said. No matter, he just had to present the matter logically and rationally. Get her to listen, point her in the right direction, and stand back to avoid the blood spray. Simple.
The corner of the petite blonde's mouth twitched before curling into a sinister smile. "...Your name's Morgan?" she asked condescendingly. "Isn't that a girl's name? Well, I guess it's fitting for a pole-smoker like yourself. I mean, were your parent's planning on their child being a flaming faggot when they named you?" The saccharine words were clearly meant to raise his ire. They did.
Brow furrowed in annoyance, the dusty haired boy opened his mouth to retort but found himself cut off by the dangerous young woman. "I told you to get out," she growled, shifting her balance from one foot to the other, "but you didn't listen and that pisses me off." Morgan didn't budge. More than a matter of survival, the situation had turned into an issue of dignity. He'd be damned if some snot nosed little cunt with an attitude problem was going to screw up his plans. He had his pride as a man to consider.
"Now, listen here you-" If the girl was listening before, it was clear she wasn't now. Leaping over the desk with a speed that Morgan hadn't thought her capable of, the girl swung the steel bludgeon with both hands. The breeze from the weapon ruffled his hair as he hopped away from the killing blow. Back peddling, Morgan felt the burst of speed and stretching of time that came with the rush of adrenaline spreading through his back. "Whoa! Calm down, I don't want a fight! Just listen to me!"
His heart skipped a beat as the solid thud against his back told him that he'd maneuvered himself against the wall. The girl's grip on the club visibly tightened as she continued towards him.
Oh shit.
The corner of the petite blonde's mouth twitched before curling into a sinister smile. "...Your name's Morgan?" she asked condescendingly. "Isn't that a girl's name? Well, I guess it's fitting for a pole-smoker like yourself. I mean, were your parent's planning on their child being a flaming faggot when they named you?" The saccharine words were clearly meant to raise his ire. They did.
Brow furrowed in annoyance, the dusty haired boy opened his mouth to retort but found himself cut off by the dangerous young woman. "I told you to get out," she growled, shifting her balance from one foot to the other, "but you didn't listen and that pisses me off." Morgan didn't budge. More than a matter of survival, the situation had turned into an issue of dignity. He'd be damned if some snot nosed little cunt with an attitude problem was going to screw up his plans. He had his pride as a man to consider.
"Now, listen here you-" If the girl was listening before, it was clear she wasn't now. Leaping over the desk with a speed that Morgan hadn't thought her capable of, the girl swung the steel bludgeon with both hands. The breeze from the weapon ruffled his hair as he hopped away from the killing blow. Back peddling, Morgan felt the burst of speed and stretching of time that came with the rush of adrenaline spreading through his back. "Whoa! Calm down, I don't want a fight! Just listen to me!"
His heart skipped a beat as the solid thud against his back told him that he'd maneuvered himself against the wall. The girl's grip on the club visibly tightened as she continued towards him.
Oh shit.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.
The spiked ball connected with the rotted wood of the hospital's front door, sending a wave of splintered wood along with it. A frustrated growl was released as the girl struggled to pull the mace from it's deep burrow within the door. She could hear Morgan scrambling to escape to the left of her, which only pushed her anger and annoyance further. Why was she the only fucking one who ever had trouble killing people? The announcements made it clear that people were dying, which only meant that people had to be killing and succeeding very well in doing so. Why was it only her that ran into people that didn't go down easily?
"Whoa! Calm down, I don't want a fight! Just listen to me!"
With a hard jerk of the handle, the morning star ripped out from the door- leaving behind a mighty hole as it did so. Kimmy briefly admired her handiwork, fawning over it as if she were a mother and it was her child. Her whole body seemed to tingle and butterflies swarmed in her stomach. Kimmy averted her attention to Morgan once again, who had become quite comfortable in the corner of the room. The sight of the boy huddled in the corner only skyrocketed the cockiness and power that Kimmy felt.
"You didn't listen to me, so why should I listen to you?"
The girl, once again, didn't wait for a response from her target and opted to continue her assault, instead. Her feet moved quickly and harshly, without any grace whatsoever. The spiked club that she had come to love was positioned over her shoulder, as if it were a twisted version of a baseball bat. He'd be sorry that he didn't take the warning seriously when she got her hands on him.
"Whoa! Calm down, I don't want a fight! Just listen to me!"
With a hard jerk of the handle, the morning star ripped out from the door- leaving behind a mighty hole as it did so. Kimmy briefly admired her handiwork, fawning over it as if she were a mother and it was her child. Her whole body seemed to tingle and butterflies swarmed in her stomach. Kimmy averted her attention to Morgan once again, who had become quite comfortable in the corner of the room. The sight of the boy huddled in the corner only skyrocketed the cockiness and power that Kimmy felt.
"You didn't listen to me, so why should I listen to you?"
The girl, once again, didn't wait for a response from her target and opted to continue her assault, instead. Her feet moved quickly and harshly, without any grace whatsoever. The spiked club that she had come to love was positioned over her shoulder, as if it were a twisted version of a baseball bat. He'd be sorry that he didn't take the warning seriously when she got her hands on him.
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DetectiveArcher†
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Keeping a grip on his razor, Morgan couldn't help but think he'd made a mistake. It would have been best to leave well enough alone, but he'd been getting anxious. If and when he got out of this, he'd choose his moves more carefully. This was no way for him to die.
Come on, say something. She's got to have some sense of what would be beneficial for her. Pressing against the wall, he surreptitiously allowed the blade of the razor fall from its handle. It might not be enough to be able to bring someone down in a life and death struggle, but it had to be better than going in unarmed.
Beads of sweat popped out across his brow as his heart picked up its pace. "Just a second, just a second! If we work together staying alive would be that much easier, right? Teaming up two against one has better odds than fighting someone one on one, right? You want to win the game, right? We both have better odds at lasting long if we work together. I understand I'm not the greatest fighter, but jumping at several small opportunities will bring us closer to winning more quickly than waiting for one big one to come along."
Come on, say something. She's got to have some sense of what would be beneficial for her. Pressing against the wall, he surreptitiously allowed the blade of the razor fall from its handle. It might not be enough to be able to bring someone down in a life and death struggle, but it had to be better than going in unarmed.
Beads of sweat popped out across his brow as his heart picked up its pace. "Just a second, just a second! If we work together staying alive would be that much easier, right? Teaming up two against one has better odds than fighting someone one on one, right? You want to win the game, right? We both have better odds at lasting long if we work together. I understand I'm not the greatest fighter, but jumping at several small opportunities will bring us closer to winning more quickly than waiting for one big one to come along."
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Kimmy's steady stride towards Morgan faltered as the cowering boy's words struck a cord- a cord that she would've rather left untouched. The thought of partnering up with someone had danced around head since she had awoken, and now someone was offering her just that. Kimmy's teeth crushed her chapped lower lip as she stared disconcertingly down at Morgan. A part of her wanted to cave into temptation and take the offer, but a contradicting side urged her not to give in. For this first time in a long while, Kimmy actually let her head take control rather than her emotions.
"Nah," the bitter word reverberated throughout Kimmy's head, playing over and over- making her fully aware of the path she had chosen to take. Would it come back to bite her in the ass? Was she going to regret saying no to him? Who knew? Regret was something she didn't want to toy around with right then and there, she could worry about the path she choose when she got rid of Morgan.
The morning star that Kimmy had let hang limp during her inward altercations instinctively raised above her head once more. The comfort she felt since she had gotten possession of the club was indescribable. She felt invincible- no one could hurt her as long as she had it. Not even fucking Danya.
Kimmy stepped closer to Morgan, watching the boy cower against the wall. The butterflies that she had become accustomed to during her last two killing attempts faithfully returned to their master once more. Kimmy's free hand moved quickly to join the other around the handle, preparing herself for the sinful act that she was finally going to commit. She was finally going to succeed in the one thing she had failed the past two days. It felt good.
The anticipation only fueled Kimmy and, with a mighty swing of the morning star, she sent the spiked ball hurling downward towards Morgan. Her eyes had forced themselves shut and only opened when she felt the sickening thud of impact..
From both ends.
Pain tore through Kimmy's left leg, effectively sending the girl onto the ground writhing and screaming. The white hotness found it's way to the girl's stomach, filling her with overbearing nausea, and raced even further up her body until a familiar tightness filled her throat. Before she could assess what was happening, what little food she had in her stomach erupted from her mouth and nostrils onto the dusty wooden floor. Her hands clutched her stomach harshly- as if trying to prevent anything else from making it's way up. After the vomit was done, the intense pain was made even more apparent. Tears had found their way to her eyes, either from the sickness or the hurt, making the scene in the room blur before her.
Kimmy's eye's dazedly searched the room, landing on the person that had escaped her mind during the episode. With the exception of a couple of deep cuts, Morgan was completely intact. He wasn't dead- not even close to it. A strange feeling of helplessness and hopelessness enveloped the girl. It wasn't fair. He was right there in the palm of her hand, just like Eddie and Liam. He had escaped her wrath just like they had and she wasn't happy about it. Finishing the job would be a lot harder now.
Forgetting that pain that had taken control of her body, Kimmy sat up- only to find the source of the crippling pain. Embedded into her left leg was the one thing she had, only moments earlier, been cherishing as if it were her child. Her breathing hitched in her throat and the pain seemed to amplify just by thinking about the wound. Kimmy's eyes scanned the skin around the spiked ball which was a series of colors and got lighter as the leg went farther from the wound. Her whole body shook with fear and pain as she moved her upper body closer to inspect the actual wound. What she saw caused her entire head to whip to the, horrified at what she had seen. There was a clear view at the inside of the wound, which was filled with a pool of dark blood. Peeking out from the blood was her very visible tibia bone, which had been cracked and shattered in places from the sharp spike still jammed deep inside.
Kimmy's focus returned back to Morgan and met with his equally shocked expression.
"Nah," the bitter word reverberated throughout Kimmy's head, playing over and over- making her fully aware of the path she had chosen to take. Would it come back to bite her in the ass? Was she going to regret saying no to him? Who knew? Regret was something she didn't want to toy around with right then and there, she could worry about the path she choose when she got rid of Morgan.
The morning star that Kimmy had let hang limp during her inward altercations instinctively raised above her head once more. The comfort she felt since she had gotten possession of the club was indescribable. She felt invincible- no one could hurt her as long as she had it. Not even fucking Danya.
Kimmy stepped closer to Morgan, watching the boy cower against the wall. The butterflies that she had become accustomed to during her last two killing attempts faithfully returned to their master once more. Kimmy's free hand moved quickly to join the other around the handle, preparing herself for the sinful act that she was finally going to commit. She was finally going to succeed in the one thing she had failed the past two days. It felt good.
The anticipation only fueled Kimmy and, with a mighty swing of the morning star, she sent the spiked ball hurling downward towards Morgan. Her eyes had forced themselves shut and only opened when she felt the sickening thud of impact..
From both ends.
Pain tore through Kimmy's left leg, effectively sending the girl onto the ground writhing and screaming. The white hotness found it's way to the girl's stomach, filling her with overbearing nausea, and raced even further up her body until a familiar tightness filled her throat. Before she could assess what was happening, what little food she had in her stomach erupted from her mouth and nostrils onto the dusty wooden floor. Her hands clutched her stomach harshly- as if trying to prevent anything else from making it's way up. After the vomit was done, the intense pain was made even more apparent. Tears had found their way to her eyes, either from the sickness or the hurt, making the scene in the room blur before her.
Kimmy's eye's dazedly searched the room, landing on the person that had escaped her mind during the episode. With the exception of a couple of deep cuts, Morgan was completely intact. He wasn't dead- not even close to it. A strange feeling of helplessness and hopelessness enveloped the girl. It wasn't fair. He was right there in the palm of her hand, just like Eddie and Liam. He had escaped her wrath just like they had and she wasn't happy about it. Finishing the job would be a lot harder now.
Forgetting that pain that had taken control of her body, Kimmy sat up- only to find the source of the crippling pain. Embedded into her left leg was the one thing she had, only moments earlier, been cherishing as if it were her child. Her breathing hitched in her throat and the pain seemed to amplify just by thinking about the wound. Kimmy's eyes scanned the skin around the spiked ball which was a series of colors and got lighter as the leg went farther from the wound. Her whole body shook with fear and pain as she moved her upper body closer to inspect the actual wound. What she saw caused her entire head to whip to the, horrified at what she had seen. There was a clear view at the inside of the wound, which was filled with a pool of dark blood. Peeking out from the blood was her very visible tibia bone, which had been cracked and shattered in places from the sharp spike still jammed deep inside.
Kimmy's focus returned back to Morgan and met with his equally shocked expression.
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DetectiveArcher†
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For a moment, it seemed as if the savage young thing would actually stop. She stopped, paused a moment or two to weight the matter silently, and shrugged briefly. "Nah," she commented off-handedly, before stepping forward and bring the spiked club to bear. The morning star came down slowly as the boy's desperate thoughts sped through the adrenaline-stretched time. No, no, no, no, no! This is wrong! This wasn't supposed to be how it happened! I was supposed to win. I was supposed to go home! I just want to go home! I don't wanna die here!
Elegance and control of emotion cast aside, the bespectacled young man scrabbled for safety, forcing his back against the wall until it hurt. As the beast in girl's clothing swung, he threw himself to one side, the bludgeon whizzing past his head. One of the spikes cut a long gash across the side of his face in a flash of white heat. It took him to a second to realize what was happening as the girl fell, screaming, to the ground. Cracking open an eyelid, Morgan started as he took in what had happened. The lucky, or unlucky, if you happened to be the vicious girl, blow not only missed Morgan but also slammed into his attackers own legs.
Rolling onto her side, she purged her stomach, bile and small chunks off food splashing against the hard, wooden floor. Her hands tore at her stomach, tears streamed down her face, blinding pain marred her cute features. His eyes rolled over the freakish scene, taking in the ruined shred of meat and bone that had once been the girl's left leg. The sharp points of the club were still embedded in her flesh. He locked eyes with the horrified girl before scrambling forward. Morgan Green didn't need to be told when an act of God saved his life.
Fingers tightened around the pearly handle of the straight razor, the blade unfolding with one jerky motion. A lunge, a stumble, a vicious slash.
Elegance and control of emotion cast aside, the bespectacled young man scrabbled for safety, forcing his back against the wall until it hurt. As the beast in girl's clothing swung, he threw himself to one side, the bludgeon whizzing past his head. One of the spikes cut a long gash across the side of his face in a flash of white heat. It took him to a second to realize what was happening as the girl fell, screaming, to the ground. Cracking open an eyelid, Morgan started as he took in what had happened. The lucky, or unlucky, if you happened to be the vicious girl, blow not only missed Morgan but also slammed into his attackers own legs.
Rolling onto her side, she purged her stomach, bile and small chunks off food splashing against the hard, wooden floor. Her hands tore at her stomach, tears streamed down her face, blinding pain marred her cute features. His eyes rolled over the freakish scene, taking in the ruined shred of meat and bone that had once been the girl's left leg. The sharp points of the club were still embedded in her flesh. He locked eyes with the horrified girl before scrambling forward. Morgan Green didn't need to be told when an act of God saved his life.
Fingers tightened around the pearly handle of the straight razor, the blade unfolding with one jerky motion. A lunge, a stumble, a vicious slash.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.
Kimmy hardly felt the fatal blow. Instead, she was far too horrified at what had become of her leg. Locking eyes with Morgan, her shocked expression likely betrayed what was beginning to permeate throughout her mind - she was going to die very shortly. Such a wound, especially untreated, would mean that death would come quickly to the girl. It was so unfair. Things had been going so poorly, and then finally, as she was finally about to succeed in what she'd been bungling through for the last few days...fate had decided to turn around and spit in her face.
As she lamented her fate and her dubious luck, Morgan stumbled forward and attacked with the straight razor. The vicious slash met its intended target, and immediately, Kimmy felt a warmth pour down onto her chest and body. It actually felt somewhat good. It did, at least, until she glanced down and saw that the warm feeling she was having was in fact her own blood pouring out of the now-fresh wound in her neck and emptying from her body. Gasping a little bit, she put her hand to her now exposed arteries in a feeble attempt to stop the gushing blood, which was EVERYWHERE at this point.
With perhaps a half-thought of her leg, her throat, and of the strange boy with glasses for whom fate had been accompanying, Kimmy Redmond collapsed to the ground, consciousness quickly fading into a dark sheet of nothingness.
G67 - REDMOND, KIMBERLY -- DECEASED
30 STUDENTS REMAINING...
As she lamented her fate and her dubious luck, Morgan stumbled forward and attacked with the straight razor. The vicious slash met its intended target, and immediately, Kimmy felt a warmth pour down onto her chest and body. It actually felt somewhat good. It did, at least, until she glanced down and saw that the warm feeling she was having was in fact her own blood pouring out of the now-fresh wound in her neck and emptying from her body. Gasping a little bit, she put her hand to her now exposed arteries in a feeble attempt to stop the gushing blood, which was EVERYWHERE at this point.
With perhaps a half-thought of her leg, her throat, and of the strange boy with glasses for whom fate had been accompanying, Kimmy Redmond collapsed to the ground, consciousness quickly fading into a dark sheet of nothingness.
G67 - REDMOND, KIMBERLY -- DECEASED
30 STUDENTS REMAINING...
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
The razor blade whispered a quiet sigh as it sheered through skin and muscle. The dark red liquid poured over his hands, soaking his shirt and pants. Warm. It was so warm. 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. 37 degrees Celsius. 310 degrees Kelvin. He shouldn't have been surprised. Logically, he knew it would be like this. But, knowing and understanding are two different things. Lying on top of the girl, he felt the last of the life go out of her as her throat gurgled with something that might have been last words.
She stopped breathing.
For a long while he lie there, unable to grasp the reality of the situation. She was dead. He'd killed a young woman. He'd killed a fellow student. A fellow human being. The blood began cooling on his skin, thickening into a gel. When he could breathe again, he screamed. He struggled to get away, to separate himself from the mess of blood, flesh and bone. Hurrying to scramble to his feet, his hand slipped in the mess of gore, dropping him to the floor.
His eyes rattled in their sockets as his chin cracked against the floor. Clawing at the floor, he managed to pull himself a few more inches before purging his stomach, adding to the already cooling mess on the floor. It wasn't supposed to be like this. "This isn't what I wanted," he moaned aloud. Why hadn't it gone like he'd pictured it? Why hadn't his plans worked out like he'd hoped? "Why didn't you just listen to me, you stupid bitch?!" His stomach heaved again. He retched loudly, his throat burning sharply from the lack of fluid.
Spittle dripping from his lips, he drew the back of his hand across his mouth. He tasted copper. He spat quickly, trying to clear the taste from his mouth. He crawled to a corner and huddled there for several minutes, working through the series of events once more. She wasn't supposed to be dead. Not yet, anyway. The pragmatic side of his brain chimed in, trying to calm the boy down. Listen, she was going to die anyway. And if she died now, that was just outside what you'd planned on. And there's no use worrying over it now, is there? The best laid plans, and all that.
He nodded quietly, accepting the rationale. It was true. She was dead from the moment he saw her. There was no way of changing that. She just managed to go down before he'd expected her to. No one to blame but herself, really. Ah, well. Life goes on. At least for you. If you go home, it will be because of more moments like this. Better get used to it, Killer. Morgan had always hated nicknames. Sport, Slugger, Kid, Killer, Slick. They were so annoying. Everyone always thought they were being clever or witty, when all they were doing was regurgitating some ridiculous, passé colloquialism.
He cleared his thoughts. No use dwelling. Always more to be done. Rising to his feet, he set about gathering everything that would prove useful. The weapons first, then his own pack and finally, he searched through Kimmy's belongings. Using one of her clean shirts, he cleaned off his hands as best he could. They were still stained a bright red. He shrugged and went about collecting her rations and medical supplies. Waste not, want not.
Finished with his restocking, he gave a final glance to the bloody mess that had once been Kimmy Redmond. He didn't know her reasons for playing. He didn't know of her insecurity and her desire to please her parents. He didn't know her fears or her joys or her sorrow. He just knew that she was another victim to the game. And, he knew he wouldn't let himself become one as well.
With a brief sniff, Morgan Green left the hospital behind him, wondering what the hell he should do next.
((Morgan Green continued in I Love the Dark.... But I Hate Nature))
She stopped breathing.
For a long while he lie there, unable to grasp the reality of the situation. She was dead. He'd killed a young woman. He'd killed a fellow student. A fellow human being. The blood began cooling on his skin, thickening into a gel. When he could breathe again, he screamed. He struggled to get away, to separate himself from the mess of blood, flesh and bone. Hurrying to scramble to his feet, his hand slipped in the mess of gore, dropping him to the floor.
His eyes rattled in their sockets as his chin cracked against the floor. Clawing at the floor, he managed to pull himself a few more inches before purging his stomach, adding to the already cooling mess on the floor. It wasn't supposed to be like this. "This isn't what I wanted," he moaned aloud. Why hadn't it gone like he'd pictured it? Why hadn't his plans worked out like he'd hoped? "Why didn't you just listen to me, you stupid bitch?!" His stomach heaved again. He retched loudly, his throat burning sharply from the lack of fluid.
Spittle dripping from his lips, he drew the back of his hand across his mouth. He tasted copper. He spat quickly, trying to clear the taste from his mouth. He crawled to a corner and huddled there for several minutes, working through the series of events once more. She wasn't supposed to be dead. Not yet, anyway. The pragmatic side of his brain chimed in, trying to calm the boy down. Listen, she was going to die anyway. And if she died now, that was just outside what you'd planned on. And there's no use worrying over it now, is there? The best laid plans, and all that.
He nodded quietly, accepting the rationale. It was true. She was dead from the moment he saw her. There was no way of changing that. She just managed to go down before he'd expected her to. No one to blame but herself, really. Ah, well. Life goes on. At least for you. If you go home, it will be because of more moments like this. Better get used to it, Killer. Morgan had always hated nicknames. Sport, Slugger, Kid, Killer, Slick. They were so annoying. Everyone always thought they were being clever or witty, when all they were doing was regurgitating some ridiculous, passé colloquialism.
He cleared his thoughts. No use dwelling. Always more to be done. Rising to his feet, he set about gathering everything that would prove useful. The weapons first, then his own pack and finally, he searched through Kimmy's belongings. Using one of her clean shirts, he cleaned off his hands as best he could. They were still stained a bright red. He shrugged and went about collecting her rations and medical supplies. Waste not, want not.
Finished with his restocking, he gave a final glance to the bloody mess that had once been Kimmy Redmond. He didn't know her reasons for playing. He didn't know of her insecurity and her desire to please her parents. He didn't know her fears or her joys or her sorrow. He just knew that she was another victim to the game. And, he knew he wouldn't let himself become one as well.
With a brief sniff, Morgan Green left the hospital behind him, wondering what the hell he should do next.
((Morgan Green continued in I Love the Dark.... But I Hate Nature))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.