((Neil Sinclair continued from Freedom or Bust))
Neil Sinclair stumbled out of the jungle onto the beach. After the explosion, his direction got messed up, and he started heading in the wrong direction. Until he heard the gunshots. He knew that everything must be going to hell in a hand basket.
Neil made it to the beach, and what he saw was a war zone. He saw boats in the water, and his classmates, his friends, in a firefight with a squad of terrorists. Bodies littered the sand, and Neil wondered who had fell.
He knew he had to take action though, he had to fight, he had to help the escape effort.
Neil raised his M16, Corbin's M16, and pulled the trigger, aiming at the terrorists. While he shot he moved to a fallen tree, hoping to distract the terrorists enough for the students to get a good foothold or get a couple good shots off or something.
S.A.D.D.
There was no more S.A.D.D, no more any groups. They were just highschool students, fighting against trained soldiers. Could they do it? Fuck yeah.
Neil kept pulling the trigger and aiming.
Finale: Live and Let Die
The long-awaited conclusion...
((Continued from Bale Out))
When the shooting had started, Keith Jackson had been in mid-sentence, right in the middle of reassuring Kallie Majors that they were going to be okay. The words had been hollow, sure, but just saying them had made him feel as though he were making some form of difference in this fucked-up mess. He'd been clutching his shotgun as though it were an extension of his body, so hard that he was almost certain that there'd be finger-marks bent into the stock of the weapon. As much as he could try and pretend that things were going to be all right, and as much as he could try and convey that to other people...he didn't believe it himself.
Truth was, Keith Jackson was slowly freaking out, and when the shooting started, it set in motion the events that would lead to his intensely guarded psyche coming apart.
---
Kallie had been quiet, looking weakened and scared just like everybody else on the beach, and the cool wind coming in off of the ocean (he'd assumed) wasn't doing anyone any favours in terms of keeping up strength. Keith had seen this, and had made his way over, giving Kallie's shoulders a friendly rubbing. She'd turned to face him, still a little sore at Keith for having deserted them before, but slowly coming around to the fact that holding such a grudge probably wouldn't do any of them any good. Almost immediately, her harsh features had broken, and her expression softened into one of sadness and fatigue.
He'd been in mid-sentence, offering up some sort of an explanation as to why everything was going to be all right, when everything went red, and all that he could see was red, and all that he could hear was shooting. His shoulder exploded in pain, but all that he could see everywhere was red...
...because one moment, he'd been looking at that face, the soft, tired features just looking for a way out...and the next, those features had exploded outwards, covering everything...in red...
---
Across the way, Dean Portman had been helping people onto the boats, when the shooting noises had started up again. He'd immediately ducked for cover behind one of the boats in the water, frantically looking around for where the gunfire was coming from. He saw people all around that were dropping. Some squirming around in agony, others who didn't seem to be moving at all. People were screaming, and nobody seemed to have any coherent idea as to what was going on. Of course, the answer should have been obvious: the terrorists had found them. Poking his head out from behind the boat, Dean saw a few flashes from the treeline to their right.
Aw, dammit all to hell. Looks like they found us!
Looking around at the chaos, he knew that he needed to help, to get as many people out of there as possible. If at least one person escaped this hellish game, then they would all win. Didn't matter who it was, that was one less person who could have fallen victim to it all. Looking around, his gaze finally settled on Keith Jackson. Keith was on his knees, clutching someone who had fallen, as though he were trying to will them up and moving again. Coming from around the boat, Dean saw the scene more closely, and grimaced.
Sorry, bud, but no amount of willing or hoping on your part's gonna make that girl get up again...
The girl on the ground; Dean could tell from the clothing that she was Kallie Majors - at least, she had been Kallie Majors, had a gaping hole where her face probably should have been. Keith had probably been standing directly opposite of her when she'd been shot, as he was covered in red and greyish blood, and was shaking the corpse, his mind probably having shut down, unsure of what to do. Dean knew that if he stayed there, Keith would be a dead man, and it didn't look like he was going anywhere soon.
Aw, hell...this is going to SUCK!
Dashing over to where Keith was kneeling on the ground, and firing a couple of shots towards the treeline with his pistol, Dean threw himself towards Keith's position, and tightly clasped a hand on his shoulder.
"KEITH, BUDDY...we've gotta go! She's gone, man, we've gotta go!"
Not hearing Dean's words, Keith shook his head and continued to mutter and shake Kallie Majors' corpse. Firing off a couple more shots, Dean cursed and realized that he was going to have to take a more direct approach. Luckily for him, his status as an NHL draft choice allowed him the strength to wrap his arm around Keith's chest and pull him up and away from the corpse. Keith struggled, but Dean exerted himself even more, starting to take a few steps away from the body.
"KALLIE! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Keith's howls could be heard through most of the area, but Dean's strength prevented him from going back. As Dean dragged him towards the boats, he wondered if this was what it felt like on the beaches at Normandy, back in World War II on D-Day.
Sure feels like a war...
---
((Continued from Freedom or Bust))
"SHIT!"
Like many of the different occasions in his life when Adam Dodd had been rushing through the woods, he had absolutely no idea where on Earth he was going. His legendarily bad sense of direction had managed to get him separated from Neil Sinclair, but when he'd heard the gunfire, Adam had assumed that it was as good a place to go as any. If the rest of the kids were under fire somewhere, then it was a good bet that they'd gotten far enough to really piss off the remaining terrorists, and they'd probably need his help. Assuming that Bill had dealt with both of the other squads of terrorists back at the armory, then the odds were actually in their favour, as long as the kids realized this.
Assuming so? Fuck, that explosion was so big that it probably would have levelled a small fuckin' town. If anyone survived that, I'd put that into 'miracle' territory, and something tells me that God is keeping his eyes away from THIS place...
Emerging from the treeline, Adam immediately dropped to his knees, grimacing in pain as he did, and surveyed the situation. It sure as hell didn't look so good. The students were in varying degrees of panic, some of them wounded, others dead, and still some more running around, unsure of what to do.
Well, this just won't do...
In front of him, a few yards away, another squad of terrorists approached carefully, firing their weapons with the skill and precision that only a trained military squad could do. Adam wasn't sure if these guys were mercenaries or what, but they had training - that much was obvious. Adam was about to consider his options, when over to his left, further down the treeline, his thinking was disrupted by gunshots being fired towards the terrorists. Glancing over, Adam couldn`t help but smile.
Neil Sinclair...and damned if he doesn't have the right idea. Here's hoping that SOMEONE on the beach has a gun of some sort, otherwise this is gonna be one really short firefight...
Raising his M1 towards the terrorists, Adam prepared to fire at his enemies, the terrorists that were nearing the beach. This was it - the final battle, the one for ALL of the marbles. As he readied his MI, he couldn't help but recall a memory, from WAY back when...
---
As he sat back beside the body of Nanami, his mind raced in several different directions. Perhaps it was the senselessness of the situation, and perhaps it was the guilt that he held within his head. Whatever the case, Adam Dodd was frustrated. Problem solving - damnit, that was something he was good at! All of his teachers had said so. His parents, as well. And yet...this was one problem that didn't seem to have an obvious answer.
Well...there WAS one...
Quickly, he dismissed the thought. That WAS NOT an option, in his mind. Killing everyone else on the island wouldn't make any sense - nor, in his opinion, would it accomplish anything. Who said that the terrorists would even bring them back after they 'won'? In all likelihood, they'd detonate the collars and that would be that. So what was even the point of playing?
No, escaping was the way to go, and yet, sitting here in shock wasn't the way to go about doing it. Glancing around, he saw five other people. The five people he had surrounded himself with - they were smart people. None of them were idiots, all of them had a good head on their shoulders, which should make escaping all the more easy.
So why the hell were they having so many problems? They had seemingly all of the elements that they needed to plan a decent escape, so what was missing? Why was it that they weren't even able to begin to think about escaping?
Direction.
That was it. THAT was the reason. The group had been together for a long while, and as such were all comfortable with each other. Yet...they had never had someone to lead them, someone who would be able to shoulder that burden. Someone to point them in the right direction. And that was important, because frankly, ANY direction was better than none.
As he snapped back to the real world, he realized that nobody had said anything, nobody had even moved since Nanami had died. Not a single sound, except from him. This was NOT a state that he figured that they should be in.
Suppose someone comes in who's playing...we're all fucked.
As such, Adam stood up and looked down at the body before he turned and looked at his group. His eyes went to each one. Madelaine, Amanda, Marcus, David, and Hawley. None of whom spoke, all of whom had expressions on their faces of pain. So much internal, and external for that matter.
They truly were in hell. If there was any place on the planet Earth that was closer to hell, it was here. And if he had anything to do with it, Adam Dodd intended to lead his group out of it.
"Guys...guys, listen up. We've got to get out of here. And by out of here, I mean...off this fucking island. Off of this godforsaken place. How we're going to go about doing so...I don't know. But you know what? I'm tired of this. I'm tired of watching people die. I'm tired of seeing so much death, and so much violence. And that means, I'm not going to stop, not going to give up, until I manage to get out of here. I'd like you all to come, to help me. You're all smart people, you're all people that I'd consider intelligent, and to be honest, I don't know that I can do it without you. So I'm asking you - come with me. We'll find a way off of this place, a way out of this game. Rules are made to be broken, as someone once said, and at this point, I wholeheartedly believe that. Danya and his fucking cronies have set up an interesting little scenario here. They say that there's no way off, but how do they get themselves onto the island. How do they control our collars? It doesn't make any sense. There's got to be some sort of tower we can destroy, some form of SOMETHING that we can use to get these collars off and revolt against these heartless bastards. Danya said he's going to drop three terrorists on the island. Well maybe we can get ahold of one, and maybe force it to write some things down, like Marcus does."
Adam paused, to exhale, and continued.
"What I'm trying to say is this: we all want to escape, but we haven't even thought about a way to even do it as of yet. So I'm basically proposing that we start thinking, start attempting, because honestly, if we keep up like we've been, none of us are going to last all that much longer. I'd like you all to come with me, but I won't hold it against you if you want to continue on another path."
Adam looked over the five others.
"So what d'ya say guys? Are you with me?"
---
They had been with him, in fact, all of them had held such a yearning to escape that it had become the focus of their journey in the short while that they had remaining together with one another. All of them had believed that it could be done, and their little group had pressed forward with a blast of fresh air, looking to do whatever they could to get away.
Of course, the optimism and inspiration hadn't lasted. Shortly after, Hawley Faust had fallen victim to an infection, and with his last words made Adam promise to get out. Mere hours later, Marcus Roddy had slipped into a coma, and in one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, Adam had euthenized him. David Jackson had sacrificed himself so that the rest of them could get away from a recurrent enemy. Madelaine Shirohara had suffered perhaps the worst fate of all, being raped and then having her throat torn out when she wandered away from the group, Adam's attention having drifted away for a second...and Amanda...well, Amanda Jones had taken a bullet in the face from Madelaine's rapist, culminating in the overall loss of everything that Adam had held dear. It had been then that he'd essentially started to play the game. Put it any way that you wanted to, Adam had never wanted to admit it to himself that he'd started playing at that very moment, and his quest for vengeance had drawn in and destroyed almost as many as some of the most ruthless players.
So it was almost fitting that he'd managed to come full circle, years after he'd sworn to his five friends that they could get out of the island, and could get off. He'd gotten off, but it had cost him a heavy price. Now, it was time to do it the way that it was SUPPOSED to be done. He was this close to finally escaping this godforsaken game, and in a strange sense, he could feel the presence of his doomed friends with him, leading him to the climax of what had been a hell that had lasted a solid three years. He found himself whispering to himself; to the friends that he knew watched over him from above.
"It's time, guys. After so much talking, so much death, and so much heartbreak, it's finally time. I'm done letting these fuckers run my life, so it's time to leave them with one last little parting gift...and this one...this one's for you!"
With a roar, Adam Dodd rose to his feet, and simletaneously began to fire upon the terrorists, the short, controlled bursts heading straight towards the personification of everything that had gone wrong in his life for the past three years...
...the only thing standing between the students of Southridge High School, and freedom...
When the shooting had started, Keith Jackson had been in mid-sentence, right in the middle of reassuring Kallie Majors that they were going to be okay. The words had been hollow, sure, but just saying them had made him feel as though he were making some form of difference in this fucked-up mess. He'd been clutching his shotgun as though it were an extension of his body, so hard that he was almost certain that there'd be finger-marks bent into the stock of the weapon. As much as he could try and pretend that things were going to be all right, and as much as he could try and convey that to other people...he didn't believe it himself.
Truth was, Keith Jackson was slowly freaking out, and when the shooting started, it set in motion the events that would lead to his intensely guarded psyche coming apart.
---
Kallie had been quiet, looking weakened and scared just like everybody else on the beach, and the cool wind coming in off of the ocean (he'd assumed) wasn't doing anyone any favours in terms of keeping up strength. Keith had seen this, and had made his way over, giving Kallie's shoulders a friendly rubbing. She'd turned to face him, still a little sore at Keith for having deserted them before, but slowly coming around to the fact that holding such a grudge probably wouldn't do any of them any good. Almost immediately, her harsh features had broken, and her expression softened into one of sadness and fatigue.
He'd been in mid-sentence, offering up some sort of an explanation as to why everything was going to be all right, when everything went red, and all that he could see was red, and all that he could hear was shooting. His shoulder exploded in pain, but all that he could see everywhere was red...
...because one moment, he'd been looking at that face, the soft, tired features just looking for a way out...and the next, those features had exploded outwards, covering everything...in red...
---
Across the way, Dean Portman had been helping people onto the boats, when the shooting noises had started up again. He'd immediately ducked for cover behind one of the boats in the water, frantically looking around for where the gunfire was coming from. He saw people all around that were dropping. Some squirming around in agony, others who didn't seem to be moving at all. People were screaming, and nobody seemed to have any coherent idea as to what was going on. Of course, the answer should have been obvious: the terrorists had found them. Poking his head out from behind the boat, Dean saw a few flashes from the treeline to their right.
Aw, dammit all to hell. Looks like they found us!
Looking around at the chaos, he knew that he needed to help, to get as many people out of there as possible. If at least one person escaped this hellish game, then they would all win. Didn't matter who it was, that was one less person who could have fallen victim to it all. Looking around, his gaze finally settled on Keith Jackson. Keith was on his knees, clutching someone who had fallen, as though he were trying to will them up and moving again. Coming from around the boat, Dean saw the scene more closely, and grimaced.
Sorry, bud, but no amount of willing or hoping on your part's gonna make that girl get up again...
The girl on the ground; Dean could tell from the clothing that she was Kallie Majors - at least, she had been Kallie Majors, had a gaping hole where her face probably should have been. Keith had probably been standing directly opposite of her when she'd been shot, as he was covered in red and greyish blood, and was shaking the corpse, his mind probably having shut down, unsure of what to do. Dean knew that if he stayed there, Keith would be a dead man, and it didn't look like he was going anywhere soon.
Aw, hell...this is going to SUCK!
Dashing over to where Keith was kneeling on the ground, and firing a couple of shots towards the treeline with his pistol, Dean threw himself towards Keith's position, and tightly clasped a hand on his shoulder.
"KEITH, BUDDY...we've gotta go! She's gone, man, we've gotta go!"
Not hearing Dean's words, Keith shook his head and continued to mutter and shake Kallie Majors' corpse. Firing off a couple more shots, Dean cursed and realized that he was going to have to take a more direct approach. Luckily for him, his status as an NHL draft choice allowed him the strength to wrap his arm around Keith's chest and pull him up and away from the corpse. Keith struggled, but Dean exerted himself even more, starting to take a few steps away from the body.
"KALLIE! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Keith's howls could be heard through most of the area, but Dean's strength prevented him from going back. As Dean dragged him towards the boats, he wondered if this was what it felt like on the beaches at Normandy, back in World War II on D-Day.
Sure feels like a war...
---
((Continued from Freedom or Bust))
"SHIT!"
Like many of the different occasions in his life when Adam Dodd had been rushing through the woods, he had absolutely no idea where on Earth he was going. His legendarily bad sense of direction had managed to get him separated from Neil Sinclair, but when he'd heard the gunfire, Adam had assumed that it was as good a place to go as any. If the rest of the kids were under fire somewhere, then it was a good bet that they'd gotten far enough to really piss off the remaining terrorists, and they'd probably need his help. Assuming that Bill had dealt with both of the other squads of terrorists back at the armory, then the odds were actually in their favour, as long as the kids realized this.
Assuming so? Fuck, that explosion was so big that it probably would have levelled a small fuckin' town. If anyone survived that, I'd put that into 'miracle' territory, and something tells me that God is keeping his eyes away from THIS place...
Emerging from the treeline, Adam immediately dropped to his knees, grimacing in pain as he did, and surveyed the situation. It sure as hell didn't look so good. The students were in varying degrees of panic, some of them wounded, others dead, and still some more running around, unsure of what to do.
Well, this just won't do...
In front of him, a few yards away, another squad of terrorists approached carefully, firing their weapons with the skill and precision that only a trained military squad could do. Adam wasn't sure if these guys were mercenaries or what, but they had training - that much was obvious. Adam was about to consider his options, when over to his left, further down the treeline, his thinking was disrupted by gunshots being fired towards the terrorists. Glancing over, Adam couldn`t help but smile.
Neil Sinclair...and damned if he doesn't have the right idea. Here's hoping that SOMEONE on the beach has a gun of some sort, otherwise this is gonna be one really short firefight...
Raising his M1 towards the terrorists, Adam prepared to fire at his enemies, the terrorists that were nearing the beach. This was it - the final battle, the one for ALL of the marbles. As he readied his MI, he couldn't help but recall a memory, from WAY back when...
---
As he sat back beside the body of Nanami, his mind raced in several different directions. Perhaps it was the senselessness of the situation, and perhaps it was the guilt that he held within his head. Whatever the case, Adam Dodd was frustrated. Problem solving - damnit, that was something he was good at! All of his teachers had said so. His parents, as well. And yet...this was one problem that didn't seem to have an obvious answer.
Well...there WAS one...
Quickly, he dismissed the thought. That WAS NOT an option, in his mind. Killing everyone else on the island wouldn't make any sense - nor, in his opinion, would it accomplish anything. Who said that the terrorists would even bring them back after they 'won'? In all likelihood, they'd detonate the collars and that would be that. So what was even the point of playing?
No, escaping was the way to go, and yet, sitting here in shock wasn't the way to go about doing it. Glancing around, he saw five other people. The five people he had surrounded himself with - they were smart people. None of them were idiots, all of them had a good head on their shoulders, which should make escaping all the more easy.
So why the hell were they having so many problems? They had seemingly all of the elements that they needed to plan a decent escape, so what was missing? Why was it that they weren't even able to begin to think about escaping?
Direction.
That was it. THAT was the reason. The group had been together for a long while, and as such were all comfortable with each other. Yet...they had never had someone to lead them, someone who would be able to shoulder that burden. Someone to point them in the right direction. And that was important, because frankly, ANY direction was better than none.
As he snapped back to the real world, he realized that nobody had said anything, nobody had even moved since Nanami had died. Not a single sound, except from him. This was NOT a state that he figured that they should be in.
Suppose someone comes in who's playing...we're all fucked.
As such, Adam stood up and looked down at the body before he turned and looked at his group. His eyes went to each one. Madelaine, Amanda, Marcus, David, and Hawley. None of whom spoke, all of whom had expressions on their faces of pain. So much internal, and external for that matter.
They truly were in hell. If there was any place on the planet Earth that was closer to hell, it was here. And if he had anything to do with it, Adam Dodd intended to lead his group out of it.
"Guys...guys, listen up. We've got to get out of here. And by out of here, I mean...off this fucking island. Off of this godforsaken place. How we're going to go about doing so...I don't know. But you know what? I'm tired of this. I'm tired of watching people die. I'm tired of seeing so much death, and so much violence. And that means, I'm not going to stop, not going to give up, until I manage to get out of here. I'd like you all to come, to help me. You're all smart people, you're all people that I'd consider intelligent, and to be honest, I don't know that I can do it without you. So I'm asking you - come with me. We'll find a way off of this place, a way out of this game. Rules are made to be broken, as someone once said, and at this point, I wholeheartedly believe that. Danya and his fucking cronies have set up an interesting little scenario here. They say that there's no way off, but how do they get themselves onto the island. How do they control our collars? It doesn't make any sense. There's got to be some sort of tower we can destroy, some form of SOMETHING that we can use to get these collars off and revolt against these heartless bastards. Danya said he's going to drop three terrorists on the island. Well maybe we can get ahold of one, and maybe force it to write some things down, like Marcus does."
Adam paused, to exhale, and continued.
"What I'm trying to say is this: we all want to escape, but we haven't even thought about a way to even do it as of yet. So I'm basically proposing that we start thinking, start attempting, because honestly, if we keep up like we've been, none of us are going to last all that much longer. I'd like you all to come with me, but I won't hold it against you if you want to continue on another path."
Adam looked over the five others.
"So what d'ya say guys? Are you with me?"
---
They had been with him, in fact, all of them had held such a yearning to escape that it had become the focus of their journey in the short while that they had remaining together with one another. All of them had believed that it could be done, and their little group had pressed forward with a blast of fresh air, looking to do whatever they could to get away.
Of course, the optimism and inspiration hadn't lasted. Shortly after, Hawley Faust had fallen victim to an infection, and with his last words made Adam promise to get out. Mere hours later, Marcus Roddy had slipped into a coma, and in one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do, Adam had euthenized him. David Jackson had sacrificed himself so that the rest of them could get away from a recurrent enemy. Madelaine Shirohara had suffered perhaps the worst fate of all, being raped and then having her throat torn out when she wandered away from the group, Adam's attention having drifted away for a second...and Amanda...well, Amanda Jones had taken a bullet in the face from Madelaine's rapist, culminating in the overall loss of everything that Adam had held dear. It had been then that he'd essentially started to play the game. Put it any way that you wanted to, Adam had never wanted to admit it to himself that he'd started playing at that very moment, and his quest for vengeance had drawn in and destroyed almost as many as some of the most ruthless players.
So it was almost fitting that he'd managed to come full circle, years after he'd sworn to his five friends that they could get out of the island, and could get off. He'd gotten off, but it had cost him a heavy price. Now, it was time to do it the way that it was SUPPOSED to be done. He was this close to finally escaping this godforsaken game, and in a strange sense, he could feel the presence of his doomed friends with him, leading him to the climax of what had been a hell that had lasted a solid three years. He found himself whispering to himself; to the friends that he knew watched over him from above.
"It's time, guys. After so much talking, so much death, and so much heartbreak, it's finally time. I'm done letting these fuckers run my life, so it's time to leave them with one last little parting gift...and this one...this one's for you!"
With a roar, Adam Dodd rose to his feet, and simletaneously began to fire upon the terrorists, the short, controlled bursts heading straight towards the personification of everything that had gone wrong in his life for the past three years...
...the only thing standing between the students of Southridge High School, and freedom...
Maxie had just about hauled Ianto to the relative safety of the boats when what she'd been dreading for quite some time finally happened. The terrorists had found them once again. As the bullets began to fly, Maxie put all of her effort into getting Ianto, and heck, herself, out of the open and into cover. At one point, she could have sworn she felt a bullet buzz by her head, but that could have just been her own fear causing her mind to play tricks.
With the two of them safe, Maxie felt like just putting her head down and cowering inside of the boat, or better yet, trying to get the damn thing started and get the hell out of there. But... she knew that she couldn't. Sure, there were a few of them, but she couldn't just take off of the beach and leave everyone else in the lurch.
Fuck... better just... go f'broke.
"Keep ya head down Ianto," Maxie told the wounded student she'd brought to relative safety. "Try not t'move about much. It'll just make th' wound worse." she grabbed hold of Ianto's gun and gently took it from him. He might not like it, but the rifle was better off in the hands of somebody who wasn't badly wounded.
Maxie didn't really have much idea how to use the weapon. It was just... pull the trigger right? She'd just have to figure it out as she went along though, because there wasn't exactly time, with the bullets flying, to go through Ianto's pack and see if he still had the instructions for his rifle. Maxie cautiously raised her head from the cover of the boat, bringing up the rifle as she did so. She tried to settle it comfortably against her shoulder, then aimed towards the group of men on the fringes of the forest.
This was it. Revenge.
"Smile y'motherfuckers," Maxie whispered, squeezing the trigger.
*
"Oh fuck it hurts, it fucking hurts..."
Sean knew that he was bleeding badly. He wasn't sure exactly where he'd been hit, but he could feel the blood soaking into his clothes. Fuck, nothing could be this painful and not be bleeding a lot. Still crawling, Sean found his fist impacting against something, the pain drowned out by that of his wound.
He looked up.
It was one of the boats.
With a huge effort, Sean pushed off the ground to make it off of his hands, to where he was kneeling in front of the boat. His vision spiralled crazily for a moment, but it steadied as Sean caught hold of the edge of the vehicle. He began to haul himself up, and had just made it to his feet when another surge of pain went through him, this time originating at his shoulder.
A bullet must have clipped him, because when Sean looked to see the damage, he was already bleeding heavily again. Somehow, Sean managed to pull himself over the edge of the boat to collapse into the bottom of it in a complete heap. More or less his whole body was wracked with pain, but all the same, a tiny smile made its way onto his face.
This was it. Almost over.
"For you Andy... for you."
With the two of them safe, Maxie felt like just putting her head down and cowering inside of the boat, or better yet, trying to get the damn thing started and get the hell out of there. But... she knew that she couldn't. Sure, there were a few of them, but she couldn't just take off of the beach and leave everyone else in the lurch.
Fuck... better just... go f'broke.
"Keep ya head down Ianto," Maxie told the wounded student she'd brought to relative safety. "Try not t'move about much. It'll just make th' wound worse." she grabbed hold of Ianto's gun and gently took it from him. He might not like it, but the rifle was better off in the hands of somebody who wasn't badly wounded.
Maxie didn't really have much idea how to use the weapon. It was just... pull the trigger right? She'd just have to figure it out as she went along though, because there wasn't exactly time, with the bullets flying, to go through Ianto's pack and see if he still had the instructions for his rifle. Maxie cautiously raised her head from the cover of the boat, bringing up the rifle as she did so. She tried to settle it comfortably against her shoulder, then aimed towards the group of men on the fringes of the forest.
This was it. Revenge.
"Smile y'motherfuckers," Maxie whispered, squeezing the trigger.
*
"Oh fuck it hurts, it fucking hurts..."
Sean knew that he was bleeding badly. He wasn't sure exactly where he'd been hit, but he could feel the blood soaking into his clothes. Fuck, nothing could be this painful and not be bleeding a lot. Still crawling, Sean found his fist impacting against something, the pain drowned out by that of his wound.
He looked up.
It was one of the boats.
With a huge effort, Sean pushed off the ground to make it off of his hands, to where he was kneeling in front of the boat. His vision spiralled crazily for a moment, but it steadied as Sean caught hold of the edge of the vehicle. He began to haul himself up, and had just made it to his feet when another surge of pain went through him, this time originating at his shoulder.
A bullet must have clipped him, because when Sean looked to see the damage, he was already bleeding heavily again. Somehow, Sean managed to pull himself over the edge of the boat to collapse into the bottom of it in a complete heap. More or less his whole body was wracked with pain, but all the same, a tiny smile made its way onto his face.
This was it. Almost over.
"For you Andy... for you."
If there was pain Ianto wasn't registering it anymore. Though it was summer and he was stuck on some tropical island in the middle of god knows where, he was shivering like someone had thrown him out into snowstorm without the proper clothing. Though his brain was weakly reminding him that he was losing blood at the rate of a stuck pig, gripping and clenching at the area of his shirt--weakly pressing against the skin where the bullet had exited in some vain effort to slow the flow of blood. But with the entrance wound in his back also bleeding it was quickly becoming a fruitless attempt on his part to actually do anything.
Instead he tried to focus on walking--or at least try to with the help he was getting--but it was almost if his body didn't understand how to walk anymore; like the basic concept of one foot in front of the other, rinse and repeat was shockingly beyond him now. Because everything in his world and current view seemed to be but a haze of its former self, currently only focused on this odd feeling forming in the pit of his stomach, it was a fact, it was a realization that he didn't want to come to terms with right now.
But he knows, god he knows.
Though he wants to talk, respond back to the words and comfort that is being spoken all he can currently give is a shaky sort of sound. Not realizing the harsh grip he had been keeping on his rifle until the feeling in his fingers seemed to give in and it fell into the grip of whomever was helping drag his stupid ass away from the scene. Everything felt so weird... like his senses had been dulled down and down until the only thing reaching him was the suddenly blinding light of the sun above them and the slick feeling of the blood that was staining down his front and back. It's a feeling that's making him sick in more than one way--but again, his mind reminds him, it could just be the blood loss or the single fact that seems to be drumming in his mind as it gets bigger, louder and more impossible to ignore. The fact that after everything the fate that so many others had met on this island was staring him in the face.
It seemed cruel when the chance to get off this island... to be free was right there in arms reach, it was cruel but he couldn't help musing over it all because truly he didn't deserve the chance to escape anymore than anyone else. All those who had died, those still striving to survive out there that didn't have the luck to meet this group or run into Andrea--fuck, what had happened to the President?--deserved the chance to. None of them had deserved this to befall any of them, they should have been a bunch of stupid seniors celebrating a last huzzah together before leaving in their different directions and planning the rest of their lives.
His thoughts were broken though by what sounded vaguely like thunder in his mind, it was only when he noticed a bullet lodge into the sand not two feet from where they were walking did he realize that something was horribly amiss. Hadn't the terrorist been killed? Ianto was absolutely sure he had watched her die, did this mean...
There wasn't a lot of time to think though as he was pushed into the boat, collapsing awkwardly with a pained sound as he once again gripped weakly at the spot on his chest, wheezing somewhat at the statement and giving something of a grin. Though with his mouth mostly full of blood it probably came out more awkward than intended when he ended up coughing it all up before he had much of a chance to say anything and by the time he stopped Maxie was already gone.
A nearby commotion kept him focused on at least something as he felt himself being tugged forward a little and something being pressed into his back and his front, slowly starting to once again register voices and realize that it was Izzy trying to talk to him. Nodding weakly even though he didn't quite understand just what the girl was saying at the moment.
"Got... something to-to tell..." Ianto wheezed, coughing harshly once again before settling and glancing about. Remembering having heard Terrie's voice when they were approaching the boat. "Say that I... that I'm so--"
His words were dissolved and covered up in another fit of coughing, Izzy glancing around wildly. "Damn, damn... come on Ianto, don't be talking nonsense now alright? I ain't to sure where Terrie is but right now we just got to worry about patching you up."
She smiles, or at least tries to--but like trying to ignore the gunfire blazing outside it's something that becoming impossible. 'What the fuck am I supposed to do?'
Instead he tried to focus on walking--or at least try to with the help he was getting--but it was almost if his body didn't understand how to walk anymore; like the basic concept of one foot in front of the other, rinse and repeat was shockingly beyond him now. Because everything in his world and current view seemed to be but a haze of its former self, currently only focused on this odd feeling forming in the pit of his stomach, it was a fact, it was a realization that he didn't want to come to terms with right now.
But he knows, god he knows.
Though he wants to talk, respond back to the words and comfort that is being spoken all he can currently give is a shaky sort of sound. Not realizing the harsh grip he had been keeping on his rifle until the feeling in his fingers seemed to give in and it fell into the grip of whomever was helping drag his stupid ass away from the scene. Everything felt so weird... like his senses had been dulled down and down until the only thing reaching him was the suddenly blinding light of the sun above them and the slick feeling of the blood that was staining down his front and back. It's a feeling that's making him sick in more than one way--but again, his mind reminds him, it could just be the blood loss or the single fact that seems to be drumming in his mind as it gets bigger, louder and more impossible to ignore. The fact that after everything the fate that so many others had met on this island was staring him in the face.
It seemed cruel when the chance to get off this island... to be free was right there in arms reach, it was cruel but he couldn't help musing over it all because truly he didn't deserve the chance to escape anymore than anyone else. All those who had died, those still striving to survive out there that didn't have the luck to meet this group or run into Andrea--fuck, what had happened to the President?--deserved the chance to. None of them had deserved this to befall any of them, they should have been a bunch of stupid seniors celebrating a last huzzah together before leaving in their different directions and planning the rest of their lives.
His thoughts were broken though by what sounded vaguely like thunder in his mind, it was only when he noticed a bullet lodge into the sand not two feet from where they were walking did he realize that something was horribly amiss. Hadn't the terrorist been killed? Ianto was absolutely sure he had watched her die, did this mean...
There wasn't a lot of time to think though as he was pushed into the boat, collapsing awkwardly with a pained sound as he once again gripped weakly at the spot on his chest, wheezing somewhat at the statement and giving something of a grin. Though with his mouth mostly full of blood it probably came out more awkward than intended when he ended up coughing it all up before he had much of a chance to say anything and by the time he stopped Maxie was already gone.
A nearby commotion kept him focused on at least something as he felt himself being tugged forward a little and something being pressed into his back and his front, slowly starting to once again register voices and realize that it was Izzy trying to talk to him. Nodding weakly even though he didn't quite understand just what the girl was saying at the moment.
"Got... something to-to tell..." Ianto wheezed, coughing harshly once again before settling and glancing about. Remembering having heard Terrie's voice when they were approaching the boat. "Say that I... that I'm so--"
His words were dissolved and covered up in another fit of coughing, Izzy glancing around wildly. "Damn, damn... come on Ianto, don't be talking nonsense now alright? I ain't to sure where Terrie is but right now we just got to worry about patching you up."
She smiles, or at least tries to--but like trying to ignore the gunfire blazing outside it's something that becoming impossible. 'What the fuck am I supposed to do?'
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler riserugu. 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.
No response. Out of all the things Grossi could have said, this was about the scariest thing. Brad felt a chill run down his spine - was this guy dead? No... No he was still breathing, just barely but still he was breathing. That was good or at least better than if he were dead as a doorknob. Without thinking twice he grasped Grossi's arms in a bad attempt to drag him. Of all the times that Brad was thankful for being stuck in a damn jail for months it was now - Grossi was as heavy as a ton of bricks. He needed all of his focus to pull him back to the boats.
The bullet that struck him in the leg distracted him.
He let out a loud gasp, twisting his whole body onto his side to reflexivly grab at his leg. A painful tingling sensation ran up the whole length of his leg, as though he had been sitting on it for a hours. He winced, his body shaking and shuddering from the burning pain. He looked up and saw them, the guns rocketing at the dock. Most of the guns were aimed at the boats but... were they trying to shoot at him too?
He felt doomed. Truly doomed.
Something clearly was happening. The terrorists seemed to stop firing but at that same time there were gunshots going off like crazy. This took Brad by surprise. W-Weren't they just firing at us? What the fuck...
He could hear gunshots. He could see flashes from the dark woods but he couldn't see what was going on. He couldn't see Adam and Neil, who were both shielded by the endless row of terrorists. Brad had no idea what the hell was happening over there but considering how he had thought a minute ago, maybe now was the best time to get running.
"... Fuck me. FUCK!" He growled under his breath, trying his damned best to get to his feet what with his leg being badly damaged. A voice inside his mind screamed at him to run away, to forget about Lucas. His concious told him to pick the man up and carry him the boat - "To hell with surviving! This man was the one who had made all of this possible! SURELY he deserves to win alot more than you do!"
That was undeniable but... Lucas was giving his life to save them, wasn't he? Wouldn't he want them to live in exchange for his own life?
This internal arguement had not lasted long but by the end of it Brad seemed to know that he had to live. Without another hesititation he scrambled for the dock. It hurt like hell and he was going at a snail's pace but it was only a few seconds before he stumbled onto the dock, panting like a madman.
"We've got to go! Someone start the boats!" He coughed, holding the railing for support. His body shook violently and without another word he fell over forward at the foot of the dock, finding it unbearable to stand on his leg anymore.
He was done, caput. He couldn't move one inch after that, though he tried to struggle otherwise. So damn tired of all this shit.
On the flipside, Terrie was so filled with energy it was making her head spin. When the bullets started flying from behind her she instinctly fell to the ground and held her head down. She could hear bullets flying over her head, whizing past her. Or maybe they weren't whizing past her, she couldn't see. She shuddered, hearing Maxie firing off bullets from the boats.
She didn't want to be here! She just wanted to go home. She didn't want to be in the middle of this.
The firing seemed to stop for a moment and Terrie took a chance and peered up from the spot she was laying. What was going on? They were just firing at them! She got up to her feet and stumbled to the nearest boat, wheezing loudly. The pounding in her heart was hurting her more than any bullet could! It was making her feel week, lightheaded... hell she felt like had floated out of her body. She forgot about the alien sensations in her body the second she reached the boat and found that both Izzy and Ianto was there. She pretty much forgot about what was happening.
"I-Ianto..." She said in a dry but very sad voice. Tears were forming in her eyes as she saw the terrible condition he was in. "I can't..."
Don't cry Terrie... Don't cry Terrie... Don't cry Terrie... Don't cry Terrie...
In a fit she took her bag and threw it on the ground, opening up the bag with a loud zip and pulling the medical equipment. They had to do something - Izzy and her. They had to save Ianto, had to get him patched up, had to get him and everyone else off this fucking island with it's unbearable heat and the monsters trying to stab her and all of the people being suspicious and the terrorists and the bullets. All those fucking bullets. She hated those bullets, because she wouldn't be here if those bullets never existed, and all of those knives and the monsters that were swinging them around hoping to hurt someone. Her anger was so huge that it made her hands shake and her teeth gnashing and her eyes filling with tears not of sheer sadness but of pure anger towards all the things that were happening and that were about to happen and all the things that were going to happen to the kids that were just like her who wouldn't have the same chance as they were to escape and the blood running through her no her entire body was boiling that she slammed her fists into her knees and she screamed so loudly that it made her dry throat burn with the heat of the whole unbearable sun that she hadn't seen in so fucking long that she was sure she would never ever ever see it again.
"God Damn It."
Terrie was never an emotional person. She never yelled - she always cried but she never screamed the way she had but even she couldn't stand what was happening. They didn't deserve this pain, none of this shit. She knew that she had always been nice. AND she knew that Andrea, Izzy, Ianto, they had always been nice people and they didn't deserve this either.
Which meant that she had to save as many as she could.
She took the bandages and the alcohol and moved closer to Ianto, still wheezing in anger.
"Izzy! Help me with this! We have to save him!" She looked down at Ianto and spoke to him, sounding more mad than sad. "You're going to be alright Ianto. Just stay awake! Don't die. Don't you die!"
She didn't think it could get any worse as she took the alcohol pads out in a rush, but that was when she heard Brad scream and she turned to see him stumble to the ground. She could only see red, red, red... oh god. Did he get shot from behind? No...
"Brad!"
Across from the dock, in the sea of trees and leaves, Dominica Shapiro (formerly Female Student no. 28, a name that had a nice ring to it in Dominica's mind) had finally figured out that she had gone insane. Two days - no, maybe three days - hell she couldn't remember - had elapsed without even a glimpse of another human being. The only memories of the past two weeks was her shooting a spear through a boy, feeling a shot of pure pleasure running through her veins, and that house exploding. She couldn't remember anything else except for walking through the forest alone. At home she was one of the smartest individuals at Southridge. Here, her intelligence had clearly eluded her. She was no longer an intelligent woman. She was a zombie holding onto a machine gun for dear life. If you had even told her that she was wandering around in circles she wouldn't even pay you the time of day.
Two days of wandering can do a large toll on a girl. Given the circumstances, two days can do alot to anyone.
The sounds of gunfire clearly made Dominica jump, letting out an exaggerated scream. She was scared at first but the feeling soon left her and a smile crossed her face. Gunshots meant people. People meant supplies. Supplies meant LIFE. She let out a giggle, a girlish giggle that was very unlike her. She mumbled to herself, swaying back and forth as she made her way in the direction that the sounds were coming from. She herself had no idea what she was saying, though it was clearly important enough to say it but umimportant enough to say it outloud.
It didn't occur to Dominica Shapiro that when she saw the huge line of men with guns. She had come from the north-east direction, so she was behind the men but so far off to the side that if even one of them were to turn their head just slightly they would see her. And in her condition who wouldn't see her? Her shirt was torn just enough to expose her bellybutton, her pants were torn to bits and her shoes(if you could even call them shoes) were nearly ready to crumble. Her now shaggy hair was laying over her eyes, almost making it impossible to see what was ahead of her.
She saw the boats. Those boats.
And she remembered the escape plan. Oh how dumb she had been to even go along with that... she reconsidered that. She thought for a second. No, it really hadn't been a stupid move, she was just stupid. So damn stupid. Maybe this was why her parents never gave a shit - she was so good at her studies but in the end she was just as stupid as the sheep that she pitied. She was self-centered and clearly that had won her over two days ago. Why couldn't she have stuck with the rest? Why did she wander off?
Now all of that was shot. There was no more escape - it was a massacre Now all they had to do was get rid of the terrorists(they had to be terrorists right?), all ten-thousand of those bulky bastards with the bulletproof armor and machine guns who were probably going to soon notice her standing there.
Then she would have to convince the others to let her go with them.
And escape the island, surviving all the other nasty things that these bastards could throw.
And then maybe she'd tackle world hunger because things couldn't really get much worse.
"..."
She walked backwards, away from the soldiers and into the field of trees. Then she turned her gun to the nook of her chin and grimaced.
"... Christ. I hate myself... Hate hate hate..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
She suddenly noticed that there were other gunshots, coming from her right. She had turned her head and looked at the two men firing at the terrorists. She couldn't get a great look at them but one name instantly popped in her head. Neil Sinclair
And then she remembered again. HE was the one who orchastrated the plan, and was the one who had convinced her to go along with it. The very same man she thought had died in the flames of that safehouse. She had been so very sure of that outcome that it was the soul reason she had wandered off! And yet here he was, so very alive that she could reach out and touch him. He was taking these monsters on! The other must have been Adam Dodd, after all the bastard had slithered his way out of ever situation in the past that a simple explosion couldn't kill him off. It had to be him.
She, Neil and Adam were alive. Not for long though, unless if she did something...
... No. No, just pull the trigger Dominica you pathetic worm. What do those fools owe you that you haven't already given? They would never do the same for you! They would have rather ripped your own heart out and bludgeoned you to death with it. Just kill yourself, there's no reason to live anymore.
"...
"... What the hell..."
Dominica changed her mind and held the gun in her hands. She ran from the side of the soldiers, so close that she could smell the sweat from their brows. Aim for the head She fired at the soldiers, three shots at a time. The gun shook and she figured her aim was off by a mile but it had to do something! One of those bullets had to do something If she was going to die then she wanted to take someone with her. They would all turn to her, they would all shoot at her and it wouldn't have mattered. They wouldn't notice Adam and Neil until after they took care of her.
Besides maybe she secretly wanted this plan to work. Maybe this was going to work. Maybe she really could make a difference. Or maybe that was last wish of a sad, pitiful girl with no friends and no reason to live. A girl who wanted to be recognized for her accomplishments but never got it. A girl had no real reason to live.
Adam Dodd, she could imagine, wanted revenge. Neil wanted off this island and he had worked so hard that he couldn't give up. What did she want?
That was simple. She had known this since her first day on this island and she suddenly remembered it at this moment.
She wanted to have fun. She wanted to kill.
A truly sad wish. In the only true act of actual courage in her entire life she threw herself at the row of soldiers and shot to kill.
She was running into an ocean of pain, blood and tears and she was grinning like a madman. She wanted this.
She loved this.
The bullet that struck him in the leg distracted him.
He let out a loud gasp, twisting his whole body onto his side to reflexivly grab at his leg. A painful tingling sensation ran up the whole length of his leg, as though he had been sitting on it for a hours. He winced, his body shaking and shuddering from the burning pain. He looked up and saw them, the guns rocketing at the dock. Most of the guns were aimed at the boats but... were they trying to shoot at him too?
He felt doomed. Truly doomed.
Something clearly was happening. The terrorists seemed to stop firing but at that same time there were gunshots going off like crazy. This took Brad by surprise. W-Weren't they just firing at us? What the fuck...
He could hear gunshots. He could see flashes from the dark woods but he couldn't see what was going on. He couldn't see Adam and Neil, who were both shielded by the endless row of terrorists. Brad had no idea what the hell was happening over there but considering how he had thought a minute ago, maybe now was the best time to get running.
"... Fuck me. FUCK!" He growled under his breath, trying his damned best to get to his feet what with his leg being badly damaged. A voice inside his mind screamed at him to run away, to forget about Lucas. His concious told him to pick the man up and carry him the boat - "To hell with surviving! This man was the one who had made all of this possible! SURELY he deserves to win alot more than you do!"
That was undeniable but... Lucas was giving his life to save them, wasn't he? Wouldn't he want them to live in exchange for his own life?
This internal arguement had not lasted long but by the end of it Brad seemed to know that he had to live. Without another hesititation he scrambled for the dock. It hurt like hell and he was going at a snail's pace but it was only a few seconds before he stumbled onto the dock, panting like a madman.
"We've got to go! Someone start the boats!" He coughed, holding the railing for support. His body shook violently and without another word he fell over forward at the foot of the dock, finding it unbearable to stand on his leg anymore.
He was done, caput. He couldn't move one inch after that, though he tried to struggle otherwise. So damn tired of all this shit.
On the flipside, Terrie was so filled with energy it was making her head spin. When the bullets started flying from behind her she instinctly fell to the ground and held her head down. She could hear bullets flying over her head, whizing past her. Or maybe they weren't whizing past her, she couldn't see. She shuddered, hearing Maxie firing off bullets from the boats.
She didn't want to be here! She just wanted to go home. She didn't want to be in the middle of this.
The firing seemed to stop for a moment and Terrie took a chance and peered up from the spot she was laying. What was going on? They were just firing at them! She got up to her feet and stumbled to the nearest boat, wheezing loudly. The pounding in her heart was hurting her more than any bullet could! It was making her feel week, lightheaded... hell she felt like had floated out of her body. She forgot about the alien sensations in her body the second she reached the boat and found that both Izzy and Ianto was there. She pretty much forgot about what was happening.
"I-Ianto..." She said in a dry but very sad voice. Tears were forming in her eyes as she saw the terrible condition he was in. "I can't..."
Don't cry Terrie... Don't cry Terrie... Don't cry Terrie... Don't cry Terrie...
In a fit she took her bag and threw it on the ground, opening up the bag with a loud zip and pulling the medical equipment. They had to do something - Izzy and her. They had to save Ianto, had to get him patched up, had to get him and everyone else off this fucking island with it's unbearable heat and the monsters trying to stab her and all of the people being suspicious and the terrorists and the bullets. All those fucking bullets. She hated those bullets, because she wouldn't be here if those bullets never existed, and all of those knives and the monsters that were swinging them around hoping to hurt someone. Her anger was so huge that it made her hands shake and her teeth gnashing and her eyes filling with tears not of sheer sadness but of pure anger towards all the things that were happening and that were about to happen and all the things that were going to happen to the kids that were just like her who wouldn't have the same chance as they were to escape and the blood running through her no her entire body was boiling that she slammed her fists into her knees and she screamed so loudly that it made her dry throat burn with the heat of the whole unbearable sun that she hadn't seen in so fucking long that she was sure she would never ever ever see it again.
"God Damn It."
Terrie was never an emotional person. She never yelled - she always cried but she never screamed the way she had but even she couldn't stand what was happening. They didn't deserve this pain, none of this shit. She knew that she had always been nice. AND she knew that Andrea, Izzy, Ianto, they had always been nice people and they didn't deserve this either.
Which meant that she had to save as many as she could.
She took the bandages and the alcohol and moved closer to Ianto, still wheezing in anger.
"Izzy! Help me with this! We have to save him!" She looked down at Ianto and spoke to him, sounding more mad than sad. "You're going to be alright Ianto. Just stay awake! Don't die. Don't you die!"
She didn't think it could get any worse as she took the alcohol pads out in a rush, but that was when she heard Brad scream and she turned to see him stumble to the ground. She could only see red, red, red... oh god. Did he get shot from behind? No...
"Brad!"
Across from the dock, in the sea of trees and leaves, Dominica Shapiro (formerly Female Student no. 28, a name that had a nice ring to it in Dominica's mind) had finally figured out that she had gone insane. Two days - no, maybe three days - hell she couldn't remember - had elapsed without even a glimpse of another human being. The only memories of the past two weeks was her shooting a spear through a boy, feeling a shot of pure pleasure running through her veins, and that house exploding. She couldn't remember anything else except for walking through the forest alone. At home she was one of the smartest individuals at Southridge. Here, her intelligence had clearly eluded her. She was no longer an intelligent woman. She was a zombie holding onto a machine gun for dear life. If you had even told her that she was wandering around in circles she wouldn't even pay you the time of day.
Two days of wandering can do a large toll on a girl. Given the circumstances, two days can do alot to anyone.
The sounds of gunfire clearly made Dominica jump, letting out an exaggerated scream. She was scared at first but the feeling soon left her and a smile crossed her face. Gunshots meant people. People meant supplies. Supplies meant LIFE. She let out a giggle, a girlish giggle that was very unlike her. She mumbled to herself, swaying back and forth as she made her way in the direction that the sounds were coming from. She herself had no idea what she was saying, though it was clearly important enough to say it but umimportant enough to say it outloud.
It didn't occur to Dominica Shapiro that when she saw the huge line of men with guns. She had come from the north-east direction, so she was behind the men but so far off to the side that if even one of them were to turn their head just slightly they would see her. And in her condition who wouldn't see her? Her shirt was torn just enough to expose her bellybutton, her pants were torn to bits and her shoes(if you could even call them shoes) were nearly ready to crumble. Her now shaggy hair was laying over her eyes, almost making it impossible to see what was ahead of her.
She saw the boats. Those boats.
And she remembered the escape plan. Oh how dumb she had been to even go along with that... she reconsidered that. She thought for a second. No, it really hadn't been a stupid move, she was just stupid. So damn stupid. Maybe this was why her parents never gave a shit - she was so good at her studies but in the end she was just as stupid as the sheep that she pitied. She was self-centered and clearly that had won her over two days ago. Why couldn't she have stuck with the rest? Why did she wander off?
Now all of that was shot. There was no more escape - it was a massacre Now all they had to do was get rid of the terrorists(they had to be terrorists right?), all ten-thousand of those bulky bastards with the bulletproof armor and machine guns who were probably going to soon notice her standing there.
Then she would have to convince the others to let her go with them.
And escape the island, surviving all the other nasty things that these bastards could throw.
And then maybe she'd tackle world hunger because things couldn't really get much worse.
"..."
She walked backwards, away from the soldiers and into the field of trees. Then she turned her gun to the nook of her chin and grimaced.
"... Christ. I hate myself... Hate hate hate..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
She suddenly noticed that there were other gunshots, coming from her right. She had turned her head and looked at the two men firing at the terrorists. She couldn't get a great look at them but one name instantly popped in her head. Neil Sinclair
And then she remembered again. HE was the one who orchastrated the plan, and was the one who had convinced her to go along with it. The very same man she thought had died in the flames of that safehouse. She had been so very sure of that outcome that it was the soul reason she had wandered off! And yet here he was, so very alive that she could reach out and touch him. He was taking these monsters on! The other must have been Adam Dodd, after all the bastard had slithered his way out of ever situation in the past that a simple explosion couldn't kill him off. It had to be him.
She, Neil and Adam were alive. Not for long though, unless if she did something...
... No. No, just pull the trigger Dominica you pathetic worm. What do those fools owe you that you haven't already given? They would never do the same for you! They would have rather ripped your own heart out and bludgeoned you to death with it. Just kill yourself, there's no reason to live anymore.
"...
"... What the hell..."
Dominica changed her mind and held the gun in her hands. She ran from the side of the soldiers, so close that she could smell the sweat from their brows. Aim for the head She fired at the soldiers, three shots at a time. The gun shook and she figured her aim was off by a mile but it had to do something! One of those bullets had to do something If she was going to die then she wanted to take someone with her. They would all turn to her, they would all shoot at her and it wouldn't have mattered. They wouldn't notice Adam and Neil until after they took care of her.
Besides maybe she secretly wanted this plan to work. Maybe this was going to work. Maybe she really could make a difference. Or maybe that was last wish of a sad, pitiful girl with no friends and no reason to live. A girl who wanted to be recognized for her accomplishments but never got it. A girl had no real reason to live.
Adam Dodd, she could imagine, wanted revenge. Neil wanted off this island and he had worked so hard that he couldn't give up. What did she want?
That was simple. She had known this since her first day on this island and she suddenly remembered it at this moment.
She wanted to have fun. She wanted to kill.
A truly sad wish. In the only true act of actual courage in her entire life she threw herself at the row of soldiers and shot to kill.
She was running into an ocean of pain, blood and tears and she was grinning like a madman. She wanted this.
She loved this.
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.
Neil continued to fire at the terrorists, waiting for them to spin around and cut him and Adam Dodd down when he heard gunshots coming from his side. Turning his head, he saw Dominica, still alive, rushing at the terrorists shooting at them.
You crazy girl!
Neil wasn't sure what to think of her. She was running out in the open, and could easily be gunned down right there, but she was distracting the terrorists. She was giving Neil and Adam more time.
After this I swear I'm gonna give you the biggest hug of your life
Neil, not wanting Dominica's efforts to be a waste, turned his attention towards the terrorists and aimed Corbin's M16 at them. He fired at them, wanting to see every one die. He didn't know how many more there were, and he knew they didn't have long. They had to get off this island and now. This was their only shot, and by the looks of it they were running out of time.
Neil saw some students in the boats already, but didn't let himself smile yet. It wasn't over.
Neil felt a distinct pain in his arm, then another, and he let himself look down to see blood. He had been hit. His arm felt weak, and he felt the pain shoot from his arm all over his body. Spinning around he saw a terrorist aiming a rifle at him, prepared for the killing shot. Neil emptied the clip at the terrorist only to see him jump back into the brush where he came from.
Fuck it
Neil started sprinting towards the brush, and when he was right up on it the terrorist jumped up, the rifle pointed at Neil. Neil, not a violent man by nature, and not strong by any means, let his instinct and pent up anger fuel him as he leaned down and charged into the terrorist, hearing the rifle go off in the air. Swinging his fists, he continued to pound on his armored foe until the man underneath him swung back. Neil felt himself thrown off of him, and knew he made a mistake. He was just a high school student, a tired, wounded, high school student. He was fighting grown men, trained men who knew how to kill, and didn't hesitate in killing.
Neil watched as the man rushed at him and kicked his leg at him. Neil took the leg to the stomach and felt more blows. Neil looked at his M16, empty, laying over on the side. He didn't have time to reload it even if he could get to it.
Bam
Another blow. Neil started to see his world black out. He was going to be beat to death by one of Danya's men. The men he swore to kill, he was going to fail his promise to help everyone escape.
As Neil's world faded to black, he saw the faces of everyone who had been apart of S.A.D.D. He saw the face of Corbin as he died, he saw the face of all the dead, the missing, the ones who were fighting now to get off this island.
As cliche as it was, Neil couldn't resist. His adrenaline shot through him, and his dark world was injected with a flood of light.
"SADDDDDDD!!!!!!"
Neil threw a punch to the terrorists gut, stunning him, and knew he couldn't win a fist fight. His eyes quickly shot to the knife that was strapped to the man's leg. Neil lunged for the knife, pulling it out of it's sheath and stabbing it into the man's leg. The terrorist let out of a roar of pain and kicked out Neil, sending his sprawling backwards.
Neil stood up, the now bloody knife in hand and said, "Fuck you."
The terrorist looked behind him, and saw his own rifle, and turned to limp towards it when Neil charged him, tackling him to the ground, and stabbing repeatedly into any part of the terrorist that wasn't covered in body armor, which wasn't much. The terrorist struggled, started to cough up blood, then went limp. Neil Sinclair stood up, dropped the bloody knife over the terrorist and went for his M16. After reloading it, he returned to the fight.
It was time to finish this.
You crazy girl!
Neil wasn't sure what to think of her. She was running out in the open, and could easily be gunned down right there, but she was distracting the terrorists. She was giving Neil and Adam more time.
After this I swear I'm gonna give you the biggest hug of your life
Neil, not wanting Dominica's efforts to be a waste, turned his attention towards the terrorists and aimed Corbin's M16 at them. He fired at them, wanting to see every one die. He didn't know how many more there were, and he knew they didn't have long. They had to get off this island and now. This was their only shot, and by the looks of it they were running out of time.
Neil saw some students in the boats already, but didn't let himself smile yet. It wasn't over.
Neil felt a distinct pain in his arm, then another, and he let himself look down to see blood. He had been hit. His arm felt weak, and he felt the pain shoot from his arm all over his body. Spinning around he saw a terrorist aiming a rifle at him, prepared for the killing shot. Neil emptied the clip at the terrorist only to see him jump back into the brush where he came from.
Fuck it
Neil started sprinting towards the brush, and when he was right up on it the terrorist jumped up, the rifle pointed at Neil. Neil, not a violent man by nature, and not strong by any means, let his instinct and pent up anger fuel him as he leaned down and charged into the terrorist, hearing the rifle go off in the air. Swinging his fists, he continued to pound on his armored foe until the man underneath him swung back. Neil felt himself thrown off of him, and knew he made a mistake. He was just a high school student, a tired, wounded, high school student. He was fighting grown men, trained men who knew how to kill, and didn't hesitate in killing.
Neil watched as the man rushed at him and kicked his leg at him. Neil took the leg to the stomach and felt more blows. Neil looked at his M16, empty, laying over on the side. He didn't have time to reload it even if he could get to it.
Bam
Another blow. Neil started to see his world black out. He was going to be beat to death by one of Danya's men. The men he swore to kill, he was going to fail his promise to help everyone escape.
As Neil's world faded to black, he saw the faces of everyone who had been apart of S.A.D.D. He saw the face of Corbin as he died, he saw the face of all the dead, the missing, the ones who were fighting now to get off this island.
As cliche as it was, Neil couldn't resist. His adrenaline shot through him, and his dark world was injected with a flood of light.
"SADDDDDDD!!!!!!"
Neil threw a punch to the terrorists gut, stunning him, and knew he couldn't win a fist fight. His eyes quickly shot to the knife that was strapped to the man's leg. Neil lunged for the knife, pulling it out of it's sheath and stabbing it into the man's leg. The terrorist let out of a roar of pain and kicked out Neil, sending his sprawling backwards.
Neil stood up, the now bloody knife in hand and said, "Fuck you."
The terrorist looked behind him, and saw his own rifle, and turned to limp towards it when Neil charged him, tackling him to the ground, and stabbing repeatedly into any part of the terrorist that wasn't covered in body armor, which wasn't much. The terrorist struggled, started to cough up blood, then went limp. Neil Sinclair stood up, dropped the bloody knife over the terrorist and went for his M16. After reloading it, he returned to the fight.
It was time to finish this.
Marnie's mind felt as though it was empty and at maximum capacity, all at the same time. A state of disbelief had washed over her and she hadn't quite managed to shake it. Here they where, waiting for everyone else and rearing to go and get the hell off their island prison, but honestly it all felt too good to be true. She had spent two weeks in fiery hell, constantly surrounded by death, looking for someone who could die at any moment, hearing names on the morning announcements of her former peers and yet, here she was. Alive and well and this close to escaping. But... why did she deserve to live over everyone else? What made her so special? People like Ivan, Becky, Kathy, Ryan, and even Dante. They didn't deserve to die either, but they did. How was it fair for her to get away? It wasn't, but the Christian in her wanted desperately to believe that this was God giving her another chance to live.
Marnie glanced towards Dorian, who offered her a smile. After all they had been through, you'd think they wouldn't be able to stop talking, but it was quite the opposite. They didn't need words any more, it kind of felt like they just knew what the other was thinking. Marnie reciprocated the smile and followed Dorian as he went back in the cabin and watched as he started the boat. Her heart fluttered and nervous butterflies swarmed her stomach. This was actually happening.
The loud hum of the motor behind them was strangely relaxing. It was relieving, honestly. After everything that happened, Marnie feared that the rest of her life would be plagued with her experiences on the island and while that was probably true to an extent, the serenity she was feeling was a welcome hint that she could be okay in the end after all. Glancing over at Dorian resulted in another fit of the ever-present butterflies.
He hid it well. The fear, that is. Marnie could read her best friend like a book and she saw right through the admittedly convincing charade. He was just as afraid as she was, but instead of showing it like any normal person- he hid it. Probably for her sake too, as egotistical as it sounds. But, she knew full well that Dorian cared deeply for her. Maybe even daring to go past that sensitive friendship line into something more? Or maybe it was her own feelings projecting illusions. She might never know, but what she did know was that out of everyone in the world, Marnie was glad she had Dorian as her support system on the island. On the other end of that deadly double edged sword, he was also the one person she wished hadn't been there with her.
It was strange how the littlest of things, the crunching of leaves or the slam of a door, could send your heart to the darkest depths of your stomach when Death was around the other corner. Marnie's heart did so the minute the cockpit door slammed open, making way for Ianto Murphy and a frantic Izzy Cheung. Between sobs, Marnie managed to decipher the cause of the freak-out. Muddled words revealed Adam Dodd and the Armory incident as the culprit, causing Marnie's heart to plunge once more.
She had been so wrapped up in her own emotions and her own sense of security that she had completely forgotten about the other kids at the armory. And with only Izzy's hysterical cries as a hint, Marnie seriously doubted their fate was anything other than bad. She could only watch on as Dorian moved to comfort her while Ianto left the room, only speaking when Dorian's persuaded her with a pained look. Moving to Izzy's side, Marnie tenderly placed a hand on the sobbing girls' shoulder. She was at a loss for words, nothing comforting at all came to mind and instead she spoke hollow encouragement, somehow hoping the muster up some cheer.
"Izzy..." She spoke softly, offering a friendly squeeze on Izzy's shoulder, "I'm sure they're fine... they've gotten out of worse situations, right?"
As if the whole situation wasn't bad enough, the increasingly familiar 'pop' of a gunshot penetrated the cabin. Beside her, she could feel Izzy's body tense up and she was sure Izzy could feel her own muscles go steely. Marnie shot Dorian an inquisitive look and headed his command to get to the back.
"C-come on, Izzy," Marnie said, trying to blink away the tears forming in her own eyes while helping the trembling girl to her feet. Glancing back at Dorian, a shiver ran down her spine. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to lose him again, not after being away from each other for so long. But Dorian was Dorian and Marnie was well aware how stubborn her friend was. He was to selfless sometimes, but she adored that about him. Quickly wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand, Marnie struggled to contain the tears.
"Be careful... 'kay?" She spoke weakly, her voice trembling with restraint.
No tears, Marnie. No tears. She had to be strong. For Izzy's sake. And for Dorian's.
---
Gunshots echoed throughout the cabin and with each round fired, Marnie's hope dwindled. They almost had it. They almost got away with their lives. They almost did what no other before them had succeeded in. They had almost escaped the cruel game Danya had set up for them.
Her knuckles turned ghostly white as she clenched her fists. She wasn't normally the type of person to get angry, but Marnie Yaguchi had just watched their chance for freedom slip from their hands. Then there was the waiting. She and Izzy had been waiting with bated breath at the back of the cabin, somehow retaining what little hope there was that Dorian would return with good news. What used to be pleasant, calming humming of the engine had turned into a sick taunting. There they were, ready to escape and be safe. Then the crap hit the fan.
Marnie's muscles turned to ice once more as the cabin door swung open. Her mind was bombarded with hope and fear and everything in between. Perhaps it was Dorian, returning alive and unharmed to inform them they'd be able to escape after all. Or maybe it was a terrorist coming to finish off the remainder of the students. What stared her straight in the eye, however, was not Dorian. Nor was it a terrorist. In fact it was a wounded Matthew Wittany, who staggered into the cabin with two packs around his shoulders. Marnie leap to her feet and rushed over to the injured boy.
"Oh God..." She felt herself mutter under her breath, "Matt, Matt look at me! Are you okay?!" She cried in a panic. The mumbled reassurance the boy emitted did nothing to calm her.
The boy she hardly knew collapsed into her arms, the sheer force of his weight pushed her small body to the ground. She struggled to prop him against the bench seating, only to be met by his stoney gaze.
"Matt, talk to me, okay!?" She struggled to keep the tears at bay as she tried anything in her power to keep Matt with her. "Look, it's gonna be alright. Everyone's gonna come back and we're going to drive away a-and..." The salty tears ran down her flushed cheeks as she tried to shake the boy awake, "And you'll get to see your family, Matt.... and everything'll be fine."
Marnie let the tears run as she stared at the closed eyes of Matt Wittany. His shallow breathing was only worsening and offered up little hope that he'd be alright. Hollowly looking at his belongings, Marnie noticed the megaphone hanging off one of his daypacks. Her heart felt as though it skipped a thousand beats before she finally snatched the device off the dirtied bag. She could help everyone. Her living wouldn't be in vain. If things worked like she wanted, she could possibly save the remainder of the students.
Just hold on a little longer, Matt. We're gonna get out of here.
Turning around, Marnie noticed the still sobbing Izzy looking upon Matt, horror running mad in her eyes. Marnie flashed a trembled smile, hoping that it was reassuring in the least bit. "H-he's fine. S-s-still breathing," she said quickly, watching as Izzy ran to his side. Quickly making her way over to the large steering wheel, Marnie took in a deep breath and leaned on the horn with her whole body. The deep, loud wail of the horn resounded throughout the area. Hopefully it'd alert everyone else and they'd find an opening to get on board.
With the first part of her plan completed, Marnie rushed over to the door of the cabin, the megaphone clenched tightly in her hand and her finger hovering over the button. Running onto the open deck, chaos unfolded before her. Bodies littered the beach, some she knew and some she didn't. Gunshots were practically the music to the movie as shots were fired to-and-fro. Scanning quickly, Marnie didn't see Dorian anywhere. Not among the dead. But not among the living, either.
In a frenzy she quickly pushed down on the button, her finger nearly slipping off thanks to the sweat on her hands. A verbose squealing rang true before she lowered the device to her mouth.
"LET'S GOOOOOO-"
Her screaming lasted for what seemed like several hours. Her throat burned and her lungs were exhausted, but she pushed through. She had to do this. It could be what saved Dorian and everyone else. And she'd do anything to save everyone. Especially Dorian.
A very apparent 'pop' came and went as quick as the wind. The pain, however, was brutal and piercing. Her lungs burned as she collapsed to the ground, ending the deafening yelling making its way through the battlefield. Her mind was spinning as she pulled herself into the cabin, clutching onto her wound while fighting to breathe. The hard wooden floors were a welcome sanctuary and she halted her crawling, staring up through tear-stained eyes as a spinning Izzy Cheung rushed to her side. Izzy's words were lost on deaf ears as Marnie's whole world began to spin until eventually fading to black.
Marnie glanced towards Dorian, who offered her a smile. After all they had been through, you'd think they wouldn't be able to stop talking, but it was quite the opposite. They didn't need words any more, it kind of felt like they just knew what the other was thinking. Marnie reciprocated the smile and followed Dorian as he went back in the cabin and watched as he started the boat. Her heart fluttered and nervous butterflies swarmed her stomach. This was actually happening.
The loud hum of the motor behind them was strangely relaxing. It was relieving, honestly. After everything that happened, Marnie feared that the rest of her life would be plagued with her experiences on the island and while that was probably true to an extent, the serenity she was feeling was a welcome hint that she could be okay in the end after all. Glancing over at Dorian resulted in another fit of the ever-present butterflies.
He hid it well. The fear, that is. Marnie could read her best friend like a book and she saw right through the admittedly convincing charade. He was just as afraid as she was, but instead of showing it like any normal person- he hid it. Probably for her sake too, as egotistical as it sounds. But, she knew full well that Dorian cared deeply for her. Maybe even daring to go past that sensitive friendship line into something more? Or maybe it was her own feelings projecting illusions. She might never know, but what she did know was that out of everyone in the world, Marnie was glad she had Dorian as her support system on the island. On the other end of that deadly double edged sword, he was also the one person she wished hadn't been there with her.
It was strange how the littlest of things, the crunching of leaves or the slam of a door, could send your heart to the darkest depths of your stomach when Death was around the other corner. Marnie's heart did so the minute the cockpit door slammed open, making way for Ianto Murphy and a frantic Izzy Cheung. Between sobs, Marnie managed to decipher the cause of the freak-out. Muddled words revealed Adam Dodd and the Armory incident as the culprit, causing Marnie's heart to plunge once more.
She had been so wrapped up in her own emotions and her own sense of security that she had completely forgotten about the other kids at the armory. And with only Izzy's hysterical cries as a hint, Marnie seriously doubted their fate was anything other than bad. She could only watch on as Dorian moved to comfort her while Ianto left the room, only speaking when Dorian's persuaded her with a pained look. Moving to Izzy's side, Marnie tenderly placed a hand on the sobbing girls' shoulder. She was at a loss for words, nothing comforting at all came to mind and instead she spoke hollow encouragement, somehow hoping the muster up some cheer.
"Izzy..." She spoke softly, offering a friendly squeeze on Izzy's shoulder, "I'm sure they're fine... they've gotten out of worse situations, right?"
As if the whole situation wasn't bad enough, the increasingly familiar 'pop' of a gunshot penetrated the cabin. Beside her, she could feel Izzy's body tense up and she was sure Izzy could feel her own muscles go steely. Marnie shot Dorian an inquisitive look and headed his command to get to the back.
"C-come on, Izzy," Marnie said, trying to blink away the tears forming in her own eyes while helping the trembling girl to her feet. Glancing back at Dorian, a shiver ran down her spine. She didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to lose him again, not after being away from each other for so long. But Dorian was Dorian and Marnie was well aware how stubborn her friend was. He was to selfless sometimes, but she adored that about him. Quickly wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her hand, Marnie struggled to contain the tears.
"Be careful... 'kay?" She spoke weakly, her voice trembling with restraint.
No tears, Marnie. No tears. She had to be strong. For Izzy's sake. And for Dorian's.
---
Gunshots echoed throughout the cabin and with each round fired, Marnie's hope dwindled. They almost had it. They almost got away with their lives. They almost did what no other before them had succeeded in. They had almost escaped the cruel game Danya had set up for them.
Her knuckles turned ghostly white as she clenched her fists. She wasn't normally the type of person to get angry, but Marnie Yaguchi had just watched their chance for freedom slip from their hands. Then there was the waiting. She and Izzy had been waiting with bated breath at the back of the cabin, somehow retaining what little hope there was that Dorian would return with good news. What used to be pleasant, calming humming of the engine had turned into a sick taunting. There they were, ready to escape and be safe. Then the crap hit the fan.
Marnie's muscles turned to ice once more as the cabin door swung open. Her mind was bombarded with hope and fear and everything in between. Perhaps it was Dorian, returning alive and unharmed to inform them they'd be able to escape after all. Or maybe it was a terrorist coming to finish off the remainder of the students. What stared her straight in the eye, however, was not Dorian. Nor was it a terrorist. In fact it was a wounded Matthew Wittany, who staggered into the cabin with two packs around his shoulders. Marnie leap to her feet and rushed over to the injured boy.
"Oh God..." She felt herself mutter under her breath, "Matt, Matt look at me! Are you okay?!" She cried in a panic. The mumbled reassurance the boy emitted did nothing to calm her.
The boy she hardly knew collapsed into her arms, the sheer force of his weight pushed her small body to the ground. She struggled to prop him against the bench seating, only to be met by his stoney gaze.
"Matt, talk to me, okay!?" She struggled to keep the tears at bay as she tried anything in her power to keep Matt with her. "Look, it's gonna be alright. Everyone's gonna come back and we're going to drive away a-and..." The salty tears ran down her flushed cheeks as she tried to shake the boy awake, "And you'll get to see your family, Matt.... and everything'll be fine."
Marnie let the tears run as she stared at the closed eyes of Matt Wittany. His shallow breathing was only worsening and offered up little hope that he'd be alright. Hollowly looking at his belongings, Marnie noticed the megaphone hanging off one of his daypacks. Her heart felt as though it skipped a thousand beats before she finally snatched the device off the dirtied bag. She could help everyone. Her living wouldn't be in vain. If things worked like she wanted, she could possibly save the remainder of the students.
Just hold on a little longer, Matt. We're gonna get out of here.
Turning around, Marnie noticed the still sobbing Izzy looking upon Matt, horror running mad in her eyes. Marnie flashed a trembled smile, hoping that it was reassuring in the least bit. "H-he's fine. S-s-still breathing," she said quickly, watching as Izzy ran to his side. Quickly making her way over to the large steering wheel, Marnie took in a deep breath and leaned on the horn with her whole body. The deep, loud wail of the horn resounded throughout the area. Hopefully it'd alert everyone else and they'd find an opening to get on board.
With the first part of her plan completed, Marnie rushed over to the door of the cabin, the megaphone clenched tightly in her hand and her finger hovering over the button. Running onto the open deck, chaos unfolded before her. Bodies littered the beach, some she knew and some she didn't. Gunshots were practically the music to the movie as shots were fired to-and-fro. Scanning quickly, Marnie didn't see Dorian anywhere. Not among the dead. But not among the living, either.
In a frenzy she quickly pushed down on the button, her finger nearly slipping off thanks to the sweat on her hands. A verbose squealing rang true before she lowered the device to her mouth.
"LET'S GOOOOOO-"
Her screaming lasted for what seemed like several hours. Her throat burned and her lungs were exhausted, but she pushed through. She had to do this. It could be what saved Dorian and everyone else. And she'd do anything to save everyone. Especially Dorian.
A very apparent 'pop' came and went as quick as the wind. The pain, however, was brutal and piercing. Her lungs burned as she collapsed to the ground, ending the deafening yelling making its way through the battlefield. Her mind was spinning as she pulled herself into the cabin, clutching onto her wound while fighting to breathe. The hard wooden floors were a welcome sanctuary and she halted her crawling, staring up through tear-stained eyes as a spinning Izzy Cheung rushed to her side. Izzy's words were lost on deaf ears as Marnie's whole world began to spin until eventually fading to black.
Kyrie wasn't moving anymore. Her blurring vision was set on the dark skies above her. The sounds of the gunshots all around her soon faded into silence. Maybe it was because she was bleeding. Maybe it was because she was dieing. After she'd run out into the fray and killed the terrorist woman, another group of the death machines had arrived and mowed her and possibly others down. Her chest felt like it was on fire, and her throat was so dry she couldn't even scream. She simply lay there, silent and bloody. Her mind wandered back to her life before this nightmare. School, home, friends... She couldn't even remember what that felt like anymore.
She wondered how her family was doing. If her family was watching her, seeing what she had done, what she didn't do. How she failed. She wondered if Lexie was still alive, she wondered how it had come to all this.
She never thought that death would feel this way. So unreal. She didn't feel like she was dieing, she just felt so tired. Tired... yeah... she just needed to close her eyes. Then she could rest. She'd be okay in a while, just some sleep. Sleep would be perfect. She closed her eyes and opened them again.
Above her stood a man with a gun. Her mind didn't get a chance to process what was happening before her skull was caved in with the butt end of the rifle.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Matt was bleeding. It hurt so bad. Marnie and Izzy were trying to keep him comfortable, but to no avail. He was going to die. Marnie raced to the megaphone and out the door, attempting to rally the survivors. A shot was heard, and Izzy rushed outside, leaving Maxie, Ianto and Matt alone. Matt watched the blood seep from his wounds and felt himself tear up. His parents would be so disappointed in him. He didn't want to die, but this was it. He was dead.
He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the darkness that had followed him around his entire time on this island finally take him over. And he didn't mind at all. He smiled, and took another breath, each harder than the last. His time on this island built him into someone he'd always wanted to be. He just hoped that his friends survived, and his last thoughts centered around them.
Neil, Dominica... everyone... Survive.
And with that thought, the darkness took him.
She wondered how her family was doing. If her family was watching her, seeing what she had done, what she didn't do. How she failed. She wondered if Lexie was still alive, she wondered how it had come to all this.
She never thought that death would feel this way. So unreal. She didn't feel like she was dieing, she just felt so tired. Tired... yeah... she just needed to close her eyes. Then she could rest. She'd be okay in a while, just some sleep. Sleep would be perfect. She closed her eyes and opened them again.
Above her stood a man with a gun. Her mind didn't get a chance to process what was happening before her skull was caved in with the butt end of the rifle.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Matt was bleeding. It hurt so bad. Marnie and Izzy were trying to keep him comfortable, but to no avail. He was going to die. Marnie raced to the megaphone and out the door, attempting to rally the survivors. A shot was heard, and Izzy rushed outside, leaving Maxie, Ianto and Matt alone. Matt watched the blood seep from his wounds and felt himself tear up. His parents would be so disappointed in him. He didn't want to die, but this was it. He was dead.
He sighed and closed his eyes, letting the darkness that had followed him around his entire time on this island finally take him over. And he didn't mind at all. He smiled, and took another breath, each harder than the last. His time on this island built him into someone he'd always wanted to be. He just hoped that his friends survived, and his last thoughts centered around them.
Neil, Dominica... everyone... Survive.
And with that thought, the darkness took him.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Mitsuko2. 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.
Carnage.
It was all around, it was everywhere, and it was the most intense battle currently being waged on the island, even if half of the island's populace didn't know it. The fierce battle that raged amongst the coastline was almost like a small war in it's scope, and the emotions that it elicited from both the terrorists who had lost friends and comrades at the armory, and the teenagers who were trying desperately to survive, seemed to encompass the whole area with a thickness that didn't seem to leave the air. The students were so very close to getting out, to escaping with their lives intact. There were only two people who had ever before walked away from Survival of the Fittest, and this group knew that it was mere steps away from emerging victorious, having taken on the system, and managing to come out on top.
Of course, no story that is worth its salt has any kind of an 'easy' or a 'predictable' ending, and it is at this point that the cameras, that have been surreptitiously recording every move from the very beginning of this escape attempt, choose to fail. Perhaps it was the terrorist's attempts to recover the footage from their control center, or maybe it happened to be a stray bullet that managed to impact a system that mattered, but at this specific point in time, the cameras simply ceased to function, leaving the fates of both the soldiers and the students in question...
((Continued in SOTF v3: ENDGAME))
It was all around, it was everywhere, and it was the most intense battle currently being waged on the island, even if half of the island's populace didn't know it. The fierce battle that raged amongst the coastline was almost like a small war in it's scope, and the emotions that it elicited from both the terrorists who had lost friends and comrades at the armory, and the teenagers who were trying desperately to survive, seemed to encompass the whole area with a thickness that didn't seem to leave the air. The students were so very close to getting out, to escaping with their lives intact. There were only two people who had ever before walked away from Survival of the Fittest, and this group knew that it was mere steps away from emerging victorious, having taken on the system, and managing to come out on top.
Of course, no story that is worth its salt has any kind of an 'easy' or a 'predictable' ending, and it is at this point that the cameras, that have been surreptitiously recording every move from the very beginning of this escape attempt, choose to fail. Perhaps it was the terrorist's attempts to recover the footage from their control center, or maybe it happened to be a stray bullet that managed to impact a system that mattered, but at this specific point in time, the cameras simply ceased to function, leaving the fates of both the soldiers and the students in question...
((Continued in SOTF v3: ENDGAME))
