((Lana Torres continued from Bird, Bats, and General Flying Things))
Lana loved mornings.
There was always something so hopeful about the start of a new day. And really, she was still feeling a bit hopeful. They hadn't ran into too much trouble yesterday, if at all. It seemed as if they had pretty good luck in avoiding the ones who... well, needed to be avoided. There were probably still people out there, planning to kill everyone around them, but no one out of her trio had spotted anything.
The meadow in which they had found themselves in wasn't bad, too. It wasn't the worse way to start the morning, obviously.
Lana had sat herself on the side of what appeared to be an overturned golf cart, eating a bit of the ration bars. It wasn't particularly tasty, though, honestly, she had eaten things that had tasted much worse. She slowly chewed, not saying much since she had woken up in between bites.
It seemed like it would be a nice day out, as well. The sun was already out and shining, with clouds hanging in the sky.
The gun laid next to her, still ready to be used even as Lana knew she wasn't going to use it.
It was strange, really. It felt like some sort of camping trip, rather than a death match. For the moment, Lana let herself believe that lie.
The lie was, however, interrupted when she heard a noise. It took her a beat to figure out what it was, but it hit her. The announcements. She had forgotten about those.
Hesitantly, Lana swallowed the bit of bar in her mouth, and approached the nearby tree some feet away, having seen the nearest intercom attached to it. She didn't want to hear, but she knew she had to get close. Already she could feel the blood pumping through her body.
Right away, a name she was familiar with was mentioned.
Her brown eyes continued staring up at the intercom, widening in shock.
Lana didn't pay attention to the rest of the names. Not only was she unable to pick up on some of it, but she didn't want to hear any more. She wished for it to end, and quickly.
The voice finally ended, after what seemed like forever.
Lana said nothing, eyes still fixed on the intercom. Her posture had changed, becoming both rigid and loose. Everything in the world seemed to have stopped for the moment. She didn't want to look at her two companions right now.
Her fingers still wrapped around the ration bar began to loosen, causing it to slowly hang. Gravity gave way, and her fingers were too loose. Eventually, it fell from her grip, landing in the grass.
But she didn't care.
The Unlucky Clover Field
((Ilya Volkov continued from Bats, Birds, and General Flying Things))
The question of what life would be like on an island where the only way to survive was to murder your fellow man, dancing at the whims of a sadistic group of puppetmasters, hadn't really crossed Ilya's mind. Why would it? Like everyone else, he thought the nightmare had ended years ago. If that weren't the case, he would have had to agonize over his decision to go on the trip.
But he didn't, and here he was, and he found himself mildly surprised that the first day had passed by without event, at least for him. The most stressful part of his first day had been walking alone through an island which had clearly been inhabited at one point and yet no longer was, not until the doomed class of 2011 came. Structures crumbled as nature slowly staked its claim on the abandoned artifacts of mankind.
Though the island proved to be less intense than he though from the briefing, he knew it couldn't last. As he followed Lana away from the aviary, he thought he heard a gunshot. Then came a phantom scream. Nothing to be done but keep on going, since the only thing that could come from trying to help was trouble. Could they possibly find the source of sounds which Ilya may have just imagined in time to help anyone? Their chances were slim.
So when the morning came, they found themselves at what should have been a golf course. It no longer resembled one, given the lack of maintenance. Golf courses needed constant upkeep to keep the green trim and short. They were living symbols of the upper class, utilized by effete wannabe sportsmen who yearned to partake of competition and victory while exerting themselves as seldom as possible. Only the wealthy could hope to participate in a sport that required massive tracts of land specially designed for the purpose of the sport, along with an entire set of clubs. Baseball didn't need a whole set of bats. Wrestlers didn't need different sets of pads and helmets. Golf was a bullshit pretender of a sport.
The only reason Ilya took that train of thought as far as he did was to distract himself from the spirit of death looking over his shoulder. Shame on him for doing so. It could just take him with a well-placed bullet while he wasn't looking. So he resumed paying attention just in time to notice that the announcements had started.
As he thought of dead names, wondering if he knew of any of them offhand. But apparently Lana knew. She stood like a scarecrow, staring into the distance, wasting valuable food by dropping it. Who was it she mourned?
Ilya stroked his chin, looking at Lana's back, going over the names one more time. His hand froze as the answer occurred. He had seen her together with the first, David Russell. They were going out, weren't they? And yet he chose to give up immediately, seeing the devil's game as a foregone conclusion. It was understandable.
The question was, why had nobody else followed him? Why were the rest forced on his path? Was it inertia? Survival instinct? Or perhaps hope that somehow they'd turn out alright, with or without their peers.
He blinked. Lana still hadn't moved. "Do you need anything?" he asked her. "I'm sorry for your loss. David didn't deserve to die."
The question of what life would be like on an island where the only way to survive was to murder your fellow man, dancing at the whims of a sadistic group of puppetmasters, hadn't really crossed Ilya's mind. Why would it? Like everyone else, he thought the nightmare had ended years ago. If that weren't the case, he would have had to agonize over his decision to go on the trip.
But he didn't, and here he was, and he found himself mildly surprised that the first day had passed by without event, at least for him. The most stressful part of his first day had been walking alone through an island which had clearly been inhabited at one point and yet no longer was, not until the doomed class of 2011 came. Structures crumbled as nature slowly staked its claim on the abandoned artifacts of mankind.
Though the island proved to be less intense than he though from the briefing, he knew it couldn't last. As he followed Lana away from the aviary, he thought he heard a gunshot. Then came a phantom scream. Nothing to be done but keep on going, since the only thing that could come from trying to help was trouble. Could they possibly find the source of sounds which Ilya may have just imagined in time to help anyone? Their chances were slim.
So when the morning came, they found themselves at what should have been a golf course. It no longer resembled one, given the lack of maintenance. Golf courses needed constant upkeep to keep the green trim and short. They were living symbols of the upper class, utilized by effete wannabe sportsmen who yearned to partake of competition and victory while exerting themselves as seldom as possible. Only the wealthy could hope to participate in a sport that required massive tracts of land specially designed for the purpose of the sport, along with an entire set of clubs. Baseball didn't need a whole set of bats. Wrestlers didn't need different sets of pads and helmets. Golf was a bullshit pretender of a sport.
The only reason Ilya took that train of thought as far as he did was to distract himself from the spirit of death looking over his shoulder. Shame on him for doing so. It could just take him with a well-placed bullet while he wasn't looking. So he resumed paying attention just in time to notice that the announcements had started.
As he thought of dead names, wondering if he knew of any of them offhand. But apparently Lana knew. She stood like a scarecrow, staring into the distance, wasting valuable food by dropping it. Who was it she mourned?
Ilya stroked his chin, looking at Lana's back, going over the names one more time. His hand froze as the answer occurred. He had seen her together with the first, David Russell. They were going out, weren't they? And yet he chose to give up immediately, seeing the devil's game as a foregone conclusion. It was understandable.
The question was, why had nobody else followed him? Why were the rest forced on his path? Was it inertia? Survival instinct? Or perhaps hope that somehow they'd turn out alright, with or without their peers.
He blinked. Lana still hadn't moved. "Do you need anything?" he asked her. "I'm sorry for your loss. David didn't deserve to die."
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((Venice Pennington-Johannes: G016 -V5- continued from Dead End))
Now adorning her headband to stop some of the sweat and her hair from obscuring her vision, Venice wandered onto a new part of the island. Venice was never one for new places. Sure, vacations were nice and all, but she did prefer spending her time at home with her parents or friends. It was mostly because she would get lost without someone to guide her or to navigate a map. Right now for example.
"Just one thing -Get some pillows- and I'm on a golf jungle. Knew going alone was a bad idea, it always is."
As she passed a flipped over cart, she heard a masculine screech through the air. The announcements. Venice upturned her nose arrogantly and looked back at the map, seeing how far ahead she was from the home-base. Whatever this man had to say wasn't important, not one of her classmates had killed each other, Venice knew that.
That didn't mean nobody died. A boy had killed himself. This made Venice stop walking and look up at the sky, now paying attention. She hadn't thought of all those who would commit suicide, but she did understand why. They thought they never could go back to Seattle. It made Venice tremble, but she knew she had to tread on and wait for someone to help them all.
But the machine kept disassembling Venice's truths. Her fellow graduates were killing each other. She rolled up the map and put it into her pocket, and finally saw a couple of people far away, mourning with grief as far as she could tell. Without any worry, Venice began to walk over to them.
"They're a group, they can't be dangerous. No one is staying anywhere near a murderer."
Venice wanted to take them back to home-base with her, where they could be safe. Her friends wouldn't mind, there wasn't any reason for them to. There was strength in numbers. Still wasn't quite sure how to begin that though. This was a time of sorrow, this had to be done seriously.
"Hello. How are you holding up?"
Now adorning her headband to stop some of the sweat and her hair from obscuring her vision, Venice wandered onto a new part of the island. Venice was never one for new places. Sure, vacations were nice and all, but she did prefer spending her time at home with her parents or friends. It was mostly because she would get lost without someone to guide her or to navigate a map. Right now for example.
"Just one thing -Get some pillows- and I'm on a golf jungle. Knew going alone was a bad idea, it always is."
As she passed a flipped over cart, she heard a masculine screech through the air. The announcements. Venice upturned her nose arrogantly and looked back at the map, seeing how far ahead she was from the home-base. Whatever this man had to say wasn't important, not one of her classmates had killed each other, Venice knew that.
That didn't mean nobody died. A boy had killed himself. This made Venice stop walking and look up at the sky, now paying attention. She hadn't thought of all those who would commit suicide, but she did understand why. They thought they never could go back to Seattle. It made Venice tremble, but she knew she had to tread on and wait for someone to help them all.
But the machine kept disassembling Venice's truths. Her fellow graduates were killing each other. She rolled up the map and put it into her pocket, and finally saw a couple of people far away, mourning with grief as far as she could tell. Without any worry, Venice began to walk over to them.
"They're a group, they can't be dangerous. No one is staying anywhere near a murderer."
Venice wanted to take them back to home-base with her, where they could be safe. Her friends wouldn't mind, there wasn't any reason for them to. There was strength in numbers. Still wasn't quite sure how to begin that though. This was a time of sorrow, this had to be done seriously.
"Hello. How are you holding up?"
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((Stephanie Chan continued from Birds, Bats, and General Flying Things))
Morning had come quicker than Stephanie expected. Sleep had been sparse for the trio, but for whatever reason she still felt alert. It probably had something to do with the occasional gunshots in the distance, or the lack of comfortable bedding. Stephanie would be the first to admit to anyone that she had lived a pretty easy life up to this point. She was also a city girl through and through, having never even gone camping. At least, not in the traditional sense. Her definition of camping was taking a trip in an air conditioned RV and having a fire at night. Here no such thing existed.
The announcements came on suddenly, and Stephanie couldn't help but jump slightly at the small whine of the speakers. Part of her hoped that they would be brief, and that there had been no one who had given in to the dreadful idea of killing other people. The first name that came out the speakers was enough for her to almost do a double take, realization sinking in quickly as she recognized the name.
Immediately her attention switched to Lana, who had gotten up to better hear the announcements. She saw the ration bar drop out of her hands, and it took everything in her power to not immediately run over to her best friend and console her. She knew that wouldn't help anything right now. If Lana wanted it, then Stephanie would be there to give it, but until then she knew that she should leave her alone. Besides, Ilya had already moved towards her. The announcements continued, listing off more names. She wished that she had something to write down all the information, but their lovely hosts decided to remove those.
Once the announcements finished, Stephanie felt like she needed to sit down. The amount of names out of the first day had been staggering. Pressing her back against the overturned golf cart that had become their makeshift base for the time being, she slid down into a seated position, her eyes going back and forth from her comrades to her map, wanting to learn the layout of the island so they wouldn't accidentally wander into a danger zone and keep and eye out on Lana at the same time.
Morning had come quicker than Stephanie expected. Sleep had been sparse for the trio, but for whatever reason she still felt alert. It probably had something to do with the occasional gunshots in the distance, or the lack of comfortable bedding. Stephanie would be the first to admit to anyone that she had lived a pretty easy life up to this point. She was also a city girl through and through, having never even gone camping. At least, not in the traditional sense. Her definition of camping was taking a trip in an air conditioned RV and having a fire at night. Here no such thing existed.
The announcements came on suddenly, and Stephanie couldn't help but jump slightly at the small whine of the speakers. Part of her hoped that they would be brief, and that there had been no one who had given in to the dreadful idea of killing other people. The first name that came out the speakers was enough for her to almost do a double take, realization sinking in quickly as she recognized the name.
Immediately her attention switched to Lana, who had gotten up to better hear the announcements. She saw the ration bar drop out of her hands, and it took everything in her power to not immediately run over to her best friend and console her. She knew that wouldn't help anything right now. If Lana wanted it, then Stephanie would be there to give it, but until then she knew that she should leave her alone. Besides, Ilya had already moved towards her. The announcements continued, listing off more names. She wished that she had something to write down all the information, but their lovely hosts decided to remove those.
Once the announcements finished, Stephanie felt like she needed to sit down. The amount of names out of the first day had been staggering. Pressing her back against the overturned golf cart that had become their makeshift base for the time being, she slid down into a seated position, her eyes going back and forth from her comrades to her map, wanting to learn the layout of the island so they wouldn't accidentally wander into a danger zone and keep and eye out on Lana at the same time.
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Lana hadn't moved a muscle since the announcements ended. For a brief second, she had forgotten that Ilya and Stephanie were watching her, knowing what was going through her mind at that moment.
But when she heard Ilya's voice, she jumped.
He was asking her if she needed anything? Lana tightly closed her eyes. What she kind of wanted right now was to be alone. Lana had never experienced something like this in her life, not ever. But Lana didn't like to run to others about her problems, not ever. If she did, they would surround her, treat her as something to be pitied.
It wasn't even truly her problem, either. The issue was someone close to her had jumped to his death. The voice had treated it as if it were something funny, like a Darwin award or something terrible like that. The thing was, David Russell was someone she knew, someone she once dated, someone she was a friend of. He couldn't make it. He didn't want to. It wasn't her they should be worried about.
Lana opened her eyes, and not even looking at Ilya, she slid past him, not noticing she was stepping on the dropped bar along the way. She made her way back to the overturned cart. She didn't want Stephanie to say anything, either.
Her eyes still looked blank as she stared at her belongings. Slowly, she reached for the gun, examining it. It was something to keep her mind off what she just learned. She had thought she never wanted to use it, and still didn't. Lana still wasn't used to having a gun in her hand, but it was something she could hold for a bit.
Lana was lost in thought, once more not paying attention to anything around her.
After a brief period, a new voice had entered, and Lana jumped a second time.
Before she even looked, she felt and heard the gun go off inside her hands, her finger having slipped in just the wrong way.
But when she heard Ilya's voice, she jumped.
He was asking her if she needed anything? Lana tightly closed her eyes. What she kind of wanted right now was to be alone. Lana had never experienced something like this in her life, not ever. But Lana didn't like to run to others about her problems, not ever. If she did, they would surround her, treat her as something to be pitied.
It wasn't even truly her problem, either. The issue was someone close to her had jumped to his death. The voice had treated it as if it were something funny, like a Darwin award or something terrible like that. The thing was, David Russell was someone she knew, someone she once dated, someone she was a friend of. He couldn't make it. He didn't want to. It wasn't her they should be worried about.
Lana opened her eyes, and not even looking at Ilya, she slid past him, not noticing she was stepping on the dropped bar along the way. She made her way back to the overturned cart. She didn't want Stephanie to say anything, either.
Her eyes still looked blank as she stared at her belongings. Slowly, she reached for the gun, examining it. It was something to keep her mind off what she just learned. She had thought she never wanted to use it, and still didn't. Lana still wasn't used to having a gun in her hand, but it was something she could hold for a bit.
Lana was lost in thought, once more not paying attention to anything around her.
After a brief period, a new voice had entered, and Lana jumped a second time.
Before she even looked, she felt and heard the gun go off inside her hands, her finger having slipped in just the wrong way.
Ilya was only somewhat surprised to see Lana brushing him off, ignoring him in her grief. He couldn't imagine how he'd feel losing a friend in this wretched game. Perhaps he'd shut down just like Lana did now, or maybe he'd have a full-on anxiety attack just like he nearly did when he woke up on the island. What would have happened if he hadn't calmed himself down?
So Ilya just stood there, watching Lana in her fugue state, before he noticed that Stephanie had taken a seat. He sat down next to her and sighed. "I'm at a loss," he told her. "I don't know what we should do next. I'm guessing none of us do." Escape was a hard sell, since none of them knew how and they were being constantly watched by their captors. Killing each other was also abhorrent, though if no other alternative presented itself they would have to resort to murder by default. Ilya thought he would have to just come to terms with his death... but that's what David did. Look where that got Lana, to say nothing of everyone else who knew David. Christ.
He huddled against the side of the golf cart, lost in thought, when he heard the voice of another girl. Who was it? As he got up to turn and look at her, he heard another gunshot. With this one, there was no mistaking it for a trick of the mind, since hallucinations generally failed to reach the extreme volume of a gunshot in point blank range. Ilya's ears rang as he looked to Lana, already knowing that there was only one place it could have come from at that distance.
Then he turned his head and saw where the bullet went.
So Ilya just stood there, watching Lana in her fugue state, before he noticed that Stephanie had taken a seat. He sat down next to her and sighed. "I'm at a loss," he told her. "I don't know what we should do next. I'm guessing none of us do." Escape was a hard sell, since none of them knew how and they were being constantly watched by their captors. Killing each other was also abhorrent, though if no other alternative presented itself they would have to resort to murder by default. Ilya thought he would have to just come to terms with his death... but that's what David did. Look where that got Lana, to say nothing of everyone else who knew David. Christ.
He huddled against the side of the golf cart, lost in thought, when he heard the voice of another girl. Who was it? As he got up to turn and look at her, he heard another gunshot. With this one, there was no mistaking it for a trick of the mind, since hallucinations generally failed to reach the extreme volume of a gunshot in point blank range. Ilya's ears rang as he looked to Lana, already knowing that there was only one place it could have come from at that distance.
Then he turned his head and saw where the bullet went.
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Un-Persona†
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A lot of people would be jealous of the way Venice was going to die. She went into shock as the bullet entered her chest, and would quickly bleed out from the bullet leaving it. That was what most people wished for anyway. Young and fast.
Venice fell on to the ground, instinctively grabbing the front side of the wound as she did so, letting the grass cover the back. Her head knocked hard on the earth and her legs sprawled across it. She couldn't really see, her vision becoming foggy and distorted.
Venice couldn't much think about anything coherently, besides focusing on the pain and repeating the sentence "I was just shot" inside her head. Those were the only two constant thoughts in any case. Her mind was pretty blubbery and all over the place about various things such as home and her parents and most everything associated with that.
She wasn't scared or angry. The pain took away those liberties. She wasn't sure why she was shot, nor did she expand on it. There were no screams and not as many tears as there could have been.
The hurt started to fade away too, it's job being done. Venice was still there, on the golf course. But not for too long.
Venice fell on to the ground, instinctively grabbing the front side of the wound as she did so, letting the grass cover the back. Her head knocked hard on the earth and her legs sprawled across it. She couldn't really see, her vision becoming foggy and distorted.
Venice couldn't much think about anything coherently, besides focusing on the pain and repeating the sentence "I was just shot" inside her head. Those were the only two constant thoughts in any case. Her mind was pretty blubbery and all over the place about various things such as home and her parents and most everything associated with that.
She wasn't scared or angry. The pain took away those liberties. She wasn't sure why she was shot, nor did she expand on it. There were no screams and not as many tears as there could have been.
The hurt started to fade away too, it's job being done. Venice was still there, on the golf course. But not for too long.
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Stephanie merely nodded when Ilya spoke to her. She didn't really know what to say in response to his words. She was at as much of a loss as anyone. That she knew her classmates were actively killing people made her feel sad. She had expected suicides, but actual killings had been out of the realm of possibility for her. Really, she should have known better, with four previous iterations of this game having been played out to conclusion. The last two had people who succeeded in escaping though, so there was still hope in that respect. She hoped at least.
Another voice rang out, causing Stephanie to jump. Then a gunshot rang out, causing her to jump to her feet, her ears ringing. It took her a few seconds to realize what exactly she was looking at. Lana was holding her rifle, and a few feet away, someone lay on the ground. It took Stephanie all her will power to get herself to move, making sure to grab her daypack with the medkit inside it. She ran over to the girl laying on the ground, kneeling beside her and looking for what exactly happened.
"Oh God." She found herself saying. The bullet had entered her chest, and she could see the blood spurting between her fingers. Part of her knew there was no way to save her, but that didn't stop her from trying. Her hands pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Really she had no idea what she was doing, but she was going to try.
"Th-things will be alright." Stephanie stammered out, holding her hands against the wound harder, the blood coursing from it covering her hands. Frantically she looked around at her friends, hoping that one of them would know better what to do.
Another voice rang out, causing Stephanie to jump. Then a gunshot rang out, causing her to jump to her feet, her ears ringing. It took her a few seconds to realize what exactly she was looking at. Lana was holding her rifle, and a few feet away, someone lay on the ground. It took Stephanie all her will power to get herself to move, making sure to grab her daypack with the medkit inside it. She ran over to the girl laying on the ground, kneeling beside her and looking for what exactly happened.
"Oh God." She found herself saying. The bullet had entered her chest, and she could see the blood spurting between her fingers. Part of her knew there was no way to save her, but that didn't stop her from trying. Her hands pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Really she had no idea what she was doing, but she was going to try.
"Th-things will be alright." Stephanie stammered out, holding her hands against the wound harder, the blood coursing from it covering her hands. Frantically she looked around at her friends, hoping that one of them would know better what to do.
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It took Lana a bit to figure out what was happening.
Venice Pennington-Johannes had appeared on the ground, apparently the source of the voice. Stephanie had ran over to her, reaching down to her chest. A large red spot had swiftly formed from underneath Venice's pink shirt. Her mind didn't want to process it any further. But deep down, she had known what had happened.
She shot Venice. Not intentionally, but it was still a shooting.
She looked at Ilya, then at Stephanie, then at Venice, then the gun, then back again.
Lana slowly and gently placed her gun behind her on the cart, her mind unable to sort things out.
Just a few minutes ago, she was okay. She had a feeling things were going to work out at least semi-fine. But then what? Things going increasingly bad?
She covered her face with her shaking arms.
Lana didn't want to deal with anything right now.
Venice Pennington-Johannes had appeared on the ground, apparently the source of the voice. Stephanie had ran over to her, reaching down to her chest. A large red spot had swiftly formed from underneath Venice's pink shirt. Her mind didn't want to process it any further. But deep down, she had known what had happened.
She shot Venice. Not intentionally, but it was still a shooting.
She looked at Ilya, then at Stephanie, then at Venice, then the gun, then back again.
Lana slowly and gently placed her gun behind her on the cart, her mind unable to sort things out.
Just a few minutes ago, she was okay. She had a feeling things were going to work out at least semi-fine. But then what? Things going increasingly bad?
She covered her face with her shaking arms.
Lana didn't want to deal with anything right now.
There it was again, the panic. The cool facade cracked, and Ilya's stomach lurched. He took a step over to Venice and nearly collapsed thanks to a new-found vertigo. What could he do? What could he do? He needed to call in a doctor stoppage! The match couldn't continue with a competitor bleeding that much!
He stopped and dropped to his knees, looking at Stephanie's fruitless attempt to stop the bleeding. Where had the bullet hit? In the heat of the moment, it was impossible to pinpoint the location, but the fact that it hit the torso was enough. Odds were high that it hit one of many important organs kept inside, causing internal bleeding that no amount of pressure on the outside could stop. This girl, whoever she was, would shortly die.
"Don't lie to her," he told Stephanie, before covering his face with his hands.
He stopped and dropped to his knees, looking at Stephanie's fruitless attempt to stop the bleeding. Where had the bullet hit? In the heat of the moment, it was impossible to pinpoint the location, but the fact that it hit the torso was enough. Odds were high that it hit one of many important organs kept inside, causing internal bleeding that no amount of pressure on the outside could stop. This girl, whoever she was, would shortly die.
"Don't lie to her," he told Stephanie, before covering his face with his hands.
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Venice wasn't able to tell what was really going on around her anymore. All her senses were shutting down, and whichever ones still worked only barely did so. She could feel another's hands on her own, pushing down on her chest to keep what blood hadn't left the wound yet. It didn't help and the pressure hurt.
Venice eyes had shut themselves out of tiredness after fluttering for a bit. A person told her it would be all right. In her weak state, this made her grab and push the wound harder. Venice couldn't make room to argue with the voice, and she wouldn't want to anyway.
Her breathing was failing to a silent stop. Her body was empty and her bones were cold. Her legs and head weren't squirming anymore. Everything became hazy and muffled. New words.
"Don't lie to her"
Venice's hand automatically let go of her grip on the bullet hole. The rest of her body shut off shortly after.
((Venice Pennington-Johannes: G016 -V5- Deceased))
135 Students Remain
Venice eyes had shut themselves out of tiredness after fluttering for a bit. A person told her it would be all right. In her weak state, this made her grab and push the wound harder. Venice couldn't make room to argue with the voice, and she wouldn't want to anyway.
Her breathing was failing to a silent stop. Her body was empty and her bones were cold. Her legs and head weren't squirming anymore. Everything became hazy and muffled. New words.
"Don't lie to her"
Venice's hand automatically let go of her grip on the bullet hole. The rest of her body shut off shortly after.
((Venice Pennington-Johannes: G016 -V5- Deceased))
135 Students Remain
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Un-Persona. 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.
Stephanie only vaguely heard what Ilya said. She didn't care. She was too focused on Venice. Slowly her life faded, and Stephanie pushed harder on the wound, almost willing the injury to fix itself so that Venice would be okay. Part of her knew that wasn't possible, but she didn't care. It wasn't until the hand fell away that she finally acknowledged that she couldn't save her.
Stephanie removes her hands, covered in blood. She looked down at her hands, not really sure how to process what she was looking at. She had never seen this much blood, not in real life. She has also never seen a dead person before. Her current reaction to it was not the one she expected to have. There were no tears coming forth, no real feelings at all. Just numbness. Maybe she was just in shock. Maybe she had mentally prepared herself for this moment. She didn't know, and she didn't really care in that moment.
Lana had shot someone. It was an accident, but she knew that when the announcements came on the following day, it wouldn't be stated as such. They would try to make her seem like a cold blooded killer. All because of an accident. Stephanie sat back, her hands subconsciously trying to scrub off the blood. She looked around at her companions, both of which seemed to have gone into their own little worlds. Her eyes kept coming back to Venice. Taking a deep breath, she stood up.
"We should bury her." She said, her voice slightly choked, but still clear. It was the least they could do for her.
Stephanie removes her hands, covered in blood. She looked down at her hands, not really sure how to process what she was looking at. She had never seen this much blood, not in real life. She has also never seen a dead person before. Her current reaction to it was not the one she expected to have. There were no tears coming forth, no real feelings at all. Just numbness. Maybe she was just in shock. Maybe she had mentally prepared herself for this moment. She didn't know, and she didn't really care in that moment.
Lana had shot someone. It was an accident, but she knew that when the announcements came on the following day, it wouldn't be stated as such. They would try to make her seem like a cold blooded killer. All because of an accident. Stephanie sat back, her hands subconsciously trying to scrub off the blood. She looked around at her companions, both of which seemed to have gone into their own little worlds. Her eyes kept coming back to Venice. Taking a deep breath, she stood up.
"We should bury her." She said, her voice slightly choked, but still clear. It was the least they could do for her.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
Lana continued to cover her eyes with her arms, still not wanting to look. She heard the noises of Ilya and Stephanie fumbling about, Ilya was telling Stephanie not to lie to her. Her being... Venice.
So that was it? Venice was going to die. There was nothing they could do. Only some kind of miracle would save her now. Lana wanted to turn back time, to make sure that she was more careful, or that she wasn't even holding the damn thing in the first place. What would happen then?
Venice would be alright, that was certain.
She heard Stephanie again, She... she was gone for good.
"How?"
That was the first word, muffled through her arms, that she had spoken in a while.
So that was it? Venice was going to die. There was nothing they could do. Only some kind of miracle would save her now. Lana wanted to turn back time, to make sure that she was more careful, or that she wasn't even holding the damn thing in the first place. What would happen then?
Venice would be alright, that was certain.
She heard Stephanie again, She... she was gone for good.
"How?"
That was the first word, muffled through her arms, that she had spoken in a while.
Bury her. What a nice thought. But it didn't matter how nice it was because it wouldn't happen. Shedding their collars and flying away would have been the nicer thought.
Ilya waited for his tears to spill, but they were indecisive as to whether or not they actually wanted to amass and jump. They had decided that yes, they did have so much to live for after all. Would he really have to squint and force the matter?
Furthermore, would he actually be expected to bury his dead? He tried an experimental grabbing of the soil and didn't get far. And lo and behold the dearly departed would show themselves out, in the distant future, next Sunday never.
Hopefully crossing Venice's arms and posing her in a dignified lying position would be enough. It was cheaper and quicker than digging up a plot for every body. Every ten dozen bodies or more. "What about the other bodies?" he asked, glancing up from Venice's corpse. "Will we bury them?"
Ilya waited for his tears to spill, but they were indecisive as to whether or not they actually wanted to amass and jump. They had decided that yes, they did have so much to live for after all. Would he really have to squint and force the matter?
Furthermore, would he actually be expected to bury his dead? He tried an experimental grabbing of the soil and didn't get far. And lo and behold the dearly departed would show themselves out, in the distant future, next Sunday never.
Hopefully crossing Venice's arms and posing her in a dignified lying position would be enough. It was cheaper and quicker than digging up a plot for every body. Every ten dozen bodies or more. "What about the other bodies?" he asked, glancing up from Venice's corpse. "Will we bury them?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
It took Stephanie a long time to respond to the questions posed by her companions. Somewhere in her mind she knew that burying every body they came across wouldn't be possible. She also knew that they just plain didn't have the resources for digging a hole. Ilya was sure to test that for her. Her blood-stained hands continued to rub against each other, still trying to remove the blood that coated them. She was vaguely aware of the bandage still on her hand. To think that just 24 hours ago her biggest problem was a tiny injury. Now she was looking at the dead body of one of her classmates.
Shaking her head, Stephanie walked away. She didn't know what to do. Leaving Venice laying out in the open seemed so cruel, but there was nowhere for them to put her. At that moment, she felt that the sooner they left the area, the sooner she wouldn't have to think about it. Or maybe she could think with a clearer head. She wasn't sure which would happen yet. Part of her wondered if the way she was reacting to the whole situation was something to be worried about. Maybe it was just shock.
She sighed. Nothing was going to be solved just sitting around. Looking towards her two comrades, she walked over to Lana and gently placed her hand on her shoulder.
"We should probably move away from... here." She couldn't think of any other way of putting it. The sooner they got away from there the better though.
Shaking her head, Stephanie walked away. She didn't know what to do. Leaving Venice laying out in the open seemed so cruel, but there was nowhere for them to put her. At that moment, she felt that the sooner they left the area, the sooner she wouldn't have to think about it. Or maybe she could think with a clearer head. She wasn't sure which would happen yet. Part of her wondered if the way she was reacting to the whole situation was something to be worried about. Maybe it was just shock.
She sighed. Nothing was going to be solved just sitting around. Looking towards her two comrades, she walked over to Lana and gently placed her hand on her shoulder.
"We should probably move away from... here." She couldn't think of any other way of putting it. The sooner they got away from there the better though.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.