(B061: Dan Liu START)
Dan didn't know what to do. That wasn't normal for him. Normally he would just say whatever he wanted to people, show a bit more respect to women, but that usually wasn't difficult at all.
Decisions weren't difficult, it wasn't much of a choice when he chose to go hang out with friends instead of studying. Similarly, he hadn't had to do too much thinking to realize he'd be far better at track than he would be at football.
The decisions didn't seem that easy here.
He wanted to live, that was a no-brainer. He was going to college, he had an awesome girlfriend, his parents were pretty cool, all pretty damn good reasons not to die, right? He didn't like the idea of killing anyone though. That's what the rules were though.
He turned the bat over in his hands nervously.
He knew people had gotten away a few years before, could he do that? He didn't know, he wasn't the smartest guy around. He wasn't bad, don't get him wrong, but he wasn't one of those kids that took calculus or physics or any of that shit.
Those nerds were probably crying their eyes out though. Didn't mean he couldn't help them out though, make them see that getting him out was in everyone's best interest.
He'd do that later though, right now, an energy bar.
He deserved it.
Sup Nerds?
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Courtography
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armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Smack!
The sound of flesh striking canvas filled the basement, punctuated by grunts and occasional shouts as Kaitlyn pummeled the bag. Her focus drilled into the bag as she moved, imagining the bag as her opponent. She lunged, slamming her fist home again with a triumphant shout. A step back and across, and she spun-"Kaitlyn!"
Her concentration broken, Kaitlyn's spinning back-kick turned into something more similar to a spinning trip-and-fall. She landed on the mat, panting slightly as she focused on the stairs, and more importantly on her father's face as he came in.
"Yes, Daddy?"
Her father raised an eyebrow at his daughter's position, sprawled on the floor, but wisely chose to move on without commenting.
"I just wanted to check and make sure you had everything prepared for your trip tomorrow."
Kaitlyn smiled wryly. Her father had been fretting over the senior trip more than she herself had. To be honest, she didn't really want to go. Theme parks had never been her idea of fun. But her father had cajoled her, saying that it might be her last chance to spend time with friends from high school. His patient arguments had worn her down, and she had agreed to go.
"Yes, Daddy. I'm all packed, just like the last five times you asked. I just need to toss my workout clothes in the suitcase and I'll be ready to go."
The next morning, her father was little better. Kaitlyn listened to his lecture about safety with passive exasperation. Finally, she kissed her father on the cheek, wished him a good day, and promised to call when she got to the airport. At the airport, she called and told him again not to worry.
"Just think, dad. I'm only going away for a few days. How are you going to feel when I leave for college?"
"Very funny, Kaitlyn. Call me when the plane lands."
"Of course, Daddy."
The flight felt very long. Even though she had wanted to watch out the window, Kaitlyn couldn't help but drift off to sleep.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness.
Confusion.
Can't move.
BANG!
The sound was impossibly loud. Kaitlyn jerked, her groggy vision landing on the stage... where Mr. Davidge sat, bleeding. A man smiled, saying something that she couldn't hear. There was another loud bang! Blood sprayed from the side of the teacher's head. People screamed all around her, though her tongue and her voice felt like lead. Another bang! The crowd quieted, and Kaitlyn's head cleared enough that she could understand what was going on.
The twisted presentation passed quickly. Survival of the Fittest. The old "game" had returned. Too quickly for Kaitlyn to process what had happened, she was put back to sleep.
((G073 Kaitlyn Williamson - START!))
For the second time in... who knows how long, Kaitlyn Williamson woke up groggy. She heard, over the static in her head, the sound of the ocean. For a moment, she thought about California. Then she realized she was lying on the cold, hard ground, not in a comfortable hotel bed. She further realized there was a cold metal collar around her neck, and she reached to touch it. Her limbs still felt like they were full of cold pudding, though. She closed her eyes again, and for another long moment, felt nothing.
That moment couldn't last. She stirred, her head clearing and the fog lifting from behind her eyes. With a gargantuan effort, she sat up, peering around her. It occurred to her, somewhere where her mind wasn't still affected by whatever they had used to knock her out, that she should really be panicking right about now. She ignored that thought and took stock. She still had her clothes. She could feel her wallet in her pocket, though she was sure it was now empty of everything valuable. Nothing else remained on her person. She turned her head, though it felt to her like everything inside it moved slower than everything else. Laying next to her was a duffel bag. Hope she hadn't even realized she was feeling flicker and die at the sight of the letters stitched onto the black canvas: G073. She was a number now. A desperate giggle escaped her at the thought, the dark humor of her life being reduced to algebra driving it forward. She giggled again, until she started laughing. She laughed, until she started to sob. For another long moment, she felt too much.
That moment couldn't last either. She slowly regained control of herself, noting absently that her head was feeling much clearer. She reached out hesitantly to the bag, and opened it. Inside, she found... not much, really. Some clothes, a first aid kit, 15 food bars, a slip of paper... but no weapon. She dug through it again, her heart sinking further. It was on her third search that she realized that some of the food bars were different from the others. A glance at the slip of paper confirmed her fears.
Instead of a weapon, she had been given extra rations.
For another long moment, she stared unbelievingly at the paper slip.
That moment couldn't last either.
"FUCK!"
The sound of flesh striking canvas filled the basement, punctuated by grunts and occasional shouts as Kaitlyn pummeled the bag. Her focus drilled into the bag as she moved, imagining the bag as her opponent. She lunged, slamming her fist home again with a triumphant shout. A step back and across, and she spun-"Kaitlyn!"
Her concentration broken, Kaitlyn's spinning back-kick turned into something more similar to a spinning trip-and-fall. She landed on the mat, panting slightly as she focused on the stairs, and more importantly on her father's face as he came in.
"Yes, Daddy?"
Her father raised an eyebrow at his daughter's position, sprawled on the floor, but wisely chose to move on without commenting.
"I just wanted to check and make sure you had everything prepared for your trip tomorrow."
Kaitlyn smiled wryly. Her father had been fretting over the senior trip more than she herself had. To be honest, she didn't really want to go. Theme parks had never been her idea of fun. But her father had cajoled her, saying that it might be her last chance to spend time with friends from high school. His patient arguments had worn her down, and she had agreed to go.
"Yes, Daddy. I'm all packed, just like the last five times you asked. I just need to toss my workout clothes in the suitcase and I'll be ready to go."
The next morning, her father was little better. Kaitlyn listened to his lecture about safety with passive exasperation. Finally, she kissed her father on the cheek, wished him a good day, and promised to call when she got to the airport. At the airport, she called and told him again not to worry.
"Just think, dad. I'm only going away for a few days. How are you going to feel when I leave for college?"
"Very funny, Kaitlyn. Call me when the plane lands."
"Of course, Daddy."
The flight felt very long. Even though she had wanted to watch out the window, Kaitlyn couldn't help but drift off to sleep.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness.
Confusion.
Can't move.
BANG!
The sound was impossibly loud. Kaitlyn jerked, her groggy vision landing on the stage... where Mr. Davidge sat, bleeding. A man smiled, saying something that she couldn't hear. There was another loud bang! Blood sprayed from the side of the teacher's head. People screamed all around her, though her tongue and her voice felt like lead. Another bang! The crowd quieted, and Kaitlyn's head cleared enough that she could understand what was going on.
The twisted presentation passed quickly. Survival of the Fittest. The old "game" had returned. Too quickly for Kaitlyn to process what had happened, she was put back to sleep.
((G073 Kaitlyn Williamson - START!))
For the second time in... who knows how long, Kaitlyn Williamson woke up groggy. She heard, over the static in her head, the sound of the ocean. For a moment, she thought about California. Then she realized she was lying on the cold, hard ground, not in a comfortable hotel bed. She further realized there was a cold metal collar around her neck, and she reached to touch it. Her limbs still felt like they were full of cold pudding, though. She closed her eyes again, and for another long moment, felt nothing.
That moment couldn't last. She stirred, her head clearing and the fog lifting from behind her eyes. With a gargantuan effort, she sat up, peering around her. It occurred to her, somewhere where her mind wasn't still affected by whatever they had used to knock her out, that she should really be panicking right about now. She ignored that thought and took stock. She still had her clothes. She could feel her wallet in her pocket, though she was sure it was now empty of everything valuable. Nothing else remained on her person. She turned her head, though it felt to her like everything inside it moved slower than everything else. Laying next to her was a duffel bag. Hope she hadn't even realized she was feeling flicker and die at the sight of the letters stitched onto the black canvas: G073. She was a number now. A desperate giggle escaped her at the thought, the dark humor of her life being reduced to algebra driving it forward. She giggled again, until she started laughing. She laughed, until she started to sob. For another long moment, she felt too much.
That moment couldn't last either. She slowly regained control of herself, noting absently that her head was feeling much clearer. She reached out hesitantly to the bag, and opened it. Inside, she found... not much, really. Some clothes, a first aid kit, 15 food bars, a slip of paper... but no weapon. She dug through it again, her heart sinking further. It was on her third search that she realized that some of the food bars were different from the others. A glance at the slip of paper confirmed her fears.
Instead of a weapon, she had been given extra rations.
For another long moment, she stared unbelievingly at the paper slip.
That moment couldn't last either.
"FUCK!"
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Courtography
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Dan's thoughts of not so delicious nourishment were interrupted by the loud yelling of the word fuck.
He would have been scared, but it was a girl's voice, and he knew that if there was anyone he really needed to be afraid of here, it was other guys.
Nonetheless, he got up to find out who had been yelling. Maybe it was mere curiosity, maybe he wanted to finally meet someone else in this place, or perhaps something else entirely.
In any case he was not expecting to meet Kaitlyn Williamson.
He would have been scared, but it was a girl's voice, and he knew that if there was anyone he really needed to be afraid of here, it was other guys.
Nonetheless, he got up to find out who had been yelling. Maybe it was mere curiosity, maybe he wanted to finally meet someone else in this place, or perhaps something else entirely.
In any case he was not expecting to meet Kaitlyn Williamson.
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Casey the Undead†
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((G056--Alda Abbate -- START))
Like most days in Alda's life, her first day in Survival of the Fittest began with someone screaming "fuck" at the top of their lungs.
Alda rolled over on the splintered wooden dock, cracking her neck as she did so. She rubbed the gas-induced sleep from her eyes, and was less successful at rubbing the images of dead teachers away. Her back hurt, her head hurt, her neck hurt. It all hurt, really, like a dull, throbbing pain throughout her entire body. It felt like the end of a bad softball game, where you played your ass off and lost anyway. It felt like getting your ass kicked when you didn't deserve it.
It felt like shit, basically.
She pushed herself into a standing position, tottering slightly on half-asleep legs. Paulo, she thought, for a detached second. And then, whoever the fuck is screaming is gonna get my foot up their ass.
Alda tripped over her own pack, stumbled forward, and went barreling face-down onto the dock. "Fuck," she said to the wood beneath her. She pushed herself up again. Really, she figured it shouldn't have been so hard to get up. Maybe it wasn't even the drugs, or whatever. Maybe it was her brain, trying to tell her to go back to bed, like it did every morning when the bell went off. Alarm. She meant alarm. Fuck. Wake up Alda, this is life or death now, not being late to English.
She stayed laying on the wood for a bit too long. It didn't feel nice, not exactly, but it felt a touch better than trying to wake up and face the day. Why did she even have to get up, anyways? Why couldn't she lie down and just take her fate? Friends, her brain supplied groggily. Paulo.
Fuck.
Alda pushed herself up, keeping her hands on the dock to steady herself. Someone had screamed, earlier. She had to find the screaming. That was a person. A person would know something, like maybe where Paulo was, or maybe why Alda felt so shitty.
She walked towards the screaming and -- wow, shock of all fucking shocks -- found Kaitlyn Williamson.
Alda sighed in the other girl's general direction. "Is there any particular reason you screamed a few minutes ago? Should I be. Scared? Or whatever?" She rubbed her eyes again. "Fuck, I'm fucking tired. What the fuck is going on, is what I'm trying to say here."
Like most days in Alda's life, her first day in Survival of the Fittest began with someone screaming "fuck" at the top of their lungs.
Alda rolled over on the splintered wooden dock, cracking her neck as she did so. She rubbed the gas-induced sleep from her eyes, and was less successful at rubbing the images of dead teachers away. Her back hurt, her head hurt, her neck hurt. It all hurt, really, like a dull, throbbing pain throughout her entire body. It felt like the end of a bad softball game, where you played your ass off and lost anyway. It felt like getting your ass kicked when you didn't deserve it.
It felt like shit, basically.
She pushed herself into a standing position, tottering slightly on half-asleep legs. Paulo, she thought, for a detached second. And then, whoever the fuck is screaming is gonna get my foot up their ass.
Alda tripped over her own pack, stumbled forward, and went barreling face-down onto the dock. "Fuck," she said to the wood beneath her. She pushed herself up again. Really, she figured it shouldn't have been so hard to get up. Maybe it wasn't even the drugs, or whatever. Maybe it was her brain, trying to tell her to go back to bed, like it did every morning when the bell went off. Alarm. She meant alarm. Fuck. Wake up Alda, this is life or death now, not being late to English.
She stayed laying on the wood for a bit too long. It didn't feel nice, not exactly, but it felt a touch better than trying to wake up and face the day. Why did she even have to get up, anyways? Why couldn't she lie down and just take her fate? Friends, her brain supplied groggily. Paulo.
Fuck.
Alda pushed herself up, keeping her hands on the dock to steady herself. Someone had screamed, earlier. She had to find the screaming. That was a person. A person would know something, like maybe where Paulo was, or maybe why Alda felt so shitty.
She walked towards the screaming and -- wow, shock of all fucking shocks -- found Kaitlyn Williamson.
Alda sighed in the other girl's general direction. "Is there any particular reason you screamed a few minutes ago? Should I be. Scared? Or whatever?" She rubbed her eyes again. "Fuck, I'm fucking tired. What the fuck is going on, is what I'm trying to say here."
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armeggedonCounselor†
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Kaitlyn started as she heard footsteps. She struggled to her feet, cramped and tired muscles complaining at the sudden increase in activity. She turned to face whoever it was that was coming after her, hand raised into a fighting stance. When Dan Liu came around the corner, she blinked at him. Dan was an acquaintance. They weren't friends, not by any means, but there were worse people to be coming around the corner at her. She lowered her hands, relaxing very slightly. She would still be ready if he tried anything, but there was no need to start out aggressive.
Dan wasn't a bad guy, she decided. She didn't particularly like him, but she didn't particularly dislike him either. Her biggest complaint about him was his chauvinistic streak, which rankled her. She didn't like being treated like a delicate flower. It made her feel like her abilities were being questioned, which brought back memories of when she first gained the rank of purple belt. She was 13, and she had already surpassed several of her contemporary classmates at the dojo. While they didn't do anything in front of Sensei, they verbally attacked her after classes, saying that she had only been given her purple belt because she was a girl. The bullying had been easy enough to ignore, and stopped quickly. Still, having her abilities questioned bothered her, even if it was only implied.
Her eyes fixed on the bat in Dan's hand. Terrific. He gets a bat, and all she got were some ration bars. Probably better not to reveal that, though. If Dan was not in fact a good guy, better to leave him wondering if she had a gun or a knife, so that he may be cautious and not attack. If he did attack her... she could try to wrestle the bat out of his hands. She was certain he wouldn't expect her to fight back as well as she could, which would give her an advantage. Might disabuse him of the idea that all women were delicate flowers, which would be a service to him and to all the other women on the island.
"Dan. Fancy running into you. I see you got a bat."
She watched his face, tensing slightly. She wasn't certain he would attack, but she wasn't certain he wouldn't, either. 'Better to be ready either way,' she thought, shifting her weight back.
Another footstep. Her head snapped around, fixing her eyes on Alda Abbate. Alda was another person Kaitlyn knew vaguely, mostly by proxy. She knew her brother, though she wouldn't describe Paulo as a friend. Most of what she knew of Alda, she knew through reputation and through Paulo. What she got from Paulo seemed to be colored by resentment and a long history of not getting along. What she got through reputation, was mostly colored by the fact that Alda tended to be a bit rude. Still, Kaitlyn had reserved judgment, preferring to save it until she actually got to know Alda.
In hindsight, it may have been better to get to know her before they were trapped on Death Island together. Alda was an unknown quantity. She was aggressive, but she didn't seem to share Paulo's interest in martial arts. 'She played softball,' Kaitlyn thought, dredging the memory up from the depths of her mind. So she was probably (despite the small amount of visible fat) at least decently fit.
"The scream was due to frustration at the situation we now find ourselves in. Being scared probably isn't a terrible idea. And what's going on is Survival of the Fittest."
Kaitlyn's voice dripped with sarcasm, though she tried to reign it in a little bit. Though she herself tended to curse a fair amount, she had very little patience for people who overused them. She treated curse words like a strong seasoning - used sparingly, they made a meal more flavorsome and gave it some kick. Use too much, and they drown out the rest of the meal. The meal being a conversation, in this metaphor.
Dan wasn't a bad guy, she decided. She didn't particularly like him, but she didn't particularly dislike him either. Her biggest complaint about him was his chauvinistic streak, which rankled her. She didn't like being treated like a delicate flower. It made her feel like her abilities were being questioned, which brought back memories of when she first gained the rank of purple belt. She was 13, and she had already surpassed several of her contemporary classmates at the dojo. While they didn't do anything in front of Sensei, they verbally attacked her after classes, saying that she had only been given her purple belt because she was a girl. The bullying had been easy enough to ignore, and stopped quickly. Still, having her abilities questioned bothered her, even if it was only implied.
Her eyes fixed on the bat in Dan's hand. Terrific. He gets a bat, and all she got were some ration bars. Probably better not to reveal that, though. If Dan was not in fact a good guy, better to leave him wondering if she had a gun or a knife, so that he may be cautious and not attack. If he did attack her... she could try to wrestle the bat out of his hands. She was certain he wouldn't expect her to fight back as well as she could, which would give her an advantage. Might disabuse him of the idea that all women were delicate flowers, which would be a service to him and to all the other women on the island.
"Dan. Fancy running into you. I see you got a bat."
She watched his face, tensing slightly. She wasn't certain he would attack, but she wasn't certain he wouldn't, either. 'Better to be ready either way,' she thought, shifting her weight back.
Another footstep. Her head snapped around, fixing her eyes on Alda Abbate. Alda was another person Kaitlyn knew vaguely, mostly by proxy. She knew her brother, though she wouldn't describe Paulo as a friend. Most of what she knew of Alda, she knew through reputation and through Paulo. What she got from Paulo seemed to be colored by resentment and a long history of not getting along. What she got through reputation, was mostly colored by the fact that Alda tended to be a bit rude. Still, Kaitlyn had reserved judgment, preferring to save it until she actually got to know Alda.
In hindsight, it may have been better to get to know her before they were trapped on Death Island together. Alda was an unknown quantity. She was aggressive, but she didn't seem to share Paulo's interest in martial arts. 'She played softball,' Kaitlyn thought, dredging the memory up from the depths of her mind. So she was probably (despite the small amount of visible fat) at least decently fit.
"The scream was due to frustration at the situation we now find ourselves in. Being scared probably isn't a terrible idea. And what's going on is Survival of the Fittest."
Kaitlyn's voice dripped with sarcasm, though she tried to reign it in a little bit. Though she herself tended to curse a fair amount, she had very little patience for people who overused them. She treated curse words like a strong seasoning - used sparingly, they made a meal more flavorsome and gave it some kick. Use too much, and they drown out the rest of the meal. The meal being a conversation, in this metaphor.
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Courtography
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Dan smiled slightly at Kaitlyn's reply. He hadn't felt any reason to hide that he had the bat. After all, why hide that he had it when he wasn't planning to use it in the first place. "Yeah, it's kinda small, maybe it's for cricket or something. What'd you get?"
He was curious what kind of things they gave people. He knew they gave out guns and knives, but he didn't know what else. Besides his bat, of course.
Dan didn't particularly like the accusatory tone that Alda used in meeting Kaitlyn, but he supposed with the situation some annoyance was to be expected. Although, with Alda how she was, she didn't exactly need the excuse now did she?
"Alda," he simply said as a greeting, with a nod in her direction.
He was curious what kind of things they gave people. He knew they gave out guns and knives, but he didn't know what else. Besides his bat, of course.
Dan didn't particularly like the accusatory tone that Alda used in meeting Kaitlyn, but he supposed with the situation some annoyance was to be expected. Although, with Alda how she was, she didn't exactly need the excuse now did she?
"Alda," he simply said as a greeting, with a nod in her direction.
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Casey the Undead†
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Alda scrubbed at her eyes furiously, cursing her fuzzed head. Why couldn't she focus any faster? There were people here -- not dangerous people, likely, considering they hadn't opened fire right away or anything, but still. Alda needed to be on her A-game, and right now it felt like she was dozing off in English again.
"Thank you for informing me we were in Survival of the Fittest. I had forgotten, what with all the totally normal and regular things happening right now." Alda gestured to the docks around them. "Yes, this is so benign that I forgot what was going on for a second." She rolled her eyes.
It wasn't like Alda wanted to treat people -- well, okay, it was mostly like that. Her philosophy had always been that it was better she treated people now, so they wouldn't have to get treated by someone worse later on. Really, she just hated people acting ridiculous or stupid. If someone said something stupid, they needed to get called out. Stupidity couldn't just slide. So, yeah, Alda had a tendency towards bitchiness. So what? She was teaching people, really. Learning, it was all learning.
"And the question wasn't about what situation we're in or if you should be scared -- it was about you screaming. Didn't no one ever teach you stealth and shit? You ever play a video game? I mean, I suck at them, but even I know that if you run around like a moron flailing your arms about, you're gonna get your shit wrecked. So why are you screaming? Do you want to attract every gun-wielding psycho within the next mile and a half to our location?" She frowned, picking a bit at a zit on her chin. "Cause, I mean -- if you got a plan, I'm all ears here. Right now this whole place is smelling a lot like shit creek."
It took her a second to remember that Dan was there, and that he'd said hi to her. "Dan," she replied in the same tone of voice. "I'm open for plans from you too, you know. Just," she said, rubbing her temples, "no more screaming, yeah?"
"Thank you for informing me we were in Survival of the Fittest. I had forgotten, what with all the totally normal and regular things happening right now." Alda gestured to the docks around them. "Yes, this is so benign that I forgot what was going on for a second." She rolled her eyes.
It wasn't like Alda wanted to treat people -- well, okay, it was mostly like that. Her philosophy had always been that it was better she treated people now, so they wouldn't have to get treated by someone worse later on. Really, she just hated people acting ridiculous or stupid. If someone said something stupid, they needed to get called out. Stupidity couldn't just slide. So, yeah, Alda had a tendency towards bitchiness. So what? She was teaching people, really. Learning, it was all learning.
"And the question wasn't about what situation we're in or if you should be scared -- it was about you screaming. Didn't no one ever teach you stealth and shit? You ever play a video game? I mean, I suck at them, but even I know that if you run around like a moron flailing your arms about, you're gonna get your shit wrecked. So why are you screaming? Do you want to attract every gun-wielding psycho within the next mile and a half to our location?" She frowned, picking a bit at a zit on her chin. "Cause, I mean -- if you got a plan, I'm all ears here. Right now this whole place is smelling a lot like shit creek."
It took her a second to remember that Dan was there, and that he'd said hi to her. "Dan," she replied in the same tone of voice. "I'm open for plans from you too, you know. Just," she said, rubbing her temples, "no more screaming, yeah?"
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armeggedonCounselor†
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Kaitlyn narrowed her eyes at Alda. She had a point. Kaitlyn really hated the fact that Alda had a point. She looked around, feeling her pulse quicken slightly. Fear wasn't an emotion Kaitlyn was used to. She didn't often face scenarios where she was afraid. She treated it like she typically treated anger: compartmentalize, and ignore. She didn't see any shadowy figures sneaking up on the docks to gun them down. 'Doesn't mean they aren't there, though," said a dark voice in the back of her head. Kaitlyn elected to ignore that voice.
"Alright, Alda, you have a point. I shouldn't have yelled," she said, keeping her tone level. "As for plans, right now, my only plan is to survive until tomorrow. If I'm still alive when I wake up, I'll try planning in longer terms." She grimaced, a thought presenting itself. "I don't plan on 'playing' the game, either. So if you were nervous about that, you can stop being so."
She kept Alda in her peripheral vision as she glanced around again, suddenly feeling very exposed on this dock. She registered Dan asking her about what weapon she got, but decided to evade the subject by jumping on the end of Alda's question.
"Do you have any better plans, Dan?"
"Alright, Alda, you have a point. I shouldn't have yelled," she said, keeping her tone level. "As for plans, right now, my only plan is to survive until tomorrow. If I'm still alive when I wake up, I'll try planning in longer terms." She grimaced, a thought presenting itself. "I don't plan on 'playing' the game, either. So if you were nervous about that, you can stop being so."
She kept Alda in her peripheral vision as she glanced around again, suddenly feeling very exposed on this dock. She registered Dan asking her about what weapon she got, but decided to evade the subject by jumping on the end of Alda's question.
"Do you have any better plans, Dan?"
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Courtography
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Dan stopped listening while the ladies had their argument with one another. He didn't really see the point of it. Really, they both had kinda lost it. Maybe they were on their time of the month in addition to being pissed about kidnapped.
It'd explain why they were so pissed with one another anyway.
Kaitlyn's question brought him back to reality.
"Oh right yeah, uhh, I was thinkin', y'know, that we find one of those smart dudes, like...dang what's his name?" He started snapping his fingers as he tried to think of who it was, he could even picture the guy, but what the heck was his name.
"Oh I can't remember, anyway, find someone like that and help us get the heck outta here."
It'd explain why they were so pissed with one another anyway.
Kaitlyn's question brought him back to reality.
"Oh right yeah, uhh, I was thinkin', y'know, that we find one of those smart dudes, like...dang what's his name?" He started snapping his fingers as he tried to think of who it was, he could even picture the guy, but what the heck was his name.
"Oh I can't remember, anyway, find someone like that and help us get the heck outta here."
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Casey the Undead†
- Posts: 132
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:27 am
Alda scratched a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes at the people she wound up with. Of course she couldn't have stumbled across anyone from her team, or anyone with more than two IQ points to rub together. She had to careen straight into idiots, with her head still fuzzed from drugs. Perfect. Great start to a great day, really. "If I was worried about you playing the game, I don't think I would have stumbled here half-conked out and bleary-headed, eh?" She tried to keep the snappiness out of her voice. She wasn't being mean, she reminded herself. Alda was never mean, she was always truthful. And sometimes the truth hurt, but so did burning your hand on the stove when you were a kid, and fuck if that didn't teach you to never touch a hot stove again, right?
She glanced between Dan and Kaitlyn, wondering if she was in too deep now. It wasn't like there was a blood contract between them, or even a loose agreement. This wasn't Survivor, or whatever -- alliances weren't solid. She could leave whenever she wanted too, she figured. Sure, they might hate her for it -- but Alda figured that if they didn't hate her already, they wouldn't be bothered to start at the end of their lives. Too much work, hating people. Alda would know, she'd made an art out of it.
Still, even though the only tie she had to either of them was proximity at the moment, she still felt a bit like leaving them alone was just cruel. Maybe if there'd been someone good with them, someone strong or smart or quick witted or popular, or even someone with a good weapon -- someone who could have protected them, then maybe Alda would be okay turning tail. But as it was they were just two morons stranded by the docks alone with nothing to keep them alive. And Alda was strong enough, fit enough. Alda had friends. And Alda had -- actually, Alda had no idea what weapon she had. She glanced back at the spot where she'd woken up, where her bags still lay.
"Well, look. Living tomorrow is more a goal than a plan, got me? We need a plan to get to the goal. And while finding someone smart sounds good, who knows who we gonna meet and how they're gonna feel about us." Alda gestured to her bag, resigned to help the losers she'd wound up with. They always say God puts you places for a reason. So fuck it, right? "The bat's good enough for a bit, but I'm gonna go see what I got. Might be something we can use." She shrugged. "Then I guess the options are fortify or flee. That's up to you two. I was never so good at the brain stuff. Talk it out or something."
Alda didn't wait for them to respond, instead trudging back to her bag with resolve.
She glanced between Dan and Kaitlyn, wondering if she was in too deep now. It wasn't like there was a blood contract between them, or even a loose agreement. This wasn't Survivor, or whatever -- alliances weren't solid. She could leave whenever she wanted too, she figured. Sure, they might hate her for it -- but Alda figured that if they didn't hate her already, they wouldn't be bothered to start at the end of their lives. Too much work, hating people. Alda would know, she'd made an art out of it.
Still, even though the only tie she had to either of them was proximity at the moment, she still felt a bit like leaving them alone was just cruel. Maybe if there'd been someone good with them, someone strong or smart or quick witted or popular, or even someone with a good weapon -- someone who could have protected them, then maybe Alda would be okay turning tail. But as it was they were just two morons stranded by the docks alone with nothing to keep them alive. And Alda was strong enough, fit enough. Alda had friends. And Alda had -- actually, Alda had no idea what weapon she had. She glanced back at the spot where she'd woken up, where her bags still lay.
"Well, look. Living tomorrow is more a goal than a plan, got me? We need a plan to get to the goal. And while finding someone smart sounds good, who knows who we gonna meet and how they're gonna feel about us." Alda gestured to her bag, resigned to help the losers she'd wound up with. They always say God puts you places for a reason. So fuck it, right? "The bat's good enough for a bit, but I'm gonna go see what I got. Might be something we can use." She shrugged. "Then I guess the options are fortify or flee. That's up to you two. I was never so good at the brain stuff. Talk it out or something."
Alda didn't wait for them to respond, instead trudging back to her bag with resolve.
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armeggedonCounselor†
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Kaitlyn ground her teeth. Alda and Paulo, despite their personal differences, had one thing in common: they both were very good at getting on her nerves. Dan seemed to tune out of the conversation entirely, only coming back in to mutter something inane. All in all, these two did not seem like a good pair to team up with. She would inevitably end up having to bail them out of trouble, or would end up coming to blows with Alda. As cathartic as the idea of punching Alda repeatedly was to Kaitlyn's stressed out and drug-addled mind, it would not be useful in the long run.
She leaned down and picked up her bags, slinging them over her shoulders. She shifted the weight a bit, trying to get it square and stable, so that it wouldn't shift as she moved. She hadn't ever run through forest before, but a dock indicated some form of civilization, so there would undoubtedly be roads of some sort. Barring that, she could find the shore and run along that.
"Sorry, but I'm not staying here. I'm leaving. Going to try and find someplace more enclosed, or something. Maybe find a high point and get a feeling for what the area looks like. Good luck out there."
Kaitlyn nodded at Dan, then turned inland and left. She would be lying if she said she didn't tense up slightly as she left, worried that Alda might take offense and try to put a bullet between her shoulder blades. Nothing came, though, and she soon found a road that lead away from the docks.
((Kaitlyn Williamson continued in On a Midnight Dreary.))
She leaned down and picked up her bags, slinging them over her shoulders. She shifted the weight a bit, trying to get it square and stable, so that it wouldn't shift as she moved. She hadn't ever run through forest before, but a dock indicated some form of civilization, so there would undoubtedly be roads of some sort. Barring that, she could find the shore and run along that.
"Sorry, but I'm not staying here. I'm leaving. Going to try and find someplace more enclosed, or something. Maybe find a high point and get a feeling for what the area looks like. Good luck out there."
Kaitlyn nodded at Dan, then turned inland and left. She would be lying if she said she didn't tense up slightly as she left, worried that Alda might take offense and try to put a bullet between her shoulder blades. Nothing came, though, and she soon found a road that lead away from the docks.
((Kaitlyn Williamson continued in On a Midnight Dreary.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Courtography
- Posts: 205
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:52 pm
Kaitlyn just up and left. Dan was tempted to tell her not to go, but at the same time, well. her and Alda would probably drive him nuts after not too long. Heck, he wasn't too tempted to be with either of them. They argued too much, and nothing was seeming to get anywhere.
Not to mention that Alda had basically said "I don't like your plan but I don't have one either."
Dan would have been able to put up with her abrasiveness if she actually had an idea to prove it was worth it. Otherwise her bad attitude would just drag him down.
"Well it looks like Kaitlyn decided talking it out isn't the thing to do."
He started to walk off.
"You can come along if you want, but y'know, gotta find people."
But please don't, just don't.
(Dan Liu continued in A New World Fool)
Not to mention that Alda had basically said "I don't like your plan but I don't have one either."
Dan would have been able to put up with her abrasiveness if she actually had an idea to prove it was worth it. Otherwise her bad attitude would just drag him down.
"Well it looks like Kaitlyn decided talking it out isn't the thing to do."
He started to walk off.
"You can come along if you want, but y'know, gotta find people."
But please don't, just don't.
(Dan Liu continued in A New World Fool)
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Casey the Undead†
- Posts: 132
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:27 am
Alda glanced back as the other two left. See, this was why Alda didn't bother making dumbass alliances with people, like, ever. Because people were stupid, and were going to walk away anyway. "You know both of you have relatively shit weapons and are probably gonna get your skank asses killed?" she said to their retreating backs. She shook her head. "Well, adding that to the ever-growing list of shit I don't care about. Have fun being corpses!"
Alda really didn't need the idiot squad around her anyways. Kaitlyn and Dan were people she wouldn't even talk to in school, why waste the most important days of her life trying to save their sorry lives? It was a good thing she wasn't, then. Really. She wasn't a little hurt, not even at all. "I might not know a lot," Alda muttered, "but I know I'm a goddamn better player than they are, and that I'll actually be able to push when needed, and they would have just dragged me down anyways."
Seriously. Alda wasn't even a little hurt by the obvious rejection of two of her classmates. There wasn't even a little pain at the realization that she'd made more enemies than friends the past four years, and that people would have no real want of her around. People just didn't get her, that was all. And that'd always been the case, since the beginning of time. People never got Alda. And why should Alda try to make them understand? They weren't worth her time or effort or whatever. Other people were just going to weigh her down, she knew that. Kaitlyn and Dan were dead men walking without her, that was the truth, and four hours from now when they were bleeding out they were gonna fucking regret walking away from her like she worthless, they were gonna regret thinking she was too much a bitch to help them.
Alda pulled some sort of multi-tailed whip out of her bag. A Cat, she thought -- she'd seen them before, on TV and stuff. She tightened her grip on it.
Of course they were gonna regret leaving her. Alda was going to make them regret leaving her. What am I sitting here for, feeling sorry for myself like some goddamn pussy? As if I should feel bad these fuckers don't like me. That's a fucking advantage here, ain't it? Pathetic fucking high school kids, living their pathetic fucking high school lives. Like any of them could kill their friends, their boyfriends, their precious fucking cliques. They're all doomed by their fucking faith, ain't they? Not me you sorry sons of bitches. Not. Me.
Dan and Kaitlyn and those kids were stupid, just stupid enough to believe that no one would want to kill them. That everyone was still braiding hair in English class and acting like graduation was just around the corner. As if. Alda grinned, finding her resolve. No one would see her coming, after all. She didn't owe anyone anything. She could do whatever she wanted. She could win.
She pulled her daypack over her shoulder, picked a direction, and walked. She would need a better weapon -- the Cat was good, but not lethal. But that shouldn't be hard. After all, people were so, so trustworthy, weren't they?
Goals: Find Paulo. Find the Team. Kill all motherfuckers in-between.
Piece of cake.
((Alda Abbate, continued elsewhere))
Alda really didn't need the idiot squad around her anyways. Kaitlyn and Dan were people she wouldn't even talk to in school, why waste the most important days of her life trying to save their sorry lives? It was a good thing she wasn't, then. Really. She wasn't a little hurt, not even at all. "I might not know a lot," Alda muttered, "but I know I'm a goddamn better player than they are, and that I'll actually be able to push when needed, and they would have just dragged me down anyways."
Seriously. Alda wasn't even a little hurt by the obvious rejection of two of her classmates. There wasn't even a little pain at the realization that she'd made more enemies than friends the past four years, and that people would have no real want of her around. People just didn't get her, that was all. And that'd always been the case, since the beginning of time. People never got Alda. And why should Alda try to make them understand? They weren't worth her time or effort or whatever. Other people were just going to weigh her down, she knew that. Kaitlyn and Dan were dead men walking without her, that was the truth, and four hours from now when they were bleeding out they were gonna fucking regret walking away from her like she worthless, they were gonna regret thinking she was too much a bitch to help them.
Alda pulled some sort of multi-tailed whip out of her bag. A Cat, she thought -- she'd seen them before, on TV and stuff. She tightened her grip on it.
Of course they were gonna regret leaving her. Alda was going to make them regret leaving her. What am I sitting here for, feeling sorry for myself like some goddamn pussy? As if I should feel bad these fuckers don't like me. That's a fucking advantage here, ain't it? Pathetic fucking high school kids, living their pathetic fucking high school lives. Like any of them could kill their friends, their boyfriends, their precious fucking cliques. They're all doomed by their fucking faith, ain't they? Not me you sorry sons of bitches. Not. Me.
Dan and Kaitlyn and those kids were stupid, just stupid enough to believe that no one would want to kill them. That everyone was still braiding hair in English class and acting like graduation was just around the corner. As if. Alda grinned, finding her resolve. No one would see her coming, after all. She didn't owe anyone anything. She could do whatever she wanted. She could win.
She pulled her daypack over her shoulder, picked a direction, and walked. She would need a better weapon -- the Cat was good, but not lethal. But that shouldn't be hard. After all, people were so, so trustworthy, weren't they?
Goals: Find Paulo. Find the Team. Kill all motherfuckers in-between.
Piece of cake.
((Alda Abbate, continued elsewhere))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey the Undead. 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.