Andrew awoke to find himself in a dark, humid chamber. The rythmic echo of dripping water had filled his dreams with images of ticking clocks, and as he came to he was expecting to see the void in front of him filled with the beating metronomes that had penetrated his mind in his sleep. In a second he would've taken the clocks, no contest.
All at once, everything that had happened on the plane, all the horror came rushing back into his head, and he sat up with a jolt. No, it couldn't be. It wasn't real, was it? His lip trembled as he looked towards the green daypack beside his own on the stone floor. Water flowed past him and took it's leave through a pipe in the chamber wall, and he realized that he must be in a sewer.
"No, no-no-no-no..." he droned as his hands came in contact with the cold metal collar, and he traced the object around his neck to confirm that it was stuck there for good. It couldn't be real. It was all a sick joke, right? No, it was real. Mrs Saranna's headless, violated corpse was enough proof for him. Andrew's breathing became quick and shallow, and he looked around at the sewer chamber once more, studying the dank walls, looking for a way out. There were two circular entrances, but they were both pitch black. There was no way he was checking those out. No way in hell. He stood up and turned to the wall behind him, to which the iron rungs of a ladder were fixed. He followed it with his eyes until he was looking at the ceiling; the covered manhole above was his only option. At least it was a step up from a lightless, narrow tunnel.
His eyes travelled back to the bag, where his designated weapon was waiting for him. His stomach turned over. 'Oh, god...' he thought. 'Please, let it be a gun. Please...' He undid the pack and sifted through his survival gear, and found that his prayers had been indeed answered. Just not the way he figured.
"The hell?" he choked as he withdrew the miniscule Glock 27 subcompact. It looked more like a toy than a weapon. Wait, was it a toy? He jiggled it around; it was definately too heavy and solid to be so, but he still wasn't relieved much. 'There are guys running around out there with flamethrowers and rocketlaunchers and they give me this??' Of course, he had no idea whether or not this was true. It just seemed pretty likely. 'I gotta find Nich, and fast. He'll help me out. He's gotta.' A horrifying thought occurred. 'Can I trust him? Maybe he's playing too...' He had already broken out in a cold sweat, and now a lump was building in the back of his throat. He felt sick. Frantically, he made his way to the rancid stream beside him and vomited spastically.
'I need to get out of here,' he thought, shaking his head and shouldering his bags. With some effort he was able to lug them both up the rusted ladder. He pushed on the manhole cover, balancing himself with his toes pressed against a rung and his back against the niche under the exit. It was fairly heavy, especially for someone as staturally unimpressive as himself. He threw everything he had against it, and panic started setting further in as he contemplated having to head down the dark passage underneath, even with his flashlight. Fortunately, this extra adrenaline did just the trick, and with one more grunt he was able to push the cover free of the entrance. Fresh air flooded his lungs as he scrambled out onto the grassy surface, and he became a little less frightened...that is until he realized that he was in the middle of a clearing. He stopped dead in his tracks and his mind was filled with a million terrors. Thusly, his wits left him, and he darted towards the nearest cover he could see: the industrial yard.
((Continued in The Very Basic Will to Live))
Don't Panic
Boy #09 Begins
Don't Panic
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((Continued from The Very Basic Will to Live))
"...and I'm back...in the sewer again," Andrew sighed to himself, curled up in a little ball in the corner. He'd climbed right back down the way he'd left, the only difference being that he now had no food, no water, no map and no weapon. The dank walls and stench of raw sewage weren't much of a consolation prize.
"I..." he spoke softly, his voice echoing faintly through the dark chamber before fading away altogether. Who was he talking to? It didn't matter, he just needed to hear an assuring voice, even if it was his own. Maybe it would calm him down; matters had made themselves infinitely worse, and the last thing he needed to do now was panic. He'd find some way to...shit, he probably wouldn't, would he?
"Nope. I'm not..I'm not cut out for this..." he droned on. As pessimistic as his words were, talking to himself really did relax him a bit. He'd been so desperate to get out of the suffocating darkness of the sewer that he'd thrown himself too far into the open. And forsaken a perfect hiding place.
In a way, Andrew was just like his miniscule pocket knife. Or the Glock from before. He was small. Pathetic. Worthless. The bottom of the foodchain.
"The bottom of the foodchain..." Tears welled up in little Andrew's eyes, and he began to cry into his folded arms.
"...and I'm back...in the sewer again," Andrew sighed to himself, curled up in a little ball in the corner. He'd climbed right back down the way he'd left, the only difference being that he now had no food, no water, no map and no weapon. The dank walls and stench of raw sewage weren't much of a consolation prize.
"I..." he spoke softly, his voice echoing faintly through the dark chamber before fading away altogether. Who was he talking to? It didn't matter, he just needed to hear an assuring voice, even if it was his own. Maybe it would calm him down; matters had made themselves infinitely worse, and the last thing he needed to do now was panic. He'd find some way to...shit, he probably wouldn't, would he?
"Nope. I'm not..I'm not cut out for this..." he droned on. As pessimistic as his words were, talking to himself really did relax him a bit. He'd been so desperate to get out of the suffocating darkness of the sewer that he'd thrown himself too far into the open. And forsaken a perfect hiding place.
In a way, Andrew was just like his miniscule pocket knife. Or the Glock from before. He was small. Pathetic. Worthless. The bottom of the foodchain.
"The bottom of the foodchain..." Tears welled up in little Andrew's eyes, and he began to cry into his folded arms.
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((Continuada dal Improvising))
"Ugghhh...grrrrgh..."
It had been approximately 10 minutes since Zachary Foreman''s river-dipped midsection had started to dry, and it was if his Imperial Star Destroyer was traveling through an asteroid belt with a hull breach imminent. That the air was now cooler didn't help to soothe the pain as much as the river did, rather it started to push him into withdrawal quicker than he'd expected.
He didn't know that the industrial section, let alone the hotel where they'd intended to stay, was that far away. But at least they were on a road to somewhere. For some reason, there were also manholes. And somewhere down in the vortex of evil and loading screens that led to the sewers, he could hear the sound of a child crying. It was so tragic...and utterly haunting at the same time. Fortunately, the last thing he wanted to do was cling to Nich or hang close to him like Ashley Simpson or whatever that chick's name was hanging around the bishounen hero.
This isn't a village, this is fucking Raccoon City!
Zachary stopped over the manhole, raising his Spanish Tickler-armed hand over his eyes to reduce the glare, and peered in...
((Should be fun to see William Birkin standing over that manhole. XD))
"Ugghhh...grrrrgh..."
It had been approximately 10 minutes since Zachary Foreman''s river-dipped midsection had started to dry, and it was if his Imperial Star Destroyer was traveling through an asteroid belt with a hull breach imminent. That the air was now cooler didn't help to soothe the pain as much as the river did, rather it started to push him into withdrawal quicker than he'd expected.
He didn't know that the industrial section, let alone the hotel where they'd intended to stay, was that far away. But at least they were on a road to somewhere. For some reason, there were also manholes. And somewhere down in the vortex of evil and loading screens that led to the sewers, he could hear the sound of a child crying. It was so tragic...and utterly haunting at the same time. Fortunately, the last thing he wanted to do was cling to Nich or hang close to him like Ashley Simpson or whatever that chick's name was hanging around the bishounen hero.
This isn't a village, this is fucking Raccoon City!
Zachary stopped over the manhole, raising his Spanish Tickler-armed hand over his eyes to reduce the glare, and peered in...
((Should be fun to see William Birkin standing over that manhole. XD))
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Andrew hadn't been able to replace the manhole cover properly (although he did try) on his way back into the sewer, making him pretty much a sitting duck in case anyone came knocking. He was off to an angle sitting in the corner, at least, so he could still see if someone was coming down without being in full view directly under the manhole. What would he do if someone came down? Probably run down one of the two pitch black holes provided at each end of the room. But the thought of going headlong into the suffocating darkness within was nearly as terrifying as sitting there and waiting for someone to pop him off.
Footsteps overhead. Andrew immediately stopped whimpering, but he was probably too late. The echo of the underground chamber had most likely telegraphed his wherabouts like a charm. 'Oh, fuck, he thought, his mind racing. The footsteps ceased; the intruder was standing over the manhole. Who could it be? Was it that one kid who had taken his gun and supplies? Even worse, that scary bald guy with the shotgun? Andrew curled himself even further into his fetal position and rocked himself back and forth, glancing up and then looking away. Part of him wanted to know who it was, part of him didn't want to know. Part of him wanted to bolt into the dark tunnel. He was all over the place.
~~~
((Continued from Improvising))
Nich saw Zed stop over the manhole, and his curiousity got the better of him. Yeah, they were making lousy time, even with their shortcut through the river (way to go, Zed), but he couldn't help it now. Nich walked over to the open manhole and looked in. "What is it, Foreman?"
~~~
Foreman! Andrew heard the second set of footsteps say Zed's last name, and his skeleton practically leaped out of his mouth. It was the guys! Both of them! Eliminating that final question in the back of his mind: are they playing? No, they couldn't be! Andrew's gaze flew back up to the manhole, and he made an indescernable noise of joy and relief, getting up off his ass as fast as he could and trying to call to them. Alas, he couldn't find his voice, and ended up wheezing softly.
Footsteps overhead. Andrew immediately stopped whimpering, but he was probably too late. The echo of the underground chamber had most likely telegraphed his wherabouts like a charm. 'Oh, fuck, he thought, his mind racing. The footsteps ceased; the intruder was standing over the manhole. Who could it be? Was it that one kid who had taken his gun and supplies? Even worse, that scary bald guy with the shotgun? Andrew curled himself even further into his fetal position and rocked himself back and forth, glancing up and then looking away. Part of him wanted to know who it was, part of him didn't want to know. Part of him wanted to bolt into the dark tunnel. He was all over the place.
~~~
((Continued from Improvising))
Nich saw Zed stop over the manhole, and his curiousity got the better of him. Yeah, they were making lousy time, even with their shortcut through the river (way to go, Zed), but he couldn't help it now. Nich walked over to the open manhole and looked in. "What is it, Foreman?"
~~~
Foreman! Andrew heard the second set of footsteps say Zed's last name, and his skeleton practically leaped out of his mouth. It was the guys! Both of them! Eliminating that final question in the back of his mind: are they playing? No, they couldn't be! Andrew's gaze flew back up to the manhole, and he made an indescernable noise of joy and relief, getting up off his ass as fast as he could and trying to call to them. Alas, he couldn't find his voice, and ended up wheezing softly.
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Zed recognized that whine, or rather, he could deduce the voice of the person who whined. However, there was no relief as to its familiarity, primarily because of exactly where it was coming from, namely the vortex that was the sewer manhole.
"Hold on...it could be a trap." Or it could be a mission to gain another extra party member... Of course, Zed was not in the condition to go down there and confront the threat of whatever nature was down there, quite yet. Of course, if this game was as realistic as he had (very painfully) realized it was earlier, then he didn't actually have to go down there, at least if he wanted to try to get the guy out. "I've got an idea..."
"Who's that down there?" Zed calls down into the darkness with a significantly changed voice. It was actually quite easy for Zed to change his tone of voice, and he was given a head-start (no pun intended) by the damage to his goods. His voice now revealed its New Yorker roots, and combined with the merchandise he almost sounded like a teenage mafiosi. "Get the fuck up here if you don't want us to come down there and get you."
He briefly held his "Birkin" hand out over the manhole to show he meant business, then quickly withdrew in case someone would suddenly shoot a fireball out of the hole.
"Hold on...it could be a trap." Or it could be a mission to gain another extra party member... Of course, Zed was not in the condition to go down there and confront the threat of whatever nature was down there, quite yet. Of course, if this game was as realistic as he had (very painfully) realized it was earlier, then he didn't actually have to go down there, at least if he wanted to try to get the guy out. "I've got an idea..."
"Who's that down there?" Zed calls down into the darkness with a significantly changed voice. It was actually quite easy for Zed to change his tone of voice, and he was given a head-start (no pun intended) by the damage to his goods. His voice now revealed its New Yorker roots, and combined with the merchandise he almost sounded like a teenage mafiosi. "Get the fuck up here if you don't want us to come down there and get you."
He briefly held his "Birkin" hand out over the manhole to show he meant business, then quickly withdrew in case someone would suddenly shoot a fireball out of the hole.
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Nich tried to shove Zed out of the way. "What the hell dude," he grunted indignantly. Finlayson didn't buy the whole trap bit, and called down, "heyyy! We won't hurt you!"
~~~
Andrew had recoiled the moment Zed had started blaring at him, and now was drawing closer again to the manhole after hearing Nich. He hesitated. What the fuck were they doing? 'Make up your mind!' a voice in his head screamed.
"Guys!" he called up, finally recovering his voice. "It's me! It's Andrew!"
~~~
Andrew had recoiled the moment Zed had started blaring at him, and now was drawing closer again to the manhole after hearing Nich. He hesitated. What the fuck were they doing? 'Make up your mind!' a voice in his head screamed.
"Guys!" he called up, finally recovering his voice. "It's me! It's Andrew!"
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Zed held his non-injured hand out to block Nich if he decided to enter the manhole. "Careful..." he said, sounding like he was about to fit the guy inside with cement shoes and drop him in the Hudson. If there was one skill he definitely gained from this game, it was never to trust a pitiful voice crying out for help. That, was a lesson he'd learned the firm, chewing way, and one he wished he didn't have to reaffirm when his lightning rod got caught in the middle of yet another storm.
"We won't hurt you if you're unarmed!" he added, switching to Michael Corleone re-assuring Carlo Rizzi.
((I could rattle off these metaphors forever. I'm surprised I never even explicitly mentioned what it is these metaphors stand for, at least during the normal course of RP. XD))
"We won't hurt you if you're unarmed!" he added, switching to Michael Corleone re-assuring Carlo Rizzi.
((I could rattle off these metaphors forever. I'm surprised I never even explicitly mentioned what it is these metaphors stand for, at least during the normal course of RP. XD))
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"Is it Swainson?" Nich inquired, dumbfounded. "No fuckin' way!"
~~~
"Well I guess I'm in luck then," Andrew snorted, even able to crack a little sarcasm in there now that his friends were here. "Some asshole took all my stuff!" He drew nearer to the manhole, and finally decided that it would be safe to stand in view of his two comrades. "Guys, am I ever fucking glad to see you!"
~~~
"Well I guess I'm in luck then," Andrew snorted, even able to crack a little sarcasm in there now that his friends were here. "Some asshole took all my stuff!" He drew nearer to the manhole, and finally decided that it would be safe to stand in view of his two comrades. "Guys, am I ever fucking glad to see you!"
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Zed could clearly see his "comrade" in full view from the manhole, and his fears were partially relieved...for now. If only the pain were relieved nearly as much... "Andrew" seemed unarmed, at least from his point-of-view, and if he had a weapon they could easily flee (Zed albeit at a slower pace) to safety or cover at the least, before "Andrew" could surmount the ladder. Still, if Andrew was unarmed, that wouldn't be too beneficial to a trio that was operating at only 3/4 capacity...
"Get up here, and don't try anything funny."
"Get up here, and don't try anything funny."
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"Don't be a fucking twat, Zed," Nich said. "You know we can trust Swainson." He wasn't as sure as he would've liked to be. Even from the very beginning, Nich had known that he would have to keep an eye on whomever he decided to join forces with, no matter how close they were under normal circumstances.
"Yeah, gimme a break, dude!" Andrew called up. "What the hell am I gonna do, beat you up with my powerful arms? You better watch out for my powerful arms!"
"Get your ass up here."
"Okey-dokey...(damn, I can't believe you guys found me)..." Andrew began climbing the sturdy iron rungs out of the sewer, his ascension much easier without any luggage holding him down; hey, look on the bright side, right?
"Did someone really take all of your shit, dude?" Nich asked, lending his buddy a hand on the final awkward step out of the hole in the ground.
"Yeah...and I had a fucking gun, too."
"No shit?"
"Yep."
"Well what are you going to do for food?"
"Fuck if I know. I'm starving."
"...I'll cover you, dude, don't worry about it." Nich withdrew a loaf of bread and broke off a nice chunk for Swainson.
"Thanks." Andrew wolfed it down. "Could I have a sip of water?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course..." Nich obliged.
Taking a quick swig, Andrew exclaimed, "shit, that's much better."
"No problem. Hey, we're heading towards the hotel--shit, is it morning already??" Nich said, horrified. He hadn't even noticed the sun sneak up on them, he had been so groggy. "Fuck! Zed! Dude! We still didn't make it!" Nich was no stranger to pulling all-nighters, but this was ridiculous. Now they would have no choice but to either find a really well-hidden, well-fortified place to sleep or collapse from exhaustion later in the day, a slumber from which none of them would likely awake.
"Well what do we do?" Andrew asked. He had drifted in and out of consciousness in the last couple of hours, sobbing himself to sleep, then waking up and starting where he left off.
Nich sighed, tired and uncomfortable. Was Zed as tired as he was? "Gimme a second to think," he said, running his fingers through his long, messy hair.
"Yeah, gimme a break, dude!" Andrew called up. "What the hell am I gonna do, beat you up with my powerful arms? You better watch out for my powerful arms!"
"Get your ass up here."
"Okey-dokey...(damn, I can't believe you guys found me)..." Andrew began climbing the sturdy iron rungs out of the sewer, his ascension much easier without any luggage holding him down; hey, look on the bright side, right?
"Did someone really take all of your shit, dude?" Nich asked, lending his buddy a hand on the final awkward step out of the hole in the ground.
"Yeah...and I had a fucking gun, too."
"No shit?"
"Yep."
"Well what are you going to do for food?"
"Fuck if I know. I'm starving."
"...I'll cover you, dude, don't worry about it." Nich withdrew a loaf of bread and broke off a nice chunk for Swainson.
"Thanks." Andrew wolfed it down. "Could I have a sip of water?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course..." Nich obliged.
Taking a quick swig, Andrew exclaimed, "shit, that's much better."
"No problem. Hey, we're heading towards the hotel--shit, is it morning already??" Nich said, horrified. He hadn't even noticed the sun sneak up on them, he had been so groggy. "Fuck! Zed! Dude! We still didn't make it!" Nich was no stranger to pulling all-nighters, but this was ridiculous. Now they would have no choice but to either find a really well-hidden, well-fortified place to sleep or collapse from exhaustion later in the day, a slumber from which none of them would likely awake.
"Well what do we do?" Andrew asked. He had drifted in and out of consciousness in the last couple of hours, sobbing himself to sleep, then waking up and starting where he left off.
Nich sighed, tired and uncomfortable. Was Zed as tired as he was? "Gimme a second to think," he said, running his fingers through his long, messy hair.
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Zed backed off as "Nich" helped "Andrew" out of the hole, and for now he was relieved that the other member of his trio didn't appear armed. The possibility of magic powers on this island seemed next to nil now.
Zed didn't feel that tired, at least not for a guy who'd nearly lost the one thing more valuable to him than his very life - even virtually - in the past few hours. That time seemed to pass so fast only seemed to provide much-belated reinforcement that he was definitely in some kind of twisted yet eerily realistic MMORPG of sorts. Much like his favorite game series, but that was something far from the front of his mind right now.
"We could take shifts...lock ourselves in a room and one stands guard while the two of us take naps..." Zed's speech was accelerating and decelerating, much like a certain paranormal businessman. He was still very coherent, though. "If they announce the hotel, we can clear out rested...It's not like we were headed toward the lighthouse...unlucky bastards."
I hope there's a fucking save point there, too...
Zed didn't feel that tired, at least not for a guy who'd nearly lost the one thing more valuable to him than his very life - even virtually - in the past few hours. That time seemed to pass so fast only seemed to provide much-belated reinforcement that he was definitely in some kind of twisted yet eerily realistic MMORPG of sorts. Much like his favorite game series, but that was something far from the front of his mind right now.
"We could take shifts...lock ourselves in a room and one stands guard while the two of us take naps..." Zed's speech was accelerating and decelerating, much like a certain paranormal businessman. He was still very coherent, though. "If they announce the hotel, we can clear out rested...It's not like we were headed toward the lighthouse...unlucky bastards."
I hope there's a fucking save point there, too...
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"Good call," Nich replied, nodding. He hadn't been surprised that there were already twelve deaths, one or two of which were students at Hobbsborough. Nobody he knew too well, but still...it was weird. People he knew were dying, left and right. He couldn't let his two friends meet the same fate.
"I guess so," Andrew said. He didn't like the idea, however not because he didn't trust Zed or Nich, but because he'd seen a guy running around with a frickin' shotgun. Zed was holding some kind of claw thingy, and Nich had an axe, and well...he himself was defenseless. Even if one of them stood guard, even if they locked the door, someone would get in if they were packing enough heat. They needed a gun, and it had been his responsibility to provide it. He'd failed miserably.
The hotel was nearly straight west; it wouldn't be far to walk now. "Let's go check in," Nich said, yawning.
((Andrew continued in Pale Shelter))
((Nich continued in Pale Shelter))
"I guess so," Andrew said. He didn't like the idea, however not because he didn't trust Zed or Nich, but because he'd seen a guy running around with a frickin' shotgun. Zed was holding some kind of claw thingy, and Nich had an axe, and well...he himself was defenseless. Even if one of them stood guard, even if they locked the door, someone would get in if they were packing enough heat. They needed a gun, and it had been his responsibility to provide it. He'd failed miserably.
The hotel was nearly straight west; it wouldn't be far to walk now. "Let's go check in," Nich said, yawning.
((Andrew continued in Pale Shelter))
((Nich continued in Pale Shelter))
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Zed did not think that guns would hold total superiority in an environment such as a hotel, and could be countered by well-placed team-mates with a good strategy. On a side note, he remembered how he enjoyed booby-trapping wedged doors with C4 as a (virtual) SWAT officer in case the perps tried to remove the wedge. Of course, he wasn't thinking that primarily because he was more concerned with his own welfare, which was justified in his little self. Still, it wasn't impossible, if not less likely than him being able to reach the hotel before he literally conked out.
"I just hope we can check out," Zed replies, as he moves on with them. He tries extra hard to keep up, the only reassurance being that he can get more proper rest and aid (And maybe even a save-restore point...)where he was going...
((Continued Elsewhere))
"I just hope we can check out," Zed replies, as he moves on with them. He tries extra hard to keep up, the only reassurance being that he can get more proper rest and aid (And maybe even a save-restore point...)where he was going...
((Continued Elsewhere))
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