Oh, he'd imagined this. He knew exactly how it would be handled. He would have a decent hand gun, or possibly a submachine gun and be blasting away the insignificant bastards who would be begging for mercy beneath his cruel, unforgiving glare. With just a hint of a smirk showing on his face, the wretch beneath him would get his brains blown out the back of his head. Then he'd move on, utterly unfazed, to his next victim. Perhaps a girl, some air-headed bint who thought she was perfect, who thought she should, and would, win the game just for the fact that everyone loved her, worshipped the ground she walked on!
Never for a moment did Adrian think that he actually would be kidnapped on a plane by an actual terrorist and wake up with a designer collar, complete with pulse monitor and explosive tendencies. And even less often did he imagine that he'd find himself with a bag containing a few necessities, like a day or two's edibles (if he stretched it out even that long), the very few things he had had with him on the plane, and armed with a leather strap, terrified. Even more unexpected than that, Adrian had discovered, is exactly how low he would go, literally, when faced with such...terrorism.
He cringed again as some semi-liquid mixture of piss, shit, toilet water, other water, and who knows what else sloshed into his shoe. The appalling stench of the sewer system had burnt out his ability to smell it some half hour or so ago. At least he had a watch. Adrian had not yet ruled out the possibility of going insane yet, but somehow just knowing the time felt like some sort of comfort, even an advantage. He'd have no other way of knowing what time of day down in that semidarkness.
Adrian didn't know where he was going, he was just moving. Just keep moving. It might have been a better idea to stop somewhere and figure out what to do, but he got the idea that this entire "game" was based on not knowing what to do. So he just kept moving. Eventually though, he'd come across somebody, and they would have the same options presented as to him. Kill, or be killed? Adrian told himself kill, but then, he'd imagined himself being far less cowardly than this already, and he hadn't even seen a person yet; a few rats, yes, but they didn't count. Besides, he got a leather strap. A leather strap! This was something that required skill, or at least luck. A gun was just point and shoot, a knife even, was sharp and pointy. But he might as well have been given paper towels. Those, at least, he could have wiped the shit off of his face with.
It occurred to him then that there might actually be a third option. It had been done before: alliances. Or even just false alliances. He could befriend a few people, and kill them, if only for a more choice weapon, even for whatever might be left of their meager food supplies if he got to anyone early.
He probably wouldn't find many friends in the rat infested...waters, for lack of a better word, of the sewer system, but that in itself made it the best place for survival just now. And that was, quite literally, the name of the game: Survival. Adrian would succeed.
Of Rats and boys
B19 - open season
Of Rats and boys
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shula. 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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lovebirdjo†
- Posts: 103
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:36 am
Joshua Moore didn't care; not really, at least. That's what would make him a worthy opponent in the game. Of course, he hadn't come to the decision to play yet. Hell, the brunette had barely gotten over the shock. He was playing with the thoughts in his head, trying to figure out a way out of the whole situation. It was hopeless to think of such things, but it was also a rational reaction to something like the Survival of the Fittest program. Bullshit. It wasn't rational the way he was put there to do nothing but slaughter others and if not get himself flayed alive by someone else. Why couldn't they have picked some other school? He had been dropped off near a manhole, just left to be picked off. Instead of waiting for this, the boy had taken his belongings and his assigned day pack down the hole's stairs, hoping to remain safe for even a little while.
On that note, Joshua certainly realized that he had packed way too much for his own good; three bags, to be exact. Ok. So this was to be expected of him. One of the bags had all of the books he had planned on reading, one contained his clothes and hygenic items, and the last held his most prized possession: his music. What many people didn't know, was that Joshua sang his heart out alone, opened up new doorways into melodious tunes without even learning to read or write music. It was a passion, but one that would eventually be forgotten. He had been thinking, little by little, of how he would die. It was simple. The brunette would end up dying from some other person on the island's blatant stupidity. To him, it was inevitable.
Now, he snapped out of his thoughts, finally taking a little bit of time to take in the environment of the sewers he found himself in. Unsurprisingly, the first thing to gobsmack the senses was the stench. It was a combination of many things; human excrement, rotten garbage, must, some form of rotten eggs, and also... another smell. Something rather horrible pierced his nostrils: the smell of death. It was there, even hidden among the other bad smells. The very thought of what must have been causing the smell made Joshua nearly vomit onto his pants. The boy was sitting on the side of the tunnel's path, just barely out of the filthy water that he knew he would eventually be trekking through, hoping to find some escape from the underworld. For that's what it was. It wasn't simply a sewer, no, it was some form of hell. The dim lights spread out in the tunnel did nothing but make the grimy walls glisten with the moisture in the air.
He couldn't see very well, but thankfully he still had his black, rectangular glasses to give him some form of sight. Unfortunately, he didn't have a gasmask, and his breathing in the air's decayed scent couldn't be good for his lungs. The tall boy looked at his clothes in astonishment, hardly believing that he still had that form of dignity adorning his body. The blue and green striped polo was pastel-shaded, clashing stylishly with his flaired blue jeans, but who could see it well enough to admire the combination? He wore plain white socks, covered up by the bottom of the jeans and even moreso by his grey New Balances.
Joshua simply couldn't care enough to see what weapon the chumps at the head organization had "blessed" him with. Probably some stupid fork. He knew that whatever it was was rather lightweight, but definitely long. For all he knew, though, it was a fairy princess costume's magic wand. Fuck. He would have luck like that.
He wondered about the other people from Bathurst. Were they all being forced to lower themselves to some form of debauchery, possibly even murder just to get by? Horrid though it was to think about, it was all he really could do. Torn from his thoughts was a splash, sounding distant yet close at the same time. The echoes were horribly confusing, and Joshua couldn't figure out which direction the splashes were coming from. Suddenly the sounds became more like a squishy patter, like shoes being pulled from mud. They sounded even closer. Cringing, the brunette tried to slow and quiet his breathing, but it was to no avail. All his hard work at trying to keep himself under control would be for nothing. He thought of how much he hated his allergies, the whole reason he was even in Denton, New Jersey for this damned ordeal.
His heartbeat quickened, pounding in his chest, and even closer the walking's splashes sounded out in the underworld. Was this the person who had caused that bit of death in the air? Oh God. He was going to die. Joshua cowered, freaking out. Which side was the noise coming from? It didn't matter. He was about to die, all for nothing. The rats he had seen earlier would come to feast, and all that would be left of him would be some memories and the tape of his thirteenth birthday party out at the lock. Not fade away, my ass.
On that note, Joshua certainly realized that he had packed way too much for his own good; three bags, to be exact. Ok. So this was to be expected of him. One of the bags had all of the books he had planned on reading, one contained his clothes and hygenic items, and the last held his most prized possession: his music. What many people didn't know, was that Joshua sang his heart out alone, opened up new doorways into melodious tunes without even learning to read or write music. It was a passion, but one that would eventually be forgotten. He had been thinking, little by little, of how he would die. It was simple. The brunette would end up dying from some other person on the island's blatant stupidity. To him, it was inevitable.
Now, he snapped out of his thoughts, finally taking a little bit of time to take in the environment of the sewers he found himself in. Unsurprisingly, the first thing to gobsmack the senses was the stench. It was a combination of many things; human excrement, rotten garbage, must, some form of rotten eggs, and also... another smell. Something rather horrible pierced his nostrils: the smell of death. It was there, even hidden among the other bad smells. The very thought of what must have been causing the smell made Joshua nearly vomit onto his pants. The boy was sitting on the side of the tunnel's path, just barely out of the filthy water that he knew he would eventually be trekking through, hoping to find some escape from the underworld. For that's what it was. It wasn't simply a sewer, no, it was some form of hell. The dim lights spread out in the tunnel did nothing but make the grimy walls glisten with the moisture in the air.
He couldn't see very well, but thankfully he still had his black, rectangular glasses to give him some form of sight. Unfortunately, he didn't have a gasmask, and his breathing in the air's decayed scent couldn't be good for his lungs. The tall boy looked at his clothes in astonishment, hardly believing that he still had that form of dignity adorning his body. The blue and green striped polo was pastel-shaded, clashing stylishly with his flaired blue jeans, but who could see it well enough to admire the combination? He wore plain white socks, covered up by the bottom of the jeans and even moreso by his grey New Balances.
Joshua simply couldn't care enough to see what weapon the chumps at the head organization had "blessed" him with. Probably some stupid fork. He knew that whatever it was was rather lightweight, but definitely long. For all he knew, though, it was a fairy princess costume's magic wand. Fuck. He would have luck like that.
He wondered about the other people from Bathurst. Were they all being forced to lower themselves to some form of debauchery, possibly even murder just to get by? Horrid though it was to think about, it was all he really could do. Torn from his thoughts was a splash, sounding distant yet close at the same time. The echoes were horribly confusing, and Joshua couldn't figure out which direction the splashes were coming from. Suddenly the sounds became more like a squishy patter, like shoes being pulled from mud. They sounded even closer. Cringing, the brunette tried to slow and quiet his breathing, but it was to no avail. All his hard work at trying to keep himself under control would be for nothing. He thought of how much he hated his allergies, the whole reason he was even in Denton, New Jersey for this damned ordeal.
His heartbeat quickened, pounding in his chest, and even closer the walking's splashes sounded out in the underworld. Was this the person who had caused that bit of death in the air? Oh God. He was going to die. Joshua cowered, freaking out. Which side was the noise coming from? It didn't matter. He was about to die, all for nothing. The rats he had seen earlier would come to feast, and all that would be left of him would be some memories and the tape of his thirteenth birthday party out at the lock. Not fade away, my ass.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler lovebirdjo. 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.
Splash once, slurp once. Splash twice, slurp again. Each step was another splash followed by another sticky slurp. Adrian knew this island had been recently inhabited. He really should go find some place with a shower, or even some place with water less gross than this...mixture. Even walking along the narrow areas raised up beside the main stream of grossness, it only made everything shallower and grimier.
Really though, staying down in this underworld kept his thoughts from the game, from what he would eventually be presented with, from which he would choose when the time came. He had no idea where he was. He could be on one end of the island, or another, or anywhere in between. Adrian had no idea where he had been, nor where he was going, at least not literally. He had a nagging feeling that he was going to his death.
It's an odd feeling. Knowing you're almost definitely going to die in a few days, but not knowing when, where, or how, and there's always that tiny crack of light under the heavy door saying 'you might get out.'
There! Was that a person? It sounded like something larger than a rat! Adrian couldn't tell from which way it came, though. So many different tunnels, all echoing any tiny sound made, sound waves bouncing off metal and stone tubes, traveling much farther than they normally would have. The boy wrapped his leather strap around his fist, leaving an opening for his knuckles to bend. Well enough
He made a left, as he remembered once being told to do in any maze. "Just turn left, unless it's obvious...in which case don't turn at all. People will always try to confuse you, but most people are predictable. Go left and eventually you'll get out." ...and then another left, and another, and then the sewer began to wind and twist and he didn't know which way he had even started in.
In actuality though, it was not much of a distance at all before Adrian came up suddenly behind another person. A thousand thoughts burst into his head at that moment. "Should I kill him?" "Can I kill him?" "Can I kill?" "Will he kill me?" "Should I pretend like I was never here and run?" "What kind of pussy-ass runs?"
Adrian was saved from having to answer any of those questions himself, or at least delayed, as it was made clear that this other person knew of his presence.
Really though, staying down in this underworld kept his thoughts from the game, from what he would eventually be presented with, from which he would choose when the time came. He had no idea where he was. He could be on one end of the island, or another, or anywhere in between. Adrian had no idea where he had been, nor where he was going, at least not literally. He had a nagging feeling that he was going to his death.
It's an odd feeling. Knowing you're almost definitely going to die in a few days, but not knowing when, where, or how, and there's always that tiny crack of light under the heavy door saying 'you might get out.'
There! Was that a person? It sounded like something larger than a rat! Adrian couldn't tell from which way it came, though. So many different tunnels, all echoing any tiny sound made, sound waves bouncing off metal and stone tubes, traveling much farther than they normally would have. The boy wrapped his leather strap around his fist, leaving an opening for his knuckles to bend. Well enough
He made a left, as he remembered once being told to do in any maze. "Just turn left, unless it's obvious...in which case don't turn at all. People will always try to confuse you, but most people are predictable. Go left and eventually you'll get out." ...and then another left, and another, and then the sewer began to wind and twist and he didn't know which way he had even started in.
In actuality though, it was not much of a distance at all before Adrian came up suddenly behind another person. A thousand thoughts burst into his head at that moment. "Should I kill him?" "Can I kill him?" "Can I kill?" "Will he kill me?" "Should I pretend like I was never here and run?" "What kind of pussy-ass runs?"
Adrian was saved from having to answer any of those questions himself, or at least delayed, as it was made clear that this other person knew of his presence.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shula. 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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lovebirdjo†
- Posts: 103
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:36 am
Joshua's eyes closed. He tried to calm himself to some extent, but it just wasn't happening. The brunette's heart was beating so rapidly that it was hurting now. The tears. Shit. What was up with them. All he had to do was think about something that he didn't like, and the waterworks would turn on. Maybe he could use them? No. That was pointless. There would only be one way out of this mess. He would have to fight. Fight? Him? Yea right. Pathetic. That's what he would be in a fist fight. Stupid little Josh had always been rather wimpy to be quite honest, fleeing from any confrontation as soon as it became apparent. How would he win this fight? The sounds had ceased now. It was obvious now that the unknown figure was aware of Joshua's presence in the sewer's passageway. The extremely dim lights were now causing the spectacled boy on the floor to hallucinate, and he could swear he heard a multitude of voices. They were contemplating what to do with him. The brunette heard many opinionated statements adhering to his demise, the majority of which made him squirm with fear.
'Can't I at least try?' he asked himself, 'Don't I deserve to at least attempt to fight?' He didn't expect an answer. After all, who would say anything? It was so hopeless. Whoever was stopping to listen would surely slaughter him. Josh knew. Always. He did. He really always knew that he would die in a way like this. He was punished. His lust. His filthy, perverted lust. Never love. What love was he shown? The only love he had ever known was ripped away when he had to leave his old home. 'David...' He was probably at home right now, watching his ex-boyfriend with a look of disdain on his face. The blonde had said so many things to him when he had called him last month. So many hurtful things that made Joshua cry. Of course he cried. As usual. Tears had sprung forth unlike any other time, and he had wept throughout the night. Love sucked. That's why he did what he did. That's why he was so promiscuous all of the time. Of course, he would be dead soon and in hell like all the rest of the fags. 'Cause that's what he was. He truly was just another fag to add to the collection.
'God. I can't believe I'm going to just die. Should I just let myself get killed? Beg for mercy? Oh my God. It doesn't seem real. It really just doesn't. Why am I going to have to die? So soon... It's too soon! I always knew I'd have to give in one day and accept my eternity in hell, but why can't I just live and then die of old age?'
Joshua just felt oh-so stupid for asking himself the many pointless questions, but he still continued to passionately attack himself for everything. Every little thing was his own fault for making the decisions he had. 'Fag. Bitch. Slut.' He kept it up, going through all of the horrible words he could think of to descrive himself. "Fuck." It seemed natural to let the last word of come out, but he didn't really realize that it would alert the unknown dweller in the passage to his whereabouts once again. Leaning over weakly, the brunette scrambled into the large pack that he had been assigned. Instinctively, his hands grasped a long, hard shaft of some sort. Pulling the rod from the pack, Josh saw through his glasses that it was a kendo stick. He didn't know the exact name for it, but guessed that it would be pretty effective if he swung hard enough. Instead of waiting for his demise, and with his eyes still red from crying, Joshua stumbled to his feet. The clothes he wore were now covered in the unknown substance on the ground, and for a few moments he couldn't think. Suddenly, he just... snapped. Everything seemed clear for a moment. His life and salvation relied on one thing: killing. He would kill to survive, and then he would seek salvation. Joshua had always known. Always known so many things. What he didn't know, though, was that the person was ready for him. Without another thought, the brunette became an incoherent savage, dashing blindly through the sewers and creating a multitude of loud splashes of rank water in the underworld.
'Can't I at least try?' he asked himself, 'Don't I deserve to at least attempt to fight?' He didn't expect an answer. After all, who would say anything? It was so hopeless. Whoever was stopping to listen would surely slaughter him. Josh knew. Always. He did. He really always knew that he would die in a way like this. He was punished. His lust. His filthy, perverted lust. Never love. What love was he shown? The only love he had ever known was ripped away when he had to leave his old home. 'David...' He was probably at home right now, watching his ex-boyfriend with a look of disdain on his face. The blonde had said so many things to him when he had called him last month. So many hurtful things that made Joshua cry. Of course he cried. As usual. Tears had sprung forth unlike any other time, and he had wept throughout the night. Love sucked. That's why he did what he did. That's why he was so promiscuous all of the time. Of course, he would be dead soon and in hell like all the rest of the fags. 'Cause that's what he was. He truly was just another fag to add to the collection.
'God. I can't believe I'm going to just die. Should I just let myself get killed? Beg for mercy? Oh my God. It doesn't seem real. It really just doesn't. Why am I going to have to die? So soon... It's too soon! I always knew I'd have to give in one day and accept my eternity in hell, but why can't I just live and then die of old age?'
Joshua just felt oh-so stupid for asking himself the many pointless questions, but he still continued to passionately attack himself for everything. Every little thing was his own fault for making the decisions he had. 'Fag. Bitch. Slut.' He kept it up, going through all of the horrible words he could think of to descrive himself. "Fuck." It seemed natural to let the last word of come out, but he didn't really realize that it would alert the unknown dweller in the passage to his whereabouts once again. Leaning over weakly, the brunette scrambled into the large pack that he had been assigned. Instinctively, his hands grasped a long, hard shaft of some sort. Pulling the rod from the pack, Josh saw through his glasses that it was a kendo stick. He didn't know the exact name for it, but guessed that it would be pretty effective if he swung hard enough. Instead of waiting for his demise, and with his eyes still red from crying, Joshua stumbled to his feet. The clothes he wore were now covered in the unknown substance on the ground, and for a few moments he couldn't think. Suddenly, he just... snapped. Everything seemed clear for a moment. His life and salvation relied on one thing: killing. He would kill to survive, and then he would seek salvation. Joshua had always known. Always known so many things. What he didn't know, though, was that the person was ready for him. Without another thought, the brunette became an incoherent savage, dashing blindly through the sewers and creating a multitude of loud splashes of rank water in the underworld.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler lovebirdjo. 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.
[with permission from Aphrodite to control Joshua]
"Fuck"
Adrian stood, almost motionless, except for the terrified trembling, as this other guy got up from the muck. Suddenly, he began to run at Adrian, splashing up sewage with every stride
I'm going to die, I'm going to die. I'm going to fucking die here in this filthy damned sewer. Adrian took on the full force of this kid's attack, completely useless in terms of trying to think coherently. As his head hit cement, thousands of tiny points of color danced in his vision, making the already dark scene even harder to see. The sun had gone down, or at least down far enough that light no longer leaked into the giant tubes of the sewer. And it was slightly cooler now too, although that could have also been the fact that the boy's clothing was now thoroughly wet.
It's funny what kinds of things go through your head when you think you are about to die. There was a stone, or something else sharp and pointy poking into Adrian's kidney. He was ruining his favorite shirt. One of his shoes felt heavier than the other; it must have soaked up more than the other. This kid who'd tackled him was even more of a wraith than he was himself.
It felt like an eternity lying there with stars clouding his vision, but it could not have been more than a second, judging from the fact that his attacker had not yet even continued his assault. I won't let you kill me! With a wordless shout, Adrian mustered what strength he could and shoved the other buy off of him, got to his feet without even an ounce of grace and waited that half a moment for this other guy to scramble to his feet.
With one end of the leather strap wrapped around one hand, and the other end around the other, Adrian got his arms around the guy's head and pulled back and up, effectively cutting off the airflow to this kid's lungs.
"You thought you would kill me, didn't you?" Adrian avoided a skull to the nose as this big-haired wraith threw back his head, probably trying to avoid the strangulation, but instead only making Adrian's job easier. "You thought you be able to survive that much longer if you took on someone without much of a weapon, am I right?" Fingers and nails scratched and pulled at the hands keeping the strap tightly in place.
Those hands grew weaker in their attempts to save, and the raspy, useless gasps grew raspier and shallower. Assuming the boy for dead already, Adrian let go of one end of the leather and shoved the mostly dead body into a wall, watching it slump just a little too slowly to be fully dead. Adrian walked over to the slumped form. "You were wrong."
"Fuck"
Adrian stood, almost motionless, except for the terrified trembling, as this other guy got up from the muck. Suddenly, he began to run at Adrian, splashing up sewage with every stride
I'm going to die, I'm going to die. I'm going to fucking die here in this filthy damned sewer. Adrian took on the full force of this kid's attack, completely useless in terms of trying to think coherently. As his head hit cement, thousands of tiny points of color danced in his vision, making the already dark scene even harder to see. The sun had gone down, or at least down far enough that light no longer leaked into the giant tubes of the sewer. And it was slightly cooler now too, although that could have also been the fact that the boy's clothing was now thoroughly wet.
It's funny what kinds of things go through your head when you think you are about to die. There was a stone, or something else sharp and pointy poking into Adrian's kidney. He was ruining his favorite shirt. One of his shoes felt heavier than the other; it must have soaked up more than the other. This kid who'd tackled him was even more of a wraith than he was himself.
It felt like an eternity lying there with stars clouding his vision, but it could not have been more than a second, judging from the fact that his attacker had not yet even continued his assault. I won't let you kill me! With a wordless shout, Adrian mustered what strength he could and shoved the other buy off of him, got to his feet without even an ounce of grace and waited that half a moment for this other guy to scramble to his feet.
With one end of the leather strap wrapped around one hand, and the other end around the other, Adrian got his arms around the guy's head and pulled back and up, effectively cutting off the airflow to this kid's lungs.
"You thought you would kill me, didn't you?" Adrian avoided a skull to the nose as this big-haired wraith threw back his head, probably trying to avoid the strangulation, but instead only making Adrian's job easier. "You thought you be able to survive that much longer if you took on someone without much of a weapon, am I right?" Fingers and nails scratched and pulled at the hands keeping the strap tightly in place.
Those hands grew weaker in their attempts to save, and the raspy, useless gasps grew raspier and shallower. Assuming the boy for dead already, Adrian let go of one end of the leather and shoved the mostly dead body into a wall, watching it slump just a little too slowly to be fully dead. Adrian walked over to the slumped form. "You were wrong."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shula. 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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lovebirdjo†
- Posts: 103
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:36 am
[Avec permission from Shula to control Adrian]
There was that moment in Josh's rush of adrenaline when he kind of pondered just what he was going to do when he made contact with the person. It was obvious that his first choice was to kill; just slaughter whoever it was without a thought. Then there was the "Oh! I'm sorry. I was scared!" tactic if the person wanted to be friends. He heard a rather angry "Fuck." being murmured, and with the echo, it broke his concentration and only furthered his frustration. "Slurp! Splash! Slurp! Splash!" His feet made just wonderful alarms for the nearing figure. Quickly approaching the shadowy spectator, the dashing brunette expected a sidestep. Instead of moving, however, the unknown person simply took on the full force of Josh's tackle. Bone met bone as Joshua's elbow collided with the now obviously male figure's sternum. Although he had been running straight, at the last moment, the boy in front of him had turned to the side, causing his head to hit the cement on the wall. Both boys were dazed for a moment, and Josh paused for a moment to take in his prey's appearance. The boy was skinny, but not so much that he rivaled the brunette. Without the sun's glow(for it had gotten dark outside), the spectacled boy struggled with finding much distinction with the boy. There was his hair, an easily distinguishable bleached color. He couldn't see his eyes, but it was apparent that he was a gorgeous boy. Josh regretted attacking him now. In fact, he had started to think about kissing the boy in front of him. The boy had other plans.
The moments that had passed ended and with the curly-haired boy still in his mental reverie, the blond on the wall regained awareness of the situation. There was a brisk shove upward with unforeseen strength and Josh was knocked down to the hard concrete floor, turning the other way and splashing sewage water all over his clothes and into his face. Disgusting. He could barely think, but managed to lift himself up and look behind him to the boy that had just caused his trip to the ground. The blond didn't give the spectacled boy any time to think, however, as he quickly moved forward, throw his arms over Josh's head and pulled back. His hands were fisting around something, and it quickly became apparent that the boy knew what he was doing. Whatever the long thing that was wrapped around the brunette's neck was rapidly cutting off his air supply. Looking frantically down, Joshua found his kendo stick nowhere to be found. He did the rational thing; panicked. No air. Raspy gasps escaped his lips. He barely heard the other boy murmur viciously. "You thought you would kill me, didn't you?" At this, Josh set to shoving his head backward in attempt to knock the boy out. Unfortunately, this only made it worse as the boy pulled ever harder. Spots of darkness were slowly clouding his vision as he heard a slightly louder utterance come from the blond. "You thought you be able to survive that much longer if you took on someone without much of a weapon, am I right?" Shit. He was right. Instead of giving up, though, Josh fought unconsciousness with frantic scratching at the hands at his neck and jerks left and right. Nothing worked. Consciousness lost and gained.
At first Joshua Moore just didn't know if he was alive. He was far too weak to take deep breaths, but when the sounds of heavy breathing not far away hit his ears, it suddenly became very clear to his slumped body that within the next little lapse of time he was going to die. He knew it. The sudden realization hit him. Tears came now as per usual. He had wanted to at least do something meaningful on the island, but it was just useless now. Those sounds, the breaths, were ringing in the underworld like Charon's bell. Hades had sent the dreaded Cerberus after him, and that is how he would die. He had already been attacked by the wraith. Maybe that was his destiny? The brunette was always destined for so much more than death. Right back to his early days he had always been told that he was going places. At the time, they had been lying. Now though, he really was. He was going to meet his doom. Soon he would be in hell. He knew it for sure, but he just couldn't accept such a fate as his own just yet.
Barely conscious, Joshua began to remember his past and all of the things that he had done over the years. There was the time three years ago, back in the sixth grade, that he had been masturbating in his bedroom with a muscleman magazine when his father had walked in and instantly freaked out. There was the result of this happening, in which he had been taken to the resident Pentecoastal church and had an exorcism attempted on him. It had started out with people praying over him, pressing hard hands into his chest and arms. His head hurt from being pushed so hard. He had begun crying early on, and he cried throughout. It had hurt like nothing ever had before. It was a personal hell. The bastards had forced metal crosses into his pale, beautiful skin, cutting into it and overall scarring him traumatically for life. They held him down. He thrashed around all the while, but that just made it worse. The brunette resigned to silently weeping. When it was over, he refused to speak for two weeks. This resulted in Josh's father not feeding him as punishment. So sparked his eating disorder. A punishment, of sorts. Whenever he would do something wrong or "homosexual", a crucifix would come into his mind's eye. He would cringe, and wouldn't eat for a week. Such pain. All for nothing. So many things in his life that he wished would just go away. Tears still flowing. Breathing picking up again.
Next in his string of memories was the wonderful time at the end of the sixth grade when his best friend, David Anderson, had finally seen the cross-like scars on his arms and chest. David had been so angry that he had punched the lockers and fractured his knuckles. Joshua had later kissed David's knuckles, and the blond boy in front of him who had cried for Joshua returned the favor with his lips on the brunette's. It was so odd, but felt wonderfully right. That summer, everything had changed. Josh was suddenly happy again. Unfortunately, he still felt horrible about everything, and the brunette began purging soon during the beginning of the seventh grade. His father found out, however, about his and David's relationship. They had been so careful, but David's ex-girlfriend had informed her mother who promptly told David's parents. Eventually, Josh's father heard, and without even a true explanation, sent him to Denton. David didn't get to see him before he left.
In Denton, everything continued as normal until the call. The call to David's house had taken so long to make. Joshua had been ridiculously nervous. After all, two years was a long time. Finally, it happened. The conversation was one that could've been more vicious. Scathing words were thrown into the brunette's ear from the Alabama-residing boy on the other end. David had been so heart broken by his departure that he had attempted suicide. After his parents found him on the floor with a bottle of pills, the blond was forced by them to go to counseling on his sexuality and mental stability. His whole world had been changed, and eventually, he wound up just portraying himself as a renewed heterosexual. Nothing was the same, but David still loved Josh. New Jersey to Alabama, however, was much too far. David said in that phone call that Joshua would always have his heart and shortly after, hanging on the silence, the blond hung up the phone as well, leaving Joshua on the floor in tears. The boy had cried himself to sleep that night.
This sparked something in Joshua, and the brunette's thoughts turned again onto another flash of memorial remembrance. The night he had lost his virginity. It was less than a perfect experience, but it took his mind off of everything else. The pleasure was amazing, and his partner, a senior boy at Bathurst, had driven him crazy with desire. After it was over, the brunette just felt emptier. It was a craving. So began another part of his life. Addiction had taken over, and soon Josh was having sex with boy after boy. Girls had never really been anything for him, but soon, just for fun, he began to seduce them just for the heck of it. The boy would date them, fuck them, and leave them for another. Simply put, it was all just to feel wanted; desired. He could do no wrong when he was with another person. The drug of lust was in Josh's system, and he loved it. It had been like that ever since, him being drugged with desire and having sex with someone and after eating, puking everything up as punishment. The cycle had officially taken a drastic turn.
Joshua knew that he had a serious problem when he began to see his bones because of his skin being so thin, but he did nothing about it. His mother, however, found out. She was furious at him, but this only furthered it. Disappointment made him want to punish himself all the more. Such a tangled web of self-hate and a need for repentance that he had woven. Everything had taken its toll on him. His mother had told him one thing that day. "I know all about what you do. I want you to know something, though. I love you with all of my heart, but if you don't change... you'll be in hell someday." Nothing was worth it anymore. The only thing that he had was choir. Yes. He did love his music; more than life itself. He would never express it now, though.
The tears were still falling down Joshua's flushed cheeks, but his thoughts were broken by the splashing sounds of the unseen blond boy's feet moving him closer. The brunette's mindset show of memories only lasted for a minute or so, but to the spectacled boy, it felt literally like time had stopped for it. Now though, with the standing blond boy looming over him, Josh opened his eyes. The darkness was still there, as were the dim lights. The cruel look the boy above him was giving him was apparent even in the dark, and silently, Josh said his goodbyes. 'Mom, I'm so sorry. I guess you're right, though. I am going to be in hell. I already feel the heat. Dad, I still love you, and I'm sorry for not being the perfect son you always wanted. David... You will always have my heart. I love you. Goodbye, everyone.' He didn't have any more time to think, however, as the boy above him forcefully pulled bent down and grasped his head. Again time suddenly had slowed down, and Joshua saw everything flash before his eyes once more. 'God... I'm sorry.' was the only thing he had time to form in his mind as the blond boy pulled his head quickly forward. Time became normal again, and with a powerful swing forward, Josh's skull was broken into with a sickening "CRACK!" that echoed in the silence. Again and again the boy forced the brunette's head into the concrete wall; brain matter had long since begun flowing out into the boy's brown curls.
At the first blow to the skull, Josh was gone. No life remained in the body of Joshua Moore. He was now what he had feared the most: alone.
B43 Joshua Moore DECEASED
There was that moment in Josh's rush of adrenaline when he kind of pondered just what he was going to do when he made contact with the person. It was obvious that his first choice was to kill; just slaughter whoever it was without a thought. Then there was the "Oh! I'm sorry. I was scared!" tactic if the person wanted to be friends. He heard a rather angry "Fuck." being murmured, and with the echo, it broke his concentration and only furthered his frustration. "Slurp! Splash! Slurp! Splash!" His feet made just wonderful alarms for the nearing figure. Quickly approaching the shadowy spectator, the dashing brunette expected a sidestep. Instead of moving, however, the unknown person simply took on the full force of Josh's tackle. Bone met bone as Joshua's elbow collided with the now obviously male figure's sternum. Although he had been running straight, at the last moment, the boy in front of him had turned to the side, causing his head to hit the cement on the wall. Both boys were dazed for a moment, and Josh paused for a moment to take in his prey's appearance. The boy was skinny, but not so much that he rivaled the brunette. Without the sun's glow(for it had gotten dark outside), the spectacled boy struggled with finding much distinction with the boy. There was his hair, an easily distinguishable bleached color. He couldn't see his eyes, but it was apparent that he was a gorgeous boy. Josh regretted attacking him now. In fact, he had started to think about kissing the boy in front of him. The boy had other plans.
The moments that had passed ended and with the curly-haired boy still in his mental reverie, the blond on the wall regained awareness of the situation. There was a brisk shove upward with unforeseen strength and Josh was knocked down to the hard concrete floor, turning the other way and splashing sewage water all over his clothes and into his face. Disgusting. He could barely think, but managed to lift himself up and look behind him to the boy that had just caused his trip to the ground. The blond didn't give the spectacled boy any time to think, however, as he quickly moved forward, throw his arms over Josh's head and pulled back. His hands were fisting around something, and it quickly became apparent that the boy knew what he was doing. Whatever the long thing that was wrapped around the brunette's neck was rapidly cutting off his air supply. Looking frantically down, Joshua found his kendo stick nowhere to be found. He did the rational thing; panicked. No air. Raspy gasps escaped his lips. He barely heard the other boy murmur viciously. "You thought you would kill me, didn't you?" At this, Josh set to shoving his head backward in attempt to knock the boy out. Unfortunately, this only made it worse as the boy pulled ever harder. Spots of darkness were slowly clouding his vision as he heard a slightly louder utterance come from the blond. "You thought you be able to survive that much longer if you took on someone without much of a weapon, am I right?" Shit. He was right. Instead of giving up, though, Josh fought unconsciousness with frantic scratching at the hands at his neck and jerks left and right. Nothing worked. Consciousness lost and gained.
At first Joshua Moore just didn't know if he was alive. He was far too weak to take deep breaths, but when the sounds of heavy breathing not far away hit his ears, it suddenly became very clear to his slumped body that within the next little lapse of time he was going to die. He knew it. The sudden realization hit him. Tears came now as per usual. He had wanted to at least do something meaningful on the island, but it was just useless now. Those sounds, the breaths, were ringing in the underworld like Charon's bell. Hades had sent the dreaded Cerberus after him, and that is how he would die. He had already been attacked by the wraith. Maybe that was his destiny? The brunette was always destined for so much more than death. Right back to his early days he had always been told that he was going places. At the time, they had been lying. Now though, he really was. He was going to meet his doom. Soon he would be in hell. He knew it for sure, but he just couldn't accept such a fate as his own just yet.
Barely conscious, Joshua began to remember his past and all of the things that he had done over the years. There was the time three years ago, back in the sixth grade, that he had been masturbating in his bedroom with a muscleman magazine when his father had walked in and instantly freaked out. There was the result of this happening, in which he had been taken to the resident Pentecoastal church and had an exorcism attempted on him. It had started out with people praying over him, pressing hard hands into his chest and arms. His head hurt from being pushed so hard. He had begun crying early on, and he cried throughout. It had hurt like nothing ever had before. It was a personal hell. The bastards had forced metal crosses into his pale, beautiful skin, cutting into it and overall scarring him traumatically for life. They held him down. He thrashed around all the while, but that just made it worse. The brunette resigned to silently weeping. When it was over, he refused to speak for two weeks. This resulted in Josh's father not feeding him as punishment. So sparked his eating disorder. A punishment, of sorts. Whenever he would do something wrong or "homosexual", a crucifix would come into his mind's eye. He would cringe, and wouldn't eat for a week. Such pain. All for nothing. So many things in his life that he wished would just go away. Tears still flowing. Breathing picking up again.
Next in his string of memories was the wonderful time at the end of the sixth grade when his best friend, David Anderson, had finally seen the cross-like scars on his arms and chest. David had been so angry that he had punched the lockers and fractured his knuckles. Joshua had later kissed David's knuckles, and the blond boy in front of him who had cried for Joshua returned the favor with his lips on the brunette's. It was so odd, but felt wonderfully right. That summer, everything had changed. Josh was suddenly happy again. Unfortunately, he still felt horrible about everything, and the brunette began purging soon during the beginning of the seventh grade. His father found out, however, about his and David's relationship. They had been so careful, but David's ex-girlfriend had informed her mother who promptly told David's parents. Eventually, Josh's father heard, and without even a true explanation, sent him to Denton. David didn't get to see him before he left.
In Denton, everything continued as normal until the call. The call to David's house had taken so long to make. Joshua had been ridiculously nervous. After all, two years was a long time. Finally, it happened. The conversation was one that could've been more vicious. Scathing words were thrown into the brunette's ear from the Alabama-residing boy on the other end. David had been so heart broken by his departure that he had attempted suicide. After his parents found him on the floor with a bottle of pills, the blond was forced by them to go to counseling on his sexuality and mental stability. His whole world had been changed, and eventually, he wound up just portraying himself as a renewed heterosexual. Nothing was the same, but David still loved Josh. New Jersey to Alabama, however, was much too far. David said in that phone call that Joshua would always have his heart and shortly after, hanging on the silence, the blond hung up the phone as well, leaving Joshua on the floor in tears. The boy had cried himself to sleep that night.
This sparked something in Joshua, and the brunette's thoughts turned again onto another flash of memorial remembrance. The night he had lost his virginity. It was less than a perfect experience, but it took his mind off of everything else. The pleasure was amazing, and his partner, a senior boy at Bathurst, had driven him crazy with desire. After it was over, the brunette just felt emptier. It was a craving. So began another part of his life. Addiction had taken over, and soon Josh was having sex with boy after boy. Girls had never really been anything for him, but soon, just for fun, he began to seduce them just for the heck of it. The boy would date them, fuck them, and leave them for another. Simply put, it was all just to feel wanted; desired. He could do no wrong when he was with another person. The drug of lust was in Josh's system, and he loved it. It had been like that ever since, him being drugged with desire and having sex with someone and after eating, puking everything up as punishment. The cycle had officially taken a drastic turn.
Joshua knew that he had a serious problem when he began to see his bones because of his skin being so thin, but he did nothing about it. His mother, however, found out. She was furious at him, but this only furthered it. Disappointment made him want to punish himself all the more. Such a tangled web of self-hate and a need for repentance that he had woven. Everything had taken its toll on him. His mother had told him one thing that day. "I know all about what you do. I want you to know something, though. I love you with all of my heart, but if you don't change... you'll be in hell someday." Nothing was worth it anymore. The only thing that he had was choir. Yes. He did love his music; more than life itself. He would never express it now, though.
The tears were still falling down Joshua's flushed cheeks, but his thoughts were broken by the splashing sounds of the unseen blond boy's feet moving him closer. The brunette's mindset show of memories only lasted for a minute or so, but to the spectacled boy, it felt literally like time had stopped for it. Now though, with the standing blond boy looming over him, Josh opened his eyes. The darkness was still there, as were the dim lights. The cruel look the boy above him was giving him was apparent even in the dark, and silently, Josh said his goodbyes. 'Mom, I'm so sorry. I guess you're right, though. I am going to be in hell. I already feel the heat. Dad, I still love you, and I'm sorry for not being the perfect son you always wanted. David... You will always have my heart. I love you. Goodbye, everyone.' He didn't have any more time to think, however, as the boy above him forcefully pulled bent down and grasped his head. Again time suddenly had slowed down, and Joshua saw everything flash before his eyes once more. 'God... I'm sorry.' was the only thing he had time to form in his mind as the blond boy pulled his head quickly forward. Time became normal again, and with a powerful swing forward, Josh's skull was broken into with a sickening "CRACK!" that echoed in the silence. Again and again the boy forced the brunette's head into the concrete wall; brain matter had long since begun flowing out into the boy's brown curls.
At the first blow to the skull, Josh was gone. No life remained in the body of Joshua Moore. He was now what he had feared the most: alone.
B43 Joshua Moore DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler lovebirdjo. 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.
Tired. More than terrified, more than panicked, more than anything, Adrian felt tired. He wondered if he should care more that he had, in fact, just killed a human being. But then again, wasn't that what this whole deal was about, killing your peers? That was too much to think about now. The adrenaline rush from the fight had worn off, and a sick looking glow was filling the sewer. He must have been awake all night—awake killing. He slumped back against the sewer wall, not really caring what he sat in, only that sitting was easier than standing.
Adrian looked at the now white, but stained body across the stream. It had twisted up on itself into a cramped looking fetal position a while ago, and was now relaxing. For a moment, the still live boy wondered who this kid was. Was he a geek? Possibly. A jock? Not likely, judging from the skin-and-bones look. What kind of family did he have? Did it really matter?
No.
The platinum blond stood up and rolled the body over with his foot. He could have sworn he'd seen this guy carrying something before. Anything, anything would be better than this strip of leather, not that he was planning to get rid of it of course. Nothing. Of course, what else should he have expected?
Suddenly hit with the oh so brilliant idea to look along the path from which the boy had come, Adrian soon came upon a few bags. One was filled with a useless bunch of books, one with paper, and one with clothing. That, at least, might be useful, especially coming from down here. Everything of his was ruined by now anyway. Oh gods, everything. My sketch pad! In a near frantic scramble the boy made his way back to his own bag, not quite fully above the filth. With a sigh of relief worthy of a bad romance film, the blond took hold of the drawing pad. The bottom edges of the paper were a little soggy, but nothing was completely gone, at least.
Almost too exhausted to go back to those other bags, Adrian shoved his sketch pad and pencils into the other guy's bag. It, at least, had been sitting on top of the other bags. Moving toward a ladder, he kicked something. He looked down to see that it was a stick, or more precisely, four bound sticks with a handle. "Well that just fits the mold perfectly." Adrian spat at the ground but picked up the thing anyway.
Climbing up the ladder, the boy struggled to lift the cover, but eventually managed out of necessity if not actual strength. Early morning sun overwhelmed his eyes as breathable air filled his lungs. Without so much as checking to see if anyone else was around, he tiredly stripped down and changed into the clothes of some random kid who wouldn't be needing them anymore. They fit oddly. He hadn't thought of that. It wasn't that the things were small, or even large, they were just...odd. he really should have just left the old clothes were they were, but you know, even on a deserted island doomed for death, especially on a deserted island doomed for death, keeping something of yourself is easier said than done. And if Adrian had learned anything in his years at school, it was that nothing defined him so much as his clothing did.
((Continued in I'm Alive))
Adrian looked at the now white, but stained body across the stream. It had twisted up on itself into a cramped looking fetal position a while ago, and was now relaxing. For a moment, the still live boy wondered who this kid was. Was he a geek? Possibly. A jock? Not likely, judging from the skin-and-bones look. What kind of family did he have? Did it really matter?
No.
The platinum blond stood up and rolled the body over with his foot. He could have sworn he'd seen this guy carrying something before. Anything, anything would be better than this strip of leather, not that he was planning to get rid of it of course. Nothing. Of course, what else should he have expected?
Suddenly hit with the oh so brilliant idea to look along the path from which the boy had come, Adrian soon came upon a few bags. One was filled with a useless bunch of books, one with paper, and one with clothing. That, at least, might be useful, especially coming from down here. Everything of his was ruined by now anyway. Oh gods, everything. My sketch pad! In a near frantic scramble the boy made his way back to his own bag, not quite fully above the filth. With a sigh of relief worthy of a bad romance film, the blond took hold of the drawing pad. The bottom edges of the paper were a little soggy, but nothing was completely gone, at least.
Almost too exhausted to go back to those other bags, Adrian shoved his sketch pad and pencils into the other guy's bag. It, at least, had been sitting on top of the other bags. Moving toward a ladder, he kicked something. He looked down to see that it was a stick, or more precisely, four bound sticks with a handle. "Well that just fits the mold perfectly." Adrian spat at the ground but picked up the thing anyway.
Climbing up the ladder, the boy struggled to lift the cover, but eventually managed out of necessity if not actual strength. Early morning sun overwhelmed his eyes as breathable air filled his lungs. Without so much as checking to see if anyone else was around, he tiredly stripped down and changed into the clothes of some random kid who wouldn't be needing them anymore. They fit oddly. He hadn't thought of that. It wasn't that the things were small, or even large, they were just...odd. he really should have just left the old clothes were they were, but you know, even on a deserted island doomed for death, especially on a deserted island doomed for death, keeping something of yourself is easier said than done. And if Adrian had learned anything in his years at school, it was that nothing defined him so much as his clothing did.
((Continued in I'm Alive))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shula. 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.