((Wyatt Carter, start))
In all directions on the island, kids were waking up, just on time, all as expected. For many of the students of GHHS, this would be the last morning they would ever experience. Even many more would be restricted to a painfully few remaining days before being cut down or blown up or whatever fate had in store for them.
In the gardens outside the largest building on the island, things were peaceful, at least for the moment. This largely owed to the fact that the garden's sole occupant, Wyatt Carter, lay in the overgrown grass, snoozing with his arms and legs splayed wide. Anesthetics were a tricky beast, after all, and being the proud owner of possibly the most... substantial body of GHHS's student body meant drugs had to be applied differently. The last thing he remembered was sitting with his classmates, looking through the dark for the faces he recognized, before the gas struck. Sleep came slow, then it came deeply.
Mercifully, Wyatt did not dream about the death of a teacher or the impending death of his classmates, nor his own which hadn't even sunk in as a possibility. Instead, he dreamed of parties, half-naked ladies and the good times he'd have over the summer with no responsibilities, a goofy grin etched in his face, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth, and a tent pitched in his pants.
Time to Play the Game
B002 Start
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
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"Get the fuck up."
And with one swift kick to the groin, the beast was woken.
((B046 - Bret Carter: Game Start))
And with one swift kick to the groin, the beast was woken.
((B046 - Bret Carter: Game Start))
V8
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
Aracelis Fuentes
California “Cali” Fox
Darryl Smith Jr.
Jessica Romero
Roberta “Robbie” Woodvine
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
The woman in Wyatt's dreams, a heavyset black lady with one of those room-filling badonkadonks and with tits so big her skimpy top couldn't even hold them in all the way, was getting really handsy with his junk. Like, 'clench your fist so hard you can juice an orange' grabby. There was a bit of pain to it, but in a sense, it actually felt kind of good- no, now it was a lot of pain. Holy shit that was a lot of pain! And his gut, his gut felt like it was ready to shoot out his stomach, like the time he got a linebacker's knee-
"WAUGH!"
Wyatt sat up, clutching his chest and wheezing. The memories of reality, both the bus and that dark auditorium, all came flooding back, but they had to take a back seat to the crushing pain in his lower stomach and between his legs. No sooner than he sat up, he'd already collapsed onto his side, gasping for air. The eye closer to the sky clamped shut in the face of the bright sun, but his other eye looked past flatted blades of grass at the man standing over him. Looked kinda like him, 'cept not as rugged and with a stupid hipster beard.
Awwww fuck, of course it was him.
"What was that for!?" Wyatt croaked, scrambling to get onto his knees.
"WAUGH!"
Wyatt sat up, clutching his chest and wheezing. The memories of reality, both the bus and that dark auditorium, all came flooding back, but they had to take a back seat to the crushing pain in his lower stomach and between his legs. No sooner than he sat up, he'd already collapsed onto his side, gasping for air. The eye closer to the sky clamped shut in the face of the bright sun, but his other eye looked past flatted blades of grass at the man standing over him. Looked kinda like him, 'cept not as rugged and with a stupid hipster beard.
Awwww fuck, of course it was him.
"What was that for!?" Wyatt croaked, scrambling to get onto his knees.
"You know why."
Bret said as he moved off to the side and opened up his brothers' bag. He grunted as he didn't find anything worthwhile but that was diminished when his eyes settled on whatever it was that was laid down in the grass nearby. He picked up the implement and turned it over in his hand, looking at it from a few different angles. It was good enough and would do the job they needed.
After he was done he turned and dropped it by his brother.
"That's yours."
He didn't have much else to do. He had woken up and been angry. He was still angry, but he had been angry ever since prom. But now it didn't seem as important. The reason for his changed perspective was obvious. How he planned to act on it was something he hadn't quite figured out. There had been a chance that he had let pass. He'd get another, he was sure.
"You're lucky I found you. Someone else probably would have taken advantage."
Bret said as he moved off to the side and opened up his brothers' bag. He grunted as he didn't find anything worthwhile but that was diminished when his eyes settled on whatever it was that was laid down in the grass nearby. He picked up the implement and turned it over in his hand, looking at it from a few different angles. It was good enough and would do the job they needed.
After he was done he turned and dropped it by his brother.
"That's yours."
He didn't have much else to do. He had woken up and been angry. He was still angry, but he had been angry ever since prom. But now it didn't seem as important. The reason for his changed perspective was obvious. How he planned to act on it was something he hadn't quite figured out. There had been a chance that he had let pass. He'd get another, he was sure.
"You're lucky I found you. Someone else probably would have taken advantage."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
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"Man, fuck you too!" Wyatt said, wiping his chin. His gut hurt, and experience told him it was gonna hurt for a long while. And what was with that smarmy-ass response? Why could Bret never just answer a simple question cleanly?
He thought a moment.
Right.
"Yeah, I guess I deserved that, actually..." Wyatt sheepishly admitted, "but what, we gonna fight now? Here?" He looked at the bizarre weapon Bret had dropped into the weeds right next to him. At least, he thought it was a weapon. Upon picking it up and giving it a once over- yeah, it was definitely a weapon, and a gnarly-looking one at that. If he didn't know better, Wyatt would have said it was like some kind of native saw, at least at first glance. If he reckoned to be perfectly accurate, it was more like a paddle, with what looked to be sharp animal teeth set into the edges. Not the cleanest-looking thing to swing around, but he knew he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end. He spun it loosely in his grip like the world's most dangerous tennis racket and looked back up at Bret questioningly.
He thought a moment.
Right.
"Yeah, I guess I deserved that, actually..." Wyatt sheepishly admitted, "but what, we gonna fight now? Here?" He looked at the bizarre weapon Bret had dropped into the weeds right next to him. At least, he thought it was a weapon. Upon picking it up and giving it a once over- yeah, it was definitely a weapon, and a gnarly-looking one at that. If he didn't know better, Wyatt would have said it was like some kind of native saw, at least at first glance. If he reckoned to be perfectly accurate, it was more like a paddle, with what looked to be sharp animal teeth set into the edges. Not the cleanest-looking thing to swing around, but he knew he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end. He spun it loosely in his grip like the world's most dangerous tennis racket and looked back up at Bret questioningly.
Bret shook his head.
"No, I don't want to fight you."
That had never been on the cards. The kick had just been because he could. Wyatt was still owed for what he had done and that was part of his payment. A fight between them would have helped them both get any residual anger out of their system, but in the long run, it would have only caused them problems. Plus, they were family and family mattered more than ever now. Bret took a few steps back from Wyatt and picked up his packs. He threw a black one, labeled property of SOTF over by Wyatt's bags and dug his hand into his other one.
When he withdrew it, his hand held about three energy bars.
"They expect us to survive off these, some crackers, bread, and water." Bret shook his head in disgust as he put the energy bars back into his bag. "Let's be realistic, it's not going to be enough. But," Bret dug his hand into his bag again. When he withdrew it for the second time, a net was held in his grasp, on the ends of it were weights. It looked like something you saw whenever ancient Roman gladiators were brought up. Bret held it up so that its purpose was clear for his brother to see. He had a plan, he'd spent his time awake thinking of one. Luckily enough for him, he had stumbled across two of the things he needed for it. He was glad for that.
"I think that with whatever you have," Bret nodded at the sword like thing Wyatt held. "And this, we can make sure we have enough."
"No, I don't want to fight you."
That had never been on the cards. The kick had just been because he could. Wyatt was still owed for what he had done and that was part of his payment. A fight between them would have helped them both get any residual anger out of their system, but in the long run, it would have only caused them problems. Plus, they were family and family mattered more than ever now. Bret took a few steps back from Wyatt and picked up his packs. He threw a black one, labeled property of SOTF over by Wyatt's bags and dug his hand into his other one.
When he withdrew it, his hand held about three energy bars.
"They expect us to survive off these, some crackers, bread, and water." Bret shook his head in disgust as he put the energy bars back into his bag. "Let's be realistic, it's not going to be enough. But," Bret dug his hand into his bag again. When he withdrew it for the second time, a net was held in his grasp, on the ends of it were weights. It looked like something you saw whenever ancient Roman gladiators were brought up. Bret held it up so that its purpose was clear for his brother to see. He had a plan, he'd spent his time awake thinking of one. Luckily enough for him, he had stumbled across two of the things he needed for it. He was glad for that.
"I think that with whatever you have," Bret nodded at the sword like thing Wyatt held. "And this, we can make sure we have enough."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
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Wyatt was relieved to hear Bret's answer. Whatever happy juice their kidnappers gave him was still rocking his system something fierce. He was able to shake it off little by little and wrest himself awake, but the more he did so, the more clearly he could remember just what situation they'd gotten themselves into.
Wyatt put his hand up to the band of metal around his throat. Just like Bret's, it seemed to be just a bit too snug for his liking, and he was conscious of it whenever he swallowed, even if he just swallowed spit. This was the bite-size chunk of information he decided to process, and was in the midst of continuing to sort through when his twin showed off their meager rations.
"Aww hell," Wyatt uttered when he put it all together. He nodded in agreement and, straining from the pain that still made it hard to move or use his gut at all, grabbed at the bags nearby. One was marked with a number... 'B002', it read. Wyatt clicked his tongue in silent wonderment of who number 001 must have been. So close, yet so far, for a little joy he could have had in this. When he opened that bag, the one Bret had already gone rummaging through, he found some other supplies that might come in handly, along with the bread, crackers and water that Bret mentioned. He also found the energy bars, making a face. "Maybe if we had like, 30 of these, that'd last us a few days. Other than that it's all carbs, there's no fucking protein, what the fuck?"
With a frown, he opened up the other bag. Some of his personal effects, it looked like. He'd have to sort it out later. Closing both bags, he rose the rest of the way to his feet and unwrapped the one bar he'd left out.
"Alright. So the plan is," Wyatt said before taking a bite. He chewed and tucked the bits to one cheek. "Cut our way through everybody else and take their shit. Right?"
Wyatt put his hand up to the band of metal around his throat. Just like Bret's, it seemed to be just a bit too snug for his liking, and he was conscious of it whenever he swallowed, even if he just swallowed spit. This was the bite-size chunk of information he decided to process, and was in the midst of continuing to sort through when his twin showed off their meager rations.
"Aww hell," Wyatt uttered when he put it all together. He nodded in agreement and, straining from the pain that still made it hard to move or use his gut at all, grabbed at the bags nearby. One was marked with a number... 'B002', it read. Wyatt clicked his tongue in silent wonderment of who number 001 must have been. So close, yet so far, for a little joy he could have had in this. When he opened that bag, the one Bret had already gone rummaging through, he found some other supplies that might come in handly, along with the bread, crackers and water that Bret mentioned. He also found the energy bars, making a face. "Maybe if we had like, 30 of these, that'd last us a few days. Other than that it's all carbs, there's no fucking protein, what the fuck?"
With a frown, he opened up the other bag. Some of his personal effects, it looked like. He'd have to sort it out later. Closing both bags, he rose the rest of the way to his feet and unwrapped the one bar he'd left out.
"Alright. So the plan is," Wyatt said before taking a bite. He chewed and tucked the bits to one cheek. "Cut our way through everybody else and take their shit. Right?"
Bret nodded. "Of a fashion."
He knew his brother wouldn't have argued the extent of the plan. He also knew Wyatt would have put his intentions together quick;y enough. That was good. The more time they wasted the more people could shake off the effects of whatever anesthetic they had been given and take stock of the situation. There was a window they had where no one was expecting much to go wrong. They'd be groggy, and unprepared. It was the perfect time to make a move.
Bret hadn't calculated just how much food they were going to need. But he knew it would be a fair amount, both he and his brother were on specialized diets. They required the correct amount of nutrition to keep their bodies running. A good comparison was a classic car versus your everyday regular people mover. They had different needs. You couldn't just put anything into your classic car, otherwise, you'd ruin it. You needed to treat it right. Giving them a handful of energy bars and then a few other random bits. It wasn't good enough.
There was one part of what Wyatt said that Bret didn't agree with, or at least the implication. He needed to clear it up.
"We only need to rob them."
He knew his brother wouldn't have argued the extent of the plan. He also knew Wyatt would have put his intentions together quick;y enough. That was good. The more time they wasted the more people could shake off the effects of whatever anesthetic they had been given and take stock of the situation. There was a window they had where no one was expecting much to go wrong. They'd be groggy, and unprepared. It was the perfect time to make a move.
Bret hadn't calculated just how much food they were going to need. But he knew it would be a fair amount, both he and his brother were on specialized diets. They required the correct amount of nutrition to keep their bodies running. A good comparison was a classic car versus your everyday regular people mover. They had different needs. You couldn't just put anything into your classic car, otherwise, you'd ruin it. You needed to treat it right. Giving them a handful of energy bars and then a few other random bits. It wasn't good enough.
There was one part of what Wyatt said that Bret didn't agree with, or at least the implication. He needed to clear it up.
"We only need to rob them."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Wyatt slung the larger daypack over his shoulder and looked back to Bred incredulously.
"Why stop there?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "You heard those guys. Everybody here's gonna kill each other until there's only one left." There was more going through his mind, but it was all too much to take in now. Wyatt needed to focus on a little bit at a time. He'd just woken up, after all, nobody wants to take a big test right after waking up. This fiasco that they'd gotten sucked into was like the mother of all finals. Right now, the thoughts Wyatt took and held most dear were that he wanted to die, and... the guy could be a prick, but he didn't want Bret to die. Bret lives, he lives. His first two priorities.
Ignore the fact that only one of them is getting off this rock. Keep ignoring. Keep suppressing.
"If we kill them, that's one less person to get on our asses later, right?" Wyatt tried to make his case to Bret, knowing that there had to be a reason to what his brother had said.
Just fuck all if he could figure out what it was, yet.
"Why stop there?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "You heard those guys. Everybody here's gonna kill each other until there's only one left." There was more going through his mind, but it was all too much to take in now. Wyatt needed to focus on a little bit at a time. He'd just woken up, after all, nobody wants to take a big test right after waking up. This fiasco that they'd gotten sucked into was like the mother of all finals. Right now, the thoughts Wyatt took and held most dear were that he wanted to die, and... the guy could be a prick, but he didn't want Bret to die. Bret lives, he lives. His first two priorities.
Ignore the fact that only one of them is getting off this rock. Keep ignoring. Keep suppressing.
"If we kill them, that's one less person to get on our asses later, right?" Wyatt tried to make his case to Bret, knowing that there had to be a reason to what his brother had said.
Just fuck all if he could figure out what it was, yet.
Bret shook his head.
"We can't do that." He gave Wyatt the benefit of the doubt. Whatever the terrorists had used to knock them out had clearly done a number on him. Plus, he had also kicked his younger brother between the legs as a wake-up call. He could forgive him forgetting some details of what they were told. There was no harm in that.
"They announce who died and who killed them every day," Bret said as he crouched down to pack the net away in his bag. "We already have targets on our backs. The last thing we need is to give people a reason to shoot at them." Bret was being realistic with what he said. He knew about the rep he and Wyatt possessed at George Hunter High, and it wasn't a positive one. They had gotten on the bad side of a lot of people. Some of them had been inconsequential, some of them had been asking to be set straight but regardless of the reason, there was bound to be more than one person thinking they had the perfect chance to get some payback on them for any perceived slight or issue. Grudges ran deep at George Hunter.
He was also realistic in that while he knew that between the two of them no one stood much of a chance, they had no need to waste their time. It wouldn't take long until some socially ostracised kid decided they had the perfect opportunity to settle some scores. That or a fatal misunderstanding would take place and once that dam burst there would be no stopping it.
So no, despite what Wyatt had said, they had no reason to do something that everyone else was more than likely going to end up doing for them.
"We can't do that." He gave Wyatt the benefit of the doubt. Whatever the terrorists had used to knock them out had clearly done a number on him. Plus, he had also kicked his younger brother between the legs as a wake-up call. He could forgive him forgetting some details of what they were told. There was no harm in that.
"They announce who died and who killed them every day," Bret said as he crouched down to pack the net away in his bag. "We already have targets on our backs. The last thing we need is to give people a reason to shoot at them." Bret was being realistic with what he said. He knew about the rep he and Wyatt possessed at George Hunter High, and it wasn't a positive one. They had gotten on the bad side of a lot of people. Some of them had been inconsequential, some of them had been asking to be set straight but regardless of the reason, there was bound to be more than one person thinking they had the perfect chance to get some payback on them for any perceived slight or issue. Grudges ran deep at George Hunter.
He was also realistic in that while he knew that between the two of them no one stood much of a chance, they had no need to waste their time. It wouldn't take long until some socially ostracised kid decided they had the perfect opportunity to settle some scores. That or a fatal misunderstanding would take place and once that dam burst there would be no stopping it.
So no, despite what Wyatt had said, they had no reason to do something that everyone else was more than likely going to end up doing for them.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"... Fuck."
Wyatt heaved a sigh.
"You're right. Like usual, you little dickhead."
The larger of the brothers laughed and scratched at his head. He would need a haircut in a few days. No chance of getting one here, though. That was going to be a little annoying, but nothing that couldn't be put off until their little stint on adventure island was over and done with. "I can think of fifty slimy little cunts who would want to get one up on the Carters. And why not? We're the kings of the school." He flashed a proud smile, though it faded as irritation became plain on his face.
"Fine. We won't kill people, just so we can fly low. I gotcha, it's like, not a bad plan." Wyatt held his chin in exaggerated thought. "So we just bust 'em up reaaaaal bad so they can't come after us once we nick their shit?"
Wyatt heaved a sigh.
"You're right. Like usual, you little dickhead."
The larger of the brothers laughed and scratched at his head. He would need a haircut in a few days. No chance of getting one here, though. That was going to be a little annoying, but nothing that couldn't be put off until their little stint on adventure island was over and done with. "I can think of fifty slimy little cunts who would want to get one up on the Carters. And why not? We're the kings of the school." He flashed a proud smile, though it faded as irritation became plain on his face.
"Fine. We won't kill people, just so we can fly low. I gotcha, it's like, not a bad plan." Wyatt held his chin in exaggerated thought. "So we just bust 'em up reaaaaal bad so they can't come after us once we nick their shit?"
"Whatever you feel like," Bret said with a shrug. "As long as we get their supplies."
It was all decided then. They had a plan of action. Realistically, as long as they were careful and planned well it would be hard for anyone to stop them committing a robbery. They were both big and one of them was well-armed. Bret himself didn't possess a weapon the caliber of his twin did but he had the net. Between both weapons and their overwhelming physical advantages, anyone without a gun was going to struggle to stop them.
There were some aspects of the plan Bret wasn't sure about, but those concerns were for later. For now, everything was how they needed it. As long as Wyatt was feeling up to it, they would be able to move.
"Alright, are you feeling ready to go?"
It was all decided then. They had a plan of action. Realistically, as long as they were careful and planned well it would be hard for anyone to stop them committing a robbery. They were both big and one of them was well-armed. Bret himself didn't possess a weapon the caliber of his twin did but he had the net. Between both weapons and their overwhelming physical advantages, anyone without a gun was going to struggle to stop them.
There were some aspects of the plan Bret wasn't sure about, but those concerns were for later. For now, everything was how they needed it. As long as Wyatt was feeling up to it, they would be able to move.
"Alright, are you feeling ready to go?"
While his mental state had settled into a numb fugue after screaming every other emotion out of himself, Morgan Dragosavich was starting to feel numbness in another area - his feet. He'd completely lost track of how long he'd been walking for, though it had to have been an hour, maybe two. He was completely alone, save for his thoughts.
They were no picnic, either.
((Morgan Dragosavich continued from Put Your Head On Straight and (Get Up, Get On, Get Out, Get Up) Fly Away, Little Birdie))
As he wandered towards what looked like a lush garden area affixed to a large manor house, Morgan felt incredibly conflicted. A part of him wanted to find someone friendly, someone to talk to, someone to offer some sort of comfort. The flip side was that it was a roll of dice as to whether or not anyone was still running on the same gameplan that they had when he'd known them in school. This was Survival of the Fittest. People changed dramatically the longer they lasted. Watching your friends die, or turn feral and start murdering your other friends was a reality that didn't add up in any equation Morgan could even fathom. How could someone wake up and decide it was time to kill their best friend?
He knew he would never forgive himself if things ever came down to that, justified or not; bringing another more awful realization to mind. If he didn't find some way to escape, Morgan Dragosavich was going to die here. The evil men had said it themselves - if you didn't kill at least someone, they'd put you back in. What kind of an awful fate would that be to suffer through? To be the last surviving member of George Hunter High School's class of 2018, and then have to wait another few years until these monsters kidnapped another class from another school?
Morgan shivered; a breeze picked up, or was it someone walking overtop of his grave?
If nothing else, the time alone had allowed him to pull his brain together into some semblance of operation. His hands had stopped shaking once he'd gotten out of the woods, and even though his heart was still racing, he felt like he might actually be able to form full words now instead of mindlessly screaming like something out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The visage of Donald Sutherland raising his hand and making an awful sound had always freaked him out as a kid; his father always laughing when Morgan would hide behind the couch. It seemed odd to be scared of something so trivial. It was a movie. When it was done, Donald Sutherland probably laughed, smiled, and went to his trailer. Or smoked a cigarette. Or did cocaine - the 1970s and the 1980s were a wild time, long before he was ever born, but he'd read stories on the Internet.
Donald Sutherland never had to deal with Survival of the Fittest. That was a thing to be scared of.
Stepping around the corner into the interior of the garden, Morgan couldn't help but start thinking about other movies he'd seen Mr. Sutherland in. A Time to Kill had been good, and he'd been in that Animal House movie that his mother had insisted was a comedy classic. To be honest, he hadn't found it funny, but he'd told her otherwise. Maybe it was just a sign of the times. Lizzie would probably have a good idea of why it was funny. Comedy was her thing, she-
Morgan froze as fear reached out of the ground and threw a knockout blow directly to his cerebral cortex. Standing across the way were the literal last two people that Morgan ever wanted to see in a situation like this one. Immediately he was assailed by a multitude of memories; jokes and remarks at Wyatt's expense.
"If Wyatt Carter isn't working in a car-wash by the time he's twenty-five, I'll eat a hat."
"It still amazes me that people actually want to spent time with a walking bald right-wing sausage person."
Which meant that Wyatt Carter would probably eat him. Or at least use him as a tackling dummy, which - yeah, no thanks.
His hands started to shake. Morgan had gone and willed it into existence. He'd tempted fate one too many times, he'd cracked wise to too many people over the last few months, and fate had turned around and smote him. His deliverance was at hand, and it came in the form of the only bald, right-winged sausage person that he was genuinely afraid of.
And his brother.
"Erk!"
Eyes wide, Morgan was frozen in place, feeling an awful lot like a deer in the headlights of a sausage wagon. He tried to say something, to react, to maybe try the friendly approach, but all that came out was a pained squeak. He was totally paralyzed by fear.
At least, one way or another, he wasn't going to have to eat that hat.
They were no picnic, either.
((Morgan Dragosavich continued from Put Your Head On Straight and (Get Up, Get On, Get Out, Get Up) Fly Away, Little Birdie))
As he wandered towards what looked like a lush garden area affixed to a large manor house, Morgan felt incredibly conflicted. A part of him wanted to find someone friendly, someone to talk to, someone to offer some sort of comfort. The flip side was that it was a roll of dice as to whether or not anyone was still running on the same gameplan that they had when he'd known them in school. This was Survival of the Fittest. People changed dramatically the longer they lasted. Watching your friends die, or turn feral and start murdering your other friends was a reality that didn't add up in any equation Morgan could even fathom. How could someone wake up and decide it was time to kill their best friend?
He knew he would never forgive himself if things ever came down to that, justified or not; bringing another more awful realization to mind. If he didn't find some way to escape, Morgan Dragosavich was going to die here. The evil men had said it themselves - if you didn't kill at least someone, they'd put you back in. What kind of an awful fate would that be to suffer through? To be the last surviving member of George Hunter High School's class of 2018, and then have to wait another few years until these monsters kidnapped another class from another school?
Morgan shivered; a breeze picked up, or was it someone walking overtop of his grave?
If nothing else, the time alone had allowed him to pull his brain together into some semblance of operation. His hands had stopped shaking once he'd gotten out of the woods, and even though his heart was still racing, he felt like he might actually be able to form full words now instead of mindlessly screaming like something out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The visage of Donald Sutherland raising his hand and making an awful sound had always freaked him out as a kid; his father always laughing when Morgan would hide behind the couch. It seemed odd to be scared of something so trivial. It was a movie. When it was done, Donald Sutherland probably laughed, smiled, and went to his trailer. Or smoked a cigarette. Or did cocaine - the 1970s and the 1980s were a wild time, long before he was ever born, but he'd read stories on the Internet.
Donald Sutherland never had to deal with Survival of the Fittest. That was a thing to be scared of.
Stepping around the corner into the interior of the garden, Morgan couldn't help but start thinking about other movies he'd seen Mr. Sutherland in. A Time to Kill had been good, and he'd been in that Animal House movie that his mother had insisted was a comedy classic. To be honest, he hadn't found it funny, but he'd told her otherwise. Maybe it was just a sign of the times. Lizzie would probably have a good idea of why it was funny. Comedy was her thing, she-
Morgan froze as fear reached out of the ground and threw a knockout blow directly to his cerebral cortex. Standing across the way were the literal last two people that Morgan ever wanted to see in a situation like this one. Immediately he was assailed by a multitude of memories; jokes and remarks at Wyatt's expense.
"If Wyatt Carter isn't working in a car-wash by the time he's twenty-five, I'll eat a hat."
"It still amazes me that people actually want to spent time with a walking bald right-wing sausage person."
Which meant that Wyatt Carter would probably eat him. Or at least use him as a tackling dummy, which - yeah, no thanks.
His hands started to shake. Morgan had gone and willed it into existence. He'd tempted fate one too many times, he'd cracked wise to too many people over the last few months, and fate had turned around and smote him. His deliverance was at hand, and it came in the form of the only bald, right-winged sausage person that he was genuinely afraid of.
And his brother.
"Erk!"
Eyes wide, Morgan was frozen in place, feeling an awful lot like a deer in the headlights of a sausage wagon. He tried to say something, to react, to maybe try the friendly approach, but all that came out was a pained squeak. He was totally paralyzed by fear.
At least, one way or another, he wasn't going to have to eat that hat.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Morgan stared at the Carters.
Wyatt, for his part, stared back.
He smiled.
"Yeah, bro. I'm ready to go."
He turned, like Connor had just called the play, and hurtled at a full-tilt run toward Morgan.
Wyatt, for his part, stared back.
He smiled.
"Yeah, bro. I'm ready to go."
He turned, like Connor had just called the play, and hurtled at a full-tilt run toward Morgan.
As it turned out they had no need to go anywhere. They had joined by another person. Morgan to be exact. Bret knew about Morgan and some of the things he said. From the sound of things, the boy wasn't a fan of him or his brother. That didn't matter anymore but it did at least give Bret a small degree of satisfaction. It was almost as if they were being gifted the chance to enact some retribution.
For his part, Wyatt was all too eager to put their plan in motion. He stormed forwards, rushing towards Morgan with his weapon grasped in hand. Despite the good fortune, it wasn't an ideal situation. Bret didn't have the time to retrieve the net from his bag and they hadn't been able to sort out an actual plan. Luckily, Morgan wasn't what Bret would call a threat. He also wasn't openly armed. Those were both good things for them but it did appear that their first plan would be more ad-hoc in nature.
Bret followed his brother but cut off to the side, his intention begin to circle around Morgan in case he managed to dodge Wyatt and attempted to flee.
For his part, Wyatt was all too eager to put their plan in motion. He stormed forwards, rushing towards Morgan with his weapon grasped in hand. Despite the good fortune, it wasn't an ideal situation. Bret didn't have the time to retrieve the net from his bag and they hadn't been able to sort out an actual plan. Luckily, Morgan wasn't what Bret would call a threat. He also wasn't openly armed. Those were both good things for them but it did appear that their first plan would be more ad-hoc in nature.
Bret followed his brother but cut off to the side, his intention begin to circle around Morgan in case he managed to dodge Wyatt and attempted to flee.