Yeah, alright, that one got him. Probably cause it wasn't like Andy was wrong. What the fuck was he doing?
"Whatever. Shut the fuck up and quit being a bitch." Kinda just wanted to hit him but it felt wrong not slapping him back when they had this whole stupid pattern going on and seriously this whole thing was starting to get kinda funny. He'd appreciate it later when he stopped being pissed.
Break Your Halo
Private/ask before entering, thanks!
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
[Lorenzo Tavares Continued From Starting Point For G007]
Pain.
That was the only thing he could think about as Lorenzo continued to drag himself across the island. At first it had been so awful that as soon as he’d gotten himself deep enough into the cover of the trees he had to stop so he could throw up. He’d stayed there for a while, emptying his stomach and trying to gather himself. There was red in the vomit, but his still throbbing lower lip told him that it was the most probable cause of that. It took some time, but eventually he had nothing left to purge, and he was able to get himself moving again. The woods were too dangerous, he had to move before he ran into someone and couldn’t defend himself. That thought was what kept him going.
Eventually he found himself on a road that seemed to lead towards a munch of buildings. A town? Even from afar he could see that there was a significant amount of space where the buildings were. For a moment he thought about finding one to hole up in for a while, but his better judgement overruled that hypothetical. Buildings meant people. People flocked to what made them comfortable, and a town would probably be a lot more comfortable for most of his classmates than wandering around the woods and fields.
He couldn’t risk going somewhere that was too populated.
Instead, Lorenzo took a path around the area, going into another wilderness area and sticking close to the treeline so he knew where he was going. By then the pain had stopped being so excruciating and instead became a dull throp that seemed to reverberate through his body with every step. It was alright though, he told himself. The throb of his beaten body was keeping him alert, keeping him moving. And most importantly, it told him he was still alive. Tyrell couldn’t kill him, Violet couldn’t kill him. He’d survived his brush with death, and that meant he still had a chance. It was kind of funny, when he thought about it.
He’d really never felt so alive as he did now.
Eventually the town had disappeared behind him, and the treeline opened again to a road. By then, Lorenzo had been able to fix himself up some. His maul was back in its sheath, strapped to his waist. He’d removed his shirt from his bag, and had been pressing it up against his bloody lip with his uninjured arm for a while, hoping to stem the flow of blood that seemed to keep oozing from it. His chest and stomach were stained red a bit from the blood, but he’d mostly wiped it away. His sides were bruised terribly, black and blue and yellow bruises the sizes of melons covered his rib-cage on both sides. The left was much worse that the right, spreading down into his abdomen.
Tyrell really fucked him up with that liver shot.
His left arm was pretty banged up too, the bicep bruised and sensitive to the touch. It was nowhere near the level of his other injuries, but it still hurt quite a bit if he tried to use his left arm too much. His pack was strapped around his left shoulder, with the bag bouncing off his back with every step. It was the only way he could carry it right now without it hitting his injuries with every movement, even though the constant bouncing off the back of his thighs did annoy him somewhat.
After walking a bit more, he approached a small building that looked pretty worn down and beaten up. He was still slightly wary of buildings, but this one didn’t seem to be as surrounded by others as the town he passed earlier, and he was in a slightly better state to chance it. He needed a place to rest for a while, it felt like he’d been walking for hours. His bad arm took over the duty of holding his shirt to his busted lip, and he brought the right down to the maul’s sheath. Just in case he had to whip it out quickly. He approached a corner and could hear some voices. Fucking hell. He almost took it as a sign to get the fuck out of there for now, but the voices grew louder and recognition flew through his brain.
Axel...?
He approached the corner and peeked around the edge, to see what was going on. His eyes widened and a small smile graced his face unconsciously. Axel and Andy! Holy shit, they were alright, and right in front of him. What were the fucking odds? They seemed to be arguing, and a small slap fight ensued between them. Lorenzo felt himself sigh, which hurt like a bitch, and he could only shake his head as he watched.
At least some things never change.
“For fuck’s sake guys, can you go a day without beating the shit out of each other?” He spoke loudly as he turned the corner, making sure to catch their attention. He lowered the bloodied shirt and shot the two of them as good a grin as he was able.
“You fuckers still alive, huh?”
Pain.
That was the only thing he could think about as Lorenzo continued to drag himself across the island. At first it had been so awful that as soon as he’d gotten himself deep enough into the cover of the trees he had to stop so he could throw up. He’d stayed there for a while, emptying his stomach and trying to gather himself. There was red in the vomit, but his still throbbing lower lip told him that it was the most probable cause of that. It took some time, but eventually he had nothing left to purge, and he was able to get himself moving again. The woods were too dangerous, he had to move before he ran into someone and couldn’t defend himself. That thought was what kept him going.
Eventually he found himself on a road that seemed to lead towards a munch of buildings. A town? Even from afar he could see that there was a significant amount of space where the buildings were. For a moment he thought about finding one to hole up in for a while, but his better judgement overruled that hypothetical. Buildings meant people. People flocked to what made them comfortable, and a town would probably be a lot more comfortable for most of his classmates than wandering around the woods and fields.
He couldn’t risk going somewhere that was too populated.
Instead, Lorenzo took a path around the area, going into another wilderness area and sticking close to the treeline so he knew where he was going. By then the pain had stopped being so excruciating and instead became a dull throp that seemed to reverberate through his body with every step. It was alright though, he told himself. The throb of his beaten body was keeping him alert, keeping him moving. And most importantly, it told him he was still alive. Tyrell couldn’t kill him, Violet couldn’t kill him. He’d survived his brush with death, and that meant he still had a chance. It was kind of funny, when he thought about it.
He’d really never felt so alive as he did now.
Eventually the town had disappeared behind him, and the treeline opened again to a road. By then, Lorenzo had been able to fix himself up some. His maul was back in its sheath, strapped to his waist. He’d removed his shirt from his bag, and had been pressing it up against his bloody lip with his uninjured arm for a while, hoping to stem the flow of blood that seemed to keep oozing from it. His chest and stomach were stained red a bit from the blood, but he’d mostly wiped it away. His sides were bruised terribly, black and blue and yellow bruises the sizes of melons covered his rib-cage on both sides. The left was much worse that the right, spreading down into his abdomen.
Tyrell really fucked him up with that liver shot.
His left arm was pretty banged up too, the bicep bruised and sensitive to the touch. It was nowhere near the level of his other injuries, but it still hurt quite a bit if he tried to use his left arm too much. His pack was strapped around his left shoulder, with the bag bouncing off his back with every step. It was the only way he could carry it right now without it hitting his injuries with every movement, even though the constant bouncing off the back of his thighs did annoy him somewhat.
After walking a bit more, he approached a small building that looked pretty worn down and beaten up. He was still slightly wary of buildings, but this one didn’t seem to be as surrounded by others as the town he passed earlier, and he was in a slightly better state to chance it. He needed a place to rest for a while, it felt like he’d been walking for hours. His bad arm took over the duty of holding his shirt to his busted lip, and he brought the right down to the maul’s sheath. Just in case he had to whip it out quickly. He approached a corner and could hear some voices. Fucking hell. He almost took it as a sign to get the fuck out of there for now, but the voices grew louder and recognition flew through his brain.
Axel...?
He approached the corner and peeked around the edge, to see what was going on. His eyes widened and a small smile graced his face unconsciously. Axel and Andy! Holy shit, they were alright, and right in front of him. What were the fucking odds? They seemed to be arguing, and a small slap fight ensued between them. Lorenzo felt himself sigh, which hurt like a bitch, and he could only shake his head as he watched.
At least some things never change.
“For fuck’s sake guys, can you go a day without beating the shit out of each other?” He spoke loudly as he turned the corner, making sure to catch their attention. He lowered the bloodied shirt and shot the two of them as good a grin as he was able.
“You fuckers still alive, huh?”
"You're the bitch," Andy said, because it was true. One of them had to be the fucking adult here, and Andy guessed it had to be him since he was married and had 1001 kids now. He was claiming the giant birdcage as his mortgage property. Anyone who fucked with it owed him for damages now. Bet his parents never fucking thought he'd be the responsible one.
The wimpy little slap fight that this had degenerated into was interrupted before it could blow back up into something else. Andy was surprised at the relief that shot through him at hearing Lorenzo's voice. Another friendly face, another person to tell Axel to stop being a bitch, holy shit said friendly face was fucked all up.
Andy's irritation and thoughts of continuing the sad excuse for a fight evaporated as soon as he turned and got a good look at Lorenzo beat all to hell. Shit. Andy was happy to see him, but not like this. Not walking around with that fucking reminder of where they were and what was happening all over him. Who the fuck in their right mind was coming at Lorenzo like that, anyway?
"Jesus fucking Christ, 'Renzo, what the hell happened?" Lorenzo was grinning at them, which was... good, maybe? Maybe the other guy walked away looking worse.
Fuck, Andy hoped the other guy had walked away at all.
The wimpy little slap fight that this had degenerated into was interrupted before it could blow back up into something else. Andy was surprised at the relief that shot through him at hearing Lorenzo's voice. Another friendly face, another person to tell Axel to stop being a bitch, holy shit said friendly face was fucked all up.
Andy's irritation and thoughts of continuing the sad excuse for a fight evaporated as soon as he turned and got a good look at Lorenzo beat all to hell. Shit. Andy was happy to see him, but not like this. Not walking around with that fucking reminder of where they were and what was happening all over him. Who the fuck in their right mind was coming at Lorenzo like that, anyway?
"Jesus fucking Christ, 'Renzo, what the hell happened?" Lorenzo was grinning at them, which was... good, maybe? Maybe the other guy walked away looking worse.
Fuck, Andy hoped the other guy had walked away at all.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Yeah, okay, sure, maybe Axel was the bitch. Couldn't they both be the bitch though? Like share blame for whatever the fuck this dumbass slap fight happening right now was? Like he'd woken up a few hours ago and been viciously assaulted by his now-stepchild who was also a disembodied angry squid arm with a knife that was his now because he beat the thing in single combat and also he and all his friends were gonna die so like was now really the time to argue about who the bigger bitch was? Everyone was the bitch, that's how it be on this bitch of an earth, etcetera, what the fuck was happening right now.
What was happening was he heard a voice and it was a voice he knew real well.
"Oh shit," he mumbled, whatever dumb shit he'd been thinking about suddenly replaced with a whole new set of things to consider as he turned to face Lorenzo. Like the fact that even though he'd been trying not to think about literally every friend he'd ever had was here on this island with him. Or the fact that some people were apparently having a way shittier morning than he was, tentacle wrestling aside. Or the fact that—okay. No, that wasn't a fact, yet. He didn't know someone'd tried to kill Renzo. Could've just been an argument that went bad. Could've been an accident. Could've been that Renzo—
No, okay, he definitely wasn't thinking about that.
"Dude, seriously," he said, backing Andy up. Jesus, that was a lot of bruising. Ain't much he could do about that. Could help with the split lip, maybe. When the fuck had he turned into team support? Whatever.
What was happening was he heard a voice and it was a voice he knew real well.
"Oh shit," he mumbled, whatever dumb shit he'd been thinking about suddenly replaced with a whole new set of things to consider as he turned to face Lorenzo. Like the fact that even though he'd been trying not to think about literally every friend he'd ever had was here on this island with him. Or the fact that some people were apparently having a way shittier morning than he was, tentacle wrestling aside. Or the fact that—okay. No, that wasn't a fact, yet. He didn't know someone'd tried to kill Renzo. Could've just been an argument that went bad. Could've been an accident. Could've been that Renzo—
No, okay, he definitely wasn't thinking about that.
"Dude, seriously," he said, backing Andy up. Jesus, that was a lot of bruising. Ain't much he could do about that. Could help with the split lip, maybe. When the fuck had he turned into team support? Whatever.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
He heard voices.
Everything was green, except for when he spat blood out in front of him. Then it turned red. Logical, really. It was the only enjoyment he was able to derive at all right now. Turning green into red. The only reason it was at all enjoyable is because it reminded Morgan that through all of the pain, one indomitable fact was true.
He was still fucking alive.
((Morgan Dragosavich continued from Time to Play the Game))
His nose was swelling, he didn't need a mirror to feel that, and his arms were scratched up from crawling through the brush. He'd tried to stand at one point, but his equilibrium had sent him tumbling back down. The nausea hadn't helped, either. Everything still felt foggy. Everything but the pain shooting through his entire body. No, that was crystal clear. When he woke up, he'd been scared. Somewhere in his mind, he supposed that he still was. But fear had to take a backseat to his more immediate needs.
There were voices ahead, and they didn't belong to a Carter brother. So they would do. Unless, of course, there were people worse than them on death island. Morgan didn't think it through too much. Any thoughts he had that were more than fragments made his head hurt, or were immediately replaced with his body screaming at him. With his luck today, maybe whomever was ahead would put him out of his misery.
At least he wouldn't hurt anymore.
That was a shitty thought.
Morgan crawled forward and his hand finally broke through grass, and into a clearing. The voices were right in front of him. What choice did he have? His body moved on autopilot, making the decision for him. He pushed himself forward, flopping out of the bushes on all fours in front of the owners of the voices. Morgan's eyes were too blurry to make any of them out. His face hurt, still. He was spent.
"Help me," he croaked, and then his arms and legs gave out on him; once more introducing his swollen face to the forest floor.
Everything was green, except for when he spat blood out in front of him. Then it turned red. Logical, really. It was the only enjoyment he was able to derive at all right now. Turning green into red. The only reason it was at all enjoyable is because it reminded Morgan that through all of the pain, one indomitable fact was true.
He was still fucking alive.
((Morgan Dragosavich continued from Time to Play the Game))
His nose was swelling, he didn't need a mirror to feel that, and his arms were scratched up from crawling through the brush. He'd tried to stand at one point, but his equilibrium had sent him tumbling back down. The nausea hadn't helped, either. Everything still felt foggy. Everything but the pain shooting through his entire body. No, that was crystal clear. When he woke up, he'd been scared. Somewhere in his mind, he supposed that he still was. But fear had to take a backseat to his more immediate needs.
There were voices ahead, and they didn't belong to a Carter brother. So they would do. Unless, of course, there were people worse than them on death island. Morgan didn't think it through too much. Any thoughts he had that were more than fragments made his head hurt, or were immediately replaced with his body screaming at him. With his luck today, maybe whomever was ahead would put him out of his misery.
At least he wouldn't hurt anymore.
That was a shitty thought.
Morgan crawled forward and his hand finally broke through grass, and into a clearing. The voices were right in front of him. What choice did he have? His body moved on autopilot, making the decision for him. He pushed himself forward, flopping out of the bushes on all fours in front of the owners of the voices. Morgan's eyes were too blurry to make any of them out. His face hurt, still. He was spent.
"Help me," he croaked, and then his arms and legs gave out on him; once more introducing his swollen face to the forest floor.
Lorenzo’s smile faltered a bit and he snapped back to reality. He’d almost forgotten how beat up he must have looked.Hearing their voices and seeing them made him forget, for just a second, where they all were, and he chided himself for that. Lorenzo grimaced as the two other boys looked at him in dismay, questioning what had happened to cause him such injury. He cursed his bad luck. For a moment, running into two people he actually gave somewhat of a shit about seemed like a great thing, but unfortunately, right now it was the worst possible outcome. Lorenzo had already decided on his path, and running into Axel and Andy wasn’t going to change that. Not only that, but he couldn’t very well explain where his injuries came from. He couldn’t tell them he’d fought against Tyrell, that would only spawn more questions.
Questions he wasn’t exactly willing to answer.
“It looks worse than it is.” He winced as he took a step forward towards them.
“Well, mostly.” He attempted a chuckle, but found that his sides send a blinding pain directly to his brain when he did, so he stopped immediately.
He stepped closer and dropped his bag to the ground. He dropped himself to follow it soon after, seating himself on the ground with a groan of pain. He unzipped his bag and tossed the blood-stained shirt he’d been using on his lip inside it. He took a second to breathe and looked up at the two boys before him. It was strange. He was surprised that he’d been so happy when he found them. Sure, they were friends, he supposed, but it wasn’t as if they were besties or any nonsense like that. They enjoyed each other’s company, and that was as deep as it got. Well, it had been a bit deeper with Axel, but that wasn’t exactly a love story or anything. They were just using each other to feel good, that’s the way it had always been, right? That’s how he viewed all his ‘friendships’.
So why was he so lost on what he should do now that he was with them?
Hadn’t he already made up his mind?
Fortunately he didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, as a weak voice seemed to cut through the air, signalling the arrival of another student. And oh boy, was it a fucking arrival. Morgan Dragoso-whatever literally crawled onto the scene, begging for help, before collapsing face-first into the ground. If Lorenzo looked fucked up, then Morgan was a completely lost cause. His face was swollen and bloody, and his arms were covered in scratches and bruising. He looked like he’d been to hell and back. Poor kid. He reminded him of Dante for a moment.
Practically dead already.
Only thing to do is put them out of their misery.
“Is he still breathing?” He asked to no one in particular.
Questions he wasn’t exactly willing to answer.
“It looks worse than it is.” He winced as he took a step forward towards them.
“Well, mostly.” He attempted a chuckle, but found that his sides send a blinding pain directly to his brain when he did, so he stopped immediately.
He stepped closer and dropped his bag to the ground. He dropped himself to follow it soon after, seating himself on the ground with a groan of pain. He unzipped his bag and tossed the blood-stained shirt he’d been using on his lip inside it. He took a second to breathe and looked up at the two boys before him. It was strange. He was surprised that he’d been so happy when he found them. Sure, they were friends, he supposed, but it wasn’t as if they were besties or any nonsense like that. They enjoyed each other’s company, and that was as deep as it got. Well, it had been a bit deeper with Axel, but that wasn’t exactly a love story or anything. They were just using each other to feel good, that’s the way it had always been, right? That’s how he viewed all his ‘friendships’.
So why was he so lost on what he should do now that he was with them?
Hadn’t he already made up his mind?
Fortunately he didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, as a weak voice seemed to cut through the air, signalling the arrival of another student. And oh boy, was it a fucking arrival. Morgan Dragoso-whatever literally crawled onto the scene, begging for help, before collapsing face-first into the ground. If Lorenzo looked fucked up, then Morgan was a completely lost cause. His face was swollen and bloody, and his arms were covered in scratches and bruising. He looked like he’d been to hell and back. Poor kid. He reminded him of Dante for a moment.
Practically dead already.
Only thing to do is put them out of their misery.
“Is he still breathing?” He asked to no one in particular.
Jesus fucking fuck. As soon as the shock and dismay of seeing Lorenzo like that wore off a little - guy was smiling and joking, he was obviously fine even though he wasn't fine - somebody else who for all intents and purposes could have been the other guy stumbled in.
"Shit." Andy glanced between Lorenzo and Morgan, and, well, 'Renzo was still standing. Andy crossed the little clearing to squat by Morgan, heart in his throat.
"...Yeah, he's still breathing." Looked like warm shit and wasn't carrying any stuff, so it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened from there, but he was breathing. Andy grabbed him under the arms and hauled him up so that Morgan was at least kneeling. He was no doctor, but it was kind of hard to breathe with your face mashed into the dirt.
Andy cringed at the sight of Morgan's battered face up close. "Morgan, dude. Can you hear me? You all there?"
He needed some kind of first-aid, obviously, but even with the kits in their bags Andy was at a loss as to what they could actually do. There was a little bleeding to stop and they probably had painkillers, but that was about it. He shot a helpless glance back at Axel and Lorenzo.
"Shit." Andy glanced between Lorenzo and Morgan, and, well, 'Renzo was still standing. Andy crossed the little clearing to squat by Morgan, heart in his throat.
"...Yeah, he's still breathing." Looked like warm shit and wasn't carrying any stuff, so it wasn't hard to figure out what had happened from there, but he was breathing. Andy grabbed him under the arms and hauled him up so that Morgan was at least kneeling. He was no doctor, but it was kind of hard to breathe with your face mashed into the dirt.
Andy cringed at the sight of Morgan's battered face up close. "Morgan, dude. Can you hear me? You all there?"
He needed some kind of first-aid, obviously, but even with the kits in their bags Andy was at a loss as to what they could actually do. There was a little bleeding to stop and they probably had painkillers, but that was about it. He shot a helpless glance back at Axel and Lorenzo.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Axel was vaguely aware of the phrase "when it rains it pours" but was gonna go with "when shit's fucked shit's just super fucked" cause that seemed more on-brand.
So, to recap: him and his best bro had adopted an angry tentacle and a bunch of ants, then they had the world's shittiest slap fight, then his whatever-the-fuck-Lorenzo-was-to-him turned up bleeding from the face and with the sort of gnarly bruises that came with a grade-A beatdown, and now Morgan fucking Dragosavich had keeled over in front of them from out of nowhere, wholly and completely blown the fuck out. That was the sort of day Axel was having and he really didn't want to be having it, which was another one of those thoughts he had to clarify because he wasn't planning on signing up for the alternative.
Morgan definitely needed help more than Renzo, considering the latter was in a good enough mood to crack wise and like, walk. Andy seemed to read his mind and got to him first, though, leaving Axel hovering uncertainly between them for a moment before doing what he'd been planning on doing anyway and digging his first aid kit out of his bag. He glanced between Lorenzo and Morgan again. He knew Morgan okay, they weren't super close or anything but they'd ended up hanging out with mutual friends a few times. He was an alright dude, total fucking dork but the kind that was sorta cool anyway. Definitely not the sort of guy who would get himself in a fight on purpose. Possibly the kind of guy who would say something stupid by mistake and set someone off, or get shoved in a locker back at school, but nothing that would warrant this kinda damage.
Renzo? Chances he started shit were pretty high. Chances the other dude involved was worse off were pretty high, too, though he didn't think he'd be so casual about it if he'd actually—
Yeah, he should probably help Morgan first. Dr. Fontaine on the case.
He walked over to Andy and Morgan, kneeling down next to them. He'd seen... worse? Had he? Like that was just his default thing to think but honestly he wasn't sure. This looked worse than a regular old punch to the face, having suffered way too many of those himself. A foot to the face, maybe, or a weapon. His nose was pretty busted, Axel'd been through that enough to be able to tell right off. His eyes were swollen half-shut. Might have a concussion. He was pretty sure you just dealt with concussions by like chilling until they went away which was probably not an option here and he had no idea how to check for one anyway, so Morgan was probably gonna have to live with it.
Great choice of words there.
Fancy first aid kit wasn't good for much outside of painkillers. Morgan should be okay, or like, at least not dead, but there could be more injuries, he didn't actually know how hard Morgan'd been hit in the head to begin with, and also he wasn't a real doctor so all of this was bullshit.
"Okay," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "Okay, we can, like, deal with this, probably." He turned back to Lorenzo, raising his voice. "Yo, toss me a water bottle?"
So, to recap: him and his best bro had adopted an angry tentacle and a bunch of ants, then they had the world's shittiest slap fight, then his whatever-the-fuck-Lorenzo-was-to-him turned up bleeding from the face and with the sort of gnarly bruises that came with a grade-A beatdown, and now Morgan fucking Dragosavich had keeled over in front of them from out of nowhere, wholly and completely blown the fuck out. That was the sort of day Axel was having and he really didn't want to be having it, which was another one of those thoughts he had to clarify because he wasn't planning on signing up for the alternative.
Morgan definitely needed help more than Renzo, considering the latter was in a good enough mood to crack wise and like, walk. Andy seemed to read his mind and got to him first, though, leaving Axel hovering uncertainly between them for a moment before doing what he'd been planning on doing anyway and digging his first aid kit out of his bag. He glanced between Lorenzo and Morgan again. He knew Morgan okay, they weren't super close or anything but they'd ended up hanging out with mutual friends a few times. He was an alright dude, total fucking dork but the kind that was sorta cool anyway. Definitely not the sort of guy who would get himself in a fight on purpose. Possibly the kind of guy who would say something stupid by mistake and set someone off, or get shoved in a locker back at school, but nothing that would warrant this kinda damage.
Renzo? Chances he started shit were pretty high. Chances the other dude involved was worse off were pretty high, too, though he didn't think he'd be so casual about it if he'd actually—
Yeah, he should probably help Morgan first. Dr. Fontaine on the case.
He walked over to Andy and Morgan, kneeling down next to them. He'd seen... worse? Had he? Like that was just his default thing to think but honestly he wasn't sure. This looked worse than a regular old punch to the face, having suffered way too many of those himself. A foot to the face, maybe, or a weapon. His nose was pretty busted, Axel'd been through that enough to be able to tell right off. His eyes were swollen half-shut. Might have a concussion. He was pretty sure you just dealt with concussions by like chilling until they went away which was probably not an option here and he had no idea how to check for one anyway, so Morgan was probably gonna have to live with it.
Great choice of words there.
Fancy first aid kit wasn't good for much outside of painkillers. Morgan should be okay, or like, at least not dead, but there could be more injuries, he didn't actually know how hard Morgan'd been hit in the head to begin with, and also he wasn't a real doctor so all of this was bullshit.
"Okay," he mumbled, mostly to himself. "Okay, we can, like, deal with this, probably." He turned back to Lorenzo, raising his voice. "Yo, toss me a water bottle?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
It took a little while, but eventually the haze lifted from Morgan's eyes, and it was not until he felt the cool taste of water going down his throat that he started to remember how to work the rest of his body. Blinking his eyes a few times, he groaned as he tried to clear the blur from them. His nose hurt like hell. So did his chest, every breath was a stark reminder of how much pain he was in. A few blinks, and the blur subsided a little. Who were his saviours?
Andy Silverman, kneeling beside him. Good guy, athlete. He'd seen him at the party, they'd done shots, maybe? Morgan had done shots with everybody. He couldn't remember.
Lorenzo Tavares, standing a few feet away. He of the green hair, a bit more of a mystery than Andy. He'd teased Michael a few times that if they mixed the right chemicals together they could probably do the same thing but make it glow in the dark. Like he'd wanted to do for prom.
Axel Fontaine, as close as Andy but standing. Another good dude. Temper, but Morgan had always gotten along with him. Probably the one he'd chatted with around school the most.
Not a bad group of heroes.
It was a shame that it didn't fucking matter one bit. None of it did. Not how he knew them, not what they were doing to help him. It was all bullshit. Swiftball didn't matter, getting drunk or doing shots, adventures in science with Michael, prom. None of it fucking mattered at all anymore, because they were in Survival of the Fittest and they were all about to fucking die.
And Morgan had pissed his own pants. Good lord, he couldn't forget that.
"Fuck me," he finally said out loud. He'd drank half of the water bottle and his head was still spinning, ears ringing and everything hurting, but his brain had rebooted and was working again.
No questions were forthcoming, the serious looks on all three of their faces indicated that they could only imagine why it was that Morgan looked like he'd decided to play chicken with a train. Now that his vision cleared, he noticed that Lorenzo looked none the worse for wear, either. He let a second go by; holding out a hand and wanting to clamor to his feet before he offered his own explanation; simple and to the point. Andy obliged, as did Morgan.
"It was the fucking Carter brothers."
The bile in his words was matched only by the sour feeling in his throat. They'd taken his stuff, and what they hadn't, he'd left behind. His stuff, and - oh, fuck.
"They beat the fuck out of me and stole my shit. Bryan tried to intervene and," he grimaced with a mixture of shame and pain, "I heard gunshots. I don't know what happened."
He felt like such a goddamn coward.
"Bryan might be dead. The Carters might have a gun."
Clenching his fists, he pressed them together and then lowered his temple onto them, trying desperately to will away the pain. After a second, he came back to the world, tears of frustration, pain and shame creeping from the corner of his eyes.
"I don't know. I just don't fucking know. We're all so fucked."
And how!
Andy Silverman, kneeling beside him. Good guy, athlete. He'd seen him at the party, they'd done shots, maybe? Morgan had done shots with everybody. He couldn't remember.
Lorenzo Tavares, standing a few feet away. He of the green hair, a bit more of a mystery than Andy. He'd teased Michael a few times that if they mixed the right chemicals together they could probably do the same thing but make it glow in the dark. Like he'd wanted to do for prom.
Axel Fontaine, as close as Andy but standing. Another good dude. Temper, but Morgan had always gotten along with him. Probably the one he'd chatted with around school the most.
Not a bad group of heroes.
It was a shame that it didn't fucking matter one bit. None of it did. Not how he knew them, not what they were doing to help him. It was all bullshit. Swiftball didn't matter, getting drunk or doing shots, adventures in science with Michael, prom. None of it fucking mattered at all anymore, because they were in Survival of the Fittest and they were all about to fucking die.
And Morgan had pissed his own pants. Good lord, he couldn't forget that.
"Fuck me," he finally said out loud. He'd drank half of the water bottle and his head was still spinning, ears ringing and everything hurting, but his brain had rebooted and was working again.
No questions were forthcoming, the serious looks on all three of their faces indicated that they could only imagine why it was that Morgan looked like he'd decided to play chicken with a train. Now that his vision cleared, he noticed that Lorenzo looked none the worse for wear, either. He let a second go by; holding out a hand and wanting to clamor to his feet before he offered his own explanation; simple and to the point. Andy obliged, as did Morgan.
"It was the fucking Carter brothers."
The bile in his words was matched only by the sour feeling in his throat. They'd taken his stuff, and what they hadn't, he'd left behind. His stuff, and - oh, fuck.
"They beat the fuck out of me and stole my shit. Bryan tried to intervene and," he grimaced with a mixture of shame and pain, "I heard gunshots. I don't know what happened."
He felt like such a goddamn coward.
"Bryan might be dead. The Carters might have a gun."
Clenching his fists, he pressed them together and then lowered his temple onto them, trying desperately to will away the pain. After a second, he came back to the world, tears of frustration, pain and shame creeping from the corner of his eyes.
"I don't know. I just don't fucking know. We're all so fucked."
And how!
Lorenzo grunted in response to Axel’s demand. Why waste any of their limited supplies on someone who looked like they were ten steps away from death’s door? Lorenzo definitely wasn’t going to waste his own water on him, that much was a definite. Lorenzo spotted one of the other boy’s bags not far from him, and he shuffled himself over to it while still on the ground, gritting his teeth as he moved from the uncomfortable shots of pain that kept radiating from his sides as he moved. If it was any consolation, they weren’t hurting near as bad as a few hours ago, so he had that going for him at least. Reaching the bag, marked B004, he unzipped it and dug inside for a bottle. Finding one, he whistled to Axel and underhand tossed him the bottle, causing himself to groan from the pain the movement gave him.
This was a fucking nightmare.
Tyrell really screwed him with these bruises. It was bad enough to get himself injured, but now it was going to be hard for him to successfully attack of defend himself without causing himself ample grief. He supposed that was pretty poetic, casing pain to others would only serve to cause pain on himself. But that was fine. If he had to grit his teeth the rest of his time on this island and fight through the pain he would. He had to survive this. He was going to go home, no matter the price he had to pay to make that happen.
He already decided. No turning back now.
Morgan seemed to awaken a bit under Axel’s care, which surprised Lorenzo. He figured the kid would just pass away while he was out of it. Poor kid, it would probably have been better for him if he had. His first words described his situation pretty damn accurately, but what he said next caught Lorenzo’s attention, and he focused his gaze on the bloodied and battered face of Morgan, listening intently.
Wyatt and Bret fucking Carter did this to him?
Lorenzo would say he was surprised, but why bother lying? Those two were menaces in the halls of George Hunter, what was going to stop them from doing the exact same thing on murder island? Honestly, he was surprised Morgan was still alive to tell anyone about it if he had the misfortune to run into those two meatheads. And to top it all off the two biggest threats on the island, besides of course good ol’ Tyrell, may have a fucking gun on them and may have killed Bryan Merryweather?
Well, fuck.
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He murmured mostly to himself.
If Bret and Wyatt had a gun, then they may as well be fucking unstoppable unless the opposing party had a bigger gun. Lorenzo knew that eventually he'd probably come in contact with one of the Carters, but knowing they were traveling across the island together was the absolute worst case scenario. Both of them against pretty much anyone in their class, they came out on top. Lorenzo cursed those two idiots from the beach again. If he’d been able to make off with that tracker he’d be in a much safer position if he ever ran into the Carters. He sighed and shook his head. No use in complaining about things he couldn’t change, right? He just had to keep playing as smart as he could. He eyed the others surrounding him.
“Carters are out for blood. Goth Violet shot Dante. On my way here I heard a bunch of gunshots going off in the distance.” He spoke slowly and loudly.
“I’m sure some people are already dead.”
He looked Axel in the eye when he spoke, and then turned his gaze to Andy. His eyes moved on to look at the broken Morgan, and he smiled wickedly. Lorenzo stood up, ignoring the pain coming from his sides, and placed a hand on his maul. His gaze was cold and unwavering.
“Best option is to just finish you off here, buddy. Can’t survive if you can’t walk.” He stared down at the beaten boy with a hard glare.
“I can make it quick, if you want. You won’t even know it’s happened till it’s over.”
He let his offer hang in silence for a moment, watching the expressions on the other’s faces change into outrage, before spinning on his heel and laughing loudly as he walked away from the three.
“Just kidding.” He continued to laugh as he walked over to his own bag and sat himself down beside it again. He reveled in his own absurdity.
He wasn’t kidding, but hey, they didn’t need to know all that.
This was a fucking nightmare.
Tyrell really screwed him with these bruises. It was bad enough to get himself injured, but now it was going to be hard for him to successfully attack of defend himself without causing himself ample grief. He supposed that was pretty poetic, casing pain to others would only serve to cause pain on himself. But that was fine. If he had to grit his teeth the rest of his time on this island and fight through the pain he would. He had to survive this. He was going to go home, no matter the price he had to pay to make that happen.
He already decided. No turning back now.
Morgan seemed to awaken a bit under Axel’s care, which surprised Lorenzo. He figured the kid would just pass away while he was out of it. Poor kid, it would probably have been better for him if he had. His first words described his situation pretty damn accurately, but what he said next caught Lorenzo’s attention, and he focused his gaze on the bloodied and battered face of Morgan, listening intently.
Wyatt and Bret fucking Carter did this to him?
Lorenzo would say he was surprised, but why bother lying? Those two were menaces in the halls of George Hunter, what was going to stop them from doing the exact same thing on murder island? Honestly, he was surprised Morgan was still alive to tell anyone about it if he had the misfortune to run into those two meatheads. And to top it all off the two biggest threats on the island, besides of course good ol’ Tyrell, may have a fucking gun on them and may have killed Bryan Merryweather?
Well, fuck.
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He murmured mostly to himself.
If Bret and Wyatt had a gun, then they may as well be fucking unstoppable unless the opposing party had a bigger gun. Lorenzo knew that eventually he'd probably come in contact with one of the Carters, but knowing they were traveling across the island together was the absolute worst case scenario. Both of them against pretty much anyone in their class, they came out on top. Lorenzo cursed those two idiots from the beach again. If he’d been able to make off with that tracker he’d be in a much safer position if he ever ran into the Carters. He sighed and shook his head. No use in complaining about things he couldn’t change, right? He just had to keep playing as smart as he could. He eyed the others surrounding him.
“Carters are out for blood. Goth Violet shot Dante. On my way here I heard a bunch of gunshots going off in the distance.” He spoke slowly and loudly.
“I’m sure some people are already dead.”
He looked Axel in the eye when he spoke, and then turned his gaze to Andy. His eyes moved on to look at the broken Morgan, and he smiled wickedly. Lorenzo stood up, ignoring the pain coming from his sides, and placed a hand on his maul. His gaze was cold and unwavering.
“Best option is to just finish you off here, buddy. Can’t survive if you can’t walk.” He stared down at the beaten boy with a hard glare.
“I can make it quick, if you want. You won’t even know it’s happened till it’s over.”
He let his offer hang in silence for a moment, watching the expressions on the other’s faces change into outrage, before spinning on his heel and laughing loudly as he walked away from the three.
“Just kidding.” He continued to laugh as he walked over to his own bag and sat himself down beside it again. He reveled in his own absurdity.
He wasn’t kidding, but hey, they didn’t need to know all that.
Shit was bad. Andy knew that. He'd figured he could deal with it. Okay, that was a lie, he couldn't deal and he knew it, but he'd figured that he could go a little while without completely losing his shit. Everything Morgan managed to get out twisted more knots up in Andy's stomach, made him twitchy, but he didn't think he was going to lose his shit.
Then Lorenzo opened his stupid fucking mouth.
Andy liked Lorenzo, yeah? Thought he was a pretty cool dude? Had no problem throwing hands at him, but had never sat down and imagined that he'd ever want to, like, hurt the guy? Yeah.
So.
Why was this guy that Andy liked and thought was a pretty cool dude and had never wanted to hurt telling Morgan to his fucking face that they ought to fucking kill him? Andy shot Axel a wide-eyed look across Morgan, the universal are you hearing this shit? signal. He was the tiniest bit glad to see his expression more or less mirrored.
Then Lorenzo laughed.
"What the fuck, man?" Andy blurted out as Lorenzo turned away, playing it off with a weak-ass "just kidding, just a prank, bro, haha" excuse. Like that shit ever made anything better, or did anything but make it sound like you really weren't kidding, but you also weren't fucking man enough to deal with the consequences of the stupid bullshit coming out of your mouth. He pushed Morgan over to be supported by Axel, probably not as gently as he should have, and stood, stalking after Lorenzo.
"You think you're fucking funny? That how you got your ass beat before you turned up here?"
Then Lorenzo opened his stupid fucking mouth.
Andy liked Lorenzo, yeah? Thought he was a pretty cool dude? Had no problem throwing hands at him, but had never sat down and imagined that he'd ever want to, like, hurt the guy? Yeah.
So.
Why was this guy that Andy liked and thought was a pretty cool dude and had never wanted to hurt telling Morgan to his fucking face that they ought to fucking kill him? Andy shot Axel a wide-eyed look across Morgan, the universal are you hearing this shit? signal. He was the tiniest bit glad to see his expression more or less mirrored.
Then Lorenzo laughed.
"What the fuck, man?" Andy blurted out as Lorenzo turned away, playing it off with a weak-ass "just kidding, just a prank, bro, haha" excuse. Like that shit ever made anything better, or did anything but make it sound like you really weren't kidding, but you also weren't fucking man enough to deal with the consequences of the stupid bullshit coming out of your mouth. He pushed Morgan over to be supported by Axel, probably not as gently as he should have, and stood, stalking after Lorenzo.
"You think you're fucking funny? That how you got your ass beat before you turned up here?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Primrosette
- Posts: 1033
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 am
- Location: In the Dark Abyss
"Ugh, it smells like shit around here, Sapphire. Fucking gross as fuck."
((Emmett Bunnell continued from Something Better))
Emmett really was regretting about leaving the waterfall. He really felt bummed out that Emil had stayed behind, but he knew that Emil was a better person than him, a kinder person, a helpful person. Emmett wasn't good at being those things. He really didn't have the personality or the right emotions for that. Well, he hoped that Emil would be able to help out Nona and Garnet (and whoever the fuck that other girl is). At least, he has Sapphire by his side and he was glad that he was with someone that he thought of a close friend.
However....
Why in the fuck did I lead her here for? It is nasty as fuck! Fuck this shit! Seriously, what the hell was I-
Suddenly he heard some voices that were talking to each other and Emmett found himself frowning for a few moments. Most of them sounded like boy voices that he knew. But sadly, none of them sounded like Adonis. Dammit. Emmett stopped in front of Sapphire, glanced back at her and he gave her a signal to hold back. He didn't want to put her in danger, even if she did have a weird-looking spear thingy.
He then peek his head around a corner and then his blood felt like it was suddenly boiling with fiery rage. Of course, of fucking course! Of all the fucking luck! As soon as he had a bit of a little breakdown and he ran off like a coward from the others on the waterfall.... He had to finally see the one person that he truly despised on this shitty island.
Lorenzo....
Wait, Andy was there too and it looked like he was confronting Lorenzo about something. Axel and a bloody Morgan. Holy shit, what happened to that poor guy? Emmett then noticed that Lorenzo looked pretty beaten up himself and Emmett couldn't help but let a smug smile spread over his face. Whomever had done that to Lorenzo; Emmett hoped that he could shake their hand and laugh about Lorenzo's beating with them.
Now what to do?
Oh, Emmett knew what he was going to do. He had to cause a bit more chaos for the guy who ran off like a complete pussy from him and Emil on the beach.
Emmett looked back at Sapphire again, he gave her a small smile, an "okay" thumbs-up and then he stepped out into the open, standing some distance from the four boys who seemed to be having a crisis of their own.
Emmett was holding his weapon steadily at his side and he rubbed a finger over his chin thoughtfully. "Hey!" He suddenly called out to them and he didn't care if it startled them. The one who he wanted to fuck with the most was Lorenzo. "You guys need any help?"
Any help beating the shit out of green freak, I hope!
((Emmett Bunnell continued from Something Better))
Emmett really was regretting about leaving the waterfall. He really felt bummed out that Emil had stayed behind, but he knew that Emil was a better person than him, a kinder person, a helpful person. Emmett wasn't good at being those things. He really didn't have the personality or the right emotions for that. Well, he hoped that Emil would be able to help out Nona and Garnet (and whoever the fuck that other girl is). At least, he has Sapphire by his side and he was glad that he was with someone that he thought of a close friend.
However....
Why in the fuck did I lead her here for? It is nasty as fuck! Fuck this shit! Seriously, what the hell was I-
Suddenly he heard some voices that were talking to each other and Emmett found himself frowning for a few moments. Most of them sounded like boy voices that he knew. But sadly, none of them sounded like Adonis. Dammit. Emmett stopped in front of Sapphire, glanced back at her and he gave her a signal to hold back. He didn't want to put her in danger, even if she did have a weird-looking spear thingy.
He then peek his head around a corner and then his blood felt like it was suddenly boiling with fiery rage. Of course, of fucking course! Of all the fucking luck! As soon as he had a bit of a little breakdown and he ran off like a coward from the others on the waterfall.... He had to finally see the one person that he truly despised on this shitty island.
Lorenzo....
Wait, Andy was there too and it looked like he was confronting Lorenzo about something. Axel and a bloody Morgan. Holy shit, what happened to that poor guy? Emmett then noticed that Lorenzo looked pretty beaten up himself and Emmett couldn't help but let a smug smile spread over his face. Whomever had done that to Lorenzo; Emmett hoped that he could shake their hand and laugh about Lorenzo's beating with them.
Now what to do?
Oh, Emmett knew what he was going to do. He had to cause a bit more chaos for the guy who ran off like a complete pussy from him and Emil on the beach.
Emmett looked back at Sapphire again, he gave her a small smile, an "okay" thumbs-up and then he stepped out into the open, standing some distance from the four boys who seemed to be having a crisis of their own.
Emmett was holding his weapon steadily at his side and he rubbed a finger over his chin thoughtfully. "Hey!" He suddenly called out to them and he didn't care if it startled them. The one who he wanted to fuck with the most was Lorenzo. "You guys need any help?"
Any help beating the shit out of green freak, I hope!
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 294
- Joined: Thu May 23, 2019 12:39 am
Emmett was right. It did smell really, really bad around here.
((Sapphire Waters continued from Something Better))
“It’s alright, um… considering how bad things could be.” She replied, trying to give Emmett some sort of reassuring smile.
The two of them hadn’t ever returned to the waterfall, instead traveling a great distance across the island before landing in their current stinky situation.
She could tell that Emmett had been beating himself up over their departure for much of their journey, and she had been trying her best to lighten his mood. After all, it wasn’t as though the two of them could have done much for someone in Nona’s situation, being just a couple high schoolers that barely knew her.
Then, she started to hear voices coming from nearby and Emmett put out a hand to signal her to hold back. It was a bit frustrating, since Emmett really wasn’t in a much better position to defend himself than she was, and she obviously didn’t want to see him getting hurt either. However, now did not seem like the time to argue that point.
So, she held back, spear at the ready. If anything happened to Emmett, she’d be ready.
But after a moment, the boy signaled for her to follow, and she quickly did so, stepping into clear view of a group of four boys.
The first thing she noticed was Morgan, badly injured and seemingly unable to stand without assistance.
She knew the boy from before… all this. He was generally nice boy, and had even asked her out at one point, though she’d politely declined.
Part of her wanted to rush over to check on him, but he wasn’t alone.
Two of the others were Axel and Andy. She didn’t know them well, really not a part of her crowd. The fourth, though, the one with green hair…
“Isn’t that… Lorenzo?” She asked Emmett, louder than she’d wanted to, still holding her weapon up and at the ready.
((Sapphire Waters continued from Something Better))
“It’s alright, um… considering how bad things could be.” She replied, trying to give Emmett some sort of reassuring smile.
The two of them hadn’t ever returned to the waterfall, instead traveling a great distance across the island before landing in their current stinky situation.
She could tell that Emmett had been beating himself up over their departure for much of their journey, and she had been trying her best to lighten his mood. After all, it wasn’t as though the two of them could have done much for someone in Nona’s situation, being just a couple high schoolers that barely knew her.
Then, she started to hear voices coming from nearby and Emmett put out a hand to signal her to hold back. It was a bit frustrating, since Emmett really wasn’t in a much better position to defend himself than she was, and she obviously didn’t want to see him getting hurt either. However, now did not seem like the time to argue that point.
So, she held back, spear at the ready. If anything happened to Emmett, she’d be ready.
But after a moment, the boy signaled for her to follow, and she quickly did so, stepping into clear view of a group of four boys.
The first thing she noticed was Morgan, badly injured and seemingly unable to stand without assistance.
She knew the boy from before… all this. He was generally nice boy, and had even asked her out at one point, though she’d politely declined.
Part of her wanted to rush over to check on him, but he wasn’t alone.
Two of the others were Axel and Andy. She didn’t know them well, really not a part of her crowd. The fourth, though, the one with green hair…
“Isn’t that… Lorenzo?” She asked Emmett, louder than she’d wanted to, still holding her weapon up and at the ready.
Cool, update: "when shit's fucked shit's just super fucked" was an understatement. Probably should have assumed a default of at least "everything's megaton oh-my-god-its-Godzilla levels of fucked" off the bat but hey, he'd learned his lesson. New additions to his recap: Tweedledee and Tweedledumbass were playing for keeps and might have a real actual gun that they could shoot people with and at least one person might already be dead. Would he be the asshole if he just kinda ignored that bit of information? Cause the only things he could actively choose to do with it were to go try to play the hero and try to fight them, and probably get some new holes in his face for his trouble, or to freak the fuck out. And both of those sounded like shitty uses of his time.
Luckily Lorenzo went right off and gave him something else to focus his attention on.
Axel was glad he wasn't the only one who could not believe the shit spewing from Renzo's mouth right now, judging from the look on Andy's face, because like—really? Seriously? Okay, Lorenzo being an asshole wasn't really news to anyone, and Lorenzo messing with people wasn't really abnormal either, but there was a real big difference between "I'm gonna say something super blatantly sexual in public to get you flustered as a joke (that isn't really a joke if like you wanna act on it, y'know)" and "I'm gonna threaten your life and I'm way bigger and stronger than you and I have a fuckoff big axe and also you just barely survived a near brush with death and also I can actually literally just fucking kill you if I want to". The difference seemed pretty fucking self-explanatory to him. It looked like Renzo was either more of a dumbass than he thought, or way crueler than he'd given him credit for. The former seemed kinda optimistic.
Andy reacted first, and Axel barely managed to not fall with the way he shoved Morgan into his arms, but hey. This was the kinda scenario that called for backup. He gave Morgan a serious look.
"Stay here a sec. Uh, sit down, maybe." And then he let go of him and kinda just hoped he didn't flop over as he turned to face Lorenzo himself. Cause he was pissed but also he knew Lorenzo better than Andy did, maybe the dumb shit coming out of Renzo's mouth just hit Andy harder. Just Andy looked like he was five seconds from squaring up and holy shit was that a bad idea for a bunch of reasons, the aforementioned fuckoff big axe at least making the top three.
He didn't step between Andy or Lorenzo because that would look like he wasn't taking sides and let's be real, he was. Andy was right and Lorenzo was being a dickhead. He stopped by Andy instead and put his hand on his shoulder and didn't actually say anything because "dude, chill" or "it's not worth it" or whatever would sound pretty hollow when he was pissed, too, but that didn't matter. The two of them knew each other well enough that they didn't always need words to speak.
Except then there were new voices and apparently he needed words after all.
Those words were "the fuck?"
Luckily Lorenzo went right off and gave him something else to focus his attention on.
Axel was glad he wasn't the only one who could not believe the shit spewing from Renzo's mouth right now, judging from the look on Andy's face, because like—really? Seriously? Okay, Lorenzo being an asshole wasn't really news to anyone, and Lorenzo messing with people wasn't really abnormal either, but there was a real big difference between "I'm gonna say something super blatantly sexual in public to get you flustered as a joke (that isn't really a joke if like you wanna act on it, y'know)" and "I'm gonna threaten your life and I'm way bigger and stronger than you and I have a fuckoff big axe and also you just barely survived a near brush with death and also I can actually literally just fucking kill you if I want to". The difference seemed pretty fucking self-explanatory to him. It looked like Renzo was either more of a dumbass than he thought, or way crueler than he'd given him credit for. The former seemed kinda optimistic.
Andy reacted first, and Axel barely managed to not fall with the way he shoved Morgan into his arms, but hey. This was the kinda scenario that called for backup. He gave Morgan a serious look.
"Stay here a sec. Uh, sit down, maybe." And then he let go of him and kinda just hoped he didn't flop over as he turned to face Lorenzo himself. Cause he was pissed but also he knew Lorenzo better than Andy did, maybe the dumb shit coming out of Renzo's mouth just hit Andy harder. Just Andy looked like he was five seconds from squaring up and holy shit was that a bad idea for a bunch of reasons, the aforementioned fuckoff big axe at least making the top three.
He didn't step between Andy or Lorenzo because that would look like he wasn't taking sides and let's be real, he was. Andy was right and Lorenzo was being a dickhead. He stopped by Andy instead and put his hand on his shoulder and didn't actually say anything because "dude, chill" or "it's not worth it" or whatever would sound pretty hollow when he was pissed, too, but that didn't matter. The two of them knew each other well enough that they didn't always need words to speak.
Except then there were new voices and apparently he needed words after all.
Those words were "the fuck?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Morgan almost couldn't believe the words coming from Lorenzo's mouth. They were sardonic, loaded and if the words themselves weren't outwardly aggressive, the tone he spoke them with said as much. Finish him off? As in kill him? A chill ran down Morgan's spine, setting itself apart from the pain that ached through the rest of his body. In any other place or time, they might be unbelievable. But he'd gotten a first-hand glimpse at how everyone was starting to change. The collars around their necks were filled with explosives, but they may as well have been armed with a filter that stripped the humanity away from the wearer. His head still ached and he barely caught himself as Andy pushed away from him and stood up to Lorenzo.
On his behalf.
That was Andy, that was exactly the kind of person that he thought Andy was - that he knew around school. Bit of a dope sometimes, but a good dude. Axel - whom he knew less - did more or less the same thing, both of them standing opposite Lorenzo, obviously catching the insinuation that Lorenzo barely layered under the surface. He looked like he'd been through the ringer himself. Had he already tried to kill someone? Morgan stood with unsteady legs, trying to will the equilibrium back into his body. The more he thought about it, the more he felt his mind sliding back into place. It was like that night at Swiftball; standing outside and trying to will himself out of his own drunken stupor. He'd defeated the spins that night, today would be no different. It was a victory. Morgan wasn't a loser. He wasn't someone who just keeled over and died when things didn't go his way.
Can't survive if you can't walk.
He clenched his teeth.
I can make it quick, if you want.
Was that his role to play in all of this? Just some anonymous classmate who was bound to be the victim? The Carters had assigned him that role, but that didn't mean that he had to play it. Fuck that. He'd been terrified, and nothing had changed in that regard. But being a victim here just meant that you were written off, that your life was a footnote in someone else's story. Something stirred within him, pushing through the pain. No, the hell with that. He wasn't a victim.
His mother never looked at herself as a victim after what had happened. She'd forgiven him and continued on.
Michael wouldn't have spent all kinds of time doing crazy science projects with a victim.
Lizzie wouldn't have kissed a victim that day by the fountain.
No. Fuck that. He was not going to be victimized by the Lorenzo Tavareses or the Carters of the world. Not here, not now.
Not ever again.
Taking an unsteady step forward, Morgan felt satisfied that the spinning in his head seemed to have settled to something manageable. Good. His gait was hobbled, but his mind had started to clear as well. Morgan lurched a few steps forward, several feet back from Andy and Axel. Fine. Lorenzo thought he couldn't walk? Thought he couldn't defend himself? He may not have had a weapon, but he was still armed. Morgan Dragosavich wasn't going to roll over and die. Here you go, you piece of shit.
"Hey Lorenzo, why don't you do us all a favour and go finish yourself off. I can walk just fine, thank you very much," he snarked at the green-haired boy. "Oh, and Lorenzo?"
Morgan raised both of his arms, middle fingers extended out in front of him for all to see, an insincere smile pasted on his face.
"Go fuck yourself!"
On his behalf.
That was Andy, that was exactly the kind of person that he thought Andy was - that he knew around school. Bit of a dope sometimes, but a good dude. Axel - whom he knew less - did more or less the same thing, both of them standing opposite Lorenzo, obviously catching the insinuation that Lorenzo barely layered under the surface. He looked like he'd been through the ringer himself. Had he already tried to kill someone? Morgan stood with unsteady legs, trying to will the equilibrium back into his body. The more he thought about it, the more he felt his mind sliding back into place. It was like that night at Swiftball; standing outside and trying to will himself out of his own drunken stupor. He'd defeated the spins that night, today would be no different. It was a victory. Morgan wasn't a loser. He wasn't someone who just keeled over and died when things didn't go his way.
Can't survive if you can't walk.
He clenched his teeth.
I can make it quick, if you want.
Was that his role to play in all of this? Just some anonymous classmate who was bound to be the victim? The Carters had assigned him that role, but that didn't mean that he had to play it. Fuck that. He'd been terrified, and nothing had changed in that regard. But being a victim here just meant that you were written off, that your life was a footnote in someone else's story. Something stirred within him, pushing through the pain. No, the hell with that. He wasn't a victim.
His mother never looked at herself as a victim after what had happened. She'd forgiven him and continued on.
Michael wouldn't have spent all kinds of time doing crazy science projects with a victim.
Lizzie wouldn't have kissed a victim that day by the fountain.
No. Fuck that. He was not going to be victimized by the Lorenzo Tavareses or the Carters of the world. Not here, not now.
Not ever again.
Taking an unsteady step forward, Morgan felt satisfied that the spinning in his head seemed to have settled to something manageable. Good. His gait was hobbled, but his mind had started to clear as well. Morgan lurched a few steps forward, several feet back from Andy and Axel. Fine. Lorenzo thought he couldn't walk? Thought he couldn't defend himself? He may not have had a weapon, but he was still armed. Morgan Dragosavich wasn't going to roll over and die. Here you go, you piece of shit.
"Hey Lorenzo, why don't you do us all a favour and go finish yourself off. I can walk just fine, thank you very much," he snarked at the green-haired boy. "Oh, and Lorenzo?"
Morgan raised both of his arms, middle fingers extended out in front of him for all to see, an insincere smile pasted on his face.
"Go fuck yourself!"