SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

“Hey.”

((Charelle Chernyshyova, continued from why does mario sometimes jumps and sometimes he fists))

Girl had sat herself down like a kid in kindergarten somewhere in the house. Honestly couldn’t tell whether it was a new one or the one she’d been in ‘til Demetri and her had kicked themselves out. Like, this one didn’t have Felix and Yuko in it, but...

...

...

She placed her hands on top of her face. Just kinda… slumped. She just...

...

She just didn’t really feel like doing anything right now. Not in the ‘hahaha i’m a lazy shit’ kinda way, just... she’d heard what happened on the loudspeakers. It was...

It was a harder thing to get through than last time.

It was a new dawn, a new day, and Adele was feeling...not good, but certainly a heck of a lot better than she'd usually felt throughout the rest of the time she was stuck here. In fact, she felt good enough to change into a new outfit, bright yellow romper, leggings, and white tennis shoes, a little less practical but a little more her, and that seemed as a good a trade-off here. Still no skirts, no dresses, and she could still run in these shoes. That was pretty important.

Even more important, Adele mused as she remained sat on the bed, replacing the scrunchie in her hair with a chartreuse hair tie, were the announcements currently blaring their way through the room. Little bits of fire flamed their way back up, but only tiny charcoal pieces, certainly not enough to start a blaze. Bree, her swim girl, dead, by Mikki, girl who organized that crazy party she had to personally escort Abel (God rest his soul) out of, coupled with a whole load of other unlucky fools.

All more people she couldn't save, all people she couldn't get, but there was still now, right? Even if now was with a buncha bishes who could get on her last nerve. Standing up to exit the room, she strode out with purpose, or at least as much purpose someone could create out of nowhere. She continued on her semi-merry way, just like that, waved to 'Rako, until she saw Charelle curled up in a ball.

And honestly, Charelle prob ably had a friend who died, but there was no time to dwell on that, and so:

"Well," she crossed her arms, sounding strong 'cause she needed to be strong. "Y'all ready for the shooting lesson?"

"Morning," Cheridene half-croaked to Sakurako's greeting. Again, hunkering down in a place like this sure beat sleeping outside, and the nights were a little cooler than back in Chattanooga so she didn't have to sleep with a fan on herself, but it was no Washington D.C. hotel room. Something else felt off too - a roof overhead was great and kept the rain away, the precipitation's presence being given away by a telltale pitter-patter overhead. These things didn't seem particularly well-insulated, though, and in regards to temperature and humidity, indoors was not altogether different from out. Better than nothing, though, and the truest benefit of all was that the walls were a barrier between those inside and the rest of the island that might want to kill them. Until somebody threw a grenade or something through the window. Did anybody have grenades? Cheridene thought about her silly little vape pen and the injustice of having that to fend off attacks who had explosives.

But there was a gun. One gun, between all of them, go figure. That pistol, to her, represented her shot at making it another day. She'd been thinking, since yesterday thanks to what happened with Blake, about the true value of safety in numbers. Cheridene had no true reason to trust anybody. There hadn't been any real reason to distrust anybody, either. But Blake had gone and betrayed that trust, bringing Cheridene back to a darkened, musty old auditorium, strapped into her chair while she pulled on the cuffs attached to either arm, forced to watch in consternation while a lesson drove itself into her brain. Don't trust anybody.

Just propaganda. They were supposed to be afraid, and run around like chickens with their heads cut off, and maybe take the metaphor a little further by actually hacking off a few heads. It's what the terrorists wanted. Goddamn, it's what they wanted and it was working, because if it got to Blake, that 'everybody for themselves' mentality could have gotten to any one of them.

Cheri would have to look out for herself before somebody else decided they were going to do it.

She had to be patient about it, but she also needed to hurry. The gun lesson would be a good opportunity, and she prayed nobody thought of her idea first.

Aditi wasn't sure why nobody was ready for the proper urgency.

It had been two days since they'd been put onto this island, and numerous classmates were dead. There was a steady clip of former people Aditi used to share classes, teams, and social circles with, yet nobody seemed to put the fact she had a proper plan for this at the top of their list.

In fact, the pen and paper had been used mostly for that purpose - Aditi had been writing up her plan of attack, in the same way she would approach a speech or an essay, but notably more important. But she hadn't shown it to anyone yet, because she needed to impose proper gravitas.

Which is why, when Adele offered to hold her shooting lesson, Aditi's face formed a frown. She walked forward to her companion, and handed her the gun.

"Go ahead. I'm passing, but just return it when you're done. And I don't think I need to tell you not to kill anyone."

She had barely even processed there was another girl in the room as she turned around and returned to her own room, where her pen and paper awaited her.

No one seemed particularly enthused with today. Death island and all, but the rain probably wasn't helping either. Or the announcement that none of them were going to be the winner winners of a delicious chicken dinner. While the other girls said their greetings, Sakurako stopped her exercise to stand up and yawn. If she squinted really hard and stayed out of touch with reality, she could almost pretend they'd been waylaid in D.C. by the rain.

But guns wouldn't have been allowed on a school trip.

She still didn't want to participate in the game being played, though it wasn't as if anyone else on the island cared about what she wanted. That point was proven yet again when Aditi popped in and out, leaving her weapon in their care. They needed a direction more than a weapon, but the trust was nice.

"I'll let you guys start, I'll just take notes until it's my turn."

It would be too heavy for her now. She saw the cameras, and they saw her back, and it would just be so gratifying to see how many she could pop out before they returned the favor. It would be useful, certainly. On her terms.

She'd be just another body on the ground, her name just fodder for another wack joke on the announcements.

Rather than pursuing that thought to her unnatural end, she decided to stand beside Charelle and place a hand on her shoulder. It suddenly struck her what she'd done the last time she'd tried to comfort someone, and her eyes were suddenly glued to the ground for no reason at all thank you.

The gun was in her hand now. She was now holding the gun. And honestly, it kind of scared Adele how good that felt, cold chunk of metal strong and steadfast. Something like home, really, even if it wasn't the same kinda type of pistol. Still had the same feel, same pull, and of course, the same trigger.

Adele breathed out, composed herself. Thinking about guns like that wasn't healthy, after all. Instead, she had to get back onto prepping these girls, get them ready to go out and live.

"So," she began, casting out the verbal net 'cause no one looked all that excited. "For starters, anyone know the basics?"

That'd be good, because if they did know the basics, meant less time teaching things like not putting the gun in your pants. Stupid stuff, but it still happened.

"Pull the trigger, gun goes boom?" Cheridene said with a shrug.

"Sorry. Bad joke. Uh... I know it's probably got a safety, I just don't know where. And you use like, two hands, not one like some cowboy." Cheridene was recalling her knowledge of how, say, a policeman would hold a firearm. That was probably the safest way to do it, and the one least likely to make her look like an idiot.

"Y'all know I'd need the help, but I'm willing to try anyway?"

"Never point your gun at something unless you want it dead, make sure you keep it clean, don't keep it in your pocket and shoot yourself in the toe in front of a club..."

Don't shoot any cameras.

Don't shoot any cameras.

"Okay, okay," Adele said, model of power, poise, patience. Big sister, watching over with rolled eyes but a caring mind. "If you know so much, have at it."

With a grimace forced into a grin, she held the gun out.

Don't point a gun at anything unless you want it dead. There was a fun rule, and one people around here either weren't obeying, or they just happened to want everyone dead.

Adele made an open offer and Cheri wasn't sure if it was to her or Sakurako, but she saw her chance to get her hands on the gun. She reached out quickly but steadily, hoping she didn't look too quick in taking it. But what was she supposed to be shooting at?

"I'm not about to fire this thing inside..." Cheri muttered, looking over to the door. She still heard the rain going on, which meant she was about to get a little bit wet. A Cheridene with no plans would have held the gun out the window, picked a target and fired. This Cheridene walked for the door, making sure to scoop up her bag along the way. "We can find a target out here. Like a rusted piece of sheet metal or something, I'unno. Maybe plywood?"

Keep talking.

Act natural.

Walk out the door.

Turn the corner.

Run like hell the moment you're out of everybody's sight. Run, with the gun that was hers now.

There wasn't anything odd about Cheridene taking the gun. Sakurako didn't even bat an eye when she suggested they go outside. Grabbing her bag was different, suggested something a bit more nefarious than Adele's simple intentions of teaching gun safety. The door opening and barely closing was a glaring sign that once again, they'd been played.

"That bitch..."

Why did the mere presence of a gun make people turn into such shitheads?

If she was thinking logically, she could understand it. But logic had gone out the door the same time their errant classmate had abandoned them. Logic wasn't what caused her body to move, not thinking about anything but getting Cheridene to stop. Sakurako lost her footing the moment she'd gotten outside, falling on her knee, but that didn't stop her from getting up and running with all she had. Part of her wanted to scream in frustration, part of her wanted to cry, but everything in her wanted to right this wrong.

Under normal circumstances there wasn't too much chance she could catch up, Cheridene being a bonafide athlete with the build to match.

But in hell, ah, there was nothing to stop her from from trying.

"Wh-"

And just like that, the bis-no, no, no, the bitch was out, taking the gun and their hopes, their dreams out with her. Her feet stayed stuck, glued, but her mouth didn't.

"GET THE FUCKING GUN."

It slipped out, again, but this time she was right. This time, there would be justice.

Cheridene ran with a single-track mind. Get out of dodge with her biggest chance of survival.

Sorry y'all. It's your asses or mine.

Adele, Aditi, Charelle, Saku... she was leaving them all high and dry, but safety in numbers just wasn't going to cut it anymore. Numbers dwindled. The incident with Blake told her everything she needed to know. One falling out and you could be driven from the group. Or even if she didn't get booted, somebody else might, or they could get dropped. And then she'd be alone with no preparation, and would end up just like so many others already had. A corpse. A statistic.

But not her. Not like this. She would take advantage and take agency. The gun in her hand was an equalizer. It didn't matter if you were blind as a bat or six and a half feet tall because everybody dropped equally with a bullet to the gut. She didn't have advanced firearm training or whatever the other girls claimed to be able to offer her but she knew the basics. Common sense was her advantage. Make sure the safety was off, pull that top part back, point and pull the trigger. Don't go for headshots because those are hard to hit and she's not fighting zombies, she's fighting other students. Center mass would be fine.

But step one was to leave with the gun, and Sakurako had decided to make that difficult for her.

Cheri heard the footsteps and took a look over her shoulder, just a quick glance, to see who it was. Saku was fast, but Cheri bet that she was faster. She was an athlete who jogged all the time. She had athleticism and the stamina to go with it, so Sakurako had no chance.

... In a perfect scenario, that was. Cheridene hadn't had a proper meal or good night's sleep in three days, but neither had her pursuer, so there was that. The stormy weather turned the ground muddy and made traction difficult. After nearly slipping twice, the second coming from the panic of recovering from the first, Cheri realized she'd have to slow her pace to prioritize not falling down. And she was carrying her packs. Saku wasn't trying to ditch, so she probably didn't have to worry about that.

All those advantages she thought she had weren't so much of a leg up after all. It was like the thought of 'great equalizers' coming back to haunt her. Fuck.

The treeline was approaching. How damn persistent was Sakurako gonna be!?

There was something really sick and unfair about all this.

It wasn't as if Sakurako even wanted the gun, personally. In fact, if she never saw a gun again it would be a relief. But there was the group, and there was the plan, and having a weapon mattered to them and...

They could have been friends, damn it.

Her knee ached, her lungs were starting to burn, she wasn't sure if she was being led into some kind of ambush. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but moving, because if she kept running she wouldn't have to consider how pointless everything was. After all, a gun couldn't save you from flukes, or someone who had some weirdo weapon, or the terrorists. She should have explained it before, her feelings on this whole thing. They might as well all played Uno to determine which of them would go home.

That's how little their actions would matter in the end.

But they kept trying, living and killing. Sakurako Adina Jackson kept running, though the rain was starting to come down harder, utterly screwing up her already-poor vision by streaking water on her glasses. They were approaching the trees, and Cheridene would probably be able to lose her there, and she was convinced runner's high was just a runner's lie because she felt stone cold sober.

They were reaching the trees. The undergrowth highly likely to be present out there was going to make running a living hell.

The outdoors. Gross humidity and rain and everything being soaked, and running through wet grass and wet leaves... Cheri seriously considered whether she'd like to put up with more of this or put up with a group of angry girls who had some words with her. A group who definitely weren't going to accept her back now that she'd gone and taken the plunge. Her mind went, again, to Blake. There was no room for sympathy when survival was on the line. Nobody had it for him, nobody would have it for her.

Yeah, she'd just have to take her chances with the outdoors.

How long was she going to fucking follow her!?

Cheri turned around and began pacing backwards, holding the gun up in an outstretched arm.

"Back off! Back the FUCK off! I'm taking this!"