Sarah hadn't looked up as the others talked, none of their speech formed into words in her mind. Her subconscious seemed to register the anger in Bridget's voice, the tension filtering into her body only making it harder to get a hold of herself. Now that the bleeding was under control she didn't have much to do except cry.
She'd been this way plenty of times before. Hearing about massacres, coups, genocide. Watching as the planes hit, hearing the president declare war... when she'd visited Hiroshima, when she'd seen the deathcamps in Germany. Every other time she'd had some way to console herself, some action she could take, something she could do. Even if it was just to talk to someone about it, wave a picket sign, put up posters, raise awareness. It might've been token, it might've been pointless, but at least it was something.
She was out of her depth. Way, way out of her depth. And for once, her family wasn't there to console her. All she wanted was to be back home, to just sink into her parent's arms and know everything was going to be fine. She crushed her eyelids together; wishing, begging for it all to be a dream. Concentrating on the darkness almost made it seem possible.
let me go.
Kimberly shifted under her palms again, the sounds of her whimpering echoing in Sarah's mind. She had the life of one of her classmates in her hands and no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she tried to will herself away, she couldn't escape reality. Clicking her heels three times wasn't going to change a fucking thing.
I want to die.
In her mind she knew it wasn't what she wanted to do. And as always when she thought those words, she was more distressed by her thinking than motivated to take her own life. But it always represented the worst she could feel, and even though the thought of suicide left her terrified she knew, in a weird kind of way, that she could only feel better from then.
D-Day
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Dutchy had puked in the sand. The young Icelandic boy tried to raise himself up and was shook by another convulsion of sobs. He halfheartedly threw some sand over the puke, and tried to push his blond hair out of his face. It didn't matter, he had vomit in it anyways. And truthfully, at this point he didn't even really care. How could he care about puke in his hair when someone was just a few feet away, bleeding and...
"Gætirðu... Gætirðu..."
Dutchy managed to raise his head, to look around at the situation. The girl was quieter now. Everything was quieter now. Sarah was crowded around her, along with Bridget and other people, people he knew. Was she dying? Dutchy felt his heart pound at just the thought of it. He shut his eyes and lowered his head, breathing through his nose, trying to control himself.
Dutchy, you can't freak out. Your friends will be sad if you cry. This girl is probably scared, and you're not- you're not helping any! You need to help! But what can I do? I can't look at it, I can't-
Dutchy crawled away from the group towards the surf on his hands and knees. He removed his hat, throwing it over at Sarah's feet. She didn't seem to notice, obviously there was more important things on hand.
"Don't worry. We'll get out of here."
Jason's words rang in his head as Dutchy entered the surf. The water was cold, but he couldn't care less. He loved the cold. The pale Icelandic boy dunked his head into the cool blue ocean, and began to clean the vomit from his hair. He could feel goosebumps on his arms, and the water temperature sent a shiver down his spin. He stuck his head beneath the waves.
Wouldn't it be fantastic if I died right now? They blow my collar, and I collapse, the noise covered by the waves. Not a loud explosion, just a pop and then darkness. My body floats out to sea, and my friends don't have to worry about Dutchy. My body floats on the surface, all the way out to sea.
Dutchy was vaguely aware he had opened his mouth. The cold seawater entered his lungs.
There is an Island in the distance...
Dutchy jerked upwards, coughing up the cold water. A wave crashed over him, soaking him to the bone. He continued to cough as he sat in the surf rubbing his eyes.
What am I doing!? I can't give up. They're still there, my friends are still there! If I can make their day a little brighter, even now, after all this... If I can help them, if I can get everyone back home and safe and happy...
Dutchy stood up and stagged back in. He pulled on his wet orange t-shirt and laughed at the squelching noise it made. Dutchy shook his head, water flying this way and that.
It's like a shower with my clothes on...
Heading over to Sarah, Dutchy retrieved his KNVB hat and placed it on his head. He looked around at the group. Bridget, Sarah, Brendan... The girl. The hurt girl. Dutchy leaned down close to her, keeping his eyes locked on her face, sympathy etched in his gaze. He didn't dare look down towards her arm lest he be sick again. Butterflies flew in his stomach.
"Hvað segir þú? Ég heiti 'Dutchy', Hvað heitir þú? Don't worry. You're gonna be okay. I'm going to make sure you don't get hurt anymore, and I'm going to help you get out of here."
You will reach your destination even though you travel slowly....
"Gætirðu... Gætirðu..."
Dutchy managed to raise his head, to look around at the situation. The girl was quieter now. Everything was quieter now. Sarah was crowded around her, along with Bridget and other people, people he knew. Was she dying? Dutchy felt his heart pound at just the thought of it. He shut his eyes and lowered his head, breathing through his nose, trying to control himself.
Dutchy, you can't freak out. Your friends will be sad if you cry. This girl is probably scared, and you're not- you're not helping any! You need to help! But what can I do? I can't look at it, I can't-
Dutchy crawled away from the group towards the surf on his hands and knees. He removed his hat, throwing it over at Sarah's feet. She didn't seem to notice, obviously there was more important things on hand.
"Don't worry. We'll get out of here."
Jason's words rang in his head as Dutchy entered the surf. The water was cold, but he couldn't care less. He loved the cold. The pale Icelandic boy dunked his head into the cool blue ocean, and began to clean the vomit from his hair. He could feel goosebumps on his arms, and the water temperature sent a shiver down his spin. He stuck his head beneath the waves.
Wouldn't it be fantastic if I died right now? They blow my collar, and I collapse, the noise covered by the waves. Not a loud explosion, just a pop and then darkness. My body floats out to sea, and my friends don't have to worry about Dutchy. My body floats on the surface, all the way out to sea.
Dutchy was vaguely aware he had opened his mouth. The cold seawater entered his lungs.
There is an Island in the distance...
Dutchy jerked upwards, coughing up the cold water. A wave crashed over him, soaking him to the bone. He continued to cough as he sat in the surf rubbing his eyes.
What am I doing!? I can't give up. They're still there, my friends are still there! If I can make their day a little brighter, even now, after all this... If I can help them, if I can get everyone back home and safe and happy...
Dutchy stood up and stagged back in. He pulled on his wet orange t-shirt and laughed at the squelching noise it made. Dutchy shook his head, water flying this way and that.
It's like a shower with my clothes on...
Heading over to Sarah, Dutchy retrieved his KNVB hat and placed it on his head. He looked around at the group. Bridget, Sarah, Brendan... The girl. The hurt girl. Dutchy leaned down close to her, keeping his eyes locked on her face, sympathy etched in his gaze. He didn't dare look down towards her arm lest he be sick again. Butterflies flew in his stomach.
"Hvað segir þú? Ég heiti 'Dutchy', Hvað heitir þú? Don't worry. You're gonna be okay. I'm going to make sure you don't get hurt anymore, and I'm going to help you get out of here."
You will reach your destination even though you travel slowly....
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
It was all so much like a dream. The various shapes and sounds going off in the distance, all forming....feelings. Anger, hatred, pain, sadness, despair, loss, hope, no hope, no hope ever. Pain again. Blood tainting the sand. Someone's blood tainting the sand.
Brendan...couldn't.
He could not do it.
Finally raising his head from his hands, he looked around. All worried about the poor little Ngyuen girl in the sand. All trying to help her. All doing something worthwhile. And he was here simply feeling sorry for himself, over the fact that he could only shoot instead of making anyone feel better, hurtwise, feelingwise, or anything wise. He wasn't the wisest at all, simply just a random element that was just simply something else to take care of.
So that was why Brendan slipped away.
He didn't make any noise, he didn't want to cause a fuss. What he wanted to do was hug Sarah, hug Dutchy, hug them all, tell them goodbye, give one or two of them a kiss probably. He could dream. He liked to dream of what he could possibly do if he had the ability. But they were people, people in crowds, and despite it possibly being the last day or few days of his life, he simply couldn't do it. Not even for Sarah. Not even for Dutchy.
So he didn't tell them anything. They were all too focused on the girl in the sand to notice him. If someone did, he was sure they would keep quiet, or cause a fuss. Frankly, he wanted to care, but in reality he didn't. He was well way away from everyone by the time someone would notice.
And Brendan finished his magical disappearing act again. He would reappear once again, to someone. He still had to find them. How many was there?
Madelyn.
Harun.
Rasshid.
Vera.
Erik.
Chase.
Dawne.
Nik.
Jamie.
Anyone else he had forgotten.
Brendan remembered them all, since soon he would probably forget them. The sand disappeared, and Brendan disappeared along with it.
((Brendan Wallace continues in Filling Prescriptions))
Brendan...couldn't.
He could not do it.
Finally raising his head from his hands, he looked around. All worried about the poor little Ngyuen girl in the sand. All trying to help her. All doing something worthwhile. And he was here simply feeling sorry for himself, over the fact that he could only shoot instead of making anyone feel better, hurtwise, feelingwise, or anything wise. He wasn't the wisest at all, simply just a random element that was just simply something else to take care of.
So that was why Brendan slipped away.
He didn't make any noise, he didn't want to cause a fuss. What he wanted to do was hug Sarah, hug Dutchy, hug them all, tell them goodbye, give one or two of them a kiss probably. He could dream. He liked to dream of what he could possibly do if he had the ability. But they were people, people in crowds, and despite it possibly being the last day or few days of his life, he simply couldn't do it. Not even for Sarah. Not even for Dutchy.
So he didn't tell them anything. They were all too focused on the girl in the sand to notice him. If someone did, he was sure they would keep quiet, or cause a fuss. Frankly, he wanted to care, but in reality he didn't. He was well way away from everyone by the time someone would notice.
And Brendan finished his magical disappearing act again. He would reappear once again, to someone. He still had to find them. How many was there?
Madelyn.
Harun.
Rasshid.
Vera.
Erik.
Chase.
Dawne.
Nik.
Jamie.
Anyone else he had forgotten.
Brendan remembered them all, since soon he would probably forget them. The sand disappeared, and Brendan disappeared along with it.
((Brendan Wallace continues in Filling Prescriptions))
Jason had decided to take someone's advice for once and left, which Bridget was thankful for. As soon as he was gone, Bridget focused back to Kimberly, and thus she hadn't noticed when Steve or Brendan slipped away. They weren't important after all. She just wanted to make sure Kimberly was okay. The wound seemed to be bleeding less, which was great. The Vietnamese girl was also moving her hand in such a way that Bridget knew to let go. She didn't want to, that simple action had been as much comfort to her as it had been for the other girl, but she relinquished her grip, her hand falling to her side.
Kimberly then tried to stand up, which at this point was a bad idea. Sarah hadn't fully finished treating the wound, and any unnecessary movement right now wouldn't help matters. Bridget firmly placed her hand on Kimberly's shoulder, not hard enough to actually stop her if she really wanted to stand, but enough that Kimberly was able to get the message.
"Don't move." The redhead said to the injured girl. "Sarah still needs to put the bandages on." Bridget glanced at Sarah, who looked like a mess, but still doing the job admirably. The Irish girl took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She needed to be strong, for the sake of everyone. No one was going to get hurt as long as she was around. Not if she could help it.
Kimberly then tried to stand up, which at this point was a bad idea. Sarah hadn't fully finished treating the wound, and any unnecessary movement right now wouldn't help matters. Bridget firmly placed her hand on Kimberly's shoulder, not hard enough to actually stop her if she really wanted to stand, but enough that Kimberly was able to get the message.
"Don't move." The redhead said to the injured girl. "Sarah still needs to put the bandages on." Bridget glanced at Sarah, who looked like a mess, but still doing the job admirably. The Irish girl took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She needed to be strong, for the sake of everyone. No one was going to get hurt as long as she was around. Not if she could help it.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
The scene on the beach resembled a drop of water hanging on the edge of a roof as another drop rushed down and collided with it. Their combined mass proved too much to cling to the edge, and so mush of the water ended up falling to the ground.
Bridget's words struck a nerve with Jason, and he ran off, leaving a group he never really belonged with in the first place. Fine with Roland. He watched Jason walk off into the distance, then turned back to the group around Kim to find that there was one less person there. After a quick recount, he realized that it was the grungy-looking guy who left. Wait, no, there was someone else missing...
Roland whipped his head to the right and saw Dutchy almost completely submerged in water. "The fuck are you doing?" he shouted, walking into the water and wading after him. Unlike Dutchy, Roland was definitely not well-adjusted to the cold, and he found his teeth chattering as he swam after Dutchy, who started coughing as soon as Roland's feet lost contact with the sand. Roland was about to try and save him when the wave hit, disorienting him and tossing him back onto the beach.
That was when he noticed that only Bridget and Sarah, the two people stabilizing Kim, sat near her at all. Brendan instead opted to follow Jason and the other kid's lead and run like a fucking coward.
"BRENDAN!" Roland shouted, "GET BACK HERE, YOU FUCKER!" He'd relapsed into his earlier state of rage when he saw people abandoning Kim. He'd told them to give Bridget and Sarah some space, not to leave them completely! What the hell were they all thinking?
He picked up his harpoon, previously abandoned when he saw Dutchy. At least Dutchy stayed. Roland considered Dutchy to be a much closer friend then all of those other people who left. Even Brendan was barely above acquaintance level. He didn't know what would happen if an actual friend turned tail and ran. His sanity was stretched thin as it was.
Or so he thought, neglecting to consider what might happen in the days to come.
Bridget's words struck a nerve with Jason, and he ran off, leaving a group he never really belonged with in the first place. Fine with Roland. He watched Jason walk off into the distance, then turned back to the group around Kim to find that there was one less person there. After a quick recount, he realized that it was the grungy-looking guy who left. Wait, no, there was someone else missing...
Roland whipped his head to the right and saw Dutchy almost completely submerged in water. "The fuck are you doing?" he shouted, walking into the water and wading after him. Unlike Dutchy, Roland was definitely not well-adjusted to the cold, and he found his teeth chattering as he swam after Dutchy, who started coughing as soon as Roland's feet lost contact with the sand. Roland was about to try and save him when the wave hit, disorienting him and tossing him back onto the beach.
That was when he noticed that only Bridget and Sarah, the two people stabilizing Kim, sat near her at all. Brendan instead opted to follow Jason and the other kid's lead and run like a fucking coward.
"BRENDAN!" Roland shouted, "GET BACK HERE, YOU FUCKER!" He'd relapsed into his earlier state of rage when he saw people abandoning Kim. He'd told them to give Bridget and Sarah some space, not to leave them completely! What the hell were they all thinking?
He picked up his harpoon, previously abandoned when he saw Dutchy. At least Dutchy stayed. Roland considered Dutchy to be a much closer friend then all of those other people who left. Even Brendan was barely above acquaintance level. He didn't know what would happen if an actual friend turned tail and ran. His sanity was stretched thin as it was.
Or so he thought, neglecting to consider what might happen in the days to come.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Kimberly could see now. Her hand was free. Good. She wiped her eyes with it, slowly, clearing them. Bridget had restrained her slightly, keeping her from sitting up, and for a damn good reason. She wasn't going to look at her arm until Sarah was done. She could feel it. That was bad enough. Instead, she glanced around again. It was strange. Sarah and Bridget were there. The rest had vanished as quickly as they had appeared, though she could hear someone shouting from behind her, near the water. The lack of people made her feel better, though. She was no longer being a drain on everyone, and was also no longer being ignored by people right next to her. She was starting to actually feel like a person again.
Of course, there were still large problems, like one of her arms being useless and in pain. She wondered if it would ever stop hurting. Well, when she died, of course. That was a thought. Death was no longer imminent, but it was a very real possibility. She couldn't dwell on that. Had to find something else to focus on. Something worthwhile. Something to do with her life.
Kris. The answer was simple. She had to stop Kris. Had to stop her from shooting anyone else. Stop her from killing again. It would be alright. Track Kris down, maybe with help from Bridget, and deal with her. Take her gun. Shoot her or something so she couldn't just get another. It was noble. A smart choice. A good choice. It would be protecting others. That was the right thing to do here, right?
Well, no. What she was considering was absolutely wrong and immoral on every fucking level. Even now, Kimberly could see that. She wasn't fantasizing about protecting people, saving innocent lives. She wanted revenge. Kris had hurt her badly, taken so many things from her, and that was an action that could not go unpunished. If she was going to follow through, that had to be completely clear from the start. Anything less would be a betrayal of herself, would be a filthy lie. If she was going to actually kill one of her classmates, she had to be able to look them in the eye and pull the trigger. To smile while she did it, not because it was right but because it felt good. Could she do it?
That brought her up short. To kill someone, to look at them and realize that they were real, a person, with hopes and cares and dreams, and then to take that all away? To do that, she'd have to be pretty fucking twisted. Be like Kris herself. That wasn't such a stumbling block anymore, though. Kris wasn't a horrible person, even if she'd killed Reika and shot Kimberly. She was a bitch, a poser, but not evil. No, this wasn't about right and wrong. It was about power. Kris had taken that from Kimberly. Taken her independence, her sense of safety. That was the favor she wanted to return. The more she thought of it, the more the idea took hold. It gave her energy. It made her grin, even with the pain and the situation. She just had to communicate it somehow. If anyone here was going to help her, she wasn't going to lie to them, wasn't going to string them along. They'd know that she was going to do something incredibly petty and mean-spirited, and then they'd decide if they wanted a part of it. Kimberly wouldn't have it any other way.
And besides, she had another potential ally, someone not here right now. Because she knew that Reika had a twin sister. A twin sister she had cared very much about. Did Reiko feel the same? No way to know. Kimberly had never talked to her. She suspected, though, that she would be able to convince the girl to come along. In fact, if Kris kept at speed, it wouldn't be long at all until she had a whole sea of bereaved and angry people snapping at her heels, hounding her into hell. Kimberly just had to make sure she was at the head of that pack.
"Bridget," she said. A pause, to catch her breath. Damn, her arm hurt. "Can you... hand me my hat? Once I'm... When I'm feeling a bit better, I think... I think I'm going to want to get moving."
It sounded pathetic, and she hadn't been able to share her plans yet. No, that would have to wait until her arm was wrapped. It would have to wait until she was mobile.
Because right now, Bridget and Sarah were in a position to stop her, and she was not going to be stopped. No. She had a goal, and she was sticking to it. At least, until something more worthwhile came along.
Of course, there were still large problems, like one of her arms being useless and in pain. She wondered if it would ever stop hurting. Well, when she died, of course. That was a thought. Death was no longer imminent, but it was a very real possibility. She couldn't dwell on that. Had to find something else to focus on. Something worthwhile. Something to do with her life.
Kris. The answer was simple. She had to stop Kris. Had to stop her from shooting anyone else. Stop her from killing again. It would be alright. Track Kris down, maybe with help from Bridget, and deal with her. Take her gun. Shoot her or something so she couldn't just get another. It was noble. A smart choice. A good choice. It would be protecting others. That was the right thing to do here, right?
Well, no. What she was considering was absolutely wrong and immoral on every fucking level. Even now, Kimberly could see that. She wasn't fantasizing about protecting people, saving innocent lives. She wanted revenge. Kris had hurt her badly, taken so many things from her, and that was an action that could not go unpunished. If she was going to follow through, that had to be completely clear from the start. Anything less would be a betrayal of herself, would be a filthy lie. If she was going to actually kill one of her classmates, she had to be able to look them in the eye and pull the trigger. To smile while she did it, not because it was right but because it felt good. Could she do it?
That brought her up short. To kill someone, to look at them and realize that they were real, a person, with hopes and cares and dreams, and then to take that all away? To do that, she'd have to be pretty fucking twisted. Be like Kris herself. That wasn't such a stumbling block anymore, though. Kris wasn't a horrible person, even if she'd killed Reika and shot Kimberly. She was a bitch, a poser, but not evil. No, this wasn't about right and wrong. It was about power. Kris had taken that from Kimberly. Taken her independence, her sense of safety. That was the favor she wanted to return. The more she thought of it, the more the idea took hold. It gave her energy. It made her grin, even with the pain and the situation. She just had to communicate it somehow. If anyone here was going to help her, she wasn't going to lie to them, wasn't going to string them along. They'd know that she was going to do something incredibly petty and mean-spirited, and then they'd decide if they wanted a part of it. Kimberly wouldn't have it any other way.
And besides, she had another potential ally, someone not here right now. Because she knew that Reika had a twin sister. A twin sister she had cared very much about. Did Reiko feel the same? No way to know. Kimberly had never talked to her. She suspected, though, that she would be able to convince the girl to come along. In fact, if Kris kept at speed, it wouldn't be long at all until she had a whole sea of bereaved and angry people snapping at her heels, hounding her into hell. Kimberly just had to make sure she was at the head of that pack.
"Bridget," she said. A pause, to catch her breath. Damn, her arm hurt. "Can you... hand me my hat? Once I'm... When I'm feeling a bit better, I think... I think I'm going to want to get moving."
It sounded pathetic, and she hadn't been able to share her plans yet. No, that would have to wait until her arm was wrapped. It would have to wait until she was mobile.
Because right now, Bridget and Sarah were in a position to stop her, and she was not going to be stopped. No. She had a goal, and she was sticking to it. At least, until something more worthwhile came along.
Sarah rubbed her eyes on the rolled up sleeve of her jacket, then readjusted her glasses with the back of her wrist because the stupid things had gone wonky. At least she could see now that her sobbing had stopped, though her mouth still hung a little open and she didn't look much less distraught. Her mind was in a better place though.
That was it. Kimberly's blood had stopped seeping through the gauze she pressed on so tightly, the last replacement she'd layered on had barely stained, and now she could think about what to do next.
She knew you really weren't supposed to remove the gauze. Maybe bandage it up or something but not remove it. That was best left to the doctors. They'd disinfect, anaesthetise and stitch up the wound. Maybe give the patient a lollipop in a characteristically sanitary plastic wrapper...
A sudden burst of shouting made her flynch, but the words caught her attention. Brendan had left. And now that she looked around she realized so had several others. The thought that their group was already breaking up almost set her crying again. But again, she scrunched her eyelids and tried to concentrate on the person in front of her. If people left they would have been useless anyway, though to pretend Roland, with his weapon, with his shouting, didn't intimidate her a little would have been a lie. At least with Brendan armed and around she hadn't had reason to worry...
CONCENTRATE DAMN IT
Wound. Right. Stopped bleeding, okay, need to stop it restarting, need to prevent infection.
She stopped pushing on the bandages and washed her hands under what was left in the water bottle, scrubbing her arms halfway to her elbows. Her sleeves were still out of the way, perfect. She lifted an antiseptic wipe out of the nearest medkit.
"K-Kimberly, I'm going to... going to... disinfect this now, okay?"
How long were they going to be there anyway? Days? Weeks? Long enough.
"Th-then I-I'll stitch you up."
She began methodically cleaning in and around the surface of the bullet wound, being as gentle as she possibly could. She couldn't help the fact that it'd probably hurt Kimberly even more. Personally she'd long since developed a tolerance to the stinging, she guessed knowing exactly what it was doing and preventing helped her cope with the temporary discomfort. To be honest she actually kind of enjoyed it, which was... more than a little weird.
That was it. Kimberly's blood had stopped seeping through the gauze she pressed on so tightly, the last replacement she'd layered on had barely stained, and now she could think about what to do next.
She knew you really weren't supposed to remove the gauze. Maybe bandage it up or something but not remove it. That was best left to the doctors. They'd disinfect, anaesthetise and stitch up the wound. Maybe give the patient a lollipop in a characteristically sanitary plastic wrapper...
A sudden burst of shouting made her flynch, but the words caught her attention. Brendan had left. And now that she looked around she realized so had several others. The thought that their group was already breaking up almost set her crying again. But again, she scrunched her eyelids and tried to concentrate on the person in front of her. If people left they would have been useless anyway, though to pretend Roland, with his weapon, with his shouting, didn't intimidate her a little would have been a lie. At least with Brendan armed and around she hadn't had reason to worry...
CONCENTRATE DAMN IT
Wound. Right. Stopped bleeding, okay, need to stop it restarting, need to prevent infection.
She stopped pushing on the bandages and washed her hands under what was left in the water bottle, scrubbing her arms halfway to her elbows. Her sleeves were still out of the way, perfect. She lifted an antiseptic wipe out of the nearest medkit.
"K-Kimberly, I'm going to... going to... disinfect this now, okay?"
How long were they going to be there anyway? Days? Weeks? Long enough.
"Th-then I-I'll stitch you up."
She began methodically cleaning in and around the surface of the bullet wound, being as gentle as she possibly could. She couldn't help the fact that it'd probably hurt Kimberly even more. Personally she'd long since developed a tolerance to the stinging, she guessed knowing exactly what it was doing and preventing helped her cope with the temporary discomfort. To be honest she actually kind of enjoyed it, which was... more than a little weird.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
Dutchy smiled faintly down at the girl, she looked like she hadn't hear a word he had said. He closed his eyes as he stood up, taking pains to avoid glancing at the wound. Despite his best efforts, he felt his stomach churn as he wobbled to his feet once more.
Just don't think about it Dutchy, don't think about it, be strong Dutchy, you can't think about the...
Dutchy gulped and opened his eyes again. Roland was in front of him, making his way out of the surf. The boy looked rather irate, and very confused. Moreover, he was shivering like crazy.
He's mad, is he mad at me? I hope Roland isn't mad at me. After all this- this stuff today, I don't want to make him mad on top of all of it...
"BRENDAN! GET BACK HERE!"
Roland cursed and Dutchy flinched. He looked back over his shoulder, and confusion began to fill his face. His friend was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, the beach began to feel rather isolated. There was another boy who was helping with the hurt girl. Where had he gone? And where was Jason? Had they gone to get help? But that didn't explain why Roland was mad...
Brendan left? Why did Brendan leave..? Brendan wouldn't leave us! He's my friend, he wouldn't turn around and abandon us...
The beach suddenly felt very empty with his friends absence. Dutchy quickly made his way over to Roland, checking the tree line for the others. His heart sank as he saw no movement. A crazy hope filled him for a brief second, a hope that this wasn't real after all, that this was just a vivid dream and his friends had suddenly vanished from it, whisked away back to real life. If only... But Dutchy knew. He knew, and he couldn't simply wish it away, it would always be there, lurking in the corners. Reality. The bitter reality of what was happening, what was TO happen... No matter how hard he could wish, he was here. He was here and his friends needed him... But where were his friends?
"Roland... Roland, where did Brendan go? And Jason? They, did they run and get help?" Dutchy asked.
Before the other boy could respond he already knew the answer from the look on his face. He looked down at his soaking wet clothing, then up towards the equally soaked Roland.
"Uh.. heh, I'm sorry if you got wet on my account Rolly..." He said, giving a timid laugh. The waves crashed in and out, Dutchy looked around back towards Sarah and Bridget. He felt his stomach churn in time with the waves once more. He looked away, back towards Roland
"S-Sh-he'll be okay. Sarah is really smart, s-sh-, the girl, she'll be fine. Trust me Roland. She's gonna be just fine..." He glanced back at the girl, she had stopped fighting as much. Was that good? He closed his eyes, turning back towards Roland.
She IS going to be just fine Dutchy. She is.
"So... I guess, it's just the fo- five, five of us then."
She's going to be fine Dutchy. She's going to be fine.
"We... we should probably, we need to get out of here. Off this island. She- she'll need medicine... We need to find a, a harbor or something, a boat, some way to signal people..."
She'll be fine Dutchy, she's not going to die. No one is going to die!
"Sarah has a map... we, we probably do to. Our best bet is to find some place, some place maybe with.."
His gaze went back to the wounded girl. He shut his eyes once more. He suddenly didn't feel so good. He wobbled slightly.
Stop looking at her! Your friends need you, your friends need to help HER because you can't! You can't even think of a rescue plan, they don't need you fainting at the sight of her.... her...
"We need to get a boat... we, we need to escape. But the collars... It's like a nightmare. There's no way we can go anywhere out there, the only map we have is of the Isl-"
Cameras.
Dutchy froze. Something clicked in his mind. He looked towards Roland, realization dawning in his eyes.
"Escape... escape is impossible. We can't escape Roland. We can't get out of here. But what if we don't NEED to get out of here...? What if we're looking at it from inside the box, when we need to look out...?"
Dutchy, you're a genius.
He scrambled over towards his bag laying in the sand, unzipping it as quick as he could. He threw the rest of the contents out onto the sand, throwing them around like a madman.
Map! Mapmapmapmapmapmap gotta find it!
As Dutchy threw away a blanket of some sort, his eyes locked on his target. He grabbed the sheet of paper, flipping it around to look at the layout.
Will it work? It'll work! I just know it'll work!
"Roland! I have a plan! I have an idea!" He took off running down the beach. "Follow me!"
Just don't think about it Dutchy, don't think about it, be strong Dutchy, you can't think about the...
Dutchy gulped and opened his eyes again. Roland was in front of him, making his way out of the surf. The boy looked rather irate, and very confused. Moreover, he was shivering like crazy.
He's mad, is he mad at me? I hope Roland isn't mad at me. After all this- this stuff today, I don't want to make him mad on top of all of it...
"BRENDAN! GET BACK HERE!"
Roland cursed and Dutchy flinched. He looked back over his shoulder, and confusion began to fill his face. His friend was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, the beach began to feel rather isolated. There was another boy who was helping with the hurt girl. Where had he gone? And where was Jason? Had they gone to get help? But that didn't explain why Roland was mad...
Brendan left? Why did Brendan leave..? Brendan wouldn't leave us! He's my friend, he wouldn't turn around and abandon us...
The beach suddenly felt very empty with his friends absence. Dutchy quickly made his way over to Roland, checking the tree line for the others. His heart sank as he saw no movement. A crazy hope filled him for a brief second, a hope that this wasn't real after all, that this was just a vivid dream and his friends had suddenly vanished from it, whisked away back to real life. If only... But Dutchy knew. He knew, and he couldn't simply wish it away, it would always be there, lurking in the corners. Reality. The bitter reality of what was happening, what was TO happen... No matter how hard he could wish, he was here. He was here and his friends needed him... But where were his friends?
"Roland... Roland, where did Brendan go? And Jason? They, did they run and get help?" Dutchy asked.
Before the other boy could respond he already knew the answer from the look on his face. He looked down at his soaking wet clothing, then up towards the equally soaked Roland.
"Uh.. heh, I'm sorry if you got wet on my account Rolly..." He said, giving a timid laugh. The waves crashed in and out, Dutchy looked around back towards Sarah and Bridget. He felt his stomach churn in time with the waves once more. He looked away, back towards Roland
"S-Sh-he'll be okay. Sarah is really smart, s-sh-, the girl, she'll be fine. Trust me Roland. She's gonna be just fine..." He glanced back at the girl, she had stopped fighting as much. Was that good? He closed his eyes, turning back towards Roland.
She IS going to be just fine Dutchy. She is.
"So... I guess, it's just the fo- five, five of us then."
She's going to be fine Dutchy. She's going to be fine.
"We... we should probably, we need to get out of here. Off this island. She- she'll need medicine... We need to find a, a harbor or something, a boat, some way to signal people..."
She'll be fine Dutchy, she's not going to die. No one is going to die!
"Sarah has a map... we, we probably do to. Our best bet is to find some place, some place maybe with.."
His gaze went back to the wounded girl. He shut his eyes once more. He suddenly didn't feel so good. He wobbled slightly.
Stop looking at her! Your friends need you, your friends need to help HER because you can't! You can't even think of a rescue plan, they don't need you fainting at the sight of her.... her...
"We need to get a boat... we, we need to escape. But the collars... It's like a nightmare. There's no way we can go anywhere out there, the only map we have is of the Isl-"
Cameras.
Dutchy froze. Something clicked in his mind. He looked towards Roland, realization dawning in his eyes.
"Escape... escape is impossible. We can't escape Roland. We can't get out of here. But what if we don't NEED to get out of here...? What if we're looking at it from inside the box, when we need to look out...?"
Dutchy, you're a genius.
He scrambled over towards his bag laying in the sand, unzipping it as quick as he could. He threw the rest of the contents out onto the sand, throwing them around like a madman.
Map! Mapmapmapmapmapmap gotta find it!
As Dutchy threw away a blanket of some sort, his eyes locked on his target. He grabbed the sheet of paper, flipping it around to look at the layout.
Will it work? It'll work! I just know it'll work!
"Roland! I have a plan! I have an idea!" He took off running down the beach. "Follow me!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
People were yelling. Yelling and screaming at eachother, for one reason or another, and Bridget didn't care in the slightest. She was lost on her own world, hands on Kimberly's shoulders, watching as Sarah began to put the final touches on the wound. That was all she could do right now was just watch. On the sidelines. Helpless. Bridget wasn't a medic, or particularly good at consoling people. She was a fighter, both with her fists and her words. Ever since she was very young, that was all she had. Bridget the fighter. Bridget the debator. Bridget the tactition. Bridget this, Bridget that, always something about fighting.
Bridget was a fighter. And that's what she would do. She would fight. Never again would she hesitate like she did on this God-forsaken beach. Her actions would be swift and decisive. In another time, another place, she might have held mercy for those she would encounter in the next however many days. Now, there would be none. One of the mantras used by her dojo was to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Well, she failed that one once already. Never again though.
Bridget was snapped out of her own world by Kimberly asking for her fedora, which Bridget was more than happy to do so. She briefly considered whether or not she should place it on the girl's head, but decided against it, instead giving it to her good arm. Her arm which was her only good arm because of Bridget's short comings. The arm which would still be just an arm if not for Bridget's lack of insight. The redhead clenched her fists, every thought passing through her conscious convincing herself that everything was her fault. She felt like screaming.
"Kimberly... I'm sorry..." she said quietly, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "If I had been quicker then none of this would have happened." Bridget then took a deep breath before continuing. "I promise to never let it happen again. Even if it costs me my life."
Bridget was a fighter. And that's what she would do. She would fight. Never again would she hesitate like she did on this God-forsaken beach. Her actions would be swift and decisive. In another time, another place, she might have held mercy for those she would encounter in the next however many days. Now, there would be none. One of the mantras used by her dojo was to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Well, she failed that one once already. Never again though.
Bridget was snapped out of her own world by Kimberly asking for her fedora, which Bridget was more than happy to do so. She briefly considered whether or not she should place it on the girl's head, but decided against it, instead giving it to her good arm. Her arm which was her only good arm because of Bridget's short comings. The arm which would still be just an arm if not for Bridget's lack of insight. The redhead clenched her fists, every thought passing through her conscious convincing herself that everything was her fault. She felt like screaming.
"Kimberly... I'm sorry..." she said quietly, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "If I had been quicker then none of this would have happened." Bridget then took a deep breath before continuing. "I promise to never let it happen again. Even if it costs me my life."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
It took Roland a few seconds to realize how insane and paranoid and vindictive he must have looked shouting bloody murder at a student who had fled too far to hear him in any case. He turned and looked at the rest of the crew, at Sarah, Dutchy, and the two other girls he didn't really know. They didn't need someone scary to protect them right now. They needed a gentler touch, one a bit too gentle for him to provide at the moment.
The least he could do was drop the harpoon. No sooner had it left the sand at his feet than it landed on it again. Roland was still close enough to keep it from being stolen, unless he underestimated the speed of the student body. It was his alone, unless Dutchy or someone else from the group asked him for it.
Once Roland's thoughts turned to Dutchy, the smaller Icelandic boy apologized for whatever the fuck he was doing, and Roland found himself feeling even worse for everyone. He had to swallow a couple of times and wipe his eyes to keep his cool. Dutchy started talking and continued for over a minute. Roland could have said something it he really wanted to, but there wasn't much he really wanted to say. Better to let Dutchy take the lead this time. The only time he was tempted to speak, when Dutchy talked about sailing away in a boat, Dutchy connected the dots before Roland could do it for him.
Then, like a train derailing, Dutchy's expression changed, and Roland's with it. The little blond boy raced toward one of the bags, Roland didn't know which, and tore it open for what turned out to be the map. Once he had it, he shouted for Roland to follow him and took off down the beach without so much as look back to the others.
"Dutchy, wait! Where are you going?" Roland shouted before darting his head back to look at Sarah. He flipped between those opposite directions before booking after Dutchy. "We'll be right back, guys! We promise!" he shouted to them before taking off after Dutchy.
So in the end, he did what Brendan did, and hoping that giving them fair warning didn't make him a hypocrite.
The least he could do was drop the harpoon. No sooner had it left the sand at his feet than it landed on it again. Roland was still close enough to keep it from being stolen, unless he underestimated the speed of the student body. It was his alone, unless Dutchy or someone else from the group asked him for it.
Once Roland's thoughts turned to Dutchy, the smaller Icelandic boy apologized for whatever the fuck he was doing, and Roland found himself feeling even worse for everyone. He had to swallow a couple of times and wipe his eyes to keep his cool. Dutchy started talking and continued for over a minute. Roland could have said something it he really wanted to, but there wasn't much he really wanted to say. Better to let Dutchy take the lead this time. The only time he was tempted to speak, when Dutchy talked about sailing away in a boat, Dutchy connected the dots before Roland could do it for him.
Then, like a train derailing, Dutchy's expression changed, and Roland's with it. The little blond boy raced toward one of the bags, Roland didn't know which, and tore it open for what turned out to be the map. Once he had it, he shouted for Roland to follow him and took off down the beach without so much as look back to the others.
"Dutchy, wait! Where are you going?" Roland shouted before darting his head back to look at Sarah. He flipped between those opposite directions before booking after Dutchy. "We'll be right back, guys! We promise!" he shouted to them before taking off after Dutchy.
So in the end, he did what Brendan did, and hoping that giving them fair warning didn't make him a hypocrite.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
More shouting. More confusion. The boys who had been a distance away left. Whatever. Easier to focus on a few people. Much easier. And what was Sarah saying? Disinfect? Stitch up? Oh. That was not going to be pleasant. Well, it could probably be a lot worse. Like, say, if they left it alone to get gangrene and rot off. That'd be a pretty damn awful way to die. Then the stinging came. It was terrible. It was an entirely different sort of pain from the pain of being shot. It merged with the other pain, and made Kimberly hiss and grit her teeth. Luckily, Bridget distracted her by placing something in her hand. It felt like... yes. It was her fedora. Kimberly held it up, looking at it, trying to pretend her left arm didn't exist. The blood hadn't soaked in well, so the front of the hat was speckled with muddy brownish dots.
Hell with it. She put it on anyways, jamming it on at a bad angle because she wasn't paying good attention. Bridget was talking again. Apologizing for everything. Saying it was her fault. Promising to take care of Kimberly or some shit like that, even if it lead to her own death.
Wait.
Bridget was planning to follow her around and... and take care of her like an invalid or something? The anger was building again. Kimberly was not some sick, helpless child. She was hurt, it sucked, but she wasn't dead. That meant she wasn't helpless. She'd have preferred to drag herself by her fingernails than to be carried by someone who would patronize her. She realized that it was sweet of Bridget, really it was, and that she should be thankful, but that did nothing to dispel the cold feeling that had settled over her.
She tried to twist her head to see Bridget, but wasn't positioned right. She settled for gazing in the opposite direction as her arm. If it was about to get stitched, she figured she shouldn't watch. Losing her composure would just cause more problems, would make it harder for her to prove that she was still competent.
"Bridget, thank... thank you," she managed. "I... really appreciate it. But, I need you to... know something."
This was probably about to make things very awkward between the three of them. Kimberly had meant to wait until she was moving to spell it out. Now, there was a chance that Sarah and Bridget would try to stop her. If they attempted to talk her down, she could deal with it. She knew how to win arguments. She knew how to make the immutability of her feelings clear. If they physically restrained her, though, she would be hard pressed to work her way free. Then again, if they did that, they were no better than Kris. She didn't quite believe that of the two girls who had helped her.
"Listen. I'm going to go after her. Kris. She... she hurt me, and I can't just let her... get away with that. Do you understand?"
Kimberly kept her eyes locked on the distance. Tried to push the pains in her arm away. She had to be prepared. She had to be ready for anything. She had seen that the world could change in a second. She had to be ready for it to happen again. She wished she was armed. That grappling hook in her bag would do her no more good as a climbing instrument, not while she was down an arm, but the metal prongs were awfully sharp. She'd need to recover it.
"If you want, you can... come. But, I'm... I'm not going to be part of plans to... I don't know, escape or something. I don't... I don't know if it's possible. But I know finding Kris is. And it's what I want to do."
There. It was done. And, for the first time since being shot, Kimberly felt herself in control again. The burden of choice was now on the others. She had laid out the situation, the ground rules. They could choose how to react, but nothing could alter how she felt, what she would attempt to do.
It was a good state of affairs.
Hell with it. She put it on anyways, jamming it on at a bad angle because she wasn't paying good attention. Bridget was talking again. Apologizing for everything. Saying it was her fault. Promising to take care of Kimberly or some shit like that, even if it lead to her own death.
Wait.
Bridget was planning to follow her around and... and take care of her like an invalid or something? The anger was building again. Kimberly was not some sick, helpless child. She was hurt, it sucked, but she wasn't dead. That meant she wasn't helpless. She'd have preferred to drag herself by her fingernails than to be carried by someone who would patronize her. She realized that it was sweet of Bridget, really it was, and that she should be thankful, but that did nothing to dispel the cold feeling that had settled over her.
She tried to twist her head to see Bridget, but wasn't positioned right. She settled for gazing in the opposite direction as her arm. If it was about to get stitched, she figured she shouldn't watch. Losing her composure would just cause more problems, would make it harder for her to prove that she was still competent.
"Bridget, thank... thank you," she managed. "I... really appreciate it. But, I need you to... know something."
This was probably about to make things very awkward between the three of them. Kimberly had meant to wait until she was moving to spell it out. Now, there was a chance that Sarah and Bridget would try to stop her. If they attempted to talk her down, she could deal with it. She knew how to win arguments. She knew how to make the immutability of her feelings clear. If they physically restrained her, though, she would be hard pressed to work her way free. Then again, if they did that, they were no better than Kris. She didn't quite believe that of the two girls who had helped her.
"Listen. I'm going to go after her. Kris. She... she hurt me, and I can't just let her... get away with that. Do you understand?"
Kimberly kept her eyes locked on the distance. Tried to push the pains in her arm away. She had to be prepared. She had to be ready for anything. She had seen that the world could change in a second. She had to be ready for it to happen again. She wished she was armed. That grappling hook in her bag would do her no more good as a climbing instrument, not while she was down an arm, but the metal prongs were awfully sharp. She'd need to recover it.
"If you want, you can... come. But, I'm... I'm not going to be part of plans to... I don't know, escape or something. I don't... I don't know if it's possible. But I know finding Kris is. And it's what I want to do."
There. It was done. And, for the first time since being shot, Kimberly felt herself in control again. The burden of choice was now on the others. She had laid out the situation, the ground rules. They could choose how to react, but nothing could alter how she felt, what she would attempt to do.
It was a good state of affairs.
Sarah listened as Kimberly and Bridget spoke, made one last check for grit in her wound, threaded the needle from her medkit more easily than she'd anticipated, and began to stitch her up. She pushed the needle in, the epidermis not offering much resistance as she turned it under, and through. She'd never done anything quite like it. She'd had it done to her before, and she'd done some sewing over the years, but trying to stitch another human being's skin back together felt strange, really strange.
She stopped just as she was about to make the second stitch, Kimberly had started talking about going after her attacker. She leaned back a little from her patient, enough to see her eyes.
Sarah hadn't been talking before, but her silence now had a different force behind it. She was weighing up the arguments in her mind. Kimberly wanted revenge. That was silly, people were scared and accidents like that were bound to happen. She didn't want to help in some stupid vengeance plot, but if she just let the girl run off by herself it could only end badly. If Kris was freaking out then she needed to be stopped; but someone needed to sit her down and let her unwind, not injure her as well.
I'd be the one cleaning up anyway...
Besides, they were going to need as many people as they could if they were going to even try to live through this. She already had a few embryonic ideas about that and none of them were going to be helped by having a tiny group. She could try and talk her down after she'd finished sewing her back together; which she now prepared to continue.
"Fine." It was a statement, neither begrudging nor enthusiastic. There seemed no reason to say otherwise, she needed some time to think anyway, somewhere to go. Shelter was more attractive than the beach anyway, and if the girl lying in front of her wanted to find Kris there was hardly any better way than to go where the people clustered.
Especially since people seemed to be leaving at an incredible rate... She looked up as Dutchy sped off, looking up in time for Roland's assurances. It took a moment for it to click as he too turned and ran. Away. Both of them. He'd said they'd be right back but she had a bad feeling Dutchy was doing something rash.
"Dutchy! DUTCHY! ROLAND!" She was fed up now. Fed up with people running off, fed up with not knowing why people ran off and fed up with people going stupid and doing stupid things. If people didn't act like such complete fucking morons Kimberly wouldn't have been shot and they'd all be halfway off the fucking island by now.
"COME BACK!"
She stopped just as she was about to make the second stitch, Kimberly had started talking about going after her attacker. She leaned back a little from her patient, enough to see her eyes.
Sarah hadn't been talking before, but her silence now had a different force behind it. She was weighing up the arguments in her mind. Kimberly wanted revenge. That was silly, people were scared and accidents like that were bound to happen. She didn't want to help in some stupid vengeance plot, but if she just let the girl run off by herself it could only end badly. If Kris was freaking out then she needed to be stopped; but someone needed to sit her down and let her unwind, not injure her as well.
I'd be the one cleaning up anyway...
Besides, they were going to need as many people as they could if they were going to even try to live through this. She already had a few embryonic ideas about that and none of them were going to be helped by having a tiny group. She could try and talk her down after she'd finished sewing her back together; which she now prepared to continue.
"Fine." It was a statement, neither begrudging nor enthusiastic. There seemed no reason to say otherwise, she needed some time to think anyway, somewhere to go. Shelter was more attractive than the beach anyway, and if the girl lying in front of her wanted to find Kris there was hardly any better way than to go where the people clustered.
Especially since people seemed to be leaving at an incredible rate... She looked up as Dutchy sped off, looking up in time for Roland's assurances. It took a moment for it to click as he too turned and ran. Away. Both of them. He'd said they'd be right back but she had a bad feeling Dutchy was doing something rash.
"Dutchy! DUTCHY! ROLAND!" She was fed up now. Fed up with people running off, fed up with not knowing why people ran off and fed up with people going stupid and doing stupid things. If people didn't act like such complete fucking morons Kimberly wouldn't have been shot and they'd all be halfway off the fucking island by now.
"COME BACK!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Gwbiiii.
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Little Boy†
- Posts: 256
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:47 am
The wind whistled past Dutchy as he ran up the beach, Roland in hot pursuit. Dutchy was oblivious to his surroundings, nothing mattered at the moment except how fast he could go. He clutched the map in his right hand, he couldn't let go. He wouldn't ever let go.
Because this isn't the end. I'm going to save everyone. It's going to work.
As Dutchy reached the treeline, he spun to see Roland gaining on him. The sight of the boy following him made Dutchy smile despite the dire situation.
There is always hope, there is always light. I'm the light, for everyone here! I'm going to save that girl! I'm a hero!
"Hurry Roland hurry! I've got it, I've figured it out! Imagine that, out of everyone here- Me! I beat the game! WE beat the game!"
He frantically jerked his head back and forth, looking at the nearby foliage. They had to be around. They simply had to. Dutchy fell to his hands and knees, frantically brushing aside the tall grass in a desperate search. After what seemed like eternity, Dutchy spotted it. A black box, a red light on the top. It lay in the grass, nearly entirely obscured. Dutchy looked out towards the beach.
A clear line of sight. A perfect spot, I've found it, I've found a camera!
"Já Já Já Já Já!! Roland! Come on!"
Dutchy scrambled on his hands and knees over towards the camera. Sitting in front of the small box, Dutchy brushed some stray branches and leaves aside, moving in front to block the view of the object. He looked down into the lense, smiling broadly.
"Got you! Roland, come on!"
He beckoned the other boy to his side before turning back to the camera. He reached up, pushing his still wet hair out of his face. He was shaking near uncontrollably. He stared back towards the camera, waving at it and grinning an infectious smile.
It will work. They all were thinking backwards, but I've cracked it.
"Hallo! Gaman að kynnast þér! Dutchy, my name is Dutchy! I've got something to say- something to say to everyone! It's really important, you all need to be watching, okay? It will only take a second of your time, please, be patient with me! Takk fyrir!"
Dutchy looked up towards his friend. He beckoned him once more, moving out of the way of the camera so it captured Roland.
"You see this? This is my friend Roland! He's my buddy, and he's here with me and the rest of my friends! Wave hi Roland! Man, isn't he beautiful? I could kiss him right now. Sarah is here too, she's fantastic, and we're doing all right,- but not for long. We're stuck here, and- you see that thing on his neck? You see it?" Dutchy paused momentarily, leaning back into the camera's view to show his own collar, metallic and cold against his skin.
"I've got one too. If we don't do what they tell us, BOOM!" He gave an awkward chuckle. "Boom! Y-You know. It's not really that funny. Not funny at all. Death isn't..." He stopped momentarily. He gulped, his face softening.
"Death isn't funny. None of this, this isn't funny. But that isn't going to happen. No, no no. No one is going to die here. And you know why?," He took a deep breath. "Because I SAID SO. I'm going to save everyone. Danya, you may be laughing now, but I've got a message for you. Hatred-, it doesn't cease with hatred. You can't hope to win, you don't even know what you want! You can only stop hatred with love. And that is why in the end, no matter what happens, I will win! We will win! I'll save everyone, and I'll see Iceland! You get it Danya? Even if you get me, you won't get them! I'm going to get them home!"
Dutchy had barely realized it, but his voice had gradually risen to a shout. He was crying again, but for the life of him he didn't understand why. He leaned back out wiping the tears from his face. He chuckled.
"I love everyone and that isn't a lie- but even I don't like you Danya. Hey, everyone, you know how sometimes- sometimes you hear something weird, some saying, and you can't for the life of you remember who told you it first? Like um, a dime a dozen? I don't even know what that means. They're called idioms I think. Or- or, like, what's another? Haste makes waste! Weird things like that. I've got one of those! And I'm gonna show you it! I believe they call it, 'An Ace in the Hole'!"
Dutchy whipped up his map, pressing it up in front of the camera. He began to laugh a startling high pitched laugh, smiling.
"See this?! LOOKLOOKLOOK. This is where we are! This island! WE ARE TRAPPED HERE. Now, I KNOW some of you are watching tapes right now, or live TV or whatever. I KNOW the good guys are watching too! Pause it right now, this is all you need! We can't get out, we can't escape, but that's the wrong way of looking at it! We're trapped in the box with no key, but you're on the outside looking for the box! HERE IT IS! I just gave you the box! There are over 3,000 satellites orbiting earth, and we're trapped on a remote island somewhere in some, well, one of the oceans. When you think about it, that kinda narrows it down, dontcha' think? Now hop to it! Find this island! Show'em who's boss! RAH RAH! FIGHT THE POWER!"
Because this isn't the end. I'm going to save everyone. It's going to work.
As Dutchy reached the treeline, he spun to see Roland gaining on him. The sight of the boy following him made Dutchy smile despite the dire situation.
There is always hope, there is always light. I'm the light, for everyone here! I'm going to save that girl! I'm a hero!
"Hurry Roland hurry! I've got it, I've figured it out! Imagine that, out of everyone here- Me! I beat the game! WE beat the game!"
He frantically jerked his head back and forth, looking at the nearby foliage. They had to be around. They simply had to. Dutchy fell to his hands and knees, frantically brushing aside the tall grass in a desperate search. After what seemed like eternity, Dutchy spotted it. A black box, a red light on the top. It lay in the grass, nearly entirely obscured. Dutchy looked out towards the beach.
A clear line of sight. A perfect spot, I've found it, I've found a camera!
"Já Já Já Já Já!! Roland! Come on!"
Dutchy scrambled on his hands and knees over towards the camera. Sitting in front of the small box, Dutchy brushed some stray branches and leaves aside, moving in front to block the view of the object. He looked down into the lense, smiling broadly.
"Got you! Roland, come on!"
He beckoned the other boy to his side before turning back to the camera. He reached up, pushing his still wet hair out of his face. He was shaking near uncontrollably. He stared back towards the camera, waving at it and grinning an infectious smile.
It will work. They all were thinking backwards, but I've cracked it.
"Hallo! Gaman að kynnast þér! Dutchy, my name is Dutchy! I've got something to say- something to say to everyone! It's really important, you all need to be watching, okay? It will only take a second of your time, please, be patient with me! Takk fyrir!"
Dutchy looked up towards his friend. He beckoned him once more, moving out of the way of the camera so it captured Roland.
"You see this? This is my friend Roland! He's my buddy, and he's here with me and the rest of my friends! Wave hi Roland! Man, isn't he beautiful? I could kiss him right now. Sarah is here too, she's fantastic, and we're doing all right,- but not for long. We're stuck here, and- you see that thing on his neck? You see it?" Dutchy paused momentarily, leaning back into the camera's view to show his own collar, metallic and cold against his skin.
"I've got one too. If we don't do what they tell us, BOOM!" He gave an awkward chuckle. "Boom! Y-You know. It's not really that funny. Not funny at all. Death isn't..." He stopped momentarily. He gulped, his face softening.
"Death isn't funny. None of this, this isn't funny. But that isn't going to happen. No, no no. No one is going to die here. And you know why?," He took a deep breath. "Because I SAID SO. I'm going to save everyone. Danya, you may be laughing now, but I've got a message for you. Hatred-, it doesn't cease with hatred. You can't hope to win, you don't even know what you want! You can only stop hatred with love. And that is why in the end, no matter what happens, I will win! We will win! I'll save everyone, and I'll see Iceland! You get it Danya? Even if you get me, you won't get them! I'm going to get them home!"
Dutchy had barely realized it, but his voice had gradually risen to a shout. He was crying again, but for the life of him he didn't understand why. He leaned back out wiping the tears from his face. He chuckled.
"I love everyone and that isn't a lie- but even I don't like you Danya. Hey, everyone, you know how sometimes- sometimes you hear something weird, some saying, and you can't for the life of you remember who told you it first? Like um, a dime a dozen? I don't even know what that means. They're called idioms I think. Or- or, like, what's another? Haste makes waste! Weird things like that. I've got one of those! And I'm gonna show you it! I believe they call it, 'An Ace in the Hole'!"
Dutchy whipped up his map, pressing it up in front of the camera. He began to laugh a startling high pitched laugh, smiling.
"See this?! LOOKLOOKLOOK. This is where we are! This island! WE ARE TRAPPED HERE. Now, I KNOW some of you are watching tapes right now, or live TV or whatever. I KNOW the good guys are watching too! Pause it right now, this is all you need! We can't get out, we can't escape, but that's the wrong way of looking at it! We're trapped in the box with no key, but you're on the outside looking for the box! HERE IT IS! I just gave you the box! There are over 3,000 satellites orbiting earth, and we're trapped on a remote island somewhere in some, well, one of the oceans. When you think about it, that kinda narrows it down, dontcha' think? Now hop to it! Find this island! Show'em who's boss! RAH RAH! FIGHT THE POWER!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Bridget listened as Kimberly told them her plans. She didn't say anything at first, mulling it over in her head. Kimberly was clearly angry, and by the tone of her voice, Bridget could tell she was serious. She wanted to find Kris, and stop her. This made the redhead stop and really think about their situation. Up until now she had spent it worrying too much about Kimberly to even think of revenge, or stopping others from killing. Now that she knew the other girl was out of immediate danger, she was able to think.
Kimberly wanted to stop Kris, but she was hurt. She would probably need help. She had already failed once, and she didn't plan on failing to protect someone again. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she didn't like it. Never the less, they shouldn't get separated.
"I'm with you." Bridget said to Kimberly. "We need to stick together, so wherever you go, I go." After a moment or two, an idea popped into her head. If they were going to hunt down someone who was armed and dangerous, they would need some firepower of their own. "We should probably find some weapons of our own. What we got right now isn't going to help us much. We should also probably move somewhere a bit safer." she looked to Sarah to see what she had to say about this.
Kimberly wanted to stop Kris, but she was hurt. She would probably need help. She had already failed once, and she didn't plan on failing to protect someone again. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she didn't like it. Never the less, they shouldn't get separated.
"I'm with you." Bridget said to Kimberly. "We need to stick together, so wherever you go, I go." After a moment or two, an idea popped into her head. If they were going to hunt down someone who was armed and dangerous, they would need some firepower of their own. "We should probably find some weapons of our own. What we got right now isn't going to help us much. We should also probably move somewhere a bit safer." she looked to Sarah to see what she had to say about this.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
"COME BACK!"
Oh shit. Roland heard Sarah shout, having snapped the limits of her own patience. Now he knew what Brendan felt. If he'd heard Roland. Which he didn't. He faltered a bit and turned around, noticing that he'd made surprising distance in the time it took for her to shout at them. Then he turned back and noticed that Dutchy stopped twenty feet away and was searching through the sand, babbling about how he beat the game, THEY beat the game.
Truth be told, Roland wasn't sure how to react to this. Was Dutchy really struck by a profound insight, the observation that could bust this puzzle wide open? Or had he snapped from the stress and lost all sense of restraint. Roland was ready to give him that restraint if it was the latter case, and he very nearly got that chance when he realized that it was a camera that Dutchy had found.
"Dutchy, NO!" he shouted, rushing towards him, thinking that he was going to do something with the camera. Danya specifically said that was a death sentence! But no, Dutchy just wanted to make his own announcement for now. Roland skidded to a halt behind Dutchy, getting sand in his shoes, and had to perform a precarious balancing act to clean them out. Of course this was the time that Dutchy moved aside and let the lens capture him as well.
When Dutchy told him to wave, he was so struck by the awkwardness of the situation that he froze instead, toppling to the ground. It took him a while to get up and dust himself off, but he got to listen to the full scope of Dutchy's panicked ramblings. At this point, Roland thought, he was saying anything that came to mind, anything that kept him from collapsing in despair, from going to sleep and never waking up.
Fine. Whatever he had to do. He leaned over Dutchy's shoulder and looked just to the right of the camera. Letting everything out was well and good, but what if Dutchy revealed whatever idea he had up his sleeve here? That would blow any chance of it ever working, because then Danya would see it!
Roland was fully prepared to gag Dutchy to keep him from sharing it audibly. But as it turned out, he didn't need to. All Dutchy did was pull out a map, funneling information to the viewers at home.
It... he guessed it wasn't a bad plan? Out of all his findings on the show, findings originating from an odd attractive hatred for it and everyone who made it, he'd never heard of a student showing the map to the camera. In fact, it was actually kind of clever. Maybe if someone on the island found some sort of unique detail about it that the bad guys missed, they'd be safe and sound.
But then he thought of why the plan would fail. Most importantly, Dutchy's collar was whole. Roland remembered that Danya would terminate all escape attempts the hard way. So Roland got a sneaking suspicion that Danya was laughing his lumpy ass off at Dutchy because B: he could cut the feed whenever he wanted. So Roland assumed, anyway. Who's to say that the show was live? Who's to say that Danya didn't have complete control about what the public saw?
And who's to say that the American government, even if they did see Dutchy's map, would ever have the brains or the balls to do something useful with it? Roland was honestly surprised that the Homeland Security Chief hadn't had his brains jackhammered out by a grieving parent for failing to prevent four mass abductions on American soil. Fucking inexcusable!
It was all Roland could do to look defiant for the camera, because his heart wasn't into it at all. Leave it to Dutchy to have any hope at all that the administration could save them. But if Roland pointed out the obvious, Dutchy would have nothing left. He'd spend the last days of his life grief-stricken and insane. He waited politely for Dutchy to wear himself out, then reached down and put his hand on Dutchy's shoulder.
"That w-was beautiful, man," he said. He couldn't keep his voice from cracking. "Now come on. Sarah's pissed at us; we'd better get back there and calm her down."
Oh shit. Roland heard Sarah shout, having snapped the limits of her own patience. Now he knew what Brendan felt. If he'd heard Roland. Which he didn't. He faltered a bit and turned around, noticing that he'd made surprising distance in the time it took for her to shout at them. Then he turned back and noticed that Dutchy stopped twenty feet away and was searching through the sand, babbling about how he beat the game, THEY beat the game.
Truth be told, Roland wasn't sure how to react to this. Was Dutchy really struck by a profound insight, the observation that could bust this puzzle wide open? Or had he snapped from the stress and lost all sense of restraint. Roland was ready to give him that restraint if it was the latter case, and he very nearly got that chance when he realized that it was a camera that Dutchy had found.
"Dutchy, NO!" he shouted, rushing towards him, thinking that he was going to do something with the camera. Danya specifically said that was a death sentence! But no, Dutchy just wanted to make his own announcement for now. Roland skidded to a halt behind Dutchy, getting sand in his shoes, and had to perform a precarious balancing act to clean them out. Of course this was the time that Dutchy moved aside and let the lens capture him as well.
When Dutchy told him to wave, he was so struck by the awkwardness of the situation that he froze instead, toppling to the ground. It took him a while to get up and dust himself off, but he got to listen to the full scope of Dutchy's panicked ramblings. At this point, Roland thought, he was saying anything that came to mind, anything that kept him from collapsing in despair, from going to sleep and never waking up.
Fine. Whatever he had to do. He leaned over Dutchy's shoulder and looked just to the right of the camera. Letting everything out was well and good, but what if Dutchy revealed whatever idea he had up his sleeve here? That would blow any chance of it ever working, because then Danya would see it!
Roland was fully prepared to gag Dutchy to keep him from sharing it audibly. But as it turned out, he didn't need to. All Dutchy did was pull out a map, funneling information to the viewers at home.
It... he guessed it wasn't a bad plan? Out of all his findings on the show, findings originating from an odd attractive hatred for it and everyone who made it, he'd never heard of a student showing the map to the camera. In fact, it was actually kind of clever. Maybe if someone on the island found some sort of unique detail about it that the bad guys missed, they'd be safe and sound.
But then he thought of why the plan would fail. Most importantly, Dutchy's collar was whole. Roland remembered that Danya would terminate all escape attempts the hard way. So Roland got a sneaking suspicion that Danya was laughing his lumpy ass off at Dutchy because B: he could cut the feed whenever he wanted. So Roland assumed, anyway. Who's to say that the show was live? Who's to say that Danya didn't have complete control about what the public saw?
And who's to say that the American government, even if they did see Dutchy's map, would ever have the brains or the balls to do something useful with it? Roland was honestly surprised that the Homeland Security Chief hadn't had his brains jackhammered out by a grieving parent for failing to prevent four mass abductions on American soil. Fucking inexcusable!
It was all Roland could do to look defiant for the camera, because his heart wasn't into it at all. Leave it to Dutchy to have any hope at all that the administration could save them. But if Roland pointed out the obvious, Dutchy would have nothing left. He'd spend the last days of his life grief-stricken and insane. He waited politely for Dutchy to wear himself out, then reached down and put his hand on Dutchy's shoulder.
"That w-was beautiful, man," he said. He couldn't keep his voice from cracking. "Now come on. Sarah's pissed at us; we'd better get back there and calm her down."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.