Petrushka was nervous. Really nervous. And peeking out from behind the curtain to see the audience, only slightly visible thanks to the lights on the stage, making it look like there were more than there really was, only made it worse.
This was a 13 year-old Petrushka's first recital. Sure, she was actually one of five others playing tonight, but she still wasn't used to playing for an audience. Before, the only people she played for was for herself, or for friends and family. Not for the families of those friends, or for the friends that those families managed to convince to come along, or for the school faculty.
"<I...I don't know if I can do this.> She said, the boy before her finishing up his piece.
"<Come on, Petrushka. What's there to worry about?> Olga said reassuringly, standing behind her. She knew Petrushka would be nervous about performing for an audience for the first time, so she decided to come backstage and provide emotional support. "<You're easily better than any of these other kids. They're gonna love you.>"
"<T-that's not it.>" Petrushka said in protest. But come to think of it, what WAS it about, then? She didn't have time to think about it, though, as the boy before her finished his piece and took a bow as the audience applauded.
"<Alright, it's your turn.>" Olga said, placing her hand on Petrushka's back and giving her gentle push onto the stage.
"<B-but->"
"<Don't worry. I'll be here.>" Olga said. Olga was easily the family member Petrushka was closest to. It wasn't easy being the middle child. Her mother always seemed to pay more attention to her younger and older sisters than to her. But, even she didn't have to, Olga was always there to pick up the slack. She was always the one most concerned with looking after her, standing up for her when anyone tried to pick on her, always trying to help her come out of her shell, stubborn as she was at that last point. She always said that Petrushka would blossom into a fine young lady; she just had to try.
She stepped out onto the stage as her music teacher announced her, the audience applauding politely. Soon, the applause faded, leading to an almost deafening silence. Now it was up to her to fill it, but soon the nervousness began to well up again. She peered out off the stage, trying to make out any faces, but the bright lights of the stage rendered them all into faceless silhouettes. Somewhere out there was her mother, and her younger sister Sofia, no doubt sulking because she was forced to come along and watch her older sister perform when she'd rather be at home watching TV. Her father wouldn't be there, of course. He was always at work, spending long hours away from home. She was told that he was just trying to provide for his family as best he could, but he could at least show up for something as important as this.
She stood there for a moment, not sure if she could handle the pressure. It would be better if she could at least SEE her audience, but seeing them only as faceless masses just made it worse. She couldn't tell what they were thinking, how they'd react to her performance. For a moment, the thought of just running off the stage and forgetting this whole thing came to mind.
She looked back at Olga, and Olga smiled. And somehow, that smile slowly started to make all that anxiety and fear just fade away. It was okay. It didn't matter what they thought. Olga would be there, and when Petrushka was finished, she wouldn't judge her, or think any less of her if she didn't give a good performance. She'd just smile, and that smile would make everything better.
------------
Petrushka finally put her shirt back on, mulling over her situation. If only she had brought her violin with her; it could've helped at least a little bit. To her, the violin wasn't just an instrument. When she played it, it had a sort of calming effect for her. She could just block out everything, all the bad things in the world, and just lose herself in the music. Something like that would've really helped to ease her mind. Come to think of it, that girl that she followed after was carrying a violin, wasn't she? A shame she couldn't have left it behind.
Suddenly, she reached out, wrapping her hand around an imaginary neck, her body almost acting on its own. Fingers pressing down the strings, she held up her imaginary bow and held it against the body. Taking a deep breath, she drew the imaginary bow against the imaginary strings.
And it was beautiful.
The music spread throughout the hut, and out towards the audience. Beautiful, and yet with a twinge of sadness. Anyone walking in at that moment would probably give her a funny look, as nobody could hear the music but her, but it still helped to put her mind at ease. At that moment, it didn't matter who was watching her, even if she was playing an imaginary violin in an abandoned hut on an island full of killers. As she bore her soul to whoever was listening, all that mattered at this moment was the music.
A sudden noise snapped her back to reality, followed by another, and another. She started to get up, but then player number three appeared in the doorway, pointing a gun right at her. Her words were a little confusing, but she seemed to want her weapon.
"I...I do not have any." She said. Her own weapon was useless compared to a gun, and judging by the one-eyed girl's attempts to take on a player with her bare hands, she probably didn't have a decent weapon either.
Suddenly, it begin to sink in, what was going to happen to her. This was it. She was going to die, wasn't she? She was lucky, having run into as much as she did and getting out despite not having a weapon. But now her luck had run out. There was no running this time. The girl had her trapped, and whether she lived or died was entirely up to her. She felt like she should feel frightened, like she should be begging for her life, or at least fighting for her life down to her last breath. She should be feeling fear, anger, panic.
Instead, all she felt was sad resignation.
She wasn't cut out for this. The truth was, she couldn't kill anybody. She couldn't play the game like Danya wanted her to. And if she couldn't be a killer, that only left her as prey in his eyes. And even if she managed to make it all the way to the end of the game, through killing or not, she would no longer be herself. It was only the first day, and she was already at her wit's end. A few more days of this, and by the end she would only be a shell of her former self. She wished oh so very much that there was a third option. That there was some way to break free, without becoming either predator or prey, and without having to change, but unfortunately it looked like her game was going to end before she could even come close to finding it.
It just wasn't fair. When there was a problem, Olga was always there to help her with it. She helped her so much, that she almost felt guilty about it at times, never able to return the favor. But this time, Olga was miles away on the mainland, watching her younger sister suffer and die while could no nothing about it.
She was tired of this. No more crying, or screaming, or bemoaning her fate. No begging for her life. Time to smile. Time to face the end with dignity.
"If you are going to kill me...please, make it quick."
Where is My Mind?
B116 Start
-
Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
Clio reaffirmed her stance in the doorway. No matter how much her toe was frickin' hurting right now, she needed to be stronger than she was back at those woods. There was nowhere to run now, and this Russian girl was going to do what she said. She wasn't going to be as resiliant and ignorant as that other Russian she had to shoot, now was she?
Clio scoffed at her statement "No weapon? Everyone got a weapon, so now I want yours!" Her hands clasped the gun tighter, not letting her get any opportunity to go one-up on her. She was definitely in charge now, and her life was in her hands.
A life, which apparently, didn't really matter to her.
The moment Clio heard the words leave the Russians lips, a part of her went quiet. The part that was urging her to play, to kill, to survive, was taking 5, but the rest of her mind was in full swinging motion. She...wanted to die?
But...why would you do that? Why would anyone choose to die? That's like, going against everything that's human! Humans are supposed to want to survive, to live! It's science!
...but this isn't science, Clio.
What?
This is way beyond anything that Darwin, or all evolutionists could comprehend. People being forced to kill each other, I'm sure you're sure that they didn't have to face it in their lifetime. But you do. So you need to understand what they think now.
But why would you give up? There's always a fighting chance! Always a second option! Always the luck of the draw! Sure she didn't get lucky, but...why would anyone just want to die?
Cause it's what you would do.
You again...
Finish the job, Clio. She wants to die, so you help her on her way.
...
Her feet, still aching from the mistep moments earlier, walked forward slowly. Echoes shattered the silence as shoe met wooden floor, and Clio was now with a gun at the girls forehead.
"As you wish."
Clio's lip was bitten again. This was gonna hurt a lot, and she knew it. She'd already fired 7 rounds today, and none of them were finger friendly.
Readjusting her aim, Clio moved her gun to the area of the heart. An invisible target was made aware to her and with most of her fingers on the trigger, Clio fired.
Bang.
Clio scoffed at her statement "No weapon? Everyone got a weapon, so now I want yours!" Her hands clasped the gun tighter, not letting her get any opportunity to go one-up on her. She was definitely in charge now, and her life was in her hands.
A life, which apparently, didn't really matter to her.
The moment Clio heard the words leave the Russians lips, a part of her went quiet. The part that was urging her to play, to kill, to survive, was taking 5, but the rest of her mind was in full swinging motion. She...wanted to die?
But...why would you do that? Why would anyone choose to die? That's like, going against everything that's human! Humans are supposed to want to survive, to live! It's science!
...but this isn't science, Clio.
What?
This is way beyond anything that Darwin, or all evolutionists could comprehend. People being forced to kill each other, I'm sure you're sure that they didn't have to face it in their lifetime. But you do. So you need to understand what they think now.
But why would you give up? There's always a fighting chance! Always a second option! Always the luck of the draw! Sure she didn't get lucky, but...why would anyone just want to die?
Cause it's what you would do.
You again...
Finish the job, Clio. She wants to die, so you help her on her way.
...
Her feet, still aching from the mistep moments earlier, walked forward slowly. Echoes shattered the silence as shoe met wooden floor, and Clio was now with a gun at the girls forehead.
"As you wish."
Clio's lip was bitten again. This was gonna hurt a lot, and she knew it. She'd already fired 7 rounds today, and none of them were finger friendly.
Readjusting her aim, Clio moved her gun to the area of the heart. An invisible target was made aware to her and with most of her fingers on the trigger, Clio fired.
Bang.
-
Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
This was it, then. The girl with the gun had decided to put her down. She wondered if she should say something. Some kind of last words. Maybe she could say something to her family. To Olga. She wondered if they'd be disappointed that she gave up so quickly. She wondered if her father was watching; if he'd even heard of what's going on yet, or if his work was more important than even the fact that one of his daughters was about to die. She hoped that they wouldn't be too sad. Especially Olga.
Suddenly, the words came to her, she opened her mouth to speak, and-
BANG
The sound was deafening, and Petrushka was surprised by how little it hurt; more like being punched in the chest than what she was expecting. She looked down to see a hole in her shirt, surrounded by red. Soon, the redness began to spread, covering more and more of the shirt, and she felt something warm trickling down her stomach. It took her a moment before she realized that she was starting to lose feeling in her legs, as if she had been sitting on them wrong. But then the feeling started fade out of her arms as well, traveling down her extremities. She tried her best to stay upright, but eventually her balance gave out and she fell to the side, barely even feeling the impact. She looked up at the girl, who was starting to become a blur, and suddenly remembered what she was going to say. She opened her mouth to speak once again, but the words stuck in her throat, taking even more effort than usual to get out.
"Good...luck..."
It just barely audible, sounding like a whisper, but it took all the energy Petrushka had left to say them. Her last words, to the person who killed her. No doubt the game was already starting to change her, if she was already killing in cold blood. And for what? If she won the game, what would there be for her? Even if she made it back home, everyone would know her as a killer. Nobody would be able to look at her the same way again; not even her own family. It was a fate she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.
As for her, though, this was the end. The bullet had lodged itself in her heart, so she wouldn't have to deal with any unpleasantries like her lungs filling with blood. It would be a relatively quick and peaceful death for her, as her vision blurred more and more, until nothing could be made out anymore. Her eyelids were feeling so heavy now. There was nothing left but to just drift off to sleep. So Petrushka slowly closed her eyes and...
...finished her song. As the last note rang out across the auditorium, Petrushka came back to reality, and soon began to feel the nervousness starting to return as she waited for the audience to respond. The seconds began to feel like hours, and her hands began to tremble a bit. She just bore her soul to them, but would they even care?
One second...two seconds...three seconds...
The audience began to applaud.
Not just polite applause, either. She could tell that they actually, honestly and truely enjoyed her performance. She stood there, basking in the praise, and suddenly the nervous feelings she had before just seemed so silly. So pointless. She looked off-stage over at Olga, and as she caught her eye her sister smiled and gave her the thumbs-up.
They liked it.
They really liked it.
Petrushka smiled to the audience, and took a bow.
And the curtains closed.
G095: PETRUSHKA IVANOVA - FIN
Suddenly, the words came to her, she opened her mouth to speak, and-
BANG
The sound was deafening, and Petrushka was surprised by how little it hurt; more like being punched in the chest than what she was expecting. She looked down to see a hole in her shirt, surrounded by red. Soon, the redness began to spread, covering more and more of the shirt, and she felt something warm trickling down her stomach. It took her a moment before she realized that she was starting to lose feeling in her legs, as if she had been sitting on them wrong. But then the feeling started fade out of her arms as well, traveling down her extremities. She tried her best to stay upright, but eventually her balance gave out and she fell to the side, barely even feeling the impact. She looked up at the girl, who was starting to become a blur, and suddenly remembered what she was going to say. She opened her mouth to speak once again, but the words stuck in her throat, taking even more effort than usual to get out.
"Good...luck..."
It just barely audible, sounding like a whisper, but it took all the energy Petrushka had left to say them. Her last words, to the person who killed her. No doubt the game was already starting to change her, if she was already killing in cold blood. And for what? If she won the game, what would there be for her? Even if she made it back home, everyone would know her as a killer. Nobody would be able to look at her the same way again; not even her own family. It was a fate she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.
As for her, though, this was the end. The bullet had lodged itself in her heart, so she wouldn't have to deal with any unpleasantries like her lungs filling with blood. It would be a relatively quick and peaceful death for her, as her vision blurred more and more, until nothing could be made out anymore. Her eyelids were feeling so heavy now. There was nothing left but to just drift off to sleep. So Petrushka slowly closed her eyes and...
...finished her song. As the last note rang out across the auditorium, Petrushka came back to reality, and soon began to feel the nervousness starting to return as she waited for the audience to respond. The seconds began to feel like hours, and her hands began to tremble a bit. She just bore her soul to them, but would they even care?
One second...two seconds...three seconds...
The audience began to applaud.
Not just polite applause, either. She could tell that they actually, honestly and truely enjoyed her performance. She stood there, basking in the praise, and suddenly the nervous feelings she had before just seemed so silly. So pointless. She looked off-stage over at Olga, and as she caught her eye her sister smiled and gave her the thumbs-up.
They liked it.
They really liked it.
Petrushka smiled to the audience, and took a bow.
And the curtains closed.
G095: PETRUSHKA IVANOVA - FIN
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
One bullet.
Just one. Just one silly little bullet, and now she was gone. Clio had finally gone through with it, more personally than she had at the beach. The girl...she had last words, last thoughts, and so much blood, so much blood for a single bullet. And now, the Russian girl lay dead.
And Clio...
The tears started again, salty and sticking to her face. What was she becoming? Why was she making this personal? All she wanted to do was live, to see Italy again for one last trip. No one could make it out of here without playing the game. She'd seen the previous games, been horrifyed by it. Adam Dodd, Bryan Calvert, Rizzolo, none of them made it out without killing a lot of people. No one who had any sort of chance of breaking out got as far as they did without loosing their humanity, killing the very people who had picked on them, made fun of them, rejected them. There were people out there, who would kill, not just her. That girl with the blood, now soaking the dead girl's shirt, someone tried to kill her. She was nothing special, she was just desperate.
Silence filled the room. The pain in her fingers was merely quick and numbing, making her loose grip on her gun. She could register it, clattering to the ground, while she watched Petrushka's corpse cool.
Throat croaking from a feeling long since awakened inside Clio, her voice broke the silence, even if she was only speaking to herself.
"I'm...not...a bad person."
She was telling herself what she knew wasn't true. What was this feeling inside of her? Guilt? Shame? Heartbrokeness? She was all fine and dandy with killing off every one of her classmates, but...why did she feel like this when she saw them dead?
Stop wondering Clio. Get back to reality. You want to live, so you need to live. If that means killing off a few classmates, then who cares?
I. FUCKING. CARE!
About what? These people?! Clio, think about it. A dead body isn't really a person. It's empty. There is no sentience inside of it. It's simply matter, that will eventually break down into the earth, and do some good one day! Half of these people would have ended up dead, jobless, taking up valuable government money, or wasting their life. This is simply an easier way to make their choice for them.
Who are you?
I'll tell you who I am. First, I need you to do something. Accept the facts. These people are no longer your classmates. They are the ENEMY. You can kill your enemies now, you've proven that to everyone watching. Also, the bodies? They aren't people anymore. They are simply matter that will fade away into the earth one day. Accept that, and you make your life so much easier. Now, if you want to know who I am, go to sleep.
It will be great to finally meet you, Clio
You're, you're that other voice! Who-what-what's happening?
Join us in the centre of your mind, and you'll find out.
*
Several minutes later, Petrushka's body was layed down respectively to rest outside the, as though she was simply placed by the door without a casket; her blood no longer stained the floor, only seeping into the ground. Clio, laying down on the small bed present in the cabin, tried to doze off. Gun in her numbing hands, Clio not sure what they were getting numb from, and her bag curled up into her like a teddy bear.
But she couldn't doze off that easily. There was so much things racking her brain:
What was going to happen to her?
How many more people would it take for her to lose her sanity?
Who else could be playing that would want to end her life as well?
Would she ever see...Italy...
Clio's gun arm went limp, as the weariness of the day started to catch up to her. She was safe, inside her own little world. The hut was secure, the door only failing if someone had a tank to spare. But she didn't have to pay attention to that now. She was away. A world where she wasn't a killer, wasn't a murderer, didn't have pressure, so much pressure on her.
Just one. Just one silly little bullet, and now she was gone. Clio had finally gone through with it, more personally than she had at the beach. The girl...she had last words, last thoughts, and so much blood, so much blood for a single bullet. And now, the Russian girl lay dead.
And Clio...
The tears started again, salty and sticking to her face. What was she becoming? Why was she making this personal? All she wanted to do was live, to see Italy again for one last trip. No one could make it out of here without playing the game. She'd seen the previous games, been horrifyed by it. Adam Dodd, Bryan Calvert, Rizzolo, none of them made it out without killing a lot of people. No one who had any sort of chance of breaking out got as far as they did without loosing their humanity, killing the very people who had picked on them, made fun of them, rejected them. There were people out there, who would kill, not just her. That girl with the blood, now soaking the dead girl's shirt, someone tried to kill her. She was nothing special, she was just desperate.
Silence filled the room. The pain in her fingers was merely quick and numbing, making her loose grip on her gun. She could register it, clattering to the ground, while she watched Petrushka's corpse cool.
Throat croaking from a feeling long since awakened inside Clio, her voice broke the silence, even if she was only speaking to herself.
"I'm...not...a bad person."
She was telling herself what she knew wasn't true. What was this feeling inside of her? Guilt? Shame? Heartbrokeness? She was all fine and dandy with killing off every one of her classmates, but...why did she feel like this when she saw them dead?
Stop wondering Clio. Get back to reality. You want to live, so you need to live. If that means killing off a few classmates, then who cares?
I. FUCKING. CARE!
About what? These people?! Clio, think about it. A dead body isn't really a person. It's empty. There is no sentience inside of it. It's simply matter, that will eventually break down into the earth, and do some good one day! Half of these people would have ended up dead, jobless, taking up valuable government money, or wasting their life. This is simply an easier way to make their choice for them.
Who are you?
I'll tell you who I am. First, I need you to do something. Accept the facts. These people are no longer your classmates. They are the ENEMY. You can kill your enemies now, you've proven that to everyone watching. Also, the bodies? They aren't people anymore. They are simply matter that will fade away into the earth one day. Accept that, and you make your life so much easier. Now, if you want to know who I am, go to sleep.
It will be great to finally meet you, Clio
You're, you're that other voice! Who-what-what's happening?
Join us in the centre of your mind, and you'll find out.
*
Several minutes later, Petrushka's body was layed down respectively to rest outside the, as though she was simply placed by the door without a casket; her blood no longer stained the floor, only seeping into the ground. Clio, laying down on the small bed present in the cabin, tried to doze off. Gun in her numbing hands, Clio not sure what they were getting numb from, and her bag curled up into her like a teddy bear.
But she couldn't doze off that easily. There was so much things racking her brain:
What was going to happen to her?
How many more people would it take for her to lose her sanity?
Who else could be playing that would want to end her life as well?
Would she ever see...Italy...
Clio's gun arm went limp, as the weariness of the day started to catch up to her. She was safe, inside her own little world. The hut was secure, the door only failing if someone had a tank to spare. But she didn't have to pay attention to that now. She was away. A world where she wasn't a killer, wasn't a murderer, didn't have pressure, so much pressure on her.
((Rose Codreanu continued from You're Gonna Go Far, Kid))
Rose Codreanu's little excursion produced... interesting results. After a few hours of walking in the dead of night, she came across a hut, labeled as the "Groundskeeper's Hut" on her map.
In addition to the hut, there was...
Oh shit, Rose thought to herself as she noticed a girl's corpse, face-up, in a pool of blood with a bullet entry wound on the chest. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm or you're not going to survive this. Rose dropped her daypack, opened it, took the Beretta handgun out, and gripped on to it for dear life.
Fuck. It's pretty much a 50-50 shot. If the person in there is totally batshit I'm gonna regret going in, but she might turn out to have been looking out for herself. Rose then glanced at the corpse again and noticed a very conspicuous lack of weaponry. Stupid, stupid me. I need to quit being such an idealist, she thought.
"Whatever, can't hurt to try," she muttered to herself as she turned the safety off on her handgun, took one hand off of it, knocked on the door in front of her, and immediately replaced the hand.
"Hey, anyone in there? I come in peace," the Romanian girl called out, gun lowered and voice shaking. She was at least partly lying about coming in peace, but she decided this wasn't too big of an issue when the alternative was dying horribly.
Rose Codreanu's little excursion produced... interesting results. After a few hours of walking in the dead of night, she came across a hut, labeled as the "Groundskeeper's Hut" on her map.
In addition to the hut, there was...
Oh shit, Rose thought to herself as she noticed a girl's corpse, face-up, in a pool of blood with a bullet entry wound on the chest. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm or you're not going to survive this. Rose dropped her daypack, opened it, took the Beretta handgun out, and gripped on to it for dear life.
Fuck. It's pretty much a 50-50 shot. If the person in there is totally batshit I'm gonna regret going in, but she might turn out to have been looking out for herself. Rose then glanced at the corpse again and noticed a very conspicuous lack of weaponry. Stupid, stupid me. I need to quit being such an idealist, she thought.
"Whatever, can't hurt to try," she muttered to herself as she turned the safety off on her handgun, took one hand off of it, knocked on the door in front of her, and immediately replaced the hand.
"Hey, anyone in there? I come in peace," the Romanian girl called out, gun lowered and voice shaking. She was at least partly lying about coming in peace, but she decided this wasn't too big of an issue when the alternative was dying horribly.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Sean. 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.
Clio could hear music.
The young ladies eyes flashed open, and scanned her location. She wasn't in the hut. Where was she? It was a blur, but this place seemed so...familiar.
Arms twinging nervously, she checked her vitals. She wasn't bleeding, she had mobility, and she could see, smell, feel, and hear. But she could barely see. She could hear something, but...what was it?
Her eyes yanked themselves into overdrive, the minor blurring starting to disappear, and she knew where she was.
This was that hall. This was the same hall she gazed upon in shock and awe at Pondsworth Academy of Excellence.
When she was 12, she was so stoked to be here. She'd practiced for days on end, done several performances for local concerto's, and wished more than anything she could be here. It was fancy, it was prestigious, and it was her.
And then, the incident with the little girl who just wanted to be the best.
The hall...hadn't changed at all, really. The same leather-lined seats, the high ceilings, the third spotlight on the right of the stage hanging that little too low. This was...this was her most fondest memory of this local.
But why was she here, standing in the middle of the centre isle, facing the stage?
And where was that music coming from?
Looking around confused, she blinked her eyes. In the brief moment that the world became darkness, there was a change. The hall remained the same, but the music...it became louder. And then, looking back at the mahoganywood stage, she saw something.
A piano?
How could she have missed a piano?
And there was someone there!
Finally relieved at meeting another person, Clio started speedily towards the stage. Within moments, she reached the steps, her skyblue heeled shoes clacking loudly as she sprinted up the stairs. But...what happened to the song? The chord progression had changed from the movement she heard only seconds earlier, and now, it was faster...
Ignoring these technicalities, she faced the woman, who looked like she was almost finished. But, as those final few block chords made their way through the grand piano, Clio started to examine her. That hairstyle, it seemed unique and different, but everything else, her shoes, her clothes, her fingers, her hands, her...legs, those smoothly waxed and plucked legs...
Clio's eyes went wide with confusion, and she tilted her head to the side to make sure she wasn't dreaming...in her dream.
This girl was-
She didn't have time to think, as a loud, ugly set of notes resonated as the woman's fingers slipped. The lid of the piano, which would normally cover the keys, had fallen, and there was a loud cracking sound.
Gasping, Clio ran forward.
"Oh my god! Are you okay?" she yelled loudly, but before she could reach her, touch her, help her, the world went black.
But it was a different black. She could still breathe, feel, and think, but...were the lights off?
Suddenly, Clio found herself centre stage again. That one unique spotlight, dangling lower than the left, had illuminated the darkness with a loud flick, like a circuit being flipped. Clio's eyes squinted through the overwhelmingly hot light, trying to find the source of the perpetrator. Who was doing this?
But then, she didn't have to question that for much longer, as the spotlight directly to the left of her very own came to life as well.
And it showed her why she was really here.
It was the woman at the piano. There was not a single scratch on her, but now she could see her from the front. Her dress, her stance, her everything, was a duplicate, a doppleganger, of one very confused little girl.
Clio.
But the only thing that put her apart from Clio was...the colour of her hair. Hot pink streaks clashed terribly with the dark blue motif she wore right now, and her eyes were only a single colour. Green. But Clio couldn't care at the moment, since...what the hell was happening?
Before Clio could open her mouth to voice these concerns, the pink doppleganger smiled and vocalised.
"I suppose you're wondering what you're doing here?"
"That's...probably what I was going to say first. What's wrong with your voice?"
"Nothing's wrong with my voice. This is my natural voice. It just so happens that it's higher than yours, don't have a stress attack or anything..."
"I remember you! You were...when I was...after...when I killing Petrushka, I heard your voice. The moment I pulled the trigger..."
"Yes, Clio. Let's just take a break from your confusion to let me explain to you what I really am. Did you ever watch cartoons while you were a kid? Wait, what am I saying, I'm you, I'd know that. You know the little good angel, that sat on your shoulder and told you to do what was right? Well...let's just say she's a close friend of mine."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't really look out for what's best morally. I just look out for what's best for you, darling."
Before Clio could react again, another voice pierced the darkness. This one couldn't have been more like her normal voice, only it seemed to be in another language.
"<And I suppose I don't, do I?>"
The spotlights groaned with pressure, and another one flickered to sentience, lighting up a third spot on the stage. The figure engulfed in this light, however, was too close for comfort.
It could have almost been Clio, since instead of pink hair like her friend on her other side, this one also had hair of the deepest purple. Also different from her other one, was the fact that she now held a gun in her hand. Not her current gun, mind you, but simply a standard firing range type weapon. Her eyes were different as well. They were multicoloured, just like hers, but unlike the girl behind her. She recognized this voice's language instantly: Italian.
"<Now, I suppose I don't need a translator or anything do I? You can understand this, right?>"
"Y-yes..."
"<Good. Now lemme see if I can break it down for you in a more elegant and simple way. You are not a single person, with all these dreams, and hopes, and aspirations. No, you are a different case, hun. You can be defined as a "psychologists wet dream" but I should probably explain who I am first. I would be what they call the 'shoulder devil'. You know, the one who tells you to do bad stuff? Well, I'm kinda like him, really. I'm like your guardian angel, only, what's the word...drastic.>"
"So...you're the one who's been speaking to me? At the beach? The voice who I didn't question, only followed, just because I was so desperate to get home at that time?"
"<Kinda. I didn't really have a plan at that time. The author wasn't sure where he was going with this whole thing.>"
"What?"
"<Nothing. Anyway, so I should explain who I am again. See, for most of your life, you've been a bit like pinky there. You've been nice, you did what was right, and you could probably say that you had the naitivity and trusting ability of a 5-year-old. So let's just call that one over there "Good Clio".>"
"Is this going to get complicated?"
"<Yep. Now, after a certain little incident in our childhood, you changed a lot. Self-defence, a constant need for protecting yourself, and the amazement and fascination with science. You became different, and if it weren't for your little Good Clio over there, you'd be a lot more...inhuman. Think about it: a girl who only looks out for herself, the ability to institute WAY more harm than a girl should know, and the ability to understand it's harm? If it weren't for her, you'd be institutionalised. In a way, we compliment each other. I don't ever want to really control you, I just want you to know that doing the right thing isn't really the way around any more. Things are changing in your life, and I'm here to...guide you in the right direction, so to speak.>"
Before Clio could answer again, another spotlight, this time from the stage right, flickered on slowly, but the light did not reach the stage. Instead, it started to hover over an occupied seat in the crowd.
Another one of her. God what was this, The 6th Day?
But again, this one was different. There was a book balanced haphazardly in her left hand, and she didn't seem to want to notice the act of theatre going on in front of her. This one's eyes were simply uncaring, bored. But...both her eyes were different again. They were hazel coloured, and could not be more distant from the situation. Her hair again, was different. Green streaks, like dark neon.
"Who is..."
"<That, my friend, is your soul. She formed later, in your life, after mom and dad put their foot down. No more self-defence, no more only looking out for Clio, and forcing you to make friends. Obviously, that last bit didn't work. This girl, is the one part of you that looks out for other people. That book? A photo-album of people you care about too much to play. And also...she tells you how to act in situations where I fail. She acts human, she acts kind...in a way, so to speak. She is the other thing that keeps me from taking over. If she could, she would act on behalf of every other student out there on the island. She urges you to think with mercy, with compassion. She's everything that we can't be.>"
"...I can't...what is going on here?"
Almost at once, the three girls flicked their head towards the confused girl, centre stage.
"We want you to live Clio. But we all don't know how you really want you to."
"I don't get it?"
Good Clio, almost twinging at the ridiculousness of the name given to her, started again.
"You didn't give up hope Clio. You wanted to live, and I'm fine with that. But...can you really live with us knowing that you killed all these people? Do you know what I want you to do, Clio? I want you to hide, to save yourself from living this nightmare."
The Clio with the gun, spoke up next.
"<But can you do it, really? There are people who are going to be playing, and if you're not one of them, if you're not on their side, if you don't have a single solitary similarity to them, you're nothing. You're a body, you're a corpse. Do you know what I want you to do, Clio? I want you to fight, I want you to kill them all. Who cares about what people would think of you? They will look upon you in the future years, and know that YOU had the power, YOU had the ability to stand and fight! You are the Fittest! You deserve life more than every one of these people!>"
But then, after ages and ages of silence, Clio's soul representative, who must have also been chuckling at the ridiculousness of her given title, started to speak.
"I don't care for any of these options. They promote your selfishness, and your greed, and you're only out for yourself. I helped you back at the cabin make a decision. That girl, Petrushka, gave up. You gave her the most painless death you could find. So what do I want you to do, Clio?...I want you to save them all. You're a smart girl, you have the looks, you have the ability, and you have the heart, believe me you have the heart more than anything, to help those without hope. Good Clio wants you to live, you can do that. Your little shoulder devil wants you to become immortalised, you can still do that. But you can save everyone. Make a group, find something useful, and save them all."
"But...it's too hard!"
Clio was still trying to take it all in. What was happening to her? Did these things really exist? Was it her imagination going into overdrive? Was it simply a matter of time before she actually believed these girls, these parts of her subconcious, were real?
"...I don't know what I want to do. But...I need time to think. Give me one day. I will go one day, I will survive, I will live until tomorrow, and then I will make my decision."
The three of them each flickered a smile, before speaking in unison again
"As you wish".
The lights disappeared, and this darkness was different. This was herself going dark this time.
So she had one day, huh?
Plently of time to make her decision.
*
Clio awoke with a start, knocking echoing throughout the hut, and noticed the return of the island to her reality. It was night, no doubt about that, and she'd obviously been asleep a while. Her gun was back, her bag was curled into a ball with her, and she...was hungry.
She had plenty of time to try and deconstruct the dream she had, but first, there was a knocking at the door. Eyes shifting around the cabin again, she smiled with relief that no-one had come here in the time it took to get some rest. She was safe for now.
Uncurling, gun at the ready, she raised it too the door. Moving ever so slowly, she could hear the voice. It was scared, not imposing or faking, and she smiled.
Time to make a new first impression, I suppose. No killing anyone.
Clio fumbled with the lock to the door, and started it open.
There was a girl there. She had no idea who she was, though she probably had an idea of Clio herself.
"...hey."
Time for her rehabilitation to begin.
The young ladies eyes flashed open, and scanned her location. She wasn't in the hut. Where was she? It was a blur, but this place seemed so...familiar.
Arms twinging nervously, she checked her vitals. She wasn't bleeding, she had mobility, and she could see, smell, feel, and hear. But she could barely see. She could hear something, but...what was it?
Her eyes yanked themselves into overdrive, the minor blurring starting to disappear, and she knew where she was.
This was that hall. This was the same hall she gazed upon in shock and awe at Pondsworth Academy of Excellence.
When she was 12, she was so stoked to be here. She'd practiced for days on end, done several performances for local concerto's, and wished more than anything she could be here. It was fancy, it was prestigious, and it was her.
And then, the incident with the little girl who just wanted to be the best.
The hall...hadn't changed at all, really. The same leather-lined seats, the high ceilings, the third spotlight on the right of the stage hanging that little too low. This was...this was her most fondest memory of this local.
But why was she here, standing in the middle of the centre isle, facing the stage?
And where was that music coming from?
Looking around confused, she blinked her eyes. In the brief moment that the world became darkness, there was a change. The hall remained the same, but the music...it became louder. And then, looking back at the mahoganywood stage, she saw something.
A piano?
How could she have missed a piano?
And there was someone there!
Finally relieved at meeting another person, Clio started speedily towards the stage. Within moments, she reached the steps, her skyblue heeled shoes clacking loudly as she sprinted up the stairs. But...what happened to the song? The chord progression had changed from the movement she heard only seconds earlier, and now, it was faster...
Ignoring these technicalities, she faced the woman, who looked like she was almost finished. But, as those final few block chords made their way through the grand piano, Clio started to examine her. That hairstyle, it seemed unique and different, but everything else, her shoes, her clothes, her fingers, her hands, her...legs, those smoothly waxed and plucked legs...
Clio's eyes went wide with confusion, and she tilted her head to the side to make sure she wasn't dreaming...in her dream.
This girl was-
She didn't have time to think, as a loud, ugly set of notes resonated as the woman's fingers slipped. The lid of the piano, which would normally cover the keys, had fallen, and there was a loud cracking sound.
Gasping, Clio ran forward.
"Oh my god! Are you okay?" she yelled loudly, but before she could reach her, touch her, help her, the world went black.
But it was a different black. She could still breathe, feel, and think, but...were the lights off?
Suddenly, Clio found herself centre stage again. That one unique spotlight, dangling lower than the left, had illuminated the darkness with a loud flick, like a circuit being flipped. Clio's eyes squinted through the overwhelmingly hot light, trying to find the source of the perpetrator. Who was doing this?
But then, she didn't have to question that for much longer, as the spotlight directly to the left of her very own came to life as well.
And it showed her why she was really here.
It was the woman at the piano. There was not a single scratch on her, but now she could see her from the front. Her dress, her stance, her everything, was a duplicate, a doppleganger, of one very confused little girl.
Clio.
But the only thing that put her apart from Clio was...the colour of her hair. Hot pink streaks clashed terribly with the dark blue motif she wore right now, and her eyes were only a single colour. Green. But Clio couldn't care at the moment, since...what the hell was happening?
Before Clio could open her mouth to voice these concerns, the pink doppleganger smiled and vocalised.
"I suppose you're wondering what you're doing here?"
"That's...probably what I was going to say first. What's wrong with your voice?"
"Nothing's wrong with my voice. This is my natural voice. It just so happens that it's higher than yours, don't have a stress attack or anything..."
"I remember you! You were...when I was...after...when I killing Petrushka, I heard your voice. The moment I pulled the trigger..."
"Yes, Clio. Let's just take a break from your confusion to let me explain to you what I really am. Did you ever watch cartoons while you were a kid? Wait, what am I saying, I'm you, I'd know that. You know the little good angel, that sat on your shoulder and told you to do what was right? Well...let's just say she's a close friend of mine."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't really look out for what's best morally. I just look out for what's best for you, darling."
Before Clio could react again, another voice pierced the darkness. This one couldn't have been more like her normal voice, only it seemed to be in another language.
"<And I suppose I don't, do I?>"
The spotlights groaned with pressure, and another one flickered to sentience, lighting up a third spot on the stage. The figure engulfed in this light, however, was too close for comfort.
It could have almost been Clio, since instead of pink hair like her friend on her other side, this one also had hair of the deepest purple. Also different from her other one, was the fact that she now held a gun in her hand. Not her current gun, mind you, but simply a standard firing range type weapon. Her eyes were different as well. They were multicoloured, just like hers, but unlike the girl behind her. She recognized this voice's language instantly: Italian.
"<Now, I suppose I don't need a translator or anything do I? You can understand this, right?>"
"Y-yes..."
"<Good. Now lemme see if I can break it down for you in a more elegant and simple way. You are not a single person, with all these dreams, and hopes, and aspirations. No, you are a different case, hun. You can be defined as a "psychologists wet dream" but I should probably explain who I am first. I would be what they call the 'shoulder devil'. You know, the one who tells you to do bad stuff? Well, I'm kinda like him, really. I'm like your guardian angel, only, what's the word...drastic.>"
"So...you're the one who's been speaking to me? At the beach? The voice who I didn't question, only followed, just because I was so desperate to get home at that time?"
"<Kinda. I didn't really have a plan at that time. The author wasn't sure where he was going with this whole thing.>"
"What?"
"<Nothing. Anyway, so I should explain who I am again. See, for most of your life, you've been a bit like pinky there. You've been nice, you did what was right, and you could probably say that you had the naitivity and trusting ability of a 5-year-old. So let's just call that one over there "Good Clio".>"
"Is this going to get complicated?"
"<Yep. Now, after a certain little incident in our childhood, you changed a lot. Self-defence, a constant need for protecting yourself, and the amazement and fascination with science. You became different, and if it weren't for your little Good Clio over there, you'd be a lot more...inhuman. Think about it: a girl who only looks out for herself, the ability to institute WAY more harm than a girl should know, and the ability to understand it's harm? If it weren't for her, you'd be institutionalised. In a way, we compliment each other. I don't ever want to really control you, I just want you to know that doing the right thing isn't really the way around any more. Things are changing in your life, and I'm here to...guide you in the right direction, so to speak.>"
Before Clio could answer again, another spotlight, this time from the stage right, flickered on slowly, but the light did not reach the stage. Instead, it started to hover over an occupied seat in the crowd.
Another one of her. God what was this, The 6th Day?
But again, this one was different. There was a book balanced haphazardly in her left hand, and she didn't seem to want to notice the act of theatre going on in front of her. This one's eyes were simply uncaring, bored. But...both her eyes were different again. They were hazel coloured, and could not be more distant from the situation. Her hair again, was different. Green streaks, like dark neon.
"Who is..."
"<That, my friend, is your soul. She formed later, in your life, after mom and dad put their foot down. No more self-defence, no more only looking out for Clio, and forcing you to make friends. Obviously, that last bit didn't work. This girl, is the one part of you that looks out for other people. That book? A photo-album of people you care about too much to play. And also...she tells you how to act in situations where I fail. She acts human, she acts kind...in a way, so to speak. She is the other thing that keeps me from taking over. If she could, she would act on behalf of every other student out there on the island. She urges you to think with mercy, with compassion. She's everything that we can't be.>"
"...I can't...what is going on here?"
Almost at once, the three girls flicked their head towards the confused girl, centre stage.
"We want you to live Clio. But we all don't know how you really want you to."
"I don't get it?"
Good Clio, almost twinging at the ridiculousness of the name given to her, started again.
"You didn't give up hope Clio. You wanted to live, and I'm fine with that. But...can you really live with us knowing that you killed all these people? Do you know what I want you to do, Clio? I want you to hide, to save yourself from living this nightmare."
The Clio with the gun, spoke up next.
"<But can you do it, really? There are people who are going to be playing, and if you're not one of them, if you're not on their side, if you don't have a single solitary similarity to them, you're nothing. You're a body, you're a corpse. Do you know what I want you to do, Clio? I want you to fight, I want you to kill them all. Who cares about what people would think of you? They will look upon you in the future years, and know that YOU had the power, YOU had the ability to stand and fight! You are the Fittest! You deserve life more than every one of these people!>"
But then, after ages and ages of silence, Clio's soul representative, who must have also been chuckling at the ridiculousness of her given title, started to speak.
"I don't care for any of these options. They promote your selfishness, and your greed, and you're only out for yourself. I helped you back at the cabin make a decision. That girl, Petrushka, gave up. You gave her the most painless death you could find. So what do I want you to do, Clio?...I want you to save them all. You're a smart girl, you have the looks, you have the ability, and you have the heart, believe me you have the heart more than anything, to help those without hope. Good Clio wants you to live, you can do that. Your little shoulder devil wants you to become immortalised, you can still do that. But you can save everyone. Make a group, find something useful, and save them all."
"But...it's too hard!"
Clio was still trying to take it all in. What was happening to her? Did these things really exist? Was it her imagination going into overdrive? Was it simply a matter of time before she actually believed these girls, these parts of her subconcious, were real?
"...I don't know what I want to do. But...I need time to think. Give me one day. I will go one day, I will survive, I will live until tomorrow, and then I will make my decision."
The three of them each flickered a smile, before speaking in unison again
"As you wish".
The lights disappeared, and this darkness was different. This was herself going dark this time.
So she had one day, huh?
Plently of time to make her decision.
*
Clio awoke with a start, knocking echoing throughout the hut, and noticed the return of the island to her reality. It was night, no doubt about that, and she'd obviously been asleep a while. Her gun was back, her bag was curled into a ball with her, and she...was hungry.
She had plenty of time to try and deconstruct the dream she had, but first, there was a knocking at the door. Eyes shifting around the cabin again, she smiled with relief that no-one had come here in the time it took to get some rest. She was safe for now.
Uncurling, gun at the ready, she raised it too the door. Moving ever so slowly, she could hear the voice. It was scared, not imposing or faking, and she smiled.
Time to make a new first impression, I suppose. No killing anyone.
Clio fumbled with the lock to the door, and started it open.
There was a girl there. She had no idea who she was, though she probably had an idea of Clio herself.
"...hey."
Time for her rehabilitation to begin.
Rose was, to put it a bit mildly, shocked by this new development.
First, she had expected something like a grizzled man-beast football player, considering the corpse outside. The girl, who she had seen before at school (Gabriela, is it? she wondered to herself) was about as far from a grizzled wall of muscle as you could possibly get. She hadn't really gotten a chance to look at the girl before, but up close, she was absurdly beautiful. Rose's heart skipped a beat; she didn't usually swing that way, but hot damn she was willing to make an exception right now.
Second, she was expecting the inhabitant of the hut to be much more threatening. Other than a gun at the ready she wasn't terribly scary. Granted, the handgun was quite a bit to ignore, but she could probably talk this out and get her to lower the gun, at the very least, so ignoring it wouldn't kill her yet.
Rose took a couple seconds to get her thoughts together and finally spoke.
"Is it alright if I come in? I need a place to sleep that isn't the ground. Got enough of that last night," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Could you... lower the gun, please? It's unsettling me a little."
First, she had expected something like a grizzled man-beast football player, considering the corpse outside. The girl, who she had seen before at school (Gabriela, is it? she wondered to herself) was about as far from a grizzled wall of muscle as you could possibly get. She hadn't really gotten a chance to look at the girl before, but up close, she was absurdly beautiful. Rose's heart skipped a beat; she didn't usually swing that way, but hot damn she was willing to make an exception right now.
Second, she was expecting the inhabitant of the hut to be much more threatening. Other than a gun at the ready she wasn't terribly scary. Granted, the handgun was quite a bit to ignore, but she could probably talk this out and get her to lower the gun, at the very least, so ignoring it wouldn't kill her yet.
Rose took a couple seconds to get her thoughts together and finally spoke.
"Is it alright if I come in? I need a place to sleep that isn't the ground. Got enough of that last night," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "Could you... lower the gun, please? It's unsettling me a little."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Sean. 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.
Clio's eyes scanned the girl in the doorway, starting from her head to her toes. Her eyes...they were almost like hers. There were only fleeting differences in the shades, but there was no mistaking it. It was probably from contacts, since she herself would often wear a green contact over her hazel eye, just to avoid the staring. Well, the staring that wasn't attractiveness related. Apart from her eyes, the only thing that was noticable about her was the gun clenched in her hands. She recognised the brand, a Beretta, but other than that, she was simply facing a projectile weapon that could kill her.
She couldn't have that.
The girl stood there for a few moments, and started to speak again. She wanted a place to stay? It would be okay with her, as long as she didn't ask any questions. From the body outside, she could assume anything she wanted to.
In response to her statement, Clio started to, but still keeping the gun on her, responded in kind.
"As long as you do as well."
This girl wasn't a danger to her, as far as she knew. But if she got her on her terms, then it would be easier to survive until morning.
She seemed to comply, and had put away her gun. Clio did the same, turning around, flicking the safety on, and throwing the small weapon across the room next to her bag on the bed.
"Sure. You can stay here."
Clio walked back in. She knew that the girl would probably ask questions, about the blood all over the floor, staining and dried up now, but still blood nonetheless. But Clio probably couldn't answer them. She had no idea what really happened to make all the blood over the floor, since she never saw that girls injury before she and Bobby left.
She made her way over to the nearest cupboard. Her parents had their own gardener, and every so often, she would visit his hut on the estate, and she knew that he was self-dependant. If her hut back home was anything to compare to, then she would find some spare blankets...
There. In one of the few cupboards around the room, she found a set of spare blankets. They looked rather worn, but they were something that she could use. Clio bundled them up into a pile, and handed them over to Rose.
"Here. Sorry, I was here first, so I kinda have priority to the bed."
Walking back over to her snug little abode, she sat down, opened her bag, and started on her rations, taking a small bite out of the bread. She realized that after all this time, she hadn't touched the two bags near her. She doubted that, after the amount of blood she had seen that girl, what was her name, Charlotte as Clio then read from the bag, loose, she wouldn't be needing it any more. So there was more food for Clio, she supposed. In essence, she had her weapon, but Clio wouldn't know that at the time.
Clio stopped eating for a few moments, still kinda dizzy from the sleep she endured, and started to speak to Rose.
"So...how's your stay on the island been?"
[[Minor GMing approved]]
She couldn't have that.
The girl stood there for a few moments, and started to speak again. She wanted a place to stay? It would be okay with her, as long as she didn't ask any questions. From the body outside, she could assume anything she wanted to.
In response to her statement, Clio started to, but still keeping the gun on her, responded in kind.
"As long as you do as well."
This girl wasn't a danger to her, as far as she knew. But if she got her on her terms, then it would be easier to survive until morning.
She seemed to comply, and had put away her gun. Clio did the same, turning around, flicking the safety on, and throwing the small weapon across the room next to her bag on the bed.
"Sure. You can stay here."
Clio walked back in. She knew that the girl would probably ask questions, about the blood all over the floor, staining and dried up now, but still blood nonetheless. But Clio probably couldn't answer them. She had no idea what really happened to make all the blood over the floor, since she never saw that girls injury before she and Bobby left.
She made her way over to the nearest cupboard. Her parents had their own gardener, and every so often, she would visit his hut on the estate, and she knew that he was self-dependant. If her hut back home was anything to compare to, then she would find some spare blankets...
There. In one of the few cupboards around the room, she found a set of spare blankets. They looked rather worn, but they were something that she could use. Clio bundled them up into a pile, and handed them over to Rose.
"Here. Sorry, I was here first, so I kinda have priority to the bed."
Walking back over to her snug little abode, she sat down, opened her bag, and started on her rations, taking a small bite out of the bread. She realized that after all this time, she hadn't touched the two bags near her. She doubted that, after the amount of blood she had seen that girl, what was her name, Charlotte as Clio then read from the bag, loose, she wouldn't be needing it any more. So there was more food for Clio, she supposed. In essence, she had her weapon, but Clio wouldn't know that at the time.
Clio stopped eating for a few moments, still kinda dizzy from the sleep she endured, and started to speak to Rose.
"So...how's your stay on the island been?"
[[Minor GMing approved]]
Rose stood awkwardly inside the hut and took the blankets the girl had given her. She was covered in blood, but Rose could make a reasonable guess as to why considering there was a dead person outside, so it wasn't at the forefront of her mind right then; however, she made a mental note to ask later if things kept going decently. She laid one of the blankets down, laid down on it, and pulled the others over her body.
"So... how's your stay on the island been?" the girl asked Rose. Rose realized that she hadn't thought about that much and mulled it over a bit.
On one hand, there was the douchebag and his posse, and she still hadn't found Joe yet. On the other hand, she had developed a gigantic girlcrush on the woman in front of her, and the woman seemed like she would be a fairly good ally. Rose decided she would only tell part of what was on her mind, for obvious reasons. She yawned.
"It's been interesting. Woke up near some asshole named Garrett and his little posse, decided to scram instead of following them to the sawmill. That place gives me the creeps," Rose said to the woman after yawning.. "So anyways, what's your name?" Rose knew she knew this girl from somewhere, but rather than exert the mental effort that would be required to come up with her name again, Rose decided to ask.
"So... how's your stay on the island been?" the girl asked Rose. Rose realized that she hadn't thought about that much and mulled it over a bit.
On one hand, there was the douchebag and his posse, and she still hadn't found Joe yet. On the other hand, she had developed a gigantic girlcrush on the woman in front of her, and the woman seemed like she would be a fairly good ally. Rose decided she would only tell part of what was on her mind, for obvious reasons. She yawned.
"It's been interesting. Woke up near some asshole named Garrett and his little posse, decided to scram instead of following them to the sawmill. That place gives me the creeps," Rose said to the woman after yawning.. "So anyways, what's your name?" Rose knew she knew this girl from somewhere, but rather than exert the mental effort that would be required to come up with her name again, Rose decided to ask.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Sean. 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.
Clio took another bite out of the bread assigned to her and listened, cross-legged, as the girl started to tell her story. She remembered, back in the swamp, she saw a building on the map close to her. So that was the sawmill, huh? Strange place to have a logging island, huh? With a swamp? She should probably check her map later, once it was morning.
The girl inquired as to her name. Clio uncrossed her legs again. Her head was in a kefuddle, unsure. Should she tell her her name, knowing that by morning she'd be a hunted girl? Moving her tounge agains the inside of her gum, indecisive for a few moments, she responded.
"Clio. With an 'i'."
She knew this partial alliance of hers would only last until morning. That was when the announcements were, right? There was a chance he would just read out the deaths, and nothing else.
Nothing else. It's the best she could hope for.
Okay, so...what else was there to say? She could ask if she had any friends, that could probably work.
"Umm...so, are you looking for anyone else? While we're here?"
The girl inquired as to her name. Clio uncrossed her legs again. Her head was in a kefuddle, unsure. Should she tell her her name, knowing that by morning she'd be a hunted girl? Moving her tounge agains the inside of her gum, indecisive for a few moments, she responded.
"Clio. With an 'i'."
She knew this partial alliance of hers would only last until morning. That was when the announcements were, right? There was a chance he would just read out the deaths, and nothing else.
Nothing else. It's the best she could hope for.
Okay, so...what else was there to say? She could ask if she had any friends, that could probably work.
"Umm...so, are you looking for anyone else? While we're here?"
-
Unknown Kadath†
- Posts: 44
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:20 am
The rising sun stood sentry in the sun like an unwavering soldier, on an endless patrol. It found Luke on its rounds, sprawled in the forest, unconscious, with a bag beside him. The soft stirring of wind caressed his cheeks, waking him. As if warning him, the breeze's gentle push tried to escort him. He ignored.
B122 - Luke Templeton - START
BANG!
Raising his head with a start, Luke looked around him. The sound seemed to come from the right. He began that way. It had been several hours since his awakening, and Luke had already reasonably adjusted to the situation. Well, as well as one could to this situation without seeming like a psychopath.
That sound... That must have been a gun.
Luke shivered. Giving guns to kids and making them fight each other to the death? What kind of sick pervert was this Danya? It almost makes me wanna face a camera and give him a piece of my mind. But that's stupid. He controls a freakin' explosive on my neck.
He briskly walked towards the source of the gunshot. It seemed stupid, but what if it was a friend in trouble? Or a misunderstanding? He needed to know. Having no contact with anyone since he woke, Luke felt like he needed to find one, any one, of his friends. The kids he knew... would any of them play this demented game? He didn't want to believe it.
But... that gunshot.
Someone might be in trouble. He continued until he saw a small hut, surrounded by nice-looking flowers. And a body.
"Aw, man..."
Stepping tentatively to the body, he observed it, wrinkling his nose. He may be intelligent, but he was still grossed out by things. This disgusted him to no end. But he needed to know who it was. What if it was someone he knew? What if it was...
Moving his eyes upwards, from the wound in her chest to her face, he took some relief. This is still a tragedy... but, at least it wasn't one of my friends.
He looked to the door of the hut. Maybe the person who killed this girl was still inside? He stood silently, hearing small voices from inside. From what he could tell, there were no more than two. Maybe they were just protecting themselves from this young woman? Suppose they're just scared. Maybe I can help them.
He carefully circumnavigated the body, even caring to not step in the flowerbed, and was able to reach the door. Luke took a deep breath to sooth himself, exhaled, and knocked.
"Hello? Is someone in there?"
B122 - Luke Templeton - START
BANG!
Raising his head with a start, Luke looked around him. The sound seemed to come from the right. He began that way. It had been several hours since his awakening, and Luke had already reasonably adjusted to the situation. Well, as well as one could to this situation without seeming like a psychopath.
That sound... That must have been a gun.
Luke shivered. Giving guns to kids and making them fight each other to the death? What kind of sick pervert was this Danya? It almost makes me wanna face a camera and give him a piece of my mind. But that's stupid. He controls a freakin' explosive on my neck.
He briskly walked towards the source of the gunshot. It seemed stupid, but what if it was a friend in trouble? Or a misunderstanding? He needed to know. Having no contact with anyone since he woke, Luke felt like he needed to find one, any one, of his friends. The kids he knew... would any of them play this demented game? He didn't want to believe it.
But... that gunshot.
Someone might be in trouble. He continued until he saw a small hut, surrounded by nice-looking flowers. And a body.
"Aw, man..."
Stepping tentatively to the body, he observed it, wrinkling his nose. He may be intelligent, but he was still grossed out by things. This disgusted him to no end. But he needed to know who it was. What if it was someone he knew? What if it was...
Moving his eyes upwards, from the wound in her chest to her face, he took some relief. This is still a tragedy... but, at least it wasn't one of my friends.
He looked to the door of the hut. Maybe the person who killed this girl was still inside? He stood silently, hearing small voices from inside. From what he could tell, there were no more than two. Maybe they were just protecting themselves from this young woman? Suppose they're just scared. Maybe I can help them.
He carefully circumnavigated the body, even caring to not step in the flowerbed, and was able to reach the door. Luke took a deep breath to sooth himself, exhaled, and knocked.
"Hello? Is someone in there?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Unknown Kadath. 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.
Clio wasn't sure what malevolent forces were at work, trying to stop her from making her first ally, her first compatriot that wasn't going to be dead within a day, but it seemed that Danya had other ideas about her staying where she was.
Feedback schreeched through the cabin, making Clio wince just the tinest bit. She wasn't going to get used to that, ever.
And then...clapping? He was applauding them wasn't he?
You are a sick fuck, Danya. When I get off here I'm going stick my nails rig-
"Kids, I have to say that I'm truly impressed with your first day showing..."
"Oh no..."
He was going to tell them all, wasn't he? No, no, no! She had just made a single ally!
But Clio realised it could never be. If she wanted to follow her after, that was her choice. She was the closest that a girl should ever be to "on the lam".
Bounding off the bed, gun in left hand, she grabbed the other bags. There were weapons in them weren't there?
Clio ripped them open, and, at first glance, one of the bags had nothing in it but the normal bag stuff given out to everyone. That would have to do. She yanked out, hand over hand, everything she would need extra of; first aid, rations, of which there seemed to be extra, and everything else vital to her survival. The other bag...no, she didn't need to touch a dead girl's belongings. Clio could leave that for Rose, wordlessly.
She registered there was a banging at the door, or a knocking. Not waiting to see if Rose would have to say anything about her sudden actions, she unlocked the door, threw the girl inside an apologetic look, then ran off, barging past and into the guy who was now standing at the door.
"Sorry!" Clio yelled. Little did they know she was yelling at both of them. Before Danya had finished his first section of his commendation, she was gone once again.
((Clio Gabriella exit...))
Feedback schreeched through the cabin, making Clio wince just the tinest bit. She wasn't going to get used to that, ever.
And then...clapping? He was applauding them wasn't he?
You are a sick fuck, Danya. When I get off here I'm going stick my nails rig-
"Kids, I have to say that I'm truly impressed with your first day showing..."
"Oh no..."
He was going to tell them all, wasn't he? No, no, no! She had just made a single ally!
But Clio realised it could never be. If she wanted to follow her after, that was her choice. She was the closest that a girl should ever be to "on the lam".
Bounding off the bed, gun in left hand, she grabbed the other bags. There were weapons in them weren't there?
Clio ripped them open, and, at first glance, one of the bags had nothing in it but the normal bag stuff given out to everyone. That would have to do. She yanked out, hand over hand, everything she would need extra of; first aid, rations, of which there seemed to be extra, and everything else vital to her survival. The other bag...no, she didn't need to touch a dead girl's belongings. Clio could leave that for Rose, wordlessly.
She registered there was a banging at the door, or a knocking. Not waiting to see if Rose would have to say anything about her sudden actions, she unlocked the door, threw the girl inside an apologetic look, then ran off, barging past and into the guy who was now standing at the door.
"Sorry!" Clio yelled. Little did they know she was yelling at both of them. Before Danya had finished his first section of his commendation, she was gone once again.
((Clio Gabriella exit...))
Rose was tired, and the effects hit her harder the longer she laid down. In her haze, she heard clapping intermixed with radio static.
Is this the announcement? she wondered to herself. She decided it didn't matter and drifted off to sleep.
Rose Codreanu was flying. She was above the island. She had finally managed to get away from this. For once, she was truly happy. She felt free and in tune with the wind.
She heard a faint beeping sound, slowly repeating, but this didn't even stir her. She continued to soar through the air... and then the scene changed.
Rose was standing by a large window in a classroom, looking outside. The sun was setting, painting a faint orange hue over the general area.
"Hey," she heard a familiar voice behind her say. The beeping intensified and increased in speed. She turned around and saw a very familiar man, Joe Rios, standing in the doorway. The Latino, easily a head taller than her, walked towards her.
"Hey, Joe," Rose said with a faint smile. She had always loved Joe; he was loyal, attractive, shared her tastes in just about everything, and overall he was everything she could possibly want in a man. However, he didn't seem to share her feelings.
"I've got something I need to tell you..." Joe said, looking down. There was a sort of vulnerability to his voice that Rose wasn't used to; it worried her just a tad, as she had always known Joe to be unbelievably stoic.
"Yes?" Rose was legitimately wondering what the issue was, if it was enough to even shake him.
"I love you."
"Wait, what?" The Romanian girl was shocked. This was easily the best way events could have gone; everything she had wished was coming true. Joe smiled wryly.
"Didn't you hear me? I love you."
She embraced him and kissed him on the lips... and then the scene changed again.
It was a memory from her childhood, when she was merely six years old. Her left eye hurt, as she had just had the accident that would cause her heterochromia; she was wearing an eyepatch to cover the eye up and diminish the pain, as the injury caused her eye to be extremely sensitive to light. Her father was reading to her from the newspaper about a war in some eastern European country, perhaps Bosnia. After he finished reading the article, a grim expression spread across his face.
"Americans, they love war, but only when it suits their needs. It disgusts me. Your mother and I, we were raised during Ceausescu's dictatorship. We lived through much repression... anyone who spoke out against him was isolated. Perhaps executed. We never knew. Had Americans waged war then, we may not have suffered so much, perhaps we would even be happier now." Konstantin Codreanu looked at his daughter. "You must promise me that you will never fight unless you absolutely have to. Even if you do not do anything else as I ask, please humor me on this request." Rose was confused by this, as her father had never really taken that much of an interest in her beyond steering her towards an intellectual path, but she felt obligated to respond in the affirmative.
Rose, in the fog that dreaming creates, remembered that this was the event that most shaped her political views. She had become a liberal because the alternative would be violating the covenant she had made with her father as a young girl by associating with the bloodthirsty, unintelligent folk that seemed to make up the vast majority of conservatives.
Konstantin embraced Rose and a final, long beep rang out through her ears.
"I must thank you, Rose. You are a good daughter, and I don't know what I'd-"
G118 - CODREANU, ROSE - DECEASED
Is this the announcement? she wondered to herself. She decided it didn't matter and drifted off to sleep.
Rose Codreanu was flying. She was above the island. She had finally managed to get away from this. For once, she was truly happy. She felt free and in tune with the wind.
She heard a faint beeping sound, slowly repeating, but this didn't even stir her. She continued to soar through the air... and then the scene changed.
Rose was standing by a large window in a classroom, looking outside. The sun was setting, painting a faint orange hue over the general area.
"Hey," she heard a familiar voice behind her say. The beeping intensified and increased in speed. She turned around and saw a very familiar man, Joe Rios, standing in the doorway. The Latino, easily a head taller than her, walked towards her.
"Hey, Joe," Rose said with a faint smile. She had always loved Joe; he was loyal, attractive, shared her tastes in just about everything, and overall he was everything she could possibly want in a man. However, he didn't seem to share her feelings.
"I've got something I need to tell you..." Joe said, looking down. There was a sort of vulnerability to his voice that Rose wasn't used to; it worried her just a tad, as she had always known Joe to be unbelievably stoic.
"Yes?" Rose was legitimately wondering what the issue was, if it was enough to even shake him.
"I love you."
"Wait, what?" The Romanian girl was shocked. This was easily the best way events could have gone; everything she had wished was coming true. Joe smiled wryly.
"Didn't you hear me? I love you."
She embraced him and kissed him on the lips... and then the scene changed again.
It was a memory from her childhood, when she was merely six years old. Her left eye hurt, as she had just had the accident that would cause her heterochromia; she was wearing an eyepatch to cover the eye up and diminish the pain, as the injury caused her eye to be extremely sensitive to light. Her father was reading to her from the newspaper about a war in some eastern European country, perhaps Bosnia. After he finished reading the article, a grim expression spread across his face.
"Americans, they love war, but only when it suits their needs. It disgusts me. Your mother and I, we were raised during Ceausescu's dictatorship. We lived through much repression... anyone who spoke out against him was isolated. Perhaps executed. We never knew. Had Americans waged war then, we may not have suffered so much, perhaps we would even be happier now." Konstantin Codreanu looked at his daughter. "You must promise me that you will never fight unless you absolutely have to. Even if you do not do anything else as I ask, please humor me on this request." Rose was confused by this, as her father had never really taken that much of an interest in her beyond steering her towards an intellectual path, but she felt obligated to respond in the affirmative.
Rose, in the fog that dreaming creates, remembered that this was the event that most shaped her political views. She had become a liberal because the alternative would be violating the covenant she had made with her father as a young girl by associating with the bloodthirsty, unintelligent folk that seemed to make up the vast majority of conservatives.
Konstantin embraced Rose and a final, long beep rang out through her ears.
"I must thank you, Rose. You are a good daughter, and I don't know what I'd-"
G118 - CODREANU, ROSE - DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Sean. 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.
-
Unknown Kadath†
- Posts: 44
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 5:20 am
Luke stood at the door, waiting for an answer, when the screech of the loudspeakers sounded out, making him wince. The man behind this sick game was going to speak, and Luke knew it did not bode well.
He listened closely to each name being listed off, hoping none of his friends would be named. With each of the deceased being joked about, his stomach turned into a tighter knot. This is just a game to him! This whole thing is a big friggin' game!
He places his hand over his mouth, silently mourning every one of the dead, whether they deserved it or not. Is it really worth it? All this death? All this destruction. Young men and women forced to gun each other down. For what? So some sick man in a tie can get his rocks off? This was unforgivable. Danya had to be stopped. Luke knew he had no chance against Danya on his own, but maybe if he got some people together, he could-
"-Groundskeeper Hut-"
Luke snapped out of his train of thought. This looked like a groundskeeper hut to him. It would explain the lovely flower bed. He vaguely wondered why such a thing would be mentioned on the announcement. Now, if he could get some like-minded people on board, it would be no problem to-
Then, the door opened quickly, thwacking him in the face.
Pain shot through his nose, warm blood trickling from his left nostril. He held his face, backing up and tripping, sprawling out onto the flowerbed, crushing the beautiful display of colours under his weight. He looked up, seeing a girl run off with a hurried "Sorry!"
Then, he pieced it together. Running, announcement, time, rushing to get out of... a danger zone.
"Oh, MAN!"
Scrambling to his feet, Luke rushed back the way he came, pumping his legs like he never had before. Nothing would stop him. Not the branches whipping his face and scratching his arms. Not the roots, threatening to trip him, and not the idea of himself dying on that island, alone. He would survive. He would find his friends. And he would tear Danya to the ground.
Breaking out of the treeline after 20 minutes of running, he gave a deep gasp, his lungs burning for air. He swallowed oxygen like a dying man, collapsing to the ground. Several minutes later, he assured himself he was out of the danger zone. Shakily climbing to his feet, he walked off, hoping he could find someone who wasn't in danger of having their neck blown out.
((Luke Templeton continued in Dirty))
He listened closely to each name being listed off, hoping none of his friends would be named. With each of the deceased being joked about, his stomach turned into a tighter knot. This is just a game to him! This whole thing is a big friggin' game!
He places his hand over his mouth, silently mourning every one of the dead, whether they deserved it or not. Is it really worth it? All this death? All this destruction. Young men and women forced to gun each other down. For what? So some sick man in a tie can get his rocks off? This was unforgivable. Danya had to be stopped. Luke knew he had no chance against Danya on his own, but maybe if he got some people together, he could-
"-Groundskeeper Hut-"
Luke snapped out of his train of thought. This looked like a groundskeeper hut to him. It would explain the lovely flower bed. He vaguely wondered why such a thing would be mentioned on the announcement. Now, if he could get some like-minded people on board, it would be no problem to-
Then, the door opened quickly, thwacking him in the face.
Pain shot through his nose, warm blood trickling from his left nostril. He held his face, backing up and tripping, sprawling out onto the flowerbed, crushing the beautiful display of colours under his weight. He looked up, seeing a girl run off with a hurried "Sorry!"
Then, he pieced it together. Running, announcement, time, rushing to get out of... a danger zone.
"Oh, MAN!"
Scrambling to his feet, Luke rushed back the way he came, pumping his legs like he never had before. Nothing would stop him. Not the branches whipping his face and scratching his arms. Not the roots, threatening to trip him, and not the idea of himself dying on that island, alone. He would survive. He would find his friends. And he would tear Danya to the ground.
Breaking out of the treeline after 20 minutes of running, he gave a deep gasp, his lungs burning for air. He swallowed oxygen like a dying man, collapsing to the ground. Several minutes later, he assured himself he was out of the danger zone. Shakily climbing to his feet, he walked off, hoping he could find someone who wasn't in danger of having their neck blown out.
((Luke Templeton continued in Dirty))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Unknown Kadath. 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.