The gates were brighter than she anticipated. Probably because they were on fire.
The brilliant white fire danced as the gates lurched open, and Rachel watched the glorious, unworldly flames as they rose and flickered. They were quite unlike anything she'd seen before. So, too, was what the gargantuan wrought iron gates guarded - a foyer of polished marble and Corinthian columns, extending past the horizon and warmly lit by a source unknown. Rachel stole one glance at the dark nothing behind her, as if to reassure herself, and then strode into the beautiful hall.
As the gates creaked shut behind her, Rachel took in the staggering glory of her surroundings. She found herself caught short as she contemplated the endless structure, her gasping an inadequate means of conveying the wonder she was standing in.
A loud, authoritative voice boomed through the neverending corridor. Rachel stood fast - she knew who it was. It sounded exactly as she had imagined. The voice spoke to her. Go forth, it spoke in a language only their own, and do my good works. Rachel agreed to his wishes, and asked but one question - "How?" A silence descended that seemed to stretch into infinity. Then, the voice intoned, every syllable infused with the wisdom and intelligence of time itself,
((G087 Begin))
Rachel blinked and wiped away the gunk that had built up in her eyes. She'd been asleep for - how long? Rachel checked her wrist, but her (very expensive) watch seemed to have been misplaced. This was the first sign that something was wrong. Rachel Gettys didn't misplace things. That was something other people did.
The second sign that something was wrong was the realisation that her legs were wet.
Rachel shot up and dragged her feet out of the fetid swamp water. She stared mournfully at the $500 Italian leather shoes that the stagnant water had just ruined, and muttered her first curse word - "Bitch." There was no way daddy was going to replace those when she got home.
It was that trigger that set off the cavalcade of memories that the liberal application of sleeping gas had temporarily repressed. The classroom, the guns, the dead teachers. The rabble drawing penises on the back of the bus seats, the strains of Vivaldi from her iPod, the students suddenly slumping in their seats. The long, slow classes, the teachers repeating how important it was to graduate, the inanity of between-class banter. The faux-glitz set-up, the awful punch, the devastating about-turn in morals and in loyalty by a man she once considered husband material.
The conversation with God.
Of all the things Rachel could remember - and she could remember a lot of things, many of them less than pleasant - that dream...no, that experience was the one she remembered most vividly. She could still see the flames, feel the warm breeze rolling through the hall, hear the dulcet and reassuring tones of the Father himself. She could still recall the request to "carry out his good works", and her assent; the only thing she couldn't remember was the "how". Rachel was still unsure what it had all meant - what was expected of her. Certainly, she couldn't be expected to shed blood for the Lord. As much as she loved him, any request to kill on his behalf surely would've been a test of how loyal she was to the Commandments, and she was loyal to them. Besides, if she killed anyone, then the terrorists would win.
Rachel pulled herself up and brushed the moss and ugly flora off of her clothes. The shoes were irredeemable, but there was no way her skirt, her blouse or her cardigan were going to suffer the same fate - together, they had cost about as much as the shoes. Her eyes wandered as she surveyed the decrepit mass of green water and brown muck in front of her. Her little island on the edge of the mire was a welcome reprieve from the dirt and disease that made her surrounds. A small khaki bag caught her eye, with the symbols "G087" crudely spray-painted on the side using some kind of cheap industrial stencil. She stepped over to it and crouched down, unzipping the bag and rummaging through its contents. Most of it was fairly standard - a compass, a first aid kit, feeble rations, the stuff she expected in the circumstances of being placed on an island and told to kill your classmates by a sadistic foreigner. However, one thing stood out, and Rachel pulled it out of the bag - a tambourine. Rachel squinted at the instrument, snorted, and tossed it back in her bag, the zils jingling as they hit the bag. The foreigner had sense of humour, at least.
Rachel zipped the bag back up and flung the strap over her shoulder. It wasn't a particularly flattering accessory, but Rachel had resigned herself to not getting a Prada bag to cart around the moment she remembered everything. Speaking of everything...Rachel scanned the swamp, looking for people or a way out that didn't involve climbing through muck. The former was negative, but the latter rendered a more optimal result - a small pathway of islands that avoided most of the muck and led south. Sadly, the muck still separated her island from that 'track' by at least several feet, and Rachel wasn't sure she could jump it.
The girl sat down on her bag, flicking her hair behind her ear. I can work this out. It's not like I'm in a rush. He can wait.
Take, Eat
G087 Begins
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Pigeon Army†
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
Take, Eat
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chibinanashi†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 5:44 am
"Are you playing...or not!?"
Daniel had woken up earlier in the swamp, confused and unsure of himself. He held his pistol up and was moving carefully around the swamp. That was when he heard the jingle of a tambourine and was alerted to a presence. He moved quickly and darted in front of Rachel. Upon seeing it was just a girl, he sighed in relief and relaxed.
"...S-Sorry...." Daniel extended a hand. "You are?"
Daniel had woken up earlier in the swamp, confused and unsure of himself. He held his pistol up and was moving carefully around the swamp. That was when he heard the jingle of a tambourine and was alerted to a presence. He moved quickly and darted in front of Rachel. Upon seeing it was just a girl, he sighed in relief and relaxed.
"...S-Sorry...." Daniel extended a hand. "You are?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler chibinanashi. 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.
[Apologies for the long post. I got a bit carried away.]
(Introduction of Mirabelle Nesa)
She hammered at the trunk of a convenient, crooked key over and over and over again. It was taking every ounce of her concentration and willpower not to scream; she was keeping her mouth shut, biting her lower lip so hard that a small trickle of blood had crept its way down her tanned skin and dripped onto the white summery dress she'd chosen to wore that day. She had woken in the mud, so it was no doubt ruined, but she hadn't focused on that all.
She was trying--not altogether successfully--to focus on the impact of her left palm (she had enough sense left in her not to use the right--she might need that, later) against the tree, to hone in and almost relish the pain as the bark scraped away at her skin. Under ordinary circumstances, her attacks would have had no effect upon the tree, but it was half-dead and she had been attacking it steadily for nearly fifteen minutes, her palm raw and bloody with the effort. Tiny cracks had spread along the point which she focused her rage on, striking over and over again.
Focused on the pain. On the cramps in her wiry arms and the pinpoint of beating flame on her lip. On the dull ache deep in her fingers from the repeated jarring. Anything not to think, to remember, anything not to scream at the sky in absolute horror.
Mirabelle Nesa had not had the comfort of a hazy memory. She had awoken, shaken her head, thinking she was in a sick fever-dream, only to realize that she was very much in a swamp, was clammy and dirty, and that half a dozen teachers had been gunned down in front of her. No surer way to realize how much danger you were in then to see figures of authority torn apart before your eyes. It wasn't like in the movies--blood had been in less prevalence than meat, than poking things she didn't want to recognize.
Oh, God.
She intensified her blows, her fear giving her another spurt of energy, the force and speed of her attacks increasing.
She was on Survival of the Fittest. Trapped by crazy fucking Danya, trapped in a game where her classmates might kill her, trapped in a situation where all she had to defend herself was a can of red spraypaint and her talent at martial arts.
Talent, there's a joke, she thought, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and trickling down her face. What talent? Spoiled little bourgeois girl who took a few classes and thought she might be...might be....
She stopped striking and sank to her knees, trembling. For whatever reason she refused to sob, refused to let her body make either the motions or the sound. Her body shook intensely for a moment, she screwed up her face as the tears threatened to gush out and she threatened to make sound. It would be such sweet relief to just have a breakdown, forget about her pain and fear and just wallow in a moment of misery, but...
She couldn't do it. She could not for the life of her let go.
And gradually her pain and confusion ebbed, gradually she felt the beating of blood flowing from the hole in her lip, the gently boiling ache from her left hand. Gradually her tears dried, gradually her face tightened. She had lost it. That was understandable, given her circumstances, but it was not acceptable. She had done herself injury in the hopes of containing her fear, and there was nothing more stupid to do in a place like this. She did not watch Survival of the Fittest--the goriest kind of porn there was--but she knew the stories. She couldn't afford to be that dumb.
The contents of her bag lay strewn in an unorganized mess in the mud--without really thinking she pulled them back. Fortunately most of them were in containers--including, she noticed, the bottle of wine her mother must have sneaked into her bag. A stab of melancholy agony at the thought of her mother's face, but she shoved it away.
Carefully packed everything away, can of spraypaint included--it might come in handy, though she couldn't think how or why. But she needed to get out of this dress. Without a hint of embarrassment she stripped out of it--her underwear today was functional, though she had packed a different set just in case, and she owned bikinis far skimpier--and left it in the mud behind her. She had packed many different clothes--whole lot of boys around, after all, had to keep them entertained--but had brought a particular outfit, feeling foolish even as she'd packed it.
They hadn't touched it, though. And she had never felt more grateful to have it.
She stepped onto a drier piece of ground, wiping her feet off against the bark of the same tree she'd been hitting, and pulled the black gi on. It fit snug, and bore Master Xiang's emblem on its sleeves and back--the open palm emblazoned in the middle of the I Ching.
I changed outfits, she thought, amused. How badass of me. Wouldn't want my appearance to get boring, would I? But this felt more comfortable, she felt more at ease, more in control. She pulled her flip-flops off and, after a moment's consideration, returned them to her bag--she didn't foresee needing them, but they were better than nothing if it came to that. She pulled sneakers and socks out of her bag, pulled them on as well.
Alright. Better clothes--her dress had given her pretty good freedom of movement, but it wasn't exactly made for anything like a fight--and better shoes, especially for running and fighting. She zipped up her bag and slung it over one shoulder, slipping a hair band off one wrist to tied her hair back--wanted to be able to see as much as possible.
She heard a sound, as she finished tying her hair back, and froze. It was a voice, somewhere nearby. Didn't sound threatening or angry, but...no sense taking chances, right?
No more chances. No more stupidity.
Mirabelle Nesa turned slowly in the direction of the voice and began to make a long, curved approach in its direction, eyes narrowed, mouth set.
(Introduction of Mirabelle Nesa)
She hammered at the trunk of a convenient, crooked key over and over and over again. It was taking every ounce of her concentration and willpower not to scream; she was keeping her mouth shut, biting her lower lip so hard that a small trickle of blood had crept its way down her tanned skin and dripped onto the white summery dress she'd chosen to wore that day. She had woken in the mud, so it was no doubt ruined, but she hadn't focused on that all.
She was trying--not altogether successfully--to focus on the impact of her left palm (she had enough sense left in her not to use the right--she might need that, later) against the tree, to hone in and almost relish the pain as the bark scraped away at her skin. Under ordinary circumstances, her attacks would have had no effect upon the tree, but it was half-dead and she had been attacking it steadily for nearly fifteen minutes, her palm raw and bloody with the effort. Tiny cracks had spread along the point which she focused her rage on, striking over and over again.
Focused on the pain. On the cramps in her wiry arms and the pinpoint of beating flame on her lip. On the dull ache deep in her fingers from the repeated jarring. Anything not to think, to remember, anything not to scream at the sky in absolute horror.
Mirabelle Nesa had not had the comfort of a hazy memory. She had awoken, shaken her head, thinking she was in a sick fever-dream, only to realize that she was very much in a swamp, was clammy and dirty, and that half a dozen teachers had been gunned down in front of her. No surer way to realize how much danger you were in then to see figures of authority torn apart before your eyes. It wasn't like in the movies--blood had been in less prevalence than meat, than poking things she didn't want to recognize.
Oh, God.
She intensified her blows, her fear giving her another spurt of energy, the force and speed of her attacks increasing.
She was on Survival of the Fittest. Trapped by crazy fucking Danya, trapped in a game where her classmates might kill her, trapped in a situation where all she had to defend herself was a can of red spraypaint and her talent at martial arts.
Talent, there's a joke, she thought, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and trickling down her face. What talent? Spoiled little bourgeois girl who took a few classes and thought she might be...might be....
She stopped striking and sank to her knees, trembling. For whatever reason she refused to sob, refused to let her body make either the motions or the sound. Her body shook intensely for a moment, she screwed up her face as the tears threatened to gush out and she threatened to make sound. It would be such sweet relief to just have a breakdown, forget about her pain and fear and just wallow in a moment of misery, but...
She couldn't do it. She could not for the life of her let go.
And gradually her pain and confusion ebbed, gradually she felt the beating of blood flowing from the hole in her lip, the gently boiling ache from her left hand. Gradually her tears dried, gradually her face tightened. She had lost it. That was understandable, given her circumstances, but it was not acceptable. She had done herself injury in the hopes of containing her fear, and there was nothing more stupid to do in a place like this. She did not watch Survival of the Fittest--the goriest kind of porn there was--but she knew the stories. She couldn't afford to be that dumb.
The contents of her bag lay strewn in an unorganized mess in the mud--without really thinking she pulled them back. Fortunately most of them were in containers--including, she noticed, the bottle of wine her mother must have sneaked into her bag. A stab of melancholy agony at the thought of her mother's face, but she shoved it away.
Carefully packed everything away, can of spraypaint included--it might come in handy, though she couldn't think how or why. But she needed to get out of this dress. Without a hint of embarrassment she stripped out of it--her underwear today was functional, though she had packed a different set just in case, and she owned bikinis far skimpier--and left it in the mud behind her. She had packed many different clothes--whole lot of boys around, after all, had to keep them entertained--but had brought a particular outfit, feeling foolish even as she'd packed it.
They hadn't touched it, though. And she had never felt more grateful to have it.
She stepped onto a drier piece of ground, wiping her feet off against the bark of the same tree she'd been hitting, and pulled the black gi on. It fit snug, and bore Master Xiang's emblem on its sleeves and back--the open palm emblazoned in the middle of the I Ching.
I changed outfits, she thought, amused. How badass of me. Wouldn't want my appearance to get boring, would I? But this felt more comfortable, she felt more at ease, more in control. She pulled her flip-flops off and, after a moment's consideration, returned them to her bag--she didn't foresee needing them, but they were better than nothing if it came to that. She pulled sneakers and socks out of her bag, pulled them on as well.
Alright. Better clothes--her dress had given her pretty good freedom of movement, but it wasn't exactly made for anything like a fight--and better shoes, especially for running and fighting. She zipped up her bag and slung it over one shoulder, slipping a hair band off one wrist to tied her hair back--wanted to be able to see as much as possible.
She heard a sound, as she finished tying her hair back, and froze. It was a voice, somewhere nearby. Didn't sound threatening or angry, but...no sense taking chances, right?
No more chances. No more stupidity.
Mirabelle Nesa turned slowly in the direction of the voice and began to make a long, curved approach in its direction, eyes narrowed, mouth set.
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
((B084 - Jake Crimson START))
Damn.
The first word that came to Jake's mind as he woke. Jake immediately realized the left side of his body was dipped in a relatively large puddle. He tried to get out of the puddle and sit up, but it was a bit difficult to do so after immediately waking up. "Where the heck am I," asked Jake as he tried to clean himself up. His hair started to droop since the muddy water removed some if the gel that kept his hair in place. Jake removed his jacket and laid it on the dry ground next to him. "Ugh, could this get any worse?"
Suddenly he realized what had happened to him earlier. He was kidnapped by some terrorist and was placed in this... this swamp to play one of the worst games imaginable. Jake mumbled, "Oh god, please don't tell me this is actually happening." He touched his neck, feeling for the collar that was usually placed on contestants. A chill ran down Jake's spine as he touched the metal ring around his neck that was neither tight or loose and finally accepted the truth. "Damn, it really is happening..." He had only seen Survival of the Fittest when he was lurking online, but he never thought he'd be participating in it. He looked around the area from his spot to see how the area was like.
Muddy and wet with barely any plants.
Perfect. It was the world's very own slice of heaven. Jake looked back at the puddle he came out of and noticed a bag with the name 'B084' imprinted on it. He moves towards it and pulls it out from the puddle. He has a little difficulty pulling it out. "Huh...why is it so heavy?" He opens the wet bag to examine the contents.
Two loaves of bread, a map, a few water bottles, a survival guide, some crackers, and... A GODDAMN CINDERBLOCK!
"Is this really what I get to defend myself? A freaking cinderblock? Wow this really sucks," grumbled Jake as he pulled out the cinderblock to use as a place to sit rather than the ground. Jake heard what sounded like talking from a several meters away. He tried to focus his eyes towards that direction and was able to see a few people from afar. So its killed or be killed now huh? I guess I should keep my distance just in case one of them may be armed and start attacking.
Jake finished drying out his hair, but the left side ended up drooping completely and he had no hair supplies to do anything about it. He gave up on his hair and then grabbed his jacket and placed it on his lap, grabbed a loaf of bread, and started to eat. He sighed as he contemplated what he could possibly do in this situation, but only one solution came up in his mind: To live. But the even bigger question was: HOW?
Damn.
The first word that came to Jake's mind as he woke. Jake immediately realized the left side of his body was dipped in a relatively large puddle. He tried to get out of the puddle and sit up, but it was a bit difficult to do so after immediately waking up. "Where the heck am I," asked Jake as he tried to clean himself up. His hair started to droop since the muddy water removed some if the gel that kept his hair in place. Jake removed his jacket and laid it on the dry ground next to him. "Ugh, could this get any worse?"
Suddenly he realized what had happened to him earlier. He was kidnapped by some terrorist and was placed in this... this swamp to play one of the worst games imaginable. Jake mumbled, "Oh god, please don't tell me this is actually happening." He touched his neck, feeling for the collar that was usually placed on contestants. A chill ran down Jake's spine as he touched the metal ring around his neck that was neither tight or loose and finally accepted the truth. "Damn, it really is happening..." He had only seen Survival of the Fittest when he was lurking online, but he never thought he'd be participating in it. He looked around the area from his spot to see how the area was like.
Muddy and wet with barely any plants.
Perfect. It was the world's very own slice of heaven. Jake looked back at the puddle he came out of and noticed a bag with the name 'B084' imprinted on it. He moves towards it and pulls it out from the puddle. He has a little difficulty pulling it out. "Huh...why is it so heavy?" He opens the wet bag to examine the contents.
Two loaves of bread, a map, a few water bottles, a survival guide, some crackers, and... A GODDAMN CINDERBLOCK!
"Is this really what I get to defend myself? A freaking cinderblock? Wow this really sucks," grumbled Jake as he pulled out the cinderblock to use as a place to sit rather than the ground. Jake heard what sounded like talking from a several meters away. He tried to focus his eyes towards that direction and was able to see a few people from afar. So its killed or be killed now huh? I guess I should keep my distance just in case one of them may be armed and start attacking.
Jake finished drying out his hair, but the left side ended up drooping completely and he had no hair supplies to do anything about it. He gave up on his hair and then grabbed his jacket and placed it on his lap, grabbed a loaf of bread, and started to eat. He sighed as he contemplated what he could possibly do in this situation, but only one solution came up in his mind: To live. But the even bigger question was: HOW?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ChetV. 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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xylophonefairy†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:55 am
G033 - Madison "Maddy" Stone - Start
Maddy stared at the Swamp. From where she was standing, knee high in swamp water and conveniently behind some shrubbery, she could see people. Or, rather, she could see a person, that person being Rachel Gettys. At home, she would have considered Rachel to be a friend, they shared similar views on religion and the importance of playing hockey, and they made good teammates. Here, though, she had a strange feeling that she didn't really want to be with her. Rachel was too... Maddy didn't even know how to describe it. Scary was probably the best word. And when she was feeling scared herself, the last thing she wanted to do was go and find someone who might make it worse.
Watching Daniel approach her friend, Maddy tried to smile, that kid had no idea what he was letting himself in for. But smiles seemed to be hard to come by, there was a lot to be said for screaming and crying and tearing her hair out at this point. It wasn't fair, she'd been a good, or at least an okay, Catholic. She prayed when she was supposed to, and even if she rebelled against organised religion sometimes, she still believed in God, and that God's way was the right one. Or at least she had, up until that morning. Now she wasn't so sure.
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The faint buzzing and croaking awoke her, and Maddy turned her head stiffly to one side to try and scout out the source of the noise, finging her cheek sloshing immediately into inch deep muddy water. Groaning, every part of her aching, she brought her hands up to her pounding head and felt it; matted hair from the water, the front strands plastered to her forehead which was caked in a mixture of dirt and sweat. She felt like she'd been roaming the jungle for days, though her heart knew that it had only been a couple of hours or so. The last thing she remembered was... the collar. Immediately her hands flew to her neck and felt it gently, drawing her fingers from under her ears on either side, across her neck where they met in the middle, just underneath the collar. So they were real.
Maddy had no idea what she was in for. She'd never watched Survival of the Fittest, considering it to be immoral; the fact that people watched the show for entertainment bothered her. There was nothing entertaining about teenagers killing each other. And there especially wasn't anything funny about it now.
Actually, all she felt, as she lay incognito in the corner of the swamp, was emptiness. Some harsh realisation that she wasn't going to be making it back to reality. But, and this was the most important thing, as long as she lay there, lay there in the swamp, everything was alright. It wasn't until she got up and saw someone else, until she saw someone die, only then would she fully accept what she was now fairly certain to be her fate. This wasn't real, she squeezed her eyes shut, it's just a game, it's just a prank, they're testing you, see how long it takes you to pop up and ask what's wrong. For a few minutes more she lay silently, directing her thoughts to think of nothing at all.
This is all a test from God. That thought was more comforting, and more terrifying at the same time. She was a pawn in a larger game, she was nothing in the grand scheme of things, a Catholic, played on the hockey team, to her friends she was Maddy, to everyone else Madison, to people outside even that bubble Miss Stone. Her right hand came down from her head, and keeping her eyes closed she made the sign of the cross, her hand ending up clutching the silver crucifix she wore around her neck, feeling it's sharp corners digging into the skin on her palm. If I can draw blood, then I will win. Immediately she pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn't start making bets with God, couldn't start playing poker on the lives of their classmates. After all, for her to win the rest of them had to... That was what they'd said, right?
She knew she needed to sit up, to stand up, to move. There was nothing to be gained from convincing herself otherwise, but a little niggling part of her had tuned in to paranoia. From a few further head turns, she'd established that she was currently residing in swamp land, and surrounding her on every side were shrubs that she guessed would reach to just below her knee if she was standing upright. But she couldn't see over them, and though the swamp was silent apart from the buzzing and croaking and gentle swishing of reeds and grass in the faint wind, there was no way she could be sure that she couldn't bee seen if she sat up. So she compromised.
In one fell swoop she flipped herself onto her front, surprising amounts of muddy water for a pond so shallow coming with her and sloshing back into the ground, and the nearby grasses rustled obviously. Maddy froze, if anyone was watching the place they must have known that she was there by now. Ten seconds passed, twenty, she coulted them under her breath. "One, mssissippi, two mississippi, three mississippi..." she wasn't sure how fast to say it, and her counted seconds were longer than she thought, and a full minute passed before she had the confidence to move. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, then drew her knees closer until she was crouched on all fours, and peeked her head above the line of what she could see. Which was near to nothing, except a figure, far away yet still near; the first person she'd seen. Part one of two completed, seeing another person.
Now all she needed was to see someone die. Then her self set accustomisation would be complete. It was only by mechanicalising the whole process that she was able to function. Able to sit back on her heels and watch the figure, who was too far away to be discerible, moving about. Then sit down. Maddy sighed, and looked around for her bag. There was a tan duffle bag with 'G033' stamped crudely on to it, which she assumed was hers, and picked it up without looking in it. She didn't want to know what what in it; that would be too much like acceptance. Stumbling to her feet, she moved closer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Sighing, Maddy stared at Rachel Gettys and the boy who had just approached her. She didn't know if her need for a friend was going to outweigh her need to run away from the situation. There was a sinking suspicion in her that Rachel would be a good ally to have, heck, she was the kind of person who might even win if the whole Do Not Kill thing wasn't holding her back. Scrunching up her face, she had a sinking feeling that the decision she made now might affect her for the rest of her life, however long God permitted that to be. It was one of those times where an alternate universe was spawned and one Maddy would go up to Rachel and say hi, while the other would run for the mountains. She dithered, and that moment seemed to last a lifetime, before she came to a decision.
After all, she could always ditch Rachel later if things got too out of hand. And the guy might be fun, not that she had any idea of anything about him, other than that she was pretty sure her was male. As she took some sloshing steps forward, pretty much entirely covered in swamp muck, she stopped short of the little island Rachel was sitting on, and opened her mouth to call over to her, then closed it, realising that she had no idea what to say. 'Hi' didn't quite seem like enough. 'Fancy seeing you here' was too informal. She gave a half wave in Rachel's direction, the sun dazzling her so she couldn't tell if she'd been seen. Dropping her arm, she finally spoke.
"Lead us not into temptation," she said, resisting a temptation of her own to swing her arms wide in a parody of the doom bringers that sometimes hung out in the St Paul city centre trying to convert her to Christianity, and ignoring her pleas that she was already Catholic and didn't actually require converting. "But deliver us from evil." she continued smoothly. She didn't know what she'd chosen that line from the Lord's Prayer. It was more the deliver us from evil part that she considered to be relevant at that time. Maddy forced a thin smile that barely hid it's own falseness, then spoke again a millisecond later. "I heard there was a Cathedral somewhere, we should go check it out," it was a poor joke, but it clarified her purpose. Her need to be protected then by someone stronger than she was. Maddy wanted to be a leader, an inspirer, but she couldn't. Her need to be part of a group, because she knew that even with all of God's love and support behind her, for once that wasn't going to be enough.
Maddy stared at the Swamp. From where she was standing, knee high in swamp water and conveniently behind some shrubbery, she could see people. Or, rather, she could see a person, that person being Rachel Gettys. At home, she would have considered Rachel to be a friend, they shared similar views on religion and the importance of playing hockey, and they made good teammates. Here, though, she had a strange feeling that she didn't really want to be with her. Rachel was too... Maddy didn't even know how to describe it. Scary was probably the best word. And when she was feeling scared herself, the last thing she wanted to do was go and find someone who might make it worse.
Watching Daniel approach her friend, Maddy tried to smile, that kid had no idea what he was letting himself in for. But smiles seemed to be hard to come by, there was a lot to be said for screaming and crying and tearing her hair out at this point. It wasn't fair, she'd been a good, or at least an okay, Catholic. She prayed when she was supposed to, and even if she rebelled against organised religion sometimes, she still believed in God, and that God's way was the right one. Or at least she had, up until that morning. Now she wasn't so sure.
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The faint buzzing and croaking awoke her, and Maddy turned her head stiffly to one side to try and scout out the source of the noise, finging her cheek sloshing immediately into inch deep muddy water. Groaning, every part of her aching, she brought her hands up to her pounding head and felt it; matted hair from the water, the front strands plastered to her forehead which was caked in a mixture of dirt and sweat. She felt like she'd been roaming the jungle for days, though her heart knew that it had only been a couple of hours or so. The last thing she remembered was... the collar. Immediately her hands flew to her neck and felt it gently, drawing her fingers from under her ears on either side, across her neck where they met in the middle, just underneath the collar. So they were real.
Maddy had no idea what she was in for. She'd never watched Survival of the Fittest, considering it to be immoral; the fact that people watched the show for entertainment bothered her. There was nothing entertaining about teenagers killing each other. And there especially wasn't anything funny about it now.
Actually, all she felt, as she lay incognito in the corner of the swamp, was emptiness. Some harsh realisation that she wasn't going to be making it back to reality. But, and this was the most important thing, as long as she lay there, lay there in the swamp, everything was alright. It wasn't until she got up and saw someone else, until she saw someone die, only then would she fully accept what she was now fairly certain to be her fate. This wasn't real, she squeezed her eyes shut, it's just a game, it's just a prank, they're testing you, see how long it takes you to pop up and ask what's wrong. For a few minutes more she lay silently, directing her thoughts to think of nothing at all.
This is all a test from God. That thought was more comforting, and more terrifying at the same time. She was a pawn in a larger game, she was nothing in the grand scheme of things, a Catholic, played on the hockey team, to her friends she was Maddy, to everyone else Madison, to people outside even that bubble Miss Stone. Her right hand came down from her head, and keeping her eyes closed she made the sign of the cross, her hand ending up clutching the silver crucifix she wore around her neck, feeling it's sharp corners digging into the skin on her palm. If I can draw blood, then I will win. Immediately she pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn't start making bets with God, couldn't start playing poker on the lives of their classmates. After all, for her to win the rest of them had to... That was what they'd said, right?
She knew she needed to sit up, to stand up, to move. There was nothing to be gained from convincing herself otherwise, but a little niggling part of her had tuned in to paranoia. From a few further head turns, she'd established that she was currently residing in swamp land, and surrounding her on every side were shrubs that she guessed would reach to just below her knee if she was standing upright. But she couldn't see over them, and though the swamp was silent apart from the buzzing and croaking and gentle swishing of reeds and grass in the faint wind, there was no way she could be sure that she couldn't bee seen if she sat up. So she compromised.
In one fell swoop she flipped herself onto her front, surprising amounts of muddy water for a pond so shallow coming with her and sloshing back into the ground, and the nearby grasses rustled obviously. Maddy froze, if anyone was watching the place they must have known that she was there by now. Ten seconds passed, twenty, she coulted them under her breath. "One, mssissippi, two mississippi, three mississippi..." she wasn't sure how fast to say it, and her counted seconds were longer than she thought, and a full minute passed before she had the confidence to move. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, then drew her knees closer until she was crouched on all fours, and peeked her head above the line of what she could see. Which was near to nothing, except a figure, far away yet still near; the first person she'd seen. Part one of two completed, seeing another person.
Now all she needed was to see someone die. Then her self set accustomisation would be complete. It was only by mechanicalising the whole process that she was able to function. Able to sit back on her heels and watch the figure, who was too far away to be discerible, moving about. Then sit down. Maddy sighed, and looked around for her bag. There was a tan duffle bag with 'G033' stamped crudely on to it, which she assumed was hers, and picked it up without looking in it. She didn't want to know what what in it; that would be too much like acceptance. Stumbling to her feet, she moved closer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Sighing, Maddy stared at Rachel Gettys and the boy who had just approached her. She didn't know if her need for a friend was going to outweigh her need to run away from the situation. There was a sinking suspicion in her that Rachel would be a good ally to have, heck, she was the kind of person who might even win if the whole Do Not Kill thing wasn't holding her back. Scrunching up her face, she had a sinking feeling that the decision she made now might affect her for the rest of her life, however long God permitted that to be. It was one of those times where an alternate universe was spawned and one Maddy would go up to Rachel and say hi, while the other would run for the mountains. She dithered, and that moment seemed to last a lifetime, before she came to a decision.
After all, she could always ditch Rachel later if things got too out of hand. And the guy might be fun, not that she had any idea of anything about him, other than that she was pretty sure her was male. As she took some sloshing steps forward, pretty much entirely covered in swamp muck, she stopped short of the little island Rachel was sitting on, and opened her mouth to call over to her, then closed it, realising that she had no idea what to say. 'Hi' didn't quite seem like enough. 'Fancy seeing you here' was too informal. She gave a half wave in Rachel's direction, the sun dazzling her so she couldn't tell if she'd been seen. Dropping her arm, she finally spoke.
"Lead us not into temptation," she said, resisting a temptation of her own to swing her arms wide in a parody of the doom bringers that sometimes hung out in the St Paul city centre trying to convert her to Christianity, and ignoring her pleas that she was already Catholic and didn't actually require converting. "But deliver us from evil." she continued smoothly. She didn't know what she'd chosen that line from the Lord's Prayer. It was more the deliver us from evil part that she considered to be relevant at that time. Maddy forced a thin smile that barely hid it's own falseness, then spoke again a millisecond later. "I heard there was a Cathedral somewhere, we should go check it out," it was a poor joke, but it clarified her purpose. Her need to be protected then by someone stronger than she was. Maddy wanted to be a leader, an inspirer, but she couldn't. Her need to be part of a group, because she knew that even with all of God's love and support behind her, for once that wasn't going to be enough.
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((G002, Courtney Bradley.))
Courtney's back hurt. She couldn't pinpoint exactly where or why, or even why she was laying down in the first place, but her back hurt. She tried to move to the side slightly, but the sharp flints dug even more into her back.
...Wait. Rocks?
Courtney opened her eyes suddenly and looked around. Even at a glance, this didn't look like any National Park she'd ever been to. It was more of a ...swamp? It definitely stank like a swamp. Why the hell did the school take them to a swamp? And why was she alone, unconscious, lying on some rocks?
She sat up. That was a start, at least. Courtney put her hands down in an attempt to push herself up, but she found her hand hitting a bag. Somewhat sidetracked, Courtney picked up the bag and placed it on her lap. From her first glance at it she realised it wasn't the pack she'd taken on the trip. This one seemed more... military. There were no markings on it but a crudely stencilled letter and a three digit number, 002.
Well, at least if it was mine they didn't go for the obvious and number the British Girl 007. Wait. Numbering. No.
"Please..." Courtney muttered under her breath. "No..."
Courtney put her hand up to her neck, and felt the cold metal of the collar, confirming her fears, and making her remember just why she was laying down unconscious on rocks in the first place.
Waving her mother and Michael goodbye before getting into her Dad's car to get to the school, getting on, sitting next to a girl she didn't really know, the girl falling asleep on her shoulder... her afterwards... and then that video.
At the time, she had tried to ignore the video, but there was something that drew her to it. She just couldn't to bring herself to close her eyes. But now, she couldn't help but think about it. The girl was happy, she'd found something that would help them, if she had remembered right. Then the boy, who had been fine with her up until then, took her own sword and stabbed her in the gut with it before shooting her. Courtney put herself in the situation. Could she do that? Would she be the one that betrayed someone and left them lying dead on the floor? She couldn't find an answer to that. Or would she be the girl? Put her trust into the wrong person and die for her mistake?
Courtney slung the pack to her side, dragged her knees to her chest, ducked her head down and sobbed. It was just all too much.
Courtney's back hurt. She couldn't pinpoint exactly where or why, or even why she was laying down in the first place, but her back hurt. She tried to move to the side slightly, but the sharp flints dug even more into her back.
...Wait. Rocks?
Courtney opened her eyes suddenly and looked around. Even at a glance, this didn't look like any National Park she'd ever been to. It was more of a ...swamp? It definitely stank like a swamp. Why the hell did the school take them to a swamp? And why was she alone, unconscious, lying on some rocks?
She sat up. That was a start, at least. Courtney put her hands down in an attempt to push herself up, but she found her hand hitting a bag. Somewhat sidetracked, Courtney picked up the bag and placed it on her lap. From her first glance at it she realised it wasn't the pack she'd taken on the trip. This one seemed more... military. There were no markings on it but a crudely stencilled letter and a three digit number, 002.
Well, at least if it was mine they didn't go for the obvious and number the British Girl 007. Wait. Numbering. No.
"Please..." Courtney muttered under her breath. "No..."
Courtney put her hand up to her neck, and felt the cold metal of the collar, confirming her fears, and making her remember just why she was laying down unconscious on rocks in the first place.
Waving her mother and Michael goodbye before getting into her Dad's car to get to the school, getting on, sitting next to a girl she didn't really know, the girl falling asleep on her shoulder... her afterwards... and then that video.
At the time, she had tried to ignore the video, but there was something that drew her to it. She just couldn't to bring herself to close her eyes. But now, she couldn't help but think about it. The girl was happy, she'd found something that would help them, if she had remembered right. Then the boy, who had been fine with her up until then, took her own sword and stabbed her in the gut with it before shooting her. Courtney put herself in the situation. Could she do that? Would she be the one that betrayed someone and left them lying dead on the floor? She couldn't find an answer to that. Or would she be the girl? Put her trust into the wrong person and die for her mistake?
Courtney slung the pack to her side, dragged her knees to her chest, ducked her head down and sobbed. It was just all too much.
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Pigeon Army†
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
Rachel hadn't even heard the boy hollering. She had found her attempts to mentally map the swamp all but futile, and had fallen into contemplating the dream again, wondering what it could all have meant and whether it was really God himself speaking to her. In fact, Rachel only noticed him when he moved into her line of sight, gun pointed at him. It was...unexpected.
Rachel stood up slowly, examining the gunman and his weapon of choice. The gun was a small, unimposing thing - undoubtedly, it still had the capacity to kill, but it wasn't a high-end firearm. His body language said he wasn't intending to use the pistol, though, and his single question solidified that. Rachel stared at his sullen face for a second before coolly replying, "Rachel Gettys. And you?"
She let her gaze flit around the rest of the swamp. In the distance, a girl about her size was walking towards her with a karate uniform on, causing Rachel to raise a bemused eyebrow. Closer, Rachel spied none other than Madison Stone walking towards her. The girl was familiar to her - being on her hockey team and a member of GODspeed, Rachel had more excuse than most to fraternise the fellow Catholic. She considered the girl a friend, and had even done the good Christian thing and forgiven her shenanigans at that GODspeed election earlier in the year. It had taken a while, but she had done it.
Of course, what Madison did next was unforgivable - a series of feeble jokes about the Lord's Prayer and cathedrals. If Madison hadn't been so self-deprecating about them, Rachel could realistically have slapped her. Instead, she allowed the impulsive Catholic the validation of a groan and an eye-roll. "Don't ever do that again," she muttered to the girl before turning back to the boy. "You ever used one of those things before?" she asked him, pointing at the pistol.
Rachel stood up slowly, examining the gunman and his weapon of choice. The gun was a small, unimposing thing - undoubtedly, it still had the capacity to kill, but it wasn't a high-end firearm. His body language said he wasn't intending to use the pistol, though, and his single question solidified that. Rachel stared at his sullen face for a second before coolly replying, "Rachel Gettys. And you?"
She let her gaze flit around the rest of the swamp. In the distance, a girl about her size was walking towards her with a karate uniform on, causing Rachel to raise a bemused eyebrow. Closer, Rachel spied none other than Madison Stone walking towards her. The girl was familiar to her - being on her hockey team and a member of GODspeed, Rachel had more excuse than most to fraternise the fellow Catholic. She considered the girl a friend, and had even done the good Christian thing and forgiven her shenanigans at that GODspeed election earlier in the year. It had taken a while, but she had done it.
Of course, what Madison did next was unforgivable - a series of feeble jokes about the Lord's Prayer and cathedrals. If Madison hadn't been so self-deprecating about them, Rachel could realistically have slapped her. Instead, she allowed the impulsive Catholic the validation of a groan and an eye-roll. "Don't ever do that again," she muttered to the girl before turning back to the boy. "You ever used one of those things before?" she asked him, pointing at the pistol.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Pigeon Army. 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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chibinanashi†
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 5:44 am
"...Not this type of pistol....but I've been shown as a kid."
Daniel let the brief memories of his childhood in the hood return to him. He had seen the violence, the death and the despair in those neighborhoods. It made him feel more and more blessed to be with his adoptive family and he wanted to return to them. Though in order to do that he would have to kill every single student here on this island.
That just wouldn't do. Would his parents even accept him back?
Shaking his head, Daniel switched hands with his pistol and held out his free hand to Rachel, his palm parellel to the ground. It was not palm down like a domineering male or palm up like a desperate servant...It was one that proposed an alliance. "My name is Daniel Blessing. I...see your weapon can..." He glanced over at the tambourine. "Could be useful." Daniel shrugged and glanced over to the others.
"A bunch of girls?"
Daniel let the brief memories of his childhood in the hood return to him. He had seen the violence, the death and the despair in those neighborhoods. It made him feel more and more blessed to be with his adoptive family and he wanted to return to them. Though in order to do that he would have to kill every single student here on this island.
That just wouldn't do. Would his parents even accept him back?
Shaking his head, Daniel switched hands with his pistol and held out his free hand to Rachel, his palm parellel to the ground. It was not palm down like a domineering male or palm up like a desperate servant...It was one that proposed an alliance. "My name is Daniel Blessing. I...see your weapon can..." He glanced over at the tambourine. "Could be useful." Daniel shrugged and glanced over to the others.
"A bunch of girls?"
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"A bunch of girls?"
Belle had managed to make her way through a thick patch of woods the source of the voice. There were two girls here and a boy. The boy was armed, but he wasn't holding his gun with any intent to use it; it was he who'd spoken last.
She pursed her lips, looking between the three of them. The boy she vaguely recognized--tough-looking kid, though she'd heard he was kind of a wuss. Enrolled in martial arts, if she remembered right, though it hardly mattered with a gun in hand. She recognized one of the girls as well--the smaller one, with the face that looked like something large and uncomfortable had been shoved up her ass. Rich as hell, she though, and always kind of a bitch. The other had slipped her mind entirely.
Daniel and Rachel, she thought. That's what they're called. But who's the other girl?
Bah, no time for this. They'd seen her coming, Daniel and Rachel both looking towards her. "Sorry for intruding," Belle said, looking at each of them--including the girl whose name she couldn't remember--in turn. "But I heard you, and..." She shrugged. "Didn't sound especially violent." She stopped a little ways away, refusing to lift her arms in a gesture of peace--submissiveness, she had no stomach for it. "Hope you don't mind too much."
Belle had managed to make her way through a thick patch of woods the source of the voice. There were two girls here and a boy. The boy was armed, but he wasn't holding his gun with any intent to use it; it was he who'd spoken last.
She pursed her lips, looking between the three of them. The boy she vaguely recognized--tough-looking kid, though she'd heard he was kind of a wuss. Enrolled in martial arts, if she remembered right, though it hardly mattered with a gun in hand. She recognized one of the girls as well--the smaller one, with the face that looked like something large and uncomfortable had been shoved up her ass. Rich as hell, she though, and always kind of a bitch. The other had slipped her mind entirely.
Daniel and Rachel, she thought. That's what they're called. But who's the other girl?
Bah, no time for this. They'd seen her coming, Daniel and Rachel both looking towards her. "Sorry for intruding," Belle said, looking at each of them--including the girl whose name she couldn't remember--in turn. "But I heard you, and..." She shrugged. "Didn't sound especially violent." She stopped a little ways away, refusing to lift her arms in a gesture of peace--submissiveness, she had no stomach for it. "Hope you don't mind too much."
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
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xylophonefairy†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:55 am
Maddy stuck her tongue out at Rachel as her attention went back to the boy's gun which he was waving about. Wait, a gun? They hadn't been on the kit list. Where the hell had he gotten that from? Her mind flashed back to the introduction. In amid her squeezing her eyes shut and trying to convince herself that she was elsewhere, little snippets of information had gone through.
"and, of course, a weapon"
They were assigned a weapon. In all her religious doubt and having a nap in the swamp she'd completely forgotten about it, and while the others were distracted talking to each other and shooting furtive glances in her direction as if they couldn't quite remember her name (she had a funny feeling that anonimity could only help her at this point and, if Rachel hadn't been there, would have been quite tempted to make up an alternative one). To be fair, she didn't know most of their names either. Still, what does it matter..., she mused as she rifled through her bag, and pulling out the biggest knife she'd ever seen, ...when I have a machete! Running her thumb along the shiny blade, she held it in both hands, and pointed it forwards, swinging it behind her head as though it was a samurai sword. Continuing this practice a couple of times she then put the knife back in her bag, and turned back to face Rachel, the boy who had identified himself as Daniel Blessing, and the girl, who was really pretty, Maddy noticed dejectedly as she remembered that she was covered in swamp water.
Still, once you were convered in muddy water, what did a bit more matter? She waded through the mini river that separated her from Rachel, Daniel and Pretty Girl. Clambering up on to the island that the rest of them were on, she took a few deep breaths, the sudden exertion seeming like a lot in her post-sedation body. She turned to pretty girl, wanting to know at least her name, then she'd know who's looks she was envying. Though envy was one of the seven deadly sins, so she wasn't feeling envious, she was recognising the fact that the girl was pretty and at the same time her own plainness. Hey, that was humility! Oh wait, she really needed to say something, currently all she'd done was take the mickey out of religion to the most religious person she knew, and played samurai with a machete. The others must be thinking she was really weird. Keeping thinking quickly, she found, was the best way to distract herself. Focus on the small, focus on the small, ignore the bigger picture and pretend it's not there, then you'll be okay. Machete, machete, machete...
"No worries. And I guess I should introduce myself. My name's machete - uh - I mean Maddy" she said haltingly, eyes widening at her mistake and holding her hand out to pretty girl.
"and, of course, a weapon"
They were assigned a weapon. In all her religious doubt and having a nap in the swamp she'd completely forgotten about it, and while the others were distracted talking to each other and shooting furtive glances in her direction as if they couldn't quite remember her name (she had a funny feeling that anonimity could only help her at this point and, if Rachel hadn't been there, would have been quite tempted to make up an alternative one). To be fair, she didn't know most of their names either. Still, what does it matter..., she mused as she rifled through her bag, and pulling out the biggest knife she'd ever seen, ...when I have a machete! Running her thumb along the shiny blade, she held it in both hands, and pointed it forwards, swinging it behind her head as though it was a samurai sword. Continuing this practice a couple of times she then put the knife back in her bag, and turned back to face Rachel, the boy who had identified himself as Daniel Blessing, and the girl, who was really pretty, Maddy noticed dejectedly as she remembered that she was covered in swamp water.
Still, once you were convered in muddy water, what did a bit more matter? She waded through the mini river that separated her from Rachel, Daniel and Pretty Girl. Clambering up on to the island that the rest of them were on, she took a few deep breaths, the sudden exertion seeming like a lot in her post-sedation body. She turned to pretty girl, wanting to know at least her name, then she'd know who's looks she was envying. Though envy was one of the seven deadly sins, so she wasn't feeling envious, she was recognising the fact that the girl was pretty and at the same time her own plainness. Hey, that was humility! Oh wait, she really needed to say something, currently all she'd done was take the mickey out of religion to the most religious person she knew, and played samurai with a machete. The others must be thinking she was really weird. Keeping thinking quickly, she found, was the best way to distract herself. Focus on the small, focus on the small, ignore the bigger picture and pretend it's not there, then you'll be okay. Machete, machete, machete...
"No worries. And I guess I should introduce myself. My name's machete - uh - I mean Maddy" she said haltingly, eyes widening at her mistake and holding her hand out to pretty girl.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler xylophonefairy. 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.
Jake ate a small portion of his loaf of bread and looked towards the direction of the others. "Huh, looks like those two are armed," said Jake frowning, putting away the rest of his loaf. From what he knew about SotF, having allies was a good thing, as long as you made it with the correct people. Jake stood up and walked over to a near puddle, trying to see his reflection in the dirty water. Oh god I look like a mess! He noticed his hair and eyeliner looked worse than what he thought. "Well... no use in keeping it this way..." He kneeled down and dipped his hands in the water, trying to retain some in his hands. He then use that water to 'clean' his face and remove any makeup he wore. He repeated the process once again, but this time it was for his hair. Jake once again looked into the puddle, now the eyeliner smeared on his gloves,but it was unnoticeable since the gloves were black, and under his eyes. His hair was dirty, but drooping equally on both sides. Well... that didn't help much.
Jake sighed heavily and fixed his dirty red hair back and out of his face. Debating on what his next move should be, leave and hope for no encounters with others or stay, meet the group, and risk his life. Well... the chances of me meeting others are fairly high, and not all will be nice guys. Also, those people over there haven't started to kill each other yet... maybe I'll give it a try. Jake picked up his jacket and put his favorite cinderblock back inside the bag.
Okay Jake, you can do this.
Jake slowly approached approached the the group although with some difficulty because of the weight of the bag. As he got closer he was able to see the people more clearly. There was a boy who had a gun in hand, although wasn't being used in a menacing way. The rest were girls, two with no visible weapons, but the other had pulled out what seemed to be a long blade a few minutes before. It was only until he was a few feet away from the group where he stopped. Jake feigned what seemed to be a sincere smile, exhaled, and awkwardly waved his hand. "Hello, the name's Jake." He continued to smile while he thought in his head, "I hope I don't seem too scary..."
Jake sighed heavily and fixed his dirty red hair back and out of his face. Debating on what his next move should be, leave and hope for no encounters with others or stay, meet the group, and risk his life. Well... the chances of me meeting others are fairly high, and not all will be nice guys. Also, those people over there haven't started to kill each other yet... maybe I'll give it a try. Jake picked up his jacket and put his favorite cinderblock back inside the bag.
Okay Jake, you can do this.
Jake slowly approached approached the the group although with some difficulty because of the weight of the bag. As he got closer he was able to see the people more clearly. There was a boy who had a gun in hand, although wasn't being used in a menacing way. The rest were girls, two with no visible weapons, but the other had pulled out what seemed to be a long blade a few minutes before. It was only until he was a few feet away from the group where he stopped. Jake feigned what seemed to be a sincere smile, exhaled, and awkwardly waved his hand. "Hello, the name's Jake." He continued to smile while he thought in his head, "I hope I don't seem too scary..."
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Courtney lifted her head, wiped the tears from her eyes and looked over to the bag, realising she hadn't even taken a look in it. She shook her head and reached over for it, just managing to get a grip on it with her fingertips... She'd thrown it quite a way. Courtney managed to get close enough to get a hold on it, before picking it up and putting it on her lap.
She mulled over the idea of opening it. She knew, deadly weapon or not, that she wouldn't like what she found inside.
Alright, I could get a pistol, and be useless with it and end up accidentally popping a cap in my own arse. I could get a knife and end up accidentally decapitating myself or something... OR I could get some joke of a 'weapon'-in-name-only, try to fight my way across the island and end up just like that Tenser kid...
Courtney winced. She hadn't directly seen the fight, but the story in the local paper and the rumours around school were bad enough. The thought that anyone in town had it in them enough to hospitalise a guy was bad, and then it was just random guys. The thought that anyone in her class could do anything like that, or even worse... Courtney just couldn't accept it.
Not wanting to dwell any further, Courtney took the two clips of the bag and unclipped them, pulling the top back and looking inside. There wasn't really anything that looked like it would really hurt anyone in there. Just stuff like a torch, first aid-kit, what looked like a compass, a couple of small books, a box of condoms...
Wait, why the hell did they give me a box of-
Courtney quickly rummaged through the bag. She wished it was just a sick joke, an extra item for everyone in the school after hearing what a reputation half the girls there had for being gigantic sluts or something, but there was nothing. She was stuck on an island, forced to kill her classmates or suffer a violent death herself... and she had a box of condoms. Courtney picked them out of the bag, and held it in her hand for a second, before clenching her hand into a fist and throwing the box as far as she could muster.
She put the clips back together and slung the pack over her shoulders, adjusting the straps a little so it hung a bit lower on her back before slowly and carefully getting to her feet. She took a look around, noticing one of what had to be a billion cameras on the island, all waiting for someone to need to take a shit so they could put it on about twenty different sites. From about ten different angles. In slow-motion. Underneath one of the bushes there was another bag, one that looked a lot more familiar to Courtney. She walked over to it, stepping over a root that she'd only just noticed in time on her way, knelt down and dragged it out.
She unzipped her duffel and looked through the contents. Everything still seemed to be in there, including most of her clothes and the packs of crisps she'd put in there. One thing that wasn't in there, however, was her hairspray, so that idea was out of the window.
Probably find some way to burn myself anyway.
Courtney looked around. She could see where the cameras were. She wasn't really prepared to spend the rest of the week or however long she was going to be on the island sweating her arse off in a giant jumper.
Courtney grabbed her duffle bag and ducked behind a bush. She pulled off her jumper and bulky black T-Shirt, quickly laid them down on the ground beside her and pulled on a light blue tank top. Courtney hated exposing her arms, but it was a lot cooler than anything else she had in there, and for once she was glad she'd thrown it in. Looking down, she figured her jogging bottoms would be fine, but grabbed a couple pairs of shorts and jeans, folded them up tightly and threw them in her daypack, just in case.
Aside from a couple of T-Shirts, the bags of crisps and a bottle of water, the rest of the duffel bag's contents were shoved back inside and unceremoniously dumped in the nearby pool.
Courtney sighed, tied her jumper around her waist, and began walking. With no map ready she had no real idea where she was going, but she figured she'd to bump into someone at some point. All she could hope for was that they weren't playing.
She mulled over the idea of opening it. She knew, deadly weapon or not, that she wouldn't like what she found inside.
Alright, I could get a pistol, and be useless with it and end up accidentally popping a cap in my own arse. I could get a knife and end up accidentally decapitating myself or something... OR I could get some joke of a 'weapon'-in-name-only, try to fight my way across the island and end up just like that Tenser kid...
Courtney winced. She hadn't directly seen the fight, but the story in the local paper and the rumours around school were bad enough. The thought that anyone in town had it in them enough to hospitalise a guy was bad, and then it was just random guys. The thought that anyone in her class could do anything like that, or even worse... Courtney just couldn't accept it.
Not wanting to dwell any further, Courtney took the two clips of the bag and unclipped them, pulling the top back and looking inside. There wasn't really anything that looked like it would really hurt anyone in there. Just stuff like a torch, first aid-kit, what looked like a compass, a couple of small books, a box of condoms...
Wait, why the hell did they give me a box of-
Courtney quickly rummaged through the bag. She wished it was just a sick joke, an extra item for everyone in the school after hearing what a reputation half the girls there had for being gigantic sluts or something, but there was nothing. She was stuck on an island, forced to kill her classmates or suffer a violent death herself... and she had a box of condoms. Courtney picked them out of the bag, and held it in her hand for a second, before clenching her hand into a fist and throwing the box as far as she could muster.
She put the clips back together and slung the pack over her shoulders, adjusting the straps a little so it hung a bit lower on her back before slowly and carefully getting to her feet. She took a look around, noticing one of what had to be a billion cameras on the island, all waiting for someone to need to take a shit so they could put it on about twenty different sites. From about ten different angles. In slow-motion. Underneath one of the bushes there was another bag, one that looked a lot more familiar to Courtney. She walked over to it, stepping over a root that she'd only just noticed in time on her way, knelt down and dragged it out.
She unzipped her duffel and looked through the contents. Everything still seemed to be in there, including most of her clothes and the packs of crisps she'd put in there. One thing that wasn't in there, however, was her hairspray, so that idea was out of the window.
Probably find some way to burn myself anyway.
Courtney looked around. She could see where the cameras were. She wasn't really prepared to spend the rest of the week or however long she was going to be on the island sweating her arse off in a giant jumper.
Courtney grabbed her duffle bag and ducked behind a bush. She pulled off her jumper and bulky black T-Shirt, quickly laid them down on the ground beside her and pulled on a light blue tank top. Courtney hated exposing her arms, but it was a lot cooler than anything else she had in there, and for once she was glad she'd thrown it in. Looking down, she figured her jogging bottoms would be fine, but grabbed a couple pairs of shorts and jeans, folded them up tightly and threw them in her daypack, just in case.
Aside from a couple of T-Shirts, the bags of crisps and a bottle of water, the rest of the duffel bag's contents were shoved back inside and unceremoniously dumped in the nearby pool.
Courtney sighed, tied her jumper around her waist, and began walking. With no map ready she had no real idea where she was going, but she figured she'd to bump into someone at some point. All she could hope for was that they weren't playing.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Badb.
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Pigeon Army†
- Posts: 232
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 6:17 am
"...Not this type of pistol....but I've been shown as a kid."
Rachel groaned loudly. Everyone she'd met on the island so far had a weapon that would be worth something - the morbid-looking boy had a gun, and Maddy had just spent the last thirty seconds absent-mindedly swinging around a machete she had found in her pack - and she was stuck with a tambourine. How was she going to defend herself? Deflect bullets with the zils? Unlikely. The foreigner had certainly gone out of his way to make life difficult for her.
The boy extended his hand to Rachel and formally introduced himself. "My name is Daniel Blessing. I...see your weapon can...could be useful." Rachel said nothing, opting to stare at his hand for a few seconds and scoff. She wasn't about to make chums with a boy she didn't know, especially given the situation everyone was in. Besides, underneath the broad shoulders and condescending humour, he carried himself like a milquetoast, and Rachel had no interest in supporting someone as weak as him on the island. She had her own safety to worry about, she didn't need to concern herself with the emotional state of kids she didn't know as well.
With that personal ultimatum laid, Rachel looked back at the path south, into the trees. The miniature creek was no longer of any concern to the girl with the fine attire - her expensive shoes were water-logged anyway, and some of her clothes had been crammed into the provided duffel bag, she had noted as she had searched through it. It was highly likely that they had crammed stockings or a pair of jeans or something in there with the rest of the things. Damaging the stockings she was wearing was a risk she could take if it meant divorcing herself from the issues of everyone else stuck on the island.
By this point, the girl in the karate uniform had arrived and introduced herself without actually introducing herself. Like the Blessing kid, she seemed like a non-entity, but Rachel nodded politely to her all the same. The Blessing kid had noticed her too and observed, weakly attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice, "A bunch of girls?" Rachel shivered at the boy's passive assumption that he had to 'protect' them now, but the comment confirmed that she was doing the right thing. If she stayed around the ironically-named Blessing, she would probably end up killing him with his own gun out of frustration at his stupidity. A second boy had entered the picture at this time, meekly introducing himself as Jake. He looked dreadful, wet eyeliner dripping down his nose and the remnants of red highlights dribbling from limp spikes in his hair. He didn't exactly rekindle Rachel's confidence - anyone smart enough to try and wash their hair in the swamp water probably had an unprecedented capacity for doing stupid, dangerous things.
Rachel grabbed the shoulder-strap of her bag with her left hand, adjusting the way the bag dangled at her side. It wasn't particularly heavy, which would make her life easier, she thought to herself. She turned to Madison - the only one of the four she could trust, the only one she could handle as company, and the only one packing a weapon that wouldn't backfire on them - and made her offer. "I'm not sticking around. You're welcome to join me; I could do with some decent company." She turned to the others. "You people are not."
Rachel started on her way south, making a point of sliding between the girl in the karate uniform and the Blessing kid. Reaching the edge of the pseudo-island, she stopped and turned to the trio of rejected classmates. "No offense," she said half-heartedly, not really caring if they realised that she didn't mean it or not. She turned back to the creek and, hesitantly, waded through the stagnant slush that was meant to pass for water. She flinched as did so, every step further damaging her classy footwear.
Eventually, Rachel got to the other side. She turned back to Madison, raised one eyebrow as if to say 'hurry up', and made her way towards the trees.
Rachel groaned loudly. Everyone she'd met on the island so far had a weapon that would be worth something - the morbid-looking boy had a gun, and Maddy had just spent the last thirty seconds absent-mindedly swinging around a machete she had found in her pack - and she was stuck with a tambourine. How was she going to defend herself? Deflect bullets with the zils? Unlikely. The foreigner had certainly gone out of his way to make life difficult for her.
The boy extended his hand to Rachel and formally introduced himself. "My name is Daniel Blessing. I...see your weapon can...could be useful." Rachel said nothing, opting to stare at his hand for a few seconds and scoff. She wasn't about to make chums with a boy she didn't know, especially given the situation everyone was in. Besides, underneath the broad shoulders and condescending humour, he carried himself like a milquetoast, and Rachel had no interest in supporting someone as weak as him on the island. She had her own safety to worry about, she didn't need to concern herself with the emotional state of kids she didn't know as well.
With that personal ultimatum laid, Rachel looked back at the path south, into the trees. The miniature creek was no longer of any concern to the girl with the fine attire - her expensive shoes were water-logged anyway, and some of her clothes had been crammed into the provided duffel bag, she had noted as she had searched through it. It was highly likely that they had crammed stockings or a pair of jeans or something in there with the rest of the things. Damaging the stockings she was wearing was a risk she could take if it meant divorcing herself from the issues of everyone else stuck on the island.
By this point, the girl in the karate uniform had arrived and introduced herself without actually introducing herself. Like the Blessing kid, she seemed like a non-entity, but Rachel nodded politely to her all the same. The Blessing kid had noticed her too and observed, weakly attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice, "A bunch of girls?" Rachel shivered at the boy's passive assumption that he had to 'protect' them now, but the comment confirmed that she was doing the right thing. If she stayed around the ironically-named Blessing, she would probably end up killing him with his own gun out of frustration at his stupidity. A second boy had entered the picture at this time, meekly introducing himself as Jake. He looked dreadful, wet eyeliner dripping down his nose and the remnants of red highlights dribbling from limp spikes in his hair. He didn't exactly rekindle Rachel's confidence - anyone smart enough to try and wash their hair in the swamp water probably had an unprecedented capacity for doing stupid, dangerous things.
Rachel grabbed the shoulder-strap of her bag with her left hand, adjusting the way the bag dangled at her side. It wasn't particularly heavy, which would make her life easier, she thought to herself. She turned to Madison - the only one of the four she could trust, the only one she could handle as company, and the only one packing a weapon that wouldn't backfire on them - and made her offer. "I'm not sticking around. You're welcome to join me; I could do with some decent company." She turned to the others. "You people are not."
Rachel started on her way south, making a point of sliding between the girl in the karate uniform and the Blessing kid. Reaching the edge of the pseudo-island, she stopped and turned to the trio of rejected classmates. "No offense," she said half-heartedly, not really caring if they realised that she didn't mean it or not. She turned back to the creek and, hesitantly, waded through the stagnant slush that was meant to pass for water. She flinched as did so, every step further damaging her classy footwear.
Eventually, Rachel got to the other side. She turned back to Madison, raised one eyebrow as if to say 'hurry up', and made her way towards the trees.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Pigeon Army. 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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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
[[Garrett Hunter continued from All That I've Ever Known]]
This was NOT Garrett's day.
First he'd woken up in the fucking deadwood with some gun-toting crazy bitch, a pathetic, weaponless pussy who was now following him around like a little puppy, and a faggy-ass useless European loser. Then he'd gotten away from THAT shit and ended up in some fuckin' sawdust-town clusterfuck, and he'd been ABOUT to get into a really sickass fight when some douchebag came out of NOWHERE and threw fucking DYNAMITE at them. And he'd managed to run, being far away enough from the dynamite that he was unaffected by it, and he'd run and run and run with no destination and where had he ended up?
The swamp.
And worse?
It was FILLED with girls.
Garrett growled to himself. Where the FUCK were his boys? There were two guys here, though he didn't know either- one looked tough, and had a gun- a good ally in the making if he doesn't turn out to be some pussy -and the other one was some goth/emo/whatever-the-fuck-looking asshole. The girls...whatever, they were a bunch of girls. One of them was walking away from the rest and holding...a tambourine? Well, I guess I could have done worse. The other two, one had a machete, the other one was wearing a...fuckin'...karate uniform whatever. He didn't know any of them- Garrett didn't talk to girls.
He looked behind him and saw, not surprisingly, that Jackie had followed him here. He could back out of here now- ignore all these losers- but again, there was that boy with the gun again. He needed someone with firepower on his side. And...he could definitely use a machete.
Garrett muttered to Jackie, his only ally at the moment- "Let's go say hello. Pick up another ally or two, maybe. Strength in numbers or whatever."
He took a few steps forward, through the muck, grimacing as it touched his bare skin. The others were standing on an island-type-thing- seemed like a good destination. He half-waved and shouted-
"Hey! More people! 'Sup, guys?"
He sounded convincingly...nice, he supposed.
This was NOT Garrett's day.
First he'd woken up in the fucking deadwood with some gun-toting crazy bitch, a pathetic, weaponless pussy who was now following him around like a little puppy, and a faggy-ass useless European loser. Then he'd gotten away from THAT shit and ended up in some fuckin' sawdust-town clusterfuck, and he'd been ABOUT to get into a really sickass fight when some douchebag came out of NOWHERE and threw fucking DYNAMITE at them. And he'd managed to run, being far away enough from the dynamite that he was unaffected by it, and he'd run and run and run with no destination and where had he ended up?
The swamp.
And worse?
It was FILLED with girls.
Garrett growled to himself. Where the FUCK were his boys? There were two guys here, though he didn't know either- one looked tough, and had a gun- a good ally in the making if he doesn't turn out to be some pussy -and the other one was some goth/emo/whatever-the-fuck-looking asshole. The girls...whatever, they were a bunch of girls. One of them was walking away from the rest and holding...a tambourine? Well, I guess I could have done worse. The other two, one had a machete, the other one was wearing a...fuckin'...karate uniform whatever. He didn't know any of them- Garrett didn't talk to girls.
He looked behind him and saw, not surprisingly, that Jackie had followed him here. He could back out of here now- ignore all these losers- but again, there was that boy with the gun again. He needed someone with firepower on his side. And...he could definitely use a machete.
Garrett muttered to Jackie, his only ally at the moment- "Let's go say hello. Pick up another ally or two, maybe. Strength in numbers or whatever."
He took a few steps forward, through the muck, grimacing as it touched his bare skin. The others were standing on an island-type-thing- seemed like a good destination. He half-waved and shouted-
"Hey! More people! 'Sup, guys?"
He sounded convincingly...nice, he supposed.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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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KingKamor†
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Sun Sep 02, 2018 5:43 am
((Jacqueline "Jackie" Maxwell continued from All that I've Ever Known))
Jackie wasn't sure whether or not the dynamite exploded behind them or not, what with the speed at which she had to follow Garrett just to keep up with him. A good amount of mud and a crusty layer of mud had begun to cover shoes and the ends of her pant legs, giving a sickening squish ever time she took a step.
Damn it! What the fuck am I doing here? Any other day, I'd be hanging out with these people! She thought desperately to herself as she followed Garrett to... wherever it was they were going. She didn't care at that point; all she wanted to do was get away from the ones playing the game, to get away from those who wanted nothing more than to blow a hole in her head. All of these other high school kids seemed to have been normal, but it seemed that Jackie couldn't have been more wrong.
She almost ran into Garrett when he stopped to view their new location. It hadn't occurred to her to pay attention to where exactly he was leading her, but she guessed that he didn't know too well, himself. They seemed to have run into yet another group of people. A sigh of relief escaped her breath once she saw that they were all girls. Perhaps they would be more docile than that last group they walked into?
"Let's go say hello. Pick up another ally or two, maybe. Strength in numbers or whatever." There was nothing else particularly obvious to do, so she simply nodded her head.
Jackie wasn't sure whether or not the dynamite exploded behind them or not, what with the speed at which she had to follow Garrett just to keep up with him. A good amount of mud and a crusty layer of mud had begun to cover shoes and the ends of her pant legs, giving a sickening squish ever time she took a step.
Damn it! What the fuck am I doing here? Any other day, I'd be hanging out with these people! She thought desperately to herself as she followed Garrett to... wherever it was they were going. She didn't care at that point; all she wanted to do was get away from the ones playing the game, to get away from those who wanted nothing more than to blow a hole in her head. All of these other high school kids seemed to have been normal, but it seemed that Jackie couldn't have been more wrong.
She almost ran into Garrett when he stopped to view their new location. It hadn't occurred to her to pay attention to where exactly he was leading her, but she guessed that he didn't know too well, himself. They seemed to have run into yet another group of people. A sigh of relief escaped her breath once she saw that they were all girls. Perhaps they would be more docile than that last group they walked into?
"Let's go say hello. Pick up another ally or two, maybe. Strength in numbers or whatever." There was nothing else particularly obvious to do, so she simply nodded her head.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler KingKamor. 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.