(GMing approved by D/N)
Allen would have to thank Ray in a while for bringing Isabel on board. He lacked the strength to do so, and knew that Isabel could have easily struggled free from his grip, had he tried to keep hold of her, and would've simply ran off.
"Isabel, Isabel! Listen to me!" he ordered. "Look, they did the best they could," he assured her, looking at the rest of the people sent to rescue the ragtag bunch of students that had made it. 'That's strange,' he wondered, 'these guys look pretty young to be working for the government. In fact they look about as old as us! Just what the hell is up with that?' He'd make a note to ask when they were finally underway, traveling across the sea...
Okay, simply thinking about the voyage over water was starting to make Allen feel queasy. 'Don't think about it, don't think about it,' he ordered himself. He still needed to talk to Isabel to try and get her to calm the heck down, and spontaneous vomiting while trying to speak was only going to make matters worse.
"Do you really think they'd purposefully wait while people are dying here? No, they wouldn't." Allen understood that Isabel was extremely upset, what with finding Helen's body and having to leave her friend ('some friend,' Allen thought) behind. But still, she came off as extremely ungrateful to the people who'd showed up to help. "Just be glad they're here in the first place." Now onto the difficult task of trying to calm her down when it came to Hayley.
"Look, I know that Hayley was-" No, he'd better correct that. "-that Hayley's your friend, but... she's killed several people. If she did that back home, if she murdered someone in cold blood, would you still want to be associated with her?"
His eyes traveled onto Isabel's bandaged arm and he exhaled deeply. Even now, he was finding it hard to believe that the person who'd inflicted the injury used to be his buddy. "I'll tell you something. Me and Alex White used to be friends. I played sax, he played piano, we enjoyed the outdoors, so we had quite a lot in common. We hung out occasionally as well.
"But... hearing that he killed Rena and that other dude, and seeing what he did to both you and Andrea... it disgusted me that he could be capable of that.
"He used to be my friend, Isabel, and I honestly thought he was going to kill the pair of us. He'd gone completely insane! He was no longer the person I knew! Now do you think Hayley would've stopped and spared your life just because of your friendship? What if she decided it was a good idea to kill me? What then? Would you still want to head out there and find her?"
Okay, maybe he couldn't say what Isabel would do for certain. He didn't know just how far Isabel's and Hayley's friendship extended, whether they were just friends or BFF, or something along those lines.
"Speaking of Andrea," he said, standing up and scanning the boat and beach for her face, "where the hell is-"
Then he heard her voice, loud and piercing from across the beach. Andrea was still at the treeline.
And according to her screaming, she was being attacked by Alex White.
"Oh my God..." Allen whispered. It couldn't be happening. Why was he even there? Had he followed them? And why was he attacking Andrea? She just wanted to escape, killing her would serve absolutely no purpose whatsoever. It just proved Allen was right. Alex White had gone completely insane. He wasn't killing because he had to, he was killing because he wanted to. And then there were two explosions that nearly deafened him. He instinctively ducked down and only got back up once the sound had died down.
When he looked, Alex was nowhere to be seen. Andrea had made it down by the water, though. No, scratch that, Andrea was in the water, and not only that, she was face down in it and bleeding. 'Oh no... oh nonononono!!'
"Andrea!" he yelled in complete panic. "Look after Isabel," he said to Ray, climbing over the side of the boat and landing with a splash in the shallow water. He nearly tumbled over onto all fours, but he shakily got back to his feet, his tennis shoes digging into the sticky wet sand as he approached the fallen girl. He was sure the rescuers would have had something to say about him abandoning the vessel, but he didn't care at that point.
Andrea needed help.
He put his arms around Andrea, turning her over, lifting her upper body out of the water and started to drag her backwards towards the boat he'd just leaped off of, falling over on his backside a couple of times. "Hey, HEY! Someone help me with her!" he practically screamed to the others on-board as he got closer and closer with each step.
The Cavalry Arrives
See Midmonths
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JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
"BRENDAN! You made it!" Sarah squeaked as her friend was carried onto the boat. "Oh no! You're bleeding! What happened..."
The tiny girl sprang up from her seat and ran over to greet Brendan, but the sound of gunshots in the distance distracted her. Sarah whipped around to look and watched as Andrea staggered up to the boat, into the water. The water stained red with her blood.
It was too much for her to take.
Sarah couldn't afford this. She couldn't afford another friend to die in front of her, not without at least trying to help. She couldn't afford for Andrea to be left behind! With a loud cry, she ran to the edge of the boat and tried to jump off, to reach Andrea.
The boy tugged on her shirt, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her back. He didn't need to use much force. Sarah was never a very physical person.
"Let me go!" she yelled, "She needs help! I can still save her! I can! Please!"
But it was too late... Sarah watched in horror as Andrea began to sink into the water.
"PLEASE! SHE'S STILL BREATHING! PLEASE!"
The tiny girl sprang up from her seat and ran over to greet Brendan, but the sound of gunshots in the distance distracted her. Sarah whipped around to look and watched as Andrea staggered up to the boat, into the water. The water stained red with her blood.
It was too much for her to take.
Sarah couldn't afford this. She couldn't afford another friend to die in front of her, not without at least trying to help. She couldn't afford for Andrea to be left behind! With a loud cry, she ran to the edge of the boat and tried to jump off, to reach Andrea.
The boy tugged on her shirt, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her back. He didn't need to use much force. Sarah was never a very physical person.
"Let me go!" she yelled, "She needs help! I can still save her! I can! Please!"
But it was too late... Sarah watched in horror as Andrea began to sink into the water.
"PLEASE! SHE'S STILL BREATHING! PLEASE!"
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Things hadn't gone quite how Jaxon had hoped. There had been many more killers than he'd wanted to deal with, many more reasons to question the whole stupid exclusion list all over again. Peter Siu and Raidon Naoko had both pitched in, helping see those who could still be rescued safely off the island. Jaxon was so tempted to break the rules, to back down and let the boys on. At this point, though, he couldn't. Not after the scenes people had made. Not after what Nate had probably been doing.
There was something going on further down the beach. He heard a shout, a warning. Something about grenades. The explosions. Screams. Gunshots. Fuck. At the same time, his radio buzzed. The girl next to him lurched forwards, but he caught her, held her back. Another boy jumped clear too, and ran to a girl in the water. She looked to be bleeding.
"Get moving," a voice from the radio, one of the intelligence people, said. "You're gonna have company soon. Looks like a couple patrol boats decided there was something more important to do than saving the boss."
Too much chaos. Too much conflict. the wounded boy, The one they'd been trying to help, had stumbled off. No time to retrieve him. Jaxon had probably let half a dozen students slip through his fingers, doomed them to death because his group had been overworked, hadn't been able to properly baby sit a bunch of half-starved, shell-shocked high school kids.
He wasn't going to sleep easy tonight, that was for sure. This was not how it was supposed to go. For a second, he was in perfect agreement with Nate. He wanted nothing more than to track down whoever had decided to start shooting now. He wanted to plug the idiot right between the eyes. It was stupid, illogical, petty. It was a sick little kid throwing a tantrum because someone else got better toys. Didn't the players realize that everyone who left the island meant less competition in their stupid death game?
He wondered if the tech crew would be able to blow a specific collar.
No.
No, they were not Danya. They didn't blow people up, even monsters, even if they probably could. If they made it back to the island, though, if they somehow finished Danya and dealt with these patrol boats, if some legitimate military got its act in gear at the eleventh hour, then there would be a reckoning. Until then, he'd just have to count on the good people to do what had to be done.
"Come on," he called. "Everyone in the boats, now. As quickly as you can. Get the wounded right now. We're going. Keep your heads down, and be ready for a rough ride. We may have some company."
There was something going on further down the beach. He heard a shout, a warning. Something about grenades. The explosions. Screams. Gunshots. Fuck. At the same time, his radio buzzed. The girl next to him lurched forwards, but he caught her, held her back. Another boy jumped clear too, and ran to a girl in the water. She looked to be bleeding.
"Get moving," a voice from the radio, one of the intelligence people, said. "You're gonna have company soon. Looks like a couple patrol boats decided there was something more important to do than saving the boss."
Too much chaos. Too much conflict. the wounded boy, The one they'd been trying to help, had stumbled off. No time to retrieve him. Jaxon had probably let half a dozen students slip through his fingers, doomed them to death because his group had been overworked, hadn't been able to properly baby sit a bunch of half-starved, shell-shocked high school kids.
He wasn't going to sleep easy tonight, that was for sure. This was not how it was supposed to go. For a second, he was in perfect agreement with Nate. He wanted nothing more than to track down whoever had decided to start shooting now. He wanted to plug the idiot right between the eyes. It was stupid, illogical, petty. It was a sick little kid throwing a tantrum because someone else got better toys. Didn't the players realize that everyone who left the island meant less competition in their stupid death game?
He wondered if the tech crew would be able to blow a specific collar.
No.
No, they were not Danya. They didn't blow people up, even monsters, even if they probably could. If they made it back to the island, though, if they somehow finished Danya and dealt with these patrol boats, if some legitimate military got its act in gear at the eleventh hour, then there would be a reckoning. Until then, he'd just have to count on the good people to do what had to be done.
"Come on," he called. "Everyone in the boats, now. As quickly as you can. Get the wounded right now. We're going. Keep your heads down, and be ready for a rough ride. We may have some company."
Son of a bitch! That was loud!
The first one was farther off, but the blood staining his pant leg and running into his eye was proof that the second was just close enough. He wasn't bloody chunks and sand, not quite, but there were more than a few cuts and at least one piece of shrapnel giving him trouble. He wanted to run her down and put on in the back of her skull for that. He wanted to make sure she was dead and never coming back, and never getting out of here, but he couldn't. Not with that bit of metal in his leg. Not with the stinging in his eye. Not with the attention drawn to that end of the beach.
No, Alex just watched.
Watched Andrea stumble into the water. Watched the people on the boat react. Watched as things were preparing to go to hell in a hand basket. Alex just watched, the way he did when they buried those girls. Just sat, and watched, and waited. He eyed the bolas nearby. Torn to hell. Useless. He looked down at his leg, squinted, wiped the blood out of his eye. Pant leg was torn. Leg was bleeding. Burned like hell. Useless.
He wouldn't be running anyone down any time soon.
"So long, everyone."
Alex tied off his leg. Keep it covered, maybe stop the bleeding a little. Wiped the blood out of his eye again. It wasn't the first time he saw red, wouldn't be the last, but god damn did it sting this time. He'd bandage up properly, but really didn't have the time. It was risky enough just sitting there and watching. No one was paying any attention to where he was. They were all focused on Andrea. That was his cue. Time to pull out and back away. Slip off while no one knew he was there.
Yeah, it was time to leave. So he left. He turned, and walked away. Just fucking walked away.
With a few more holes, and a lot of red.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Recovering in Full Circle. ]
The first one was farther off, but the blood staining his pant leg and running into his eye was proof that the second was just close enough. He wasn't bloody chunks and sand, not quite, but there were more than a few cuts and at least one piece of shrapnel giving him trouble. He wanted to run her down and put on in the back of her skull for that. He wanted to make sure she was dead and never coming back, and never getting out of here, but he couldn't. Not with that bit of metal in his leg. Not with the stinging in his eye. Not with the attention drawn to that end of the beach.
No, Alex just watched.
Watched Andrea stumble into the water. Watched the people on the boat react. Watched as things were preparing to go to hell in a hand basket. Alex just watched, the way he did when they buried those girls. Just sat, and watched, and waited. He eyed the bolas nearby. Torn to hell. Useless. He looked down at his leg, squinted, wiped the blood out of his eye. Pant leg was torn. Leg was bleeding. Burned like hell. Useless.
He wouldn't be running anyone down any time soon.
"So long, everyone."
Alex tied off his leg. Keep it covered, maybe stop the bleeding a little. Wiped the blood out of his eye again. It wasn't the first time he saw red, wouldn't be the last, but god damn did it sting this time. He'd bandage up properly, but really didn't have the time. It was risky enough just sitting there and watching. No one was paying any attention to where he was. They were all focused on Andrea. That was his cue. Time to pull out and back away. Slip off while no one knew he was there.
Yeah, it was time to leave. So he left. He turned, and walked away. Just fucking walked away.
With a few more holes, and a lot of red.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Recovering in Full Circle. ]
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"Yeah, he's okay."
Peter breathed a sigh of relief in hearing that. One less thing for Brendan to have to worry about. If these guys were willing to give him a chance, then at least he'd have a future. That was more than Peter could have hoped for. He had been so afraid that he'd have messed it up again and gotten Brendan killed.
His friend lurched up the beach beside him, and Peter gave him a brief smile and nod before getting wrapped up in a tight hug. It took Peter off guard. Nine days of fighting for his life, and this was only the second time he'd been so close to somebody. The first time, his best friend had died not even twelve hours later. This time, his friend was going to survive and go home.
This was probably going to be the last time he'd be so close to somebody too.
"It's okay Brendan. You get to live your life. I get to live mine." Peter whispered softly into the other boy's ear. "Don't forget, have a plan for trucking forward. You've got a lot of road to go." Tears stung his eyes. The two disengaged from their hug, Brendan spitting out some blood courtesy of his broken teeth. Peter chuckled and lightly slapped on Brendan's back, and then got his shoulder under the other boy and helped him up onto the boat.
He looked over at the faces of the people on the boat. Faces of people who would escape from this horrible game. His eyes searched through the crowd, but one face didn't show. He still had a promise to keep, but he was hoping everything would be finished now. From the first day, he had sworn to protect her. But Eiko wasn't here.
Peter turned to the man who had confirmed Brendan's safety. "Is this everybody that's gotten here? This everybody that's escaping?" Peter's head whirred into action again, trying to put things together. Chances were that there were maybe a handful of boats. This beach was too far from some parts of the island, and their announcement wouldn't have carried to the other end. Eiko might still have gotten to another boat. There was another beach close to the big mansion, after all.
"There's another boat right? Can you talk to them?" Peter's voice was strained, but the questions continued. "Ask them if an Eiko Haraguchi is with them? I need to make sure she's safe too." The other man looked up at Peter and then at the other kids surrounding them, then at some of his companions who shrugged back at him.
"I hope your friend is safe. I can try to find out, but I'm not sure names are being checked for people who aren't on the list. If you hear her announced in a way that seems suspicious tomorrow, though, she probably made it. They're going to have to cover this up somehow."
Peter nodded. Given the circumstances, contact between the boats could be severely limited. And given his response, there probably wouldn't be time to go find her and bring her back. All that was left for Peter to do was to pray.
There was screaming from somewhere up the beach. Even at a distance, the words carried urgency and anger through the air. Peter caught a few words. A name. Alex White.
An explosion rocked the boat. Then another. A girl and a boy, Sarah Tan and Allen Birkman, got up from the boat and ran toward the water. The older man stopped Sarah, but Allen managed to make it past and jumped into the water. For Andrea Raymer. She had been in the water, blood leaking out from her body. Peter hadn't even seen her walk this close.
He wasn't going to just stand around though. He wasn't going to let her die. Not on his watch.
Peter flung his backpack back at the beach, and followed Allen into the water. The cold shock of hitting the water was disorienting, but Peter couldn't waste time. He got to Allen's side and got his shoulder under Andrea's upper body. A quick look showed the gunshot wound, high up in her back. Good chance it hit a lung too.
Tiffany had died when she got her lung punctured.
No. That didn't matter. Get the girl to safety first, and try to save her. That was what mattered. Not the deaths in the past. This was something he could change.
"Somebody get a first aid kit ready!" Peter yelled up at the boat. No more time to waste. With Allen's help, he got Andrea pulled up onto the deck. Right as he got there, the man in charge of the boats started yelling out to everyone on the boat. They were leaving soon.
For a moment, Peter was tempted to try to stow with them. He was already on the boat, and he could maybe help treat Andrea. Of course, there were other people here that could too. Maybe Peter just wanted to be done with this.
But who was he kidding? He wasn't going to run.
He stood up and stepped away from Andrea's body. Somebody else moved into cover the space where he was, presumably to try to help the girl. He stepped off the boat, to where his backpack had landed. His eyes turned back to the boat, to the people who were going to live, and to the people who would make that miracle happen.
"Take care of them. Please. Get them home." Peter said to the man in charge. Reaching down, he unclipped his rifle, but held it loosely and away from the boat. "I'll watch this side. Just in case," he said, gesturing out to the sandy expanse facing the forest. If Alex, or any other player, showed their face again, Peter would make sure it would be the last time it happened.
Peter didn't look back at the boat, but after a brief moment, the other man called out to him. "Hey, thanks for everything." There was a twinge of regret in the man's voice. Maybe there somebody actually thought he deserved to live. But in the end, everyone made their own choices, and Peter had made his. "And... good luck. I don't think we'll be back, but if we are, make sure you find us, okay?"
Peter looked back and nodded.
A mercy. For everyone.
Peter breathed a sigh of relief in hearing that. One less thing for Brendan to have to worry about. If these guys were willing to give him a chance, then at least he'd have a future. That was more than Peter could have hoped for. He had been so afraid that he'd have messed it up again and gotten Brendan killed.
His friend lurched up the beach beside him, and Peter gave him a brief smile and nod before getting wrapped up in a tight hug. It took Peter off guard. Nine days of fighting for his life, and this was only the second time he'd been so close to somebody. The first time, his best friend had died not even twelve hours later. This time, his friend was going to survive and go home.
This was probably going to be the last time he'd be so close to somebody too.
"It's okay Brendan. You get to live your life. I get to live mine." Peter whispered softly into the other boy's ear. "Don't forget, have a plan for trucking forward. You've got a lot of road to go." Tears stung his eyes. The two disengaged from their hug, Brendan spitting out some blood courtesy of his broken teeth. Peter chuckled and lightly slapped on Brendan's back, and then got his shoulder under the other boy and helped him up onto the boat.
He looked over at the faces of the people on the boat. Faces of people who would escape from this horrible game. His eyes searched through the crowd, but one face didn't show. He still had a promise to keep, but he was hoping everything would be finished now. From the first day, he had sworn to protect her. But Eiko wasn't here.
Peter turned to the man who had confirmed Brendan's safety. "Is this everybody that's gotten here? This everybody that's escaping?" Peter's head whirred into action again, trying to put things together. Chances were that there were maybe a handful of boats. This beach was too far from some parts of the island, and their announcement wouldn't have carried to the other end. Eiko might still have gotten to another boat. There was another beach close to the big mansion, after all.
"There's another boat right? Can you talk to them?" Peter's voice was strained, but the questions continued. "Ask them if an Eiko Haraguchi is with them? I need to make sure she's safe too." The other man looked up at Peter and then at the other kids surrounding them, then at some of his companions who shrugged back at him.
"I hope your friend is safe. I can try to find out, but I'm not sure names are being checked for people who aren't on the list. If you hear her announced in a way that seems suspicious tomorrow, though, she probably made it. They're going to have to cover this up somehow."
Peter nodded. Given the circumstances, contact between the boats could be severely limited. And given his response, there probably wouldn't be time to go find her and bring her back. All that was left for Peter to do was to pray.
There was screaming from somewhere up the beach. Even at a distance, the words carried urgency and anger through the air. Peter caught a few words. A name. Alex White.
An explosion rocked the boat. Then another. A girl and a boy, Sarah Tan and Allen Birkman, got up from the boat and ran toward the water. The older man stopped Sarah, but Allen managed to make it past and jumped into the water. For Andrea Raymer. She had been in the water, blood leaking out from her body. Peter hadn't even seen her walk this close.
He wasn't going to just stand around though. He wasn't going to let her die. Not on his watch.
Peter flung his backpack back at the beach, and followed Allen into the water. The cold shock of hitting the water was disorienting, but Peter couldn't waste time. He got to Allen's side and got his shoulder under Andrea's upper body. A quick look showed the gunshot wound, high up in her back. Good chance it hit a lung too.
Tiffany had died when she got her lung punctured.
No. That didn't matter. Get the girl to safety first, and try to save her. That was what mattered. Not the deaths in the past. This was something he could change.
"Somebody get a first aid kit ready!" Peter yelled up at the boat. No more time to waste. With Allen's help, he got Andrea pulled up onto the deck. Right as he got there, the man in charge of the boats started yelling out to everyone on the boat. They were leaving soon.
For a moment, Peter was tempted to try to stow with them. He was already on the boat, and he could maybe help treat Andrea. Of course, there were other people here that could too. Maybe Peter just wanted to be done with this.
But who was he kidding? He wasn't going to run.
He stood up and stepped away from Andrea's body. Somebody else moved into cover the space where he was, presumably to try to help the girl. He stepped off the boat, to where his backpack had landed. His eyes turned back to the boat, to the people who were going to live, and to the people who would make that miracle happen.
"Take care of them. Please. Get them home." Peter said to the man in charge. Reaching down, he unclipped his rifle, but held it loosely and away from the boat. "I'll watch this side. Just in case," he said, gesturing out to the sandy expanse facing the forest. If Alex, or any other player, showed their face again, Peter would make sure it would be the last time it happened.
Peter didn't look back at the boat, but after a brief moment, the other man called out to him. "Hey, thanks for everything." There was a twinge of regret in the man's voice. Maybe there somebody actually thought he deserved to live. But in the end, everyone made their own choices, and Peter had made his. "And... good luck. I don't think we'll be back, but if we are, make sure you find us, okay?"
Peter looked back and nodded.
A mercy. For everyone.
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One last time. Maybe.
And then the bullhorn crackles
And the captain tackles
With the problems of the how's and why's
And he can see no reasons
Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die?
Die?
Oh oh oh...
For one more time Andrea lay there, waiting to see what would happen next. She didn't think in those terms, of course. She was just letting the water soak through her bandages; she breathed out and saw bubbles form in front of her; she felt her feet against the sand and lay face down and thought she was going to get some sleep after all.
Andrea had always been a night owl. Most people with ADD are. Combine that with the caffeine intake, the medication intake, and the general demeanor, and it wasn't surprising that she'd become a bit of an insomniac. She'd never really wanted sleep; it was for people who didn't have anything better to do.
But now? After all she'd gone through? She deserved some sleep. A well deserved break; it would be relaxing and so peaceful no matter whether--
Then arms were grabbing her, wrapping around and lifting, and Andrea was certain she came out of the water in slow motion. She gulped oxygen and blinked, dumbly seeing water droplets and diamonds in front of her; they floated suspended in the air and danced and glittered in the sun.
She'd always joked, made facetious, half-serious claims that her stimulants led her to think or experience things on a higher level, a sort of higher consciousness than other people did. That was all a bunch of crap, of course. She'd never actually believed it.
Diamonds in the sun. No one saw them besides her.
It was another second before time caught up again, and was being dragged backwards, clumsily, awkwardly. It was Allen, of course. Her first inclination was to ask him to stop. Like he'd do that, though. This was his moment to have.
Let him have it.
Allen was jostling her and the pain in her back was still screaming but she would be sleeping soon. Just grin and bear it until then. Andrea chuckled weakly at that.
"Alex... yeah. He had a grenade. Couldn't let him pull that shit. Heh. Heh."
More hands now. Moving her. She recognized Peter Siu, of all people, and then she was out of the water entirely. Too bad. She liked that water. They were in the boat and she could feel it start to move beneath her.
"Allen, hey."
Wow lots of people on this boat. Good for them.
"Hey, you uh, you're sweet to do that."
She wanted to tell him something. About her brother or that he should go to a concert, or that someone should go find Adam Dodd and ask him if she was a worthy heir to of #77 after all, cause if this whole fucking escape thing proved ANYTHING to her right now it was that they totally DID escape last season.
She'd known that shit all along.
But those would have to wait as half-formed concepts in her mind, because even she had to stop rambling at some point, not even Andrea Raymer could go on and on and on with a bullet lodged near her spine. They would have to wait while she slept, because sleep was important to any growing girl and she really needed to get caught up on some shut-eye, and if she woke up later she'd be able to tell them all that and more and if she didn't, well, then it really didn't matter anyway, did it? It was all good. It was all figured out.
Someone else reached towards her, fiddling with her collar as a voice called out to get some medical attention here pronto. Well, YEAH. She did have various injuries here and all.
Allen was still there.
"It's, it's good. It's all good. It's..."
Was it good? Yeah. What would her father have said?
I know you like to push. But you have to learn how to give, too.
Yeah dad. She knew that.
She looked beyond Allen and saw the sun one more time.
And the silicon chip
Inside her head
Gets switched to overload
And nobody's gonna go to school today
She's gonna make them stay at home
And daddy doesn't understand it
He always said she was
"...good... good as gold."
Andrea slept.
G077: Andrea Raymer - ELIMINATED
G077: Andrea Raymer - ???
And then the bullhorn crackles
And the captain tackles
With the problems of the how's and why's
And he can see no reasons
Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die?
Die?
Oh oh oh...
For one more time Andrea lay there, waiting to see what would happen next. She didn't think in those terms, of course. She was just letting the water soak through her bandages; she breathed out and saw bubbles form in front of her; she felt her feet against the sand and lay face down and thought she was going to get some sleep after all.
Andrea had always been a night owl. Most people with ADD are. Combine that with the caffeine intake, the medication intake, and the general demeanor, and it wasn't surprising that she'd become a bit of an insomniac. She'd never really wanted sleep; it was for people who didn't have anything better to do.
But now? After all she'd gone through? She deserved some sleep. A well deserved break; it would be relaxing and so peaceful no matter whether--
Then arms were grabbing her, wrapping around and lifting, and Andrea was certain she came out of the water in slow motion. She gulped oxygen and blinked, dumbly seeing water droplets and diamonds in front of her; they floated suspended in the air and danced and glittered in the sun.
She'd always joked, made facetious, half-serious claims that her stimulants led her to think or experience things on a higher level, a sort of higher consciousness than other people did. That was all a bunch of crap, of course. She'd never actually believed it.
Diamonds in the sun. No one saw them besides her.
It was another second before time caught up again, and was being dragged backwards, clumsily, awkwardly. It was Allen, of course. Her first inclination was to ask him to stop. Like he'd do that, though. This was his moment to have.
Let him have it.
Allen was jostling her and the pain in her back was still screaming but she would be sleeping soon. Just grin and bear it until then. Andrea chuckled weakly at that.
"Alex... yeah. He had a grenade. Couldn't let him pull that shit. Heh. Heh."
More hands now. Moving her. She recognized Peter Siu, of all people, and then she was out of the water entirely. Too bad. She liked that water. They were in the boat and she could feel it start to move beneath her.
"Allen, hey."
Wow lots of people on this boat. Good for them.
"Hey, you uh, you're sweet to do that."
She wanted to tell him something. About her brother or that he should go to a concert, or that someone should go find Adam Dodd and ask him if she was a worthy heir to of #77 after all, cause if this whole fucking escape thing proved ANYTHING to her right now it was that they totally DID escape last season.
She'd known that shit all along.
But those would have to wait as half-formed concepts in her mind, because even she had to stop rambling at some point, not even Andrea Raymer could go on and on and on with a bullet lodged near her spine. They would have to wait while she slept, because sleep was important to any growing girl and she really needed to get caught up on some shut-eye, and if she woke up later she'd be able to tell them all that and more and if she didn't, well, then it really didn't matter anyway, did it? It was all good. It was all figured out.
Someone else reached towards her, fiddling with her collar as a voice called out to get some medical attention here pronto. Well, YEAH. She did have various injuries here and all.
Allen was still there.
"It's, it's good. It's all good. It's..."
Was it good? Yeah. What would her father have said?
I know you like to push. But you have to learn how to give, too.
Yeah dad. She knew that.
She looked beyond Allen and saw the sun one more time.
And the silicon chip
Inside her head
Gets switched to overload
And nobody's gonna go to school today
She's gonna make them stay at home
And daddy doesn't understand it
He always said she was
"...good... good as gold."
Andrea slept.
G077: Andrea Raymer - ELIMINATED
G077: Andrea Raymer - ???
Ugh never say never
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
Brayden Betancourt
Chris Passilidis
Adi Wheelwright
Fey Zelenka-Morrison
Always Remembered:
v7!
G080 - Nikki Nelson-Kelly - DECEASED Castles Fall in the Sand
v6!
B029: Aiden Slattery - DECEASED Get Off the Floor
G058: Kaitlyn Greene - DECEASED She Knew She'd Found Freedom
v5!
G038: Deanna Hull - DECEASED From Sea to Sky
B023: Jesse Jennings - DECEASED From Vision to Glory
v4!
G077: Andrea Raymer - ALIVE
B022: Imraan Al-Hariq - DECEASED
B006: Ricky Fortino - DECEASED
G036: Carly Jean Dooley - DECEASED
v3!
G045 - Eris Marquis - DECEASED
B104 - Jonathan Lancer - DECEASED
The chaos continued. The boy, the one who had leapt clear, made it back, though. They got him into the boat. Everything was a mess. People could be dying. They were too pressed. Jaxon wanted to stay, to help sort things out. He could suddenly see exactly why some of the students were hesitant to leave. There was so much left to do here.
They couldn't linger, though.
The patrol boats should be too far away to cause problems if they got moving right away. They should be able to make it to the other island, to the helicopter, to the clinic they'd been able to bargain with at the last second. Of course, everything could explode in their faces, could come crashing down around their heads. They could all die within the hour. The odds of that happening increased dramatically every minute they waited. It was past time to be gone.
So many things had gone wrong. How many more would?
They'd see. No time to worry.
"Come on," he shouted again. "We're leaving. Right now."
And, through some miracle, they were able to cram everyone in. Half a minute later, they were gone, roaring through the sea, pushing the boat's top speed, leaving the island a rapidly-fading speck.
Of course, the rescue attempt and its aftermath were not broadcast live. The terrorists still had enough control to cut the feed. When it did air, half a day later, the only shots were from an extreme distance. It was hard to tell what was going on, hard to identify the students moving around. The boat was nearly invisible.
The film cut to another shaky shot, clearly from the deck of a boat, of a pair of distant explosions, though what exactly was blowing up was impossible to discern. Text scrolled over the screen:
"An attempt was made by a military organization to rescue some of the contestants in this season of Survival of the Fittest. The lives of many students were lost as a result of the actions of your governments. Any future attempts will be met with an immediate and total detonation of all collars."
Then, a list of block red letters scrolled over the screen, lasting over a minute:
G125, Jacqueline Myrie: DECEASED
G047, Samantha Ridley: DECEASED
B128, Joss Joiner DECEASED
G085, Alice Blake: DECEASED
B008, Peter McCue: DECEASED
G014, Yelizaveta Volkova: DECEASED
G046, Alexandria Jackson: DECEASED
B056, Raymond Dawson: DECEASED
G048, Kaitlin Anderheim: DECEASED
B140, Cisco Vasquez: DECEASED
B121, Allen Birkman: DECEASED
G105, Isabel Guerra: DECEASED
G122, Mizore Soryu: DECEASED
G106, Sarah Tan: DECEASED
G001, Bridget Connolly: DECEASED
G003, Hui "Sarah" Xu: DECEASED
B042, Brendan Wallace: DECEASED
G010, Anna Chase: DECEASED
G082, Felicia Carmichael: DECEASED
G077, Andrea Raymer: DECEASED
B138, Garrett Hunter: DECEASED
B142, Harun Kemal: DECEASED
B041, Simon Telamon: DECEASED
B105, Jeremy Franco: DECEASED
B132, Jay Holland, DECEASED
G079, Eiko Haraguchi: DECEASED
G018, Acacia Salinger: DECEASED
B073, Michael Moretti: DECEASED
G005, Jennifer Perez: DECEASED
They couldn't linger, though.
The patrol boats should be too far away to cause problems if they got moving right away. They should be able to make it to the other island, to the helicopter, to the clinic they'd been able to bargain with at the last second. Of course, everything could explode in their faces, could come crashing down around their heads. They could all die within the hour. The odds of that happening increased dramatically every minute they waited. It was past time to be gone.
So many things had gone wrong. How many more would?
They'd see. No time to worry.
"Come on," he shouted again. "We're leaving. Right now."
And, through some miracle, they were able to cram everyone in. Half a minute later, they were gone, roaring through the sea, pushing the boat's top speed, leaving the island a rapidly-fading speck.
Of course, the rescue attempt and its aftermath were not broadcast live. The terrorists still had enough control to cut the feed. When it did air, half a day later, the only shots were from an extreme distance. It was hard to tell what was going on, hard to identify the students moving around. The boat was nearly invisible.
The film cut to another shaky shot, clearly from the deck of a boat, of a pair of distant explosions, though what exactly was blowing up was impossible to discern. Text scrolled over the screen:
"An attempt was made by a military organization to rescue some of the contestants in this season of Survival of the Fittest. The lives of many students were lost as a result of the actions of your governments. Any future attempts will be met with an immediate and total detonation of all collars."
Then, a list of block red letters scrolled over the screen, lasting over a minute:
G125, Jacqueline Myrie: DECEASED
G047, Samantha Ridley: DECEASED
B128, Joss Joiner DECEASED
G085, Alice Blake: DECEASED
B008, Peter McCue: DECEASED
G014, Yelizaveta Volkova: DECEASED
G046, Alexandria Jackson: DECEASED
B056, Raymond Dawson: DECEASED
G048, Kaitlin Anderheim: DECEASED
B140, Cisco Vasquez: DECEASED
B121, Allen Birkman: DECEASED
G105, Isabel Guerra: DECEASED
G122, Mizore Soryu: DECEASED
G106, Sarah Tan: DECEASED
G001, Bridget Connolly: DECEASED
G003, Hui "Sarah" Xu: DECEASED
B042, Brendan Wallace: DECEASED
G010, Anna Chase: DECEASED
G082, Felicia Carmichael: DECEASED
G077, Andrea Raymer: DECEASED
B138, Garrett Hunter: DECEASED
B142, Harun Kemal: DECEASED
B041, Simon Telamon: DECEASED
B105, Jeremy Franco: DECEASED
B132, Jay Holland, DECEASED
G079, Eiko Haraguchi: DECEASED
G018, Acacia Salinger: DECEASED
B073, Michael Moretti: DECEASED
G005, Jennifer Perez: DECEASED
"You're safe now Cisco, I promised that I'd keep you safe."
Your breath, hot upon my cheek and we crossed that line...
You made me strong, when I was feeling weak and we crossed, that one time...
The last time Cisco Vasquez saw Joseé Trembley was right as he had been picked up and shuffled through the crowd. The last time he heard her, she was already fading away, back into the wilderness from whence they came. And just as she suddenly came into his life, she was gone.
Screaming stop signs, staring wild eyes keep on flashing, flashing by...
They worked swiftly on that collar around his neck, freeing his jugular from another one of Death's nasty surprises. He had barely noticed that thing wrapped so snugly around his neck that he was actually surprised that it hadn't just messily sheared his head off his shoulders with one reflexive throb of a vein during any particular panic attack. From there, time ran almost nonexistent where it was already running thin, and the hands of the once-dead swiftly shuffled him into the boat that would give him respite from the hunt.
Curling up somewhere close to the boat's transom, he clung to the side railing and watched the island with increasingly blurry sight and a chest still aching from its wounds as it began to make its way off into the distance. He had never gotten used to being in a moving vehicle, let alone one that could be torpedoed at a moment's notice.
But perhaps there was a first time for anything. A first time for hellos, and a first time for a goodbye.
"Joseé...I'm sorry...I should...should have..."
And a thanks for helping him through. Too late, if anything.
There was something to be said about reading one's own obituary, however frighteningly brief it was, and wondering what went through the minds of their family and friends.
The devil grins from ear to ear when he sees the hand he's dealt us,
Points at your flaming hair and then we're playing hide and seek,
Whether it was due to lack of strength or will, there were no words to the fact that the freak whose green hair dye had rubbed or washed off over the days to reveal an almost mundane shade of black underneath would be reading them alone. Promises be damned, he was here because he couldn't elude death on his own. That would be the first chapter of the story of the rest of his life, however little paper was left.
Lights. Exit stage right.
I can't breathe easy here less our trail goes cold behind us,
Telling the john mirror you stare at yourself grown cold and weak...
Curtains.
And we keep driving into the night, it's a late goodbye, such a late goodbye...
Your breath, hot upon my cheek and we crossed that line...
You made me strong, when I was feeling weak and we crossed, that one time...
The last time Cisco Vasquez saw Joseé Trembley was right as he had been picked up and shuffled through the crowd. The last time he heard her, she was already fading away, back into the wilderness from whence they came. And just as she suddenly came into his life, she was gone.
Screaming stop signs, staring wild eyes keep on flashing, flashing by...
They worked swiftly on that collar around his neck, freeing his jugular from another one of Death's nasty surprises. He had barely noticed that thing wrapped so snugly around his neck that he was actually surprised that it hadn't just messily sheared his head off his shoulders with one reflexive throb of a vein during any particular panic attack. From there, time ran almost nonexistent where it was already running thin, and the hands of the once-dead swiftly shuffled him into the boat that would give him respite from the hunt.
Curling up somewhere close to the boat's transom, he clung to the side railing and watched the island with increasingly blurry sight and a chest still aching from its wounds as it began to make its way off into the distance. He had never gotten used to being in a moving vehicle, let alone one that could be torpedoed at a moment's notice.
But perhaps there was a first time for anything. A first time for hellos, and a first time for a goodbye.
"Joseé...I'm sorry...I should...should have..."
And a thanks for helping him through. Too late, if anything.
There was something to be said about reading one's own obituary, however frighteningly brief it was, and wondering what went through the minds of their family and friends.
The devil grins from ear to ear when he sees the hand he's dealt us,
Points at your flaming hair and then we're playing hide and seek,
Whether it was due to lack of strength or will, there were no words to the fact that the freak whose green hair dye had rubbed or washed off over the days to reveal an almost mundane shade of black underneath would be reading them alone. Promises be damned, he was here because he couldn't elude death on his own. That would be the first chapter of the story of the rest of his life, however little paper was left.
Lights. Exit stage right.
I can't breathe easy here less our trail goes cold behind us,
Telling the john mirror you stare at yourself grown cold and weak...
Curtains.
And we keep driving into the night, it's a late goodbye, such a late goodbye...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.
Just for the record, Laz had been okayed for a post yesterday. There was slight confusion with regards to timing, but he's a-okay. Thread is now closed.
(Totally just quoted the manga Monster here.)
Zach hated sugar. He hated candy. He hated cake. Bitter shit was where it was at. Coffee, energy drinks, hell he was a fan of key lime pie. Sugar made his head hurt. He couldn't understand what people saw in it. Sugar was terrible. It made people happy though. They thought it was great. Zach was sure those people were complete idiots who didn't know what they were talking about.
People drank their coffee with sugar and milk. Zach Jamis always drank black. Always.
He could have escaped. Home was only a few steps away. He could have survived.
But Zach Jamis didn't go. He stayed. He knew exactly why he didn't go on the boat, and he wasn't too sure whether he should be kicking himself.
It wasn't the guy who was leading the escape. Mr. Clean and Orderly seemed okay. Very proper, very by-the-book. The kind of consideration that didn't rub Zach the wrong way. Had it been some chubby asshole with a goatee and a sneer, Zach would have turn tail and brought Mizore with him. But this jerk seemed like he was on the kids side. He seemed to care. Zach didn't have a damn clue about who they were, where they came from and where they were taking everyone that was getting uncollared.
Problem was. they weren't taking the killers, who by all means were the ones who desperately wanted to get off. The ones who were so willing to live that they'd kill their own friends. The taxi off the island didn't take their kind.
Something about that didn't sit well with Zach. He figured he'd take his chances on death island instead of getting rescued by some mother fuckers with some kind of grudge.
Plus, Sam was nowhere to be seen. That too. He assured himself that wasn't the real reason.
So Zach decided to watch the boat pull away. He watched it as it disappeared.
Inhale. Exhale.
"Way I see it," he said to no one in particular, "if I wanna live, I'll have to forget the taste of sugar."
He left.
(Zach Jamis continued in Refraction)
Zach hated sugar. He hated candy. He hated cake. Bitter shit was where it was at. Coffee, energy drinks, hell he was a fan of key lime pie. Sugar made his head hurt. He couldn't understand what people saw in it. Sugar was terrible. It made people happy though. They thought it was great. Zach was sure those people were complete idiots who didn't know what they were talking about.
People drank their coffee with sugar and milk. Zach Jamis always drank black. Always.
He could have escaped. Home was only a few steps away. He could have survived.
But Zach Jamis didn't go. He stayed. He knew exactly why he didn't go on the boat, and he wasn't too sure whether he should be kicking himself.
It wasn't the guy who was leading the escape. Mr. Clean and Orderly seemed okay. Very proper, very by-the-book. The kind of consideration that didn't rub Zach the wrong way. Had it been some chubby asshole with a goatee and a sneer, Zach would have turn tail and brought Mizore with him. But this jerk seemed like he was on the kids side. He seemed to care. Zach didn't have a damn clue about who they were, where they came from and where they were taking everyone that was getting uncollared.
Problem was. they weren't taking the killers, who by all means were the ones who desperately wanted to get off. The ones who were so willing to live that they'd kill their own friends. The taxi off the island didn't take their kind.
Something about that didn't sit well with Zach. He figured he'd take his chances on death island instead of getting rescued by some mother fuckers with some kind of grudge.
Plus, Sam was nowhere to be seen. That too. He assured himself that wasn't the real reason.
So Zach decided to watch the boat pull away. He watched it as it disappeared.
Inhale. Exhale.
"Way I see it," he said to no one in particular, "if I wanna live, I'll have to forget the taste of sugar."
He left.
(Zach Jamis continued in Refraction)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. 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.
Peter didn't turn around to watch the boat leave. He didn't need to. He could hear its engine start and fade into the distance. He could feel the presence of the boat move away into the ocean. Peter knew that the people on that boat were going to be okay, that they'd live and maybe even make it home.
Maybe he could've joined them. If he turned around, he might've tried.
But Peter had made his choice. No turning back. No regrets.
Eyes scanned the treeline, watching to make sure nobody suspicious tried to take the boat from behind. Brendan had mentioned a "deathsquad", a group of Danya's troops sent to the island to fix Liz Polanski's damage. That had been a few days ago, but they could still be on the island. They would've heard that announcement. The least Peter could do was to cover the others' escape.
The minutes passed by, but nobody else stepped onto the beach. No screams or bursts of gunfire from behind him either. Peter breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything was going to be alright.
((Peter Siu continued in Radio Nowhere))
Maybe he could've joined them. If he turned around, he might've tried.
But Peter had made his choice. No turning back. No regrets.
Eyes scanned the treeline, watching to make sure nobody suspicious tried to take the boat from behind. Brendan had mentioned a "deathsquad", a group of Danya's troops sent to the island to fix Liz Polanski's damage. That had been a few days ago, but they could still be on the island. They would've heard that announcement. The least Peter could do was to cover the others' escape.
The minutes passed by, but nobody else stepped onto the beach. No screams or bursts of gunfire from behind him either. Peter breathed a sigh of relief.
Everything was going to be alright.
((Peter Siu continued in Radio Nowhere))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solomir. 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.
Isn't it strange how so few words can change everything?
As soon as the man with the megaphone said he was sorry, George knew he wasn't getting off the island. There had always been that possibility, but having it said to him, by someone else, was completely different to thinking it. Having his kills being brought into perspective like this made him feel worse than he'd ever felt. It made him feel like a monster.
George barely noticed the other STAR member aim his rifle at him. He barely noticed the other students rushing to the boats. He just stood there, and he could only think "If only I'd known. If only I'd known there was another way off of here. If only I'd stopped to think about what I was doing, Gloria, Dustin and Tim would still be alive. They'd be on the boat with me, and we'd be going back home."
Even as the stream of students hurrying to the boat started to decrease and stop, and the boat started heading off, George still stood there, watching the boat disappear into the horizon. His only means of escape, gone. Because he just couldn't go on killing, in hopes of leaving. Each time he had, he just felt worse and worse about it all.
Eventually, George managed to will himself to move. He turned, and went back the way he came from.
((George Leidman continued in Paint it Black))
As soon as the man with the megaphone said he was sorry, George knew he wasn't getting off the island. There had always been that possibility, but having it said to him, by someone else, was completely different to thinking it. Having his kills being brought into perspective like this made him feel worse than he'd ever felt. It made him feel like a monster.
George barely noticed the other STAR member aim his rifle at him. He barely noticed the other students rushing to the boats. He just stood there, and he could only think "If only I'd known. If only I'd known there was another way off of here. If only I'd stopped to think about what I was doing, Gloria, Dustin and Tim would still be alive. They'd be on the boat with me, and we'd be going back home."
Even as the stream of students hurrying to the boat started to decrease and stop, and the boat started heading off, George still stood there, watching the boat disappear into the horizon. His only means of escape, gone. Because he just couldn't go on killing, in hopes of leaving. Each time he had, he just felt worse and worse about it all.
Eventually, George managed to will himself to move. He turned, and went back the way he came from.
((George Leidman continued in Paint it Black))
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017