Kitty didn't know Robert, not really. Like most kids in her school she knew their first names and never bothered to learn much else. Wasn't he a fixture in the drama club? That was about all she knew, or rather all she cared to know. The loss of Robert did not upset her. What did concern her was the fact that even if Robert attacked Roland first, there would be no way Roland could eviscerate him with that sword and claim it was self defense. If someone stabbed you in the chest there would be little chance of survival. However with that same logic would you just stand there and let someone open you up? If they had something big like a battle sword or a chainsaw it could be possible, but Kitty didn't want to run off of movie logic. Yes, Roland had to overpower Robert. There was no other way.
Kitty imagined the scene. Roland has Robert down on the ground, driving that flimsy sword into the boy's gut like a makeshift saw. Robert screams in pain, unable to escape.
It made her shiver.
What was even worse was that Roland seemed content thinking that digging a hole in the ground and throwing Robert in would somehow make his actions justified. It was like he was asking Robert, "would digging a grave for you make up for maiming?" Kitty felt insulted, disgusted even, to learn that Roland thought so little of his actions.
It took Roland hours to dig that hole. It surprised Kitty - she didn't expect him to be so stubborn. She secretly admired it for only a second. Had she been in charge, she would have given up after a half hour. Roland then wondered if Kitty would say some words for Robert. Her face contorted just a tad, still very empty but with a tiny insulted expression pursing her lips. She really wanted to slap the hypocritical asshole across the face. Instead she tried to be as polite as possible.
"I'd rather not," she said bluntly. "Thank you."
Roland proceeded to shuffle around for a bit. Had he been digging this whole time? He looked almost ready to pass out. Kitty was not envious. No matter how she tried to spin it, Roland really did work hard on the grave, a feat that Kitty could never hope (or want) to emulate. He turned back to her and said he was going to sleep.
Oh? Wait. What was that?
The raving lunatic wants to protect her? Wasn't that just swell. Kitty's small heart just grew three sizes.
Kitty sighed. "Yeah. Sure."
She didn't expect was to see Roland throw away his weapon.
The move did make an impression on her. Not the kind of move Roland was expecting. Kitty didn't feel like she trusted Roland. Moreover she felt that he was incredibly stupid for abandoning the only thing that could protect the both of them to begin with. She fully understood why he did it, that he hadn't meant to come off as foolish. Even so, being impulsive like that was going to get you killed.
Oh? And he also gave her permission to leave.
Thanks dad.
Kitty wrapped her hands around her legs, her chin nestled between her knees. She didn't respond, not because she didn't want to but she wasn't sure what to say. The boy was a killer and yet he was putting so much trust in her. Why? She never did anything for her. It was stupid, stupid, stupid.
Kitty waited until she could hear Roland snore before she did anything.
"Fuck you," she mumbled. "Go find someone else to wash your sins."
Kitty rose to her feet, leaving the bat laying against her tree. She let the bag hang off of her good shoulder. She looked around. It was quiet. Kitty felt nervous but she tried not to let it get to her. The clearing that Roland threw his Kris into was a few feet away and Kitty tiptoed over. It would be embarrassing if Roland woke up.
The sword was very easy to spot. It was cushioned by a pile of grass. It was like a sign that read "Pick me up." Kitty was all too willing to ablige. She took the sharp knife, twirling it around in her. It certainly was heavier than she imagined. A nasty piece of work.
Kitty looked down at Roland.
She could kill him. Stab him in the gut, cut his eyeballs out, castrate him, whatever. He was totally helpless. He deserved it. It would be easy. Heck, maybe she could win an award. Put her on the map.
Then she realized that no matter how she killed him, whether it was very violent or conservative, her announcement would still ring the same. Kitty killed a man in his sleep. That would do her no good. No one would trust someone who did that.
So the idea of leaving with the sword came to mind, and this seemed a lot more plausible. Kitty wasn't one for sticking with others. Even though she wanted to partner up with someone, it came increasingly obvious that it would not work. Roland was too stupid for his own good, and while he was higher than Anna in the useful department Kitty couldn't count the ways he could get her killed from some stupid decision. She had to rethink her plan. Perhaps she could hide away from the others until her shoulder got better. Let the others kill and come in and swoop a win when she was at full health. Yes, that was smart.
"Don't bother. He's a good boy. He's a stern person but he's not looking to hurt you. Please, don't wander off."
"... God damn it."
Great. Kitty was being held back by Katherine. Kitty held her head. Before it was just advice, but now she was holding her back. Kitty wasn't crazy, at least that's what she told herself, but she was sure that she had a screw loose. Maybe it was the fall.
Kitty held onto the knife and stood there, staring at the grooves.
She'd hold onto the knife though. Insurance. Besides, Kitty wouldn't want this thing falling into the wrong hands.
Now. Where could she clean off the blood?
Can't Fall Down
Open Thread
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.
(This is not a post-order-broken disclaimer, because holy shit, JJ Sturn continued from Gamemaker and And So It Begins, The Epic Struggle Of Man And Bear)
Well, fuck.
When your day starts off with waking up on an island full of murderers and segues nicely into getting a defibrillator thrown at you and having a scared idiot kid try to hold you at gunpoint, it's probably a good idea to take a deep breath and tell you that it can't really get much worse. To say that you're gonna find Claire somehow, somewhere, sometime soon, and then everything from there should be some semblance of uphill. To maybe reach into your pocket, take out your pack of
Of where the fuck are my cigarettes. You have got to be fucking kidding me.
The thing about the universe was that it had this weird-assed obsession with proving JJ Sturn wrong.
Let's back up for a bit, since in a stunning display of self-control, JJ had managed to make it all the way till past sunset without needing another cig. By that time he'd covered a shitload of ground and made absolutely no progress. No sign of Claire at all, no hint about where she might be, but... but also no sign of someone who wanted to murder him really badly. No sign of any Fiamettas waiting behind trees to light him up with machine guns. And hey, no meaningless confrontations that had caused him to lose his temper and make another batch of enemies. So in a way, no news was good news.
Losing his cigs, though. That part was not good news. Fucking fuck. When was the last time... it woulda been when... for fuck's sake, did he really leave them back at the cell tower? Fake a punch on that Harold kid, do your best to set his fucked up strategy straight, light up a cigarette, and... and drop the rest of them. And not even notice till maybe 8 hours later. Smooth, JJ. Real fucking smooth. So what are you gonna do now?
Go and get 'em back.. Well no. That was stupid. He had shit to do, and dicking around for a few hours (how far was he by now?) so he could get a nicotine fix wasn't gonna cut it. But at the same time... it wasn't like he actually had a better option. He was almost certain he wasn't gonna find Claire on the way back to the tower, but then again, the odds weren't exactly better in any other given place. So that wasn't exactly a solid argument against it. Plus, if he was already getting this irritable and out of focus right now, imagine how bad it'd be if he had to go a few days without a fix. So... yeah.
You really just did that, JJ Sturn. You really just convinced yourself that your number one priority should be retrieving a pack of cigarettes that isn't even there anymore. Good fucking job. Say what you want about JJ Sturn, but he definitely had his head on straight when it came to priorities on an island full of psychos. It was like some sort of fucked up commercial. Tough-looking kid on a death island, battling his way through crazed killers in the name of cigarettes. Nothing gets in the way of my Wild Sevens, says the deep-voiced announcer.
Whatever. He could delay beating himself up about it till he thought of a better way to spend his time.
So he pulled out his map, he did his best to judge where he was in relation to the cell tower, and he started making his way back. He was going north, if he had the map anywhere near right. Going north pretty uneventfully, hearing a voice in the distance here and there, doing his best to avoid getting near any kind of commotion. Because we already know how that story ends. Someone sees that big scary monstrous asshole, JJ Sturn (the one who beats the shit out of girls), and they attack him because God knows what he's gonna do if he's left to his own devices. And then JJ's temper flares up, he gets pissed off about this kid taking a swing at him, and suddenly fists are flying. And then JJ takes out his billy club and starts beating the tar out of the kid, and then... the rest is just proving the kid right, isn't it. God knows what that JJ Sturn will do if we don't take him down immediately.
JJ Sturn had no intention of proving anybody right on this island.
He was pretty close by now, the cell tower looking pretty big in the near distance, but it had to be an hour or two past midnight. And he was getting dead tired, and there as no fucking light anywhere to be seen. So the pack of cigs was gonna be pretty much impossible to find till it got a little lighter, so... argh, fuck it. Fine. Here's a plan. The plan was to sleep light. With one eye open. To get a little bit of rest but to never leave himself undefended, and then to start his search again as soon as the sun came up.
The plan failed.
Of course it did. JJ had never been a light sleeper. And he wondered, as a blaring voice woke him up, exactly how he'd managed to kid himself into thinking he could pull it off. But it still seemed... early? Yeah, shaking the morning fog off did in fact confirm that the sun had just risen. So no big loss. So maybe stretch yourself out and pay a little attention to what this guy is saying... Oh fuck. He's listing the dead, isn't he. Fuck, fuck, why didn't I get ready for this... A bunch of passing names that weren't Claire. That was a good sign. But... fuck. First one he managed to focus on was "Third to die, as a shining example . . . " So that meant two people had died and either of them could've been Claire. In the first few hours of this fucking game, and he didn't even... fuck!
Okay. The solution was simple. The solution was to find someone, anyone, ask them if they heard about the first two people that died. Names, that's all he needed. Just their names, just he'd climb up the cell tower and there'd be someone there who he could ask, ask just a simple question and that'd be... fuck. He sure as hell needed to remember to focus more on these announcements the next time they came around. But that was for later- hell, the stupid fucking cigarettes were for later- because right now, all he needed to do was be running up that hill and making it to the top and someone, SOMEONE would be there who could put his mind at ease, someone could put his mind at ease if he just got to the top of the fucking hill and he
And he saw Claire Lambert.
Well, fuck.
When your day starts off with waking up on an island full of murderers and segues nicely into getting a defibrillator thrown at you and having a scared idiot kid try to hold you at gunpoint, it's probably a good idea to take a deep breath and tell you that it can't really get much worse. To say that you're gonna find Claire somehow, somewhere, sometime soon, and then everything from there should be some semblance of uphill. To maybe reach into your pocket, take out your pack of
Of where the fuck are my cigarettes. You have got to be fucking kidding me.
The thing about the universe was that it had this weird-assed obsession with proving JJ Sturn wrong.
Let's back up for a bit, since in a stunning display of self-control, JJ had managed to make it all the way till past sunset without needing another cig. By that time he'd covered a shitload of ground and made absolutely no progress. No sign of Claire at all, no hint about where she might be, but... but also no sign of someone who wanted to murder him really badly. No sign of any Fiamettas waiting behind trees to light him up with machine guns. And hey, no meaningless confrontations that had caused him to lose his temper and make another batch of enemies. So in a way, no news was good news.
Losing his cigs, though. That part was not good news. Fucking fuck. When was the last time... it woulda been when... for fuck's sake, did he really leave them back at the cell tower? Fake a punch on that Harold kid, do your best to set his fucked up strategy straight, light up a cigarette, and... and drop the rest of them. And not even notice till maybe 8 hours later. Smooth, JJ. Real fucking smooth. So what are you gonna do now?
Go and get 'em back.. Well no. That was stupid. He had shit to do, and dicking around for a few hours (how far was he by now?) so he could get a nicotine fix wasn't gonna cut it. But at the same time... it wasn't like he actually had a better option. He was almost certain he wasn't gonna find Claire on the way back to the tower, but then again, the odds weren't exactly better in any other given place. So that wasn't exactly a solid argument against it. Plus, if he was already getting this irritable and out of focus right now, imagine how bad it'd be if he had to go a few days without a fix. So... yeah.
You really just did that, JJ Sturn. You really just convinced yourself that your number one priority should be retrieving a pack of cigarettes that isn't even there anymore. Good fucking job. Say what you want about JJ Sturn, but he definitely had his head on straight when it came to priorities on an island full of psychos. It was like some sort of fucked up commercial. Tough-looking kid on a death island, battling his way through crazed killers in the name of cigarettes. Nothing gets in the way of my Wild Sevens, says the deep-voiced announcer.
Whatever. He could delay beating himself up about it till he thought of a better way to spend his time.
So he pulled out his map, he did his best to judge where he was in relation to the cell tower, and he started making his way back. He was going north, if he had the map anywhere near right. Going north pretty uneventfully, hearing a voice in the distance here and there, doing his best to avoid getting near any kind of commotion. Because we already know how that story ends. Someone sees that big scary monstrous asshole, JJ Sturn (the one who beats the shit out of girls), and they attack him because God knows what he's gonna do if he's left to his own devices. And then JJ's temper flares up, he gets pissed off about this kid taking a swing at him, and suddenly fists are flying. And then JJ takes out his billy club and starts beating the tar out of the kid, and then... the rest is just proving the kid right, isn't it. God knows what that JJ Sturn will do if we don't take him down immediately.
JJ Sturn had no intention of proving anybody right on this island.
He was pretty close by now, the cell tower looking pretty big in the near distance, but it had to be an hour or two past midnight. And he was getting dead tired, and there as no fucking light anywhere to be seen. So the pack of cigs was gonna be pretty much impossible to find till it got a little lighter, so... argh, fuck it. Fine. Here's a plan. The plan was to sleep light. With one eye open. To get a little bit of rest but to never leave himself undefended, and then to start his search again as soon as the sun came up.
The plan failed.
Of course it did. JJ had never been a light sleeper. And he wondered, as a blaring voice woke him up, exactly how he'd managed to kid himself into thinking he could pull it off. But it still seemed... early? Yeah, shaking the morning fog off did in fact confirm that the sun had just risen. So no big loss. So maybe stretch yourself out and pay a little attention to what this guy is saying... Oh fuck. He's listing the dead, isn't he. Fuck, fuck, why didn't I get ready for this... A bunch of passing names that weren't Claire. That was a good sign. But... fuck. First one he managed to focus on was "Third to die, as a shining example . . . " So that meant two people had died and either of them could've been Claire. In the first few hours of this fucking game, and he didn't even... fuck!
Okay. The solution was simple. The solution was to find someone, anyone, ask them if they heard about the first two people that died. Names, that's all he needed. Just their names, just he'd climb up the cell tower and there'd be someone there who he could ask, ask just a simple question and that'd be... fuck. He sure as hell needed to remember to focus more on these announcements the next time they came around. But that was for later- hell, the stupid fucking cigarettes were for later- because right now, all he needed to do was be running up that hill and making it to the top and someone, SOMEONE would be there who could put his mind at ease, someone could put his mind at ease if he just got to the top of the fucking hill and he
And he saw Claire Lambert.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jonny. 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.
Oh yeah, she'd gotten them interested. That was good. Now she just had to keep them interested.
Andrea took a breath. She was nervous; she could feel her fingers starting to tremble. And why shouldn't she be? She'd been trying to figure shit out in her mind for hours, but getting her point across to others was a whole nother kettle of fish.
Man, where the fuck did she get some of these euphemisms from? Whatever. Time to put on a show for the cameras.
Except that Julian Avery evidently wanted to probe deep into her subconscious first and ask why she watched SOTF in the first place. Uhh, did he really want to get into that? Hell, they could talk for days and not come up with a satisfactory answer; it wasn't like she'd never asked herself. She thought Allen figured about the same, so, point in his corner.
Bah, give an answer and get on with it.
"Uh, why? I dunno, just look at me. I'm a rebellious teenager who's all about the counterculture, it's one of those things we do." She tapped her tongue stud against her teeth a couple times for emphasis, and as she did was struck with a temporary moment of brilliance.
Andrea changed gears, speaking faster. "But uh, just give me a second to explain something, cause this actually ties into my whole plan thing. I uh, I mean I don't know about everyone but most people I think recognize that it's real people dying and stuff. But I guess you just don't think about that part of it. Yeah, it's pretty fucked up, but there's a lot of fucked up stuff out there. I watched it for the story and because the whole thing was like Reality TV to the max, it was just really fascinating as long as you don't think too much about it being real."
Right, that was about as deep as she wanted to dive into that rabbit hole for now. Thankfully, she'd managed to swing the topic back to the what was important.
"And what I'm saying is that that's not just trying to rationalize things, that's the whole fucking point of the show. If SOTF was just kids getting killed, no one'd watch it. But it's not only that. This isn't some military program, Danya and whoever isn't doing this for some political terrorist goal. SOTF is a big fucking Reality TV game show. It's set up to... to get people to watch, it's set up to make itself entertaining and..."
She paused, aware she was rambling again. Blaergh. This was tougher than she'd expected. Right, Neil Sinclair. That was her fucking proof right there.
"OK, you guys remember that video Danya showed of the guy who was breaking cameras last season? That was uh, Neil Sinclair, he had this group and that was their thing, breaking cameras and other stuff to fuck with the game. And Danya knew about them, Danya could have blown their collars at any time, but did he? No, he killed some other students that hadn't done anything and then sat back to see what Neil would do next. He wanted Neil and his group to stay alive, because they were better for TV, people wanted to watch them, they were just a lot more important to the game, to the story than some girl who'd been hiding in the jungle was.
"That's the whole fucking thing about Danya. He WANTS us to try to escape, and he even gives people weapons and things that they can try to escape with! Last year they gave a student a laptop as her weapon, and even if the kids weren't all able to get their shit together and get out in the end, that doesn't change the fact that they could have! It's all about... producing entertaining television or whatever.
"This whole program, it's set up to get people to watch. And Danya, he's like a Bond villain or the Riddler or something, he gives us the clues and stuff we need to beat the game, because he knows that that gets people watching. And we, we just need to find them. You just need to think on a higher level, it's like a, uh, finding a secret level in a videogame, I guess. And seriously, Danya's a fucking clown, and I think it's a lot easier to find than you'd expect it to be."
Andrea stopped for now, catching her breath. Ugh, she hoped she'd gotten everything out there. And while she also hoped that Julian and Allen had bought her story, it was really more important that Danya did. Because Andrea wasn't delusional enough to expect that Danya would just give her a shiny medal and let her go once she found her way out of here.
She just needed to convince him that she thought he would.
"So what I'm going to do is find that secret level. It isn't some exact scientific plan on how to deactivate the collars and alert the military, but uh, seriously, unlike those plans, what I'm doing actually has a chance of working."
OK. That would do for a start.
Andrea took a breath. She was nervous; she could feel her fingers starting to tremble. And why shouldn't she be? She'd been trying to figure shit out in her mind for hours, but getting her point across to others was a whole nother kettle of fish.
Man, where the fuck did she get some of these euphemisms from? Whatever. Time to put on a show for the cameras.
Except that Julian Avery evidently wanted to probe deep into her subconscious first and ask why she watched SOTF in the first place. Uhh, did he really want to get into that? Hell, they could talk for days and not come up with a satisfactory answer; it wasn't like she'd never asked herself. She thought Allen figured about the same, so, point in his corner.
Bah, give an answer and get on with it.
"Uh, why? I dunno, just look at me. I'm a rebellious teenager who's all about the counterculture, it's one of those things we do." She tapped her tongue stud against her teeth a couple times for emphasis, and as she did was struck with a temporary moment of brilliance.
Andrea changed gears, speaking faster. "But uh, just give me a second to explain something, cause this actually ties into my whole plan thing. I uh, I mean I don't know about everyone but most people I think recognize that it's real people dying and stuff. But I guess you just don't think about that part of it. Yeah, it's pretty fucked up, but there's a lot of fucked up stuff out there. I watched it for the story and because the whole thing was like Reality TV to the max, it was just really fascinating as long as you don't think too much about it being real."
Right, that was about as deep as she wanted to dive into that rabbit hole for now. Thankfully, she'd managed to swing the topic back to the what was important.
"And what I'm saying is that that's not just trying to rationalize things, that's the whole fucking point of the show. If SOTF was just kids getting killed, no one'd watch it. But it's not only that. This isn't some military program, Danya and whoever isn't doing this for some political terrorist goal. SOTF is a big fucking Reality TV game show. It's set up to... to get people to watch, it's set up to make itself entertaining and..."
She paused, aware she was rambling again. Blaergh. This was tougher than she'd expected. Right, Neil Sinclair. That was her fucking proof right there.
"OK, you guys remember that video Danya showed of the guy who was breaking cameras last season? That was uh, Neil Sinclair, he had this group and that was their thing, breaking cameras and other stuff to fuck with the game. And Danya knew about them, Danya could have blown their collars at any time, but did he? No, he killed some other students that hadn't done anything and then sat back to see what Neil would do next. He wanted Neil and his group to stay alive, because they were better for TV, people wanted to watch them, they were just a lot more important to the game, to the story than some girl who'd been hiding in the jungle was.
"That's the whole fucking thing about Danya. He WANTS us to try to escape, and he even gives people weapons and things that they can try to escape with! Last year they gave a student a laptop as her weapon, and even if the kids weren't all able to get their shit together and get out in the end, that doesn't change the fact that they could have! It's all about... producing entertaining television or whatever.
"This whole program, it's set up to get people to watch. And Danya, he's like a Bond villain or the Riddler or something, he gives us the clues and stuff we need to beat the game, because he knows that that gets people watching. And we, we just need to find them. You just need to think on a higher level, it's like a, uh, finding a secret level in a videogame, I guess. And seriously, Danya's a fucking clown, and I think it's a lot easier to find than you'd expect it to be."
Andrea stopped for now, catching her breath. Ugh, she hoped she'd gotten everything out there. And while she also hoped that Julian and Allen had bought her story, it was really more important that Danya did. Because Andrea wasn't delusional enough to expect that Danya would just give her a shiny medal and let her go once she found her way out of here.
She just needed to convince him that she thought he would.
"So what I'm going to do is find that secret level. It isn't some exact scientific plan on how to deactivate the collars and alert the military, but uh, seriously, unlike those plans, what I'm doing actually has a chance of working."
OK. That would do for a start.
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 noises ceased.
Good. Whoever the psycho was across the field, he seemed to be laying down on the ground now. Part of Claire actually hoped that he was having a mental breakdown, even though the rational side of herself reminded her that, twenty four hours ago, she'd have never dared to wish such a thing on someone else. At least then the idiot was less likely to kill them all...or get them all killed, as the case may be. The good thing about it being a guy, however (even if she couldn't identify who it was), was that it wasn't Reiko, or Clio, or Kris. At least if this guy saw her, she might have a chance of talking him down.
Still, could she really assume that those girls weren't justified in what they did? Somewhere beneath her pseudo-noble ambitions, Claire had already come to accept the fact that she wasn't going to survive if she didn't get her hands dirty. It was a nice thought, but that was really all it was. If she was ever going to see her parents again, she had to be the one student to survive out of almost three hundred. The odds were against her - especially if she wasn't going to fight back.
That didn't mean she had to go picking fights, though. If there was anything she could say for Julian, it was that he had the right idea. Find people you trust, and stay the hell away from the conflict. Smart, sincere, and to the point. But realistic...?
"Sorry, Julian, but I don't think this is going to be that easy..."
Claire paused, taking a moment to rub her temples with her left thumb and index finger, the gun dangling loosely from her right hand. What was taking him so long? It was pretty clear by this point that he wasn't alone in there, or he'd have called out for her some time ago. Which meant that chances were that the situation had gotten sticky. He'd told her not to run in guns-a-blazin', but at this point she was wondering whether or not he'd even have the eyeballs left in his head to notice if she did.
Re-adjusting the pack over her back, Claire took a brief glance around the surrounding area. The two on the other side of the field seemed pretty pre-occupied, and the cell phone tower was eerily quiet. She was pretty sure that if she approached from the side opposite the other two, they wouldn't be able to see her.
"So Julian's a samurai, huh? Guess it's my turn to be a ninja."
Offering herself a deep, cleansing breath, Claire tightened her grip on the mini-magnum and pivoted, turning towards an incline which led to the other side of the cell phone tower. As if crossing a street, she took a moment to look both ways...
...and promptly went rigid.
The tall, muscular, intimidating form of JJ Sturn met her gaze from halfway up the hill. His green eyes locked against hers, as if his one and only life purpose had been fulfilled by finding her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Claire heard only waves of sound crashing up against her. Her requiem was being played, and she didn't even have the presence of mind to enjoy it.
A convulsion. Claire's legs wobbled, as if unsure of their next move. Her breath came in elusive gasps that couldn't quite decide whether or not they wanted to enter her lungs. Her eyes, now shuddering beyond belief, had welled up with liquid petrification. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. Her speech fell victim to the snare trap the tears had left in her throat, and emerged in pathetic warbles.
"Juh..."
She swallowed a lump in her throat.
"J-Jule..." She whimpered slightly louder.
"Shoot him!"
Her brain's advice fell on deaf ears. Survival was no longer her main motivator. Fear had kicked the shit out of survival.
"Claire-..."
"NO!"
Her panic aided in her shrieking louder than she thought herself capable, and all at once her voice empowered her to do the same thing any other young woman with a two hundred pound man after them would do.
Run the fuck away.
(Claire Lambert continued in So Strange I Remember You)
Good. Whoever the psycho was across the field, he seemed to be laying down on the ground now. Part of Claire actually hoped that he was having a mental breakdown, even though the rational side of herself reminded her that, twenty four hours ago, she'd have never dared to wish such a thing on someone else. At least then the idiot was less likely to kill them all...or get them all killed, as the case may be. The good thing about it being a guy, however (even if she couldn't identify who it was), was that it wasn't Reiko, or Clio, or Kris. At least if this guy saw her, she might have a chance of talking him down.
Still, could she really assume that those girls weren't justified in what they did? Somewhere beneath her pseudo-noble ambitions, Claire had already come to accept the fact that she wasn't going to survive if she didn't get her hands dirty. It was a nice thought, but that was really all it was. If she was ever going to see her parents again, she had to be the one student to survive out of almost three hundred. The odds were against her - especially if she wasn't going to fight back.
That didn't mean she had to go picking fights, though. If there was anything she could say for Julian, it was that he had the right idea. Find people you trust, and stay the hell away from the conflict. Smart, sincere, and to the point. But realistic...?
"Sorry, Julian, but I don't think this is going to be that easy..."
Claire paused, taking a moment to rub her temples with her left thumb and index finger, the gun dangling loosely from her right hand. What was taking him so long? It was pretty clear by this point that he wasn't alone in there, or he'd have called out for her some time ago. Which meant that chances were that the situation had gotten sticky. He'd told her not to run in guns-a-blazin', but at this point she was wondering whether or not he'd even have the eyeballs left in his head to notice if she did.
Re-adjusting the pack over her back, Claire took a brief glance around the surrounding area. The two on the other side of the field seemed pretty pre-occupied, and the cell phone tower was eerily quiet. She was pretty sure that if she approached from the side opposite the other two, they wouldn't be able to see her.
"So Julian's a samurai, huh? Guess it's my turn to be a ninja."
Offering herself a deep, cleansing breath, Claire tightened her grip on the mini-magnum and pivoted, turning towards an incline which led to the other side of the cell phone tower. As if crossing a street, she took a moment to look both ways...
...and promptly went rigid.
The tall, muscular, intimidating form of JJ Sturn met her gaze from halfway up the hill. His green eyes locked against hers, as if his one and only life purpose had been fulfilled by finding her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Claire heard only waves of sound crashing up against her. Her requiem was being played, and she didn't even have the presence of mind to enjoy it.
A convulsion. Claire's legs wobbled, as if unsure of their next move. Her breath came in elusive gasps that couldn't quite decide whether or not they wanted to enter her lungs. Her eyes, now shuddering beyond belief, had welled up with liquid petrification. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. Her speech fell victim to the snare trap the tears had left in her throat, and emerged in pathetic warbles.
"Juh..."
She swallowed a lump in her throat.
"J-Jule..." She whimpered slightly louder.
"Shoot him!"
Her brain's advice fell on deaf ears. Survival was no longer her main motivator. Fear had kicked the shit out of survival.
"Claire-..."
"NO!"
Her panic aided in her shrieking louder than she thought herself capable, and all at once her voice empowered her to do the same thing any other young woman with a two hundred pound man after them would do.
Run the fuck away.
(Claire Lambert continued in So Strange I Remember You)
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To pick up where we left off:
And he saw Claire Lambert.
And he saw Claire Lambert, and when he saw Claire Lambert, everything was about to go right, because Jesus fucking Christ, how did he manage to pull that one off, how did he manage to find her back here, and holy fuck and-- and say something. Say something now, because she looks scared out of her mind, and fuck's sake, she has every reason to be scared out of her mind, and if you don't say something right now, everything is about to go wrong. And so:
"Claire! Jesus Christ, I..." She looked so scared. She looked so scared. "No, wait! I... Claire-"
"NO!"
She was running away. She was running away and nobody could blame her. What was that JJ Sturn going to do if she just stood still? What was he going to do if he caught up to her? Best not think about it, best avert the children's eyes, best cross yourself and shake your head in sorrow because that's the only possible outcome. She was running away because she needed to run away, because she was holding on to dear life, because there'd been a time before when she had stood up to JJ Sturn, and we all know what happens to girls who stand up to JJ Sturn.
So prove them wrong, JJ. Don't follow her, just let her go. She had said exactly one thing to JJ before she'd gone tearing off into the distance. NO! No means no, JJ. This is your chance to prove them wrong. A chance to prove that JJ Sturn could deal with things not going his way without flying into a violent rage. And for a second, he considered it. He really, really did. Just nod his head, accept that she didn't want to have anything to do with him, get on with his life and think of something else to do on this stupid fucking island. She didn't really need his help, did she? After all, she'd made it this far already. She hadn't been one of those first two people to die (well at least he didn't have to ask anyone anymore), and she hadn't been one of the next seventeen either. So she didn't need JJ. So he ought to just prove everyone wrong.
But there was another way to prove everyone wrong. A better way. Leaving her alone was a step forward, maybe. But fuck it, it wasn't a big enough step. You just stand down and do nothing at every occasion, that's not being a better person. That's just being scared. Scared of what some people are gonna think of you, which- fuck it- they're gonna think of you anyway no matter what you do. So JJ had his better way, his only way. He was gonna make it right. He was gonna make things right with Claire, just follow her and ask her to please hear him out, show her that he meant no harm, explain everything, explain what he wanted, do his best to offer her some help. If she still said no? Well, that's when he'd take no for an answer. But not until he'd tried, goddammit.
With one hand gripping the strap of his daypack tightly, JJ ran after Claire as fast as his legs could carry him. A few strides into his run, his right foot kicked a pack of Wild Sevens cigarettes through the thick grass.
JJ didn't really notice.
(JJ Sturn continued in So Strange I Remember You)
------------
One of the most important evolutionary advances in the human race is the ability to just stop fucking talking. Cities, nations, empires rose and fell based on whether those in charge could, when the time came, just shut their mouths. Here is an example: "The only thing to fear is fear itself. Also, the complete breakdown of our nation's economic systems. Also, the dust bowls that are tearing through huge parts of the midwest. Also, the climate of tension and unrest creeping all throughout Europe in a way that threatens to spill over to America. These are all also good things to fear, so go ahead and fear them too if you want." That would have been a bit of a fuckup on old FDR's part. Thankfully, since he'd been endowed with the miraculous shut-the-fuck-up gene, America was still standing.
Poor, poor Andrea. She did not have this gene. It wasn't her fault, really, it wasn't something she could even control, but her Raymer's Disease just made her go on and on and on when she didn't need to. If Murder Island was going to hold student body presidential elections sometime soon, Julian had no plans to vote for Andrea.
But, well, to be fair, what she was saying was kinda worth listening to. The reasons for watching? ... yeah, those were kinda weird. Kinda a little desperate and self-justifying, and kinda disappointing, and kinda making Julian wish he hadn't asked in the first place. But the part about the plan? And how they all needed to go around bending the rules of the game? Julian liked that. Julian could get behind that. Julian could go tell Claire (remember to call her in, Julian, you said you'd do that soon as you determined the folks inside weren't a threat) about this plan, and they'd go find Aislyn and tell her, and maybe they'd all head back to Andrea for further instructions, or maybe Julian would keep on reuniting people and then shipping them off to Andrea so they could all find the secret level, and... yeah. It wasn't that bad of an idea. No, fuck it, it was a good idea. It was an idea worth fighting for. And in that moment, Julian decided he'd fight for it.
Remember this moment.
Because the next thing Julian decided to do was to, well: "Aight Andrea, you got me sold on this. I'mma do whatever I can to help you find the secret level, okay? Cause it don't really sound like this is a one-man operation you got planned here. And hey." Took a step back, opened the door with his free hand, and grinned a little. "I got someone else who I think might be interested too. Hey Claire!" This was a pretty loud shout, so she was almost guaranteed to hear it. "Yo Claire, all clear in here, you can come on in!" No response. Okay, maybe a little louder. "Hey Claire! We ain't got all day!" No response. No sign of her when he turned to look outside. "Jesus Christ, Claire! You telling me it took you that short to forget the code word?" No response.
No response.
"No no no no... fuck!" He shot a look back at Andrea and Allen, anger mixed with embarrassment, and bolted out of the tower. "Claire! CLAIRE!" Nobody... nobody there but... fuck! Fucking blue-haired girl, fucking Kitty Gittschall was the only one there, fuck where did she "Where did she go? There was someone here just a few minutes ago, Claire Lambert, she- I- did you see her? Where did she go, did you see where did she go?" Kitty stood there for a second or two. Said nothing. Didn't look too pleased about something or other. Fuck you that you're not pleased about something. "Kitty, please! I need to know, I promised her I'd protect her! Please, just..." Kitty pointed. East. Towards town. That was all Julian needed. That was all he needed to start running off after her, after- why the fuck had she left, why hadn't she come to Julian or used her gun if something had gone wrong- that girl that he'd sworn to protect.
There are times when it does not feel so good to be a messiah.
(Julian Avery continued in No Turning Back)
To pick up where we left off:
And he saw Claire Lambert.
And he saw Claire Lambert, and when he saw Claire Lambert, everything was about to go right, because Jesus fucking Christ, how did he manage to pull that one off, how did he manage to find her back here, and holy fuck and-- and say something. Say something now, because she looks scared out of her mind, and fuck's sake, she has every reason to be scared out of her mind, and if you don't say something right now, everything is about to go wrong. And so:
"Claire! Jesus Christ, I..." She looked so scared. She looked so scared. "No, wait! I... Claire-"
"NO!"
She was running away. She was running away and nobody could blame her. What was that JJ Sturn going to do if she just stood still? What was he going to do if he caught up to her? Best not think about it, best avert the children's eyes, best cross yourself and shake your head in sorrow because that's the only possible outcome. She was running away because she needed to run away, because she was holding on to dear life, because there'd been a time before when she had stood up to JJ Sturn, and we all know what happens to girls who stand up to JJ Sturn.
So prove them wrong, JJ. Don't follow her, just let her go. She had said exactly one thing to JJ before she'd gone tearing off into the distance. NO! No means no, JJ. This is your chance to prove them wrong. A chance to prove that JJ Sturn could deal with things not going his way without flying into a violent rage. And for a second, he considered it. He really, really did. Just nod his head, accept that she didn't want to have anything to do with him, get on with his life and think of something else to do on this stupid fucking island. She didn't really need his help, did she? After all, she'd made it this far already. She hadn't been one of those first two people to die (well at least he didn't have to ask anyone anymore), and she hadn't been one of the next seventeen either. So she didn't need JJ. So he ought to just prove everyone wrong.
But there was another way to prove everyone wrong. A better way. Leaving her alone was a step forward, maybe. But fuck it, it wasn't a big enough step. You just stand down and do nothing at every occasion, that's not being a better person. That's just being scared. Scared of what some people are gonna think of you, which- fuck it- they're gonna think of you anyway no matter what you do. So JJ had his better way, his only way. He was gonna make it right. He was gonna make things right with Claire, just follow her and ask her to please hear him out, show her that he meant no harm, explain everything, explain what he wanted, do his best to offer her some help. If she still said no? Well, that's when he'd take no for an answer. But not until he'd tried, goddammit.
With one hand gripping the strap of his daypack tightly, JJ ran after Claire as fast as his legs could carry him. A few strides into his run, his right foot kicked a pack of Wild Sevens cigarettes through the thick grass.
JJ didn't really notice.
(JJ Sturn continued in So Strange I Remember You)
------------
One of the most important evolutionary advances in the human race is the ability to just stop fucking talking. Cities, nations, empires rose and fell based on whether those in charge could, when the time came, just shut their mouths. Here is an example: "The only thing to fear is fear itself. Also, the complete breakdown of our nation's economic systems. Also, the dust bowls that are tearing through huge parts of the midwest. Also, the climate of tension and unrest creeping all throughout Europe in a way that threatens to spill over to America. These are all also good things to fear, so go ahead and fear them too if you want." That would have been a bit of a fuckup on old FDR's part. Thankfully, since he'd been endowed with the miraculous shut-the-fuck-up gene, America was still standing.
Poor, poor Andrea. She did not have this gene. It wasn't her fault, really, it wasn't something she could even control, but her Raymer's Disease just made her go on and on and on when she didn't need to. If Murder Island was going to hold student body presidential elections sometime soon, Julian had no plans to vote for Andrea.
But, well, to be fair, what she was saying was kinda worth listening to. The reasons for watching? ... yeah, those were kinda weird. Kinda a little desperate and self-justifying, and kinda disappointing, and kinda making Julian wish he hadn't asked in the first place. But the part about the plan? And how they all needed to go around bending the rules of the game? Julian liked that. Julian could get behind that. Julian could go tell Claire (remember to call her in, Julian, you said you'd do that soon as you determined the folks inside weren't a threat) about this plan, and they'd go find Aislyn and tell her, and maybe they'd all head back to Andrea for further instructions, or maybe Julian would keep on reuniting people and then shipping them off to Andrea so they could all find the secret level, and... yeah. It wasn't that bad of an idea. No, fuck it, it was a good idea. It was an idea worth fighting for. And in that moment, Julian decided he'd fight for it.
Remember this moment.
Because the next thing Julian decided to do was to, well: "Aight Andrea, you got me sold on this. I'mma do whatever I can to help you find the secret level, okay? Cause it don't really sound like this is a one-man operation you got planned here. And hey." Took a step back, opened the door with his free hand, and grinned a little. "I got someone else who I think might be interested too. Hey Claire!" This was a pretty loud shout, so she was almost guaranteed to hear it. "Yo Claire, all clear in here, you can come on in!" No response. Okay, maybe a little louder. "Hey Claire! We ain't got all day!" No response. No sign of her when he turned to look outside. "Jesus Christ, Claire! You telling me it took you that short to forget the code word?" No response.
No response.
"No no no no... fuck!" He shot a look back at Andrea and Allen, anger mixed with embarrassment, and bolted out of the tower. "Claire! CLAIRE!" Nobody... nobody there but... fuck! Fucking blue-haired girl, fucking Kitty Gittschall was the only one there, fuck where did she "Where did she go? There was someone here just a few minutes ago, Claire Lambert, she- I- did you see her? Where did she go, did you see where did she go?" Kitty stood there for a second or two. Said nothing. Didn't look too pleased about something or other. Fuck you that you're not pleased about something. "Kitty, please! I need to know, I promised her I'd protect her! Please, just..." Kitty pointed. East. Towards town. That was all Julian needed. That was all he needed to start running off after her, after- why the fuck had she left, why hadn't she come to Julian or used her gun if something had gone wrong- that girl that he'd sworn to protect.
There are times when it does not feel so good to be a messiah.
(Julian Avery continued in No Turning Back)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Jonny. 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.
-
JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
Allen listened intently to Andrea's explanations. It made some degree of sense... if only slightly. But if it really was the case, he could sleep easy at night knowing that the majority of people who watched SOTF weren't doing it simply for the thrill of the deaths. Although sleeping easy was a lot easier said than done now in this kind of environment.
But the whole story with Neil Sinclair, that was pretty interesting how it had played out. He'd acted out, messed with Danya's operations, and yet someone else took the bullet for him while he lived to fight/die another day. 'Would that happen to us? Would we get spared because we're 'entertaining' enough?' he wondered. 'But then what if Danya goes and kills someone else to prove a point?' Allen instantly had thoughts of three of his fellow students, Isabel, Aaron and Dougal, all of them collapsing to the floor, blood tricking from their mouths as they lay dying. It would be just as bad as if he'd pulled a gun out and had shot them in the head himself.
'But what about my life? I don't want to die.'
Allen was scared of dying, freaked out by the very idea of losing his life. It was one of his biggest fears, second to being around large bodies of water. If there was a chance to get off the island without having to indulge in all the butchery going on all around them, he was going to take it, no questions asked, no matter how selfish it made him sound.
His mind was made up.
"Well I dunno how much use I'm going to actually be, but I'm in," Allen said. "Don't go expecting me to produce a laptop from my bag though, because I didn't get one. I got a few grenades, unless you knew that already." He may have been convinced that Andrea hadn't taken anything off of him, but he still wasn't 100% sure that she hadn't gone looking through his bag anyway while he slept.
The other guy spoke up and informed Andrea that he was convinced as well, bringing the total involved up to three. And according to him, there was someone else outside who may be interested. 'Brilliant, make that four,' Allen thought, smiling weakly as things seemed to be finally going right for once during his time on the island.
Sadly it would turn out not to be. Claire, the so-called fourth person Julian had been talking about, failed to materialise, no matter how many times he called out to her. And the next thing he knew, Julian just bolted out of the door, leaving Allen sitting there in stunned silence.
"He... he's going to come back with her, right?" Allen mumbled to Andrea. The four-person plan had, in an instant, been reduced back down to two. 'We're back to square one, aren't we?'
But the whole story with Neil Sinclair, that was pretty interesting how it had played out. He'd acted out, messed with Danya's operations, and yet someone else took the bullet for him while he lived to fight/die another day. 'Would that happen to us? Would we get spared because we're 'entertaining' enough?' he wondered. 'But then what if Danya goes and kills someone else to prove a point?' Allen instantly had thoughts of three of his fellow students, Isabel, Aaron and Dougal, all of them collapsing to the floor, blood tricking from their mouths as they lay dying. It would be just as bad as if he'd pulled a gun out and had shot them in the head himself.
'But what about my life? I don't want to die.'
Allen was scared of dying, freaked out by the very idea of losing his life. It was one of his biggest fears, second to being around large bodies of water. If there was a chance to get off the island without having to indulge in all the butchery going on all around them, he was going to take it, no questions asked, no matter how selfish it made him sound.
His mind was made up.
"Well I dunno how much use I'm going to actually be, but I'm in," Allen said. "Don't go expecting me to produce a laptop from my bag though, because I didn't get one. I got a few grenades, unless you knew that already." He may have been convinced that Andrea hadn't taken anything off of him, but he still wasn't 100% sure that she hadn't gone looking through his bag anyway while he slept.
The other guy spoke up and informed Andrea that he was convinced as well, bringing the total involved up to three. And according to him, there was someone else outside who may be interested. 'Brilliant, make that four,' Allen thought, smiling weakly as things seemed to be finally going right for once during his time on the island.
Sadly it would turn out not to be. Claire, the so-called fourth person Julian had been talking about, failed to materialise, no matter how many times he called out to her. And the next thing he knew, Julian just bolted out of the door, leaving Allen sitting there in stunned silence.
"He... he's going to come back with her, right?" Allen mumbled to Andrea. The four-person plan had, in an instant, been reduced back down to two. 'We're back to square one, aren't we?'
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JamesRenard. 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.
Julian Avery suddenly appeared. He surprised Kitty. Where the hell did he come from?! She hadn't heard him come up until he was standing right there, screaming. Julian knew who she was, and wanted to know where Claire had gone. She figured he was talking about Claire Lambert, the only Claire Kitty was aware of. Was she the one who screamed?
So he knew her huh? She knew who Julian Avery was too.
He was an asshole.
A complete two-faced, freaky little bastard that Kitty could not stand. He went around, smiling like a god damn kid in a hallmark card, acting buddy-buddy with everyone and it got on her nerves. Little mousy bastard. Kitty didn't hate anyone with the fury of a thousand suns, and even if she did she could easily pretend otherwise. Not with Julian. The guy just rubbed her the wrong way in every conceivable way. Of her friends (the few of them) told her he was the nicest guy ever but she just did not see it. All she saw was a little bastard who thought being friendly with everyone in school was going to get him somewhere.
With this in mind, it would not come as a surprise that Kitty considered giving him a sarcastic response. One that dripped with every ounce of her hate for him. Not an answer but in fact an outright refusal to answer. The possibilities ran through her mind.
"Oh, so you think just because I'm nearby that I should know where Claire went? Go eat sand."
"Why should I help you? What have you ever done for me lately Avery? Nothing. So forget you, go find someone else who's feeling charitable."
"Why the hell didn't you keep tabs on Claire? You were the one who was supposed to look after her! Why did you let her go off on her own to begin with? Idiot!"
"Fuck you Avery, I'm not your maid."
But she didn't say any of that. She wasn't in the mood. Besides, the boy looked absolutely desperate to find Claire. Far be it from her to stop She just pointed east. That was the direction she heard the voice come from. Kitty wasn't sure if she pointed her in the right direction but it wasn't like she was going to know step-by-step directions to get to the girl. Thankfully Julian took it and ran. Good riddance.
Kitty sat in silence. She looked slightly to her left, down at the boy named Roland. The guy who killed someone else then buried the body.
"What would be good is if you could find someplace to wash that. I doubt we'll be making more friends if they see our weapons are coated in blood."
Kitty looked down at the blade in her hand. He was right. She could mutter about him all she wanted, but he had a point. There had to be a lake somewhere around this shithole and she definitely did not want to waste any of her water cleaning this thing up. She walked over to the tree and picked up her bat, pain running through her bad arm like a bad omen. Kitty grew to ignore the pain. How the hell was she going to do anything if she had to stop and clutch her arm in pain.
"Please, don't walk away. It's dangerous out there. You'll be safer with him."
Alright alright alright, you made your point. I won't wander off far enough to get lost, and I'll make a little line with this blade so I know where to go. I won't go far, I'll come back soon and I won't leave Roland. Okay? Are we cool? Can you stop pestering me?
"... Okay. Be careful."
Kitty didn't walk that far, just like she promised. She made a line in the ground with the dirty sword, not exactly a perfect way to find her way back but it was better than nothing. Kitty felt like a stupid kid in a fairy tale, Gretel, dropping pieces of bread that would surely be scooped up and swallowed by a bird.
There was an incline, a slight one but it took Kitty by surprise.
She wasn't sure where the hell she was. There were certainly no lakes to greet her after the slight incline. Instead a large cellphone tower greeted her at the top. It was the last thing she had expected to see. A cabin, perhaps a building or a lighthouse, but a cellphone tower seemed odd. Kitty didn't linger on the large thing for long. It was just an object. A thing. It wasn't like she cared. The only thing that mattered was the fact that it was there, and the fact that the door was open to the building under the tower lead her to believe that someone was in there.
Kitty looked cautiously. She held the sword in one and the bat in the other. Not a smart move. Red lashes ran down the sword like popped veins. Kitty looked ragged. Just walking up would be a death send but she could see IN the dark doorway. Curiouser and curiouser.
Kitty stopped and stared into the doorway. Was there someone there, looking right at her? She looked back, tilting her head. The room was dark and sun was just beginning to rise. She didn't say hello. Nothing. Just silence.
So he knew her huh? She knew who Julian Avery was too.
He was an asshole.
A complete two-faced, freaky little bastard that Kitty could not stand. He went around, smiling like a god damn kid in a hallmark card, acting buddy-buddy with everyone and it got on her nerves. Little mousy bastard. Kitty didn't hate anyone with the fury of a thousand suns, and even if she did she could easily pretend otherwise. Not with Julian. The guy just rubbed her the wrong way in every conceivable way. Of her friends (the few of them) told her he was the nicest guy ever but she just did not see it. All she saw was a little bastard who thought being friendly with everyone in school was going to get him somewhere.
With this in mind, it would not come as a surprise that Kitty considered giving him a sarcastic response. One that dripped with every ounce of her hate for him. Not an answer but in fact an outright refusal to answer. The possibilities ran through her mind.
"Oh, so you think just because I'm nearby that I should know where Claire went? Go eat sand."
"Why should I help you? What have you ever done for me lately Avery? Nothing. So forget you, go find someone else who's feeling charitable."
"Why the hell didn't you keep tabs on Claire? You were the one who was supposed to look after her! Why did you let her go off on her own to begin with? Idiot!"
"Fuck you Avery, I'm not your maid."
But she didn't say any of that. She wasn't in the mood. Besides, the boy looked absolutely desperate to find Claire. Far be it from her to stop She just pointed east. That was the direction she heard the voice come from. Kitty wasn't sure if she pointed her in the right direction but it wasn't like she was going to know step-by-step directions to get to the girl. Thankfully Julian took it and ran. Good riddance.
Kitty sat in silence. She looked slightly to her left, down at the boy named Roland. The guy who killed someone else then buried the body.
"What would be good is if you could find someplace to wash that. I doubt we'll be making more friends if they see our weapons are coated in blood."
Kitty looked down at the blade in her hand. He was right. She could mutter about him all she wanted, but he had a point. There had to be a lake somewhere around this shithole and she definitely did not want to waste any of her water cleaning this thing up. She walked over to the tree and picked up her bat, pain running through her bad arm like a bad omen. Kitty grew to ignore the pain. How the hell was she going to do anything if she had to stop and clutch her arm in pain.
"Please, don't walk away. It's dangerous out there. You'll be safer with him."
Alright alright alright, you made your point. I won't wander off far enough to get lost, and I'll make a little line with this blade so I know where to go. I won't go far, I'll come back soon and I won't leave Roland. Okay? Are we cool? Can you stop pestering me?
"... Okay. Be careful."
Kitty didn't walk that far, just like she promised. She made a line in the ground with the dirty sword, not exactly a perfect way to find her way back but it was better than nothing. Kitty felt like a stupid kid in a fairy tale, Gretel, dropping pieces of bread that would surely be scooped up and swallowed by a bird.
There was an incline, a slight one but it took Kitty by surprise.
She wasn't sure where the hell she was. There were certainly no lakes to greet her after the slight incline. Instead a large cellphone tower greeted her at the top. It was the last thing she had expected to see. A cabin, perhaps a building or a lighthouse, but a cellphone tower seemed odd. Kitty didn't linger on the large thing for long. It was just an object. A thing. It wasn't like she cared. The only thing that mattered was the fact that it was there, and the fact that the door was open to the building under the tower lead her to believe that someone was in there.
Kitty looked cautiously. She held the sword in one and the bat in the other. Not a smart move. Red lashes ran down the sword like popped veins. Kitty looked ragged. Just walking up would be a death send but she could see IN the dark doorway. Curiouser and curiouser.
Kitty stopped and stared into the doorway. Was there someone there, looking right at her? She looked back, tilting her head. The room was dark and sun was just beginning to rise. She didn't say hello. Nothing. Just silence.
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.
(since this is a one-thread area, we should try to finish this thread in the next couple days so that Day 3 people can arrive)
Aaaaaaaand, yes. Looked like they were buying what she was selling. If Andrea had invisible arms, one of them would be doing a fist pump right now. Sweet vindication.
She stepped back, allowing herself time to exhale and take everything in. So this was all going pretty damn good for her so far. No embarrassing early death. No getting lost in the jungle or having all her stuff stolen. She'd gotten a taste of the action and now she'd laid the foundation for her awesome victory. Sure there'd be some hiccups along the way (duh), but whatever.
Allen would definitely be a good guy to bring along. She was starting to like him. He kinda reminded her of Chad from school, except not stoned all the time.
And he had grenades. Yowza. Andrea tried to keep her poker face at that revelation.
"Whoa, grenades? That's uh, that's pretty damn good actually. Heh, I got uh, gunpowder of all things." She unzipped her bag and brought the plastic container out for a second, demonstrating. "But yeah, you should definitely hold on to those."
Actually, what he needed to do was let her have at least one of them, but she wasn't going to mention that just yet, thank you very much. Get him to come along first, figure out how to get her hands on those later.
Of course, then Julian decided to go off and call in someone else, and before Andrea even got a chance to say something, he was taking off. The hell?
"The hell?!" She ran to the door and saw him vanish into the distance down the side of the mountain. The hell (yes, that did deserve three 'the hells') was up with that, Julian Avery? Oh, and not only that, but she also thought he'd totally misconstrued what she was saying, given how quickly he wanted to broadcast it.
Allen was beside her now, asking if Julian was coming back.
"Ugh, no idea," she muttered. Andrea looked back at was left of the tower base, then turned to see the rest of the island and beyond, stretching around her in all directions. OK, there was no reason to stay here any longer. This was one big fucking island and they needed to get a move on at some point. She looked back at Allen.
"Right, Allen, I don't think we can really wait around for Julian to come back. I was gonna say something before he took off, but the thing is, what I'm doing here doesn't work if you have fifty kids trying to do it all together or all at once.
"That's why Neil Sinclair's whole plan didn't work last year, he and the rest, they got all convinced that they could get this whole giant group together and get everyone off the island. That... they're just not going to let that happen. I mean, sure, if we meet someone you know and you wanna let them know what's up, or if we run into Julian again, that's fine by me, I'm not saying it needs to be just you and me here. But the whole 'unite the school and take on the terrorists' idea has never worked. If you want to save everyone, your best bet is to get your ass off the island first and then try to call in the cavalry. So, are you up for-"
Andrea turned back to the doorway and saw someone else a little ways off, looking in.
"Uh, for it?"
She took a step out and recognized Kitty Gittschall, looking.... well, looking weird. And with a sword. Could she even swing that?
Andrea didn't know if she wanted to find out that answer.
"Hey." she called, only moderately enthused. "Uh, look I'd love to stay and chat, but we're sorta looking to get a move on here, and if you're looking for anything, uh, useful there's really nothing here. And uh, I can probably outrun you if you're looking to come after us with that sword."
Andrea readied herself to run if that need did arise, then turned back to Allen, speaking low.
"Yeah, I think we should probably go, unless you wanna invite her along."
Aaaaaaaand, yes. Looked like they were buying what she was selling. If Andrea had invisible arms, one of them would be doing a fist pump right now. Sweet vindication.
She stepped back, allowing herself time to exhale and take everything in. So this was all going pretty damn good for her so far. No embarrassing early death. No getting lost in the jungle or having all her stuff stolen. She'd gotten a taste of the action and now she'd laid the foundation for her awesome victory. Sure there'd be some hiccups along the way (duh), but whatever.
Allen would definitely be a good guy to bring along. She was starting to like him. He kinda reminded her of Chad from school, except not stoned all the time.
And he had grenades. Yowza. Andrea tried to keep her poker face at that revelation.
"Whoa, grenades? That's uh, that's pretty damn good actually. Heh, I got uh, gunpowder of all things." She unzipped her bag and brought the plastic container out for a second, demonstrating. "But yeah, you should definitely hold on to those."
Actually, what he needed to do was let her have at least one of them, but she wasn't going to mention that just yet, thank you very much. Get him to come along first, figure out how to get her hands on those later.
Of course, then Julian decided to go off and call in someone else, and before Andrea even got a chance to say something, he was taking off. The hell?
"The hell?!" She ran to the door and saw him vanish into the distance down the side of the mountain. The hell (yes, that did deserve three 'the hells') was up with that, Julian Avery? Oh, and not only that, but she also thought he'd totally misconstrued what she was saying, given how quickly he wanted to broadcast it.
Allen was beside her now, asking if Julian was coming back.
"Ugh, no idea," she muttered. Andrea looked back at was left of the tower base, then turned to see the rest of the island and beyond, stretching around her in all directions. OK, there was no reason to stay here any longer. This was one big fucking island and they needed to get a move on at some point. She looked back at Allen.
"Right, Allen, I don't think we can really wait around for Julian to come back. I was gonna say something before he took off, but the thing is, what I'm doing here doesn't work if you have fifty kids trying to do it all together or all at once.
"That's why Neil Sinclair's whole plan didn't work last year, he and the rest, they got all convinced that they could get this whole giant group together and get everyone off the island. That... they're just not going to let that happen. I mean, sure, if we meet someone you know and you wanna let them know what's up, or if we run into Julian again, that's fine by me, I'm not saying it needs to be just you and me here. But the whole 'unite the school and take on the terrorists' idea has never worked. If you want to save everyone, your best bet is to get your ass off the island first and then try to call in the cavalry. So, are you up for-"
Andrea turned back to the doorway and saw someone else a little ways off, looking in.
"Uh, for it?"
She took a step out and recognized Kitty Gittschall, looking.... well, looking weird. And with a sword. Could she even swing that?
Andrea didn't know if she wanted to find out that answer.
"Hey." she called, only moderately enthused. "Uh, look I'd love to stay and chat, but we're sorta looking to get a move on here, and if you're looking for anything, uh, useful there's really nothing here. And uh, I can probably outrun you if you're looking to come after us with that sword."
Andrea readied herself to run if that need did arise, then turned back to Allen, speaking low.
"Yeah, I think we should probably go, unless you wanna invite her along."
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
-
JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
"So, like, two many cooks spoil the broth, too many students spoil the escape plot and get everyone... killed?" Allen commented, thinking of a good analogy to Andrea's way of thinking. It was a bit of a disappointment to hear that a large number of their classmates couldn't join in, but doing so was bound to attract Mr. Danya's attention. All he would have to do was blow their collars and it would all be over.
'Hmm, who would be good to bring along, if I find them?' Allen thought, summoning a mental list of his classmates and friends in his mind. 'Dougal would be good, so would Peter, they could probably help a lot, maybe Isabel as well.' It suddeny occured to him that the odds of running into any of them was miniscule, given the size of the island and the number of students there probably were. He was, according to his daypack, Boy #121. There were at least 120 other males on the island, and possibly the same number of girls as well. 240 students, that was a lot.
Saying that, he'd managed to run into possibly the one person on the island who had any sort of clue on what to do, one which didn't involve shooting people in the head like a certain black and purple-haired girl.
And then on the subject of dyed hair, a mass of the blue stuff caught Allen's eye and he turned to face who it belonged to.
There was a girl, standing in the doorway. Allen thought at first that this newcomer was Claire and that Julian had managed to find her and bring her their way. This relief was short lived, for Allen's eyes trailed down to the weapons in her hand. A baseball bat and a large sword that was reflecting the early morning sunlight. And the sword blade was covered in... in...
'Oh my God!'
Allen leapt to his feet and backed up away from the door, carefully watching the girl who hadn't said a single word since appearing. Andrea's reaction to the girl seemed alarmingly relaxed, and then she even asked if he wanted to bring her along. 'What the hell?'
"Andrea, I don't know if you noticed, but this girl has blood on that sword of hers. For all we know she could have just killed someone with it," he hissed at her.
'Hmm, who would be good to bring along, if I find them?' Allen thought, summoning a mental list of his classmates and friends in his mind. 'Dougal would be good, so would Peter, they could probably help a lot, maybe Isabel as well.' It suddeny occured to him that the odds of running into any of them was miniscule, given the size of the island and the number of students there probably were. He was, according to his daypack, Boy #121. There were at least 120 other males on the island, and possibly the same number of girls as well. 240 students, that was a lot.
Saying that, he'd managed to run into possibly the one person on the island who had any sort of clue on what to do, one which didn't involve shooting people in the head like a certain black and purple-haired girl.
And then on the subject of dyed hair, a mass of the blue stuff caught Allen's eye and he turned to face who it belonged to.
There was a girl, standing in the doorway. Allen thought at first that this newcomer was Claire and that Julian had managed to find her and bring her their way. This relief was short lived, for Allen's eyes trailed down to the weapons in her hand. A baseball bat and a large sword that was reflecting the early morning sunlight. And the sword blade was covered in... in...
'Oh my God!'
Allen leapt to his feet and backed up away from the door, carefully watching the girl who hadn't said a single word since appearing. Andrea's reaction to the girl seemed alarmingly relaxed, and then she even asked if he wanted to bring her along. 'What the hell?'
"Andrea, I don't know if you noticed, but this girl has blood on that sword of hers. For all we know she could have just killed someone with it," he hissed at her.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JamesRenard. 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.
Kitty's eyes adjusted. She could see someone standing in the doorway now, Andrea Raymer. It took her a moment to recognize her. The piercings and the black hair should have made it obvious from the start. Kitty always thought that black never suited Andrea, she always looked better with a wild color like green. It gave her personality. Not that Kitty didn't like her, with or without the green hair. They were friendly in school. Maybe Andrea would recognize her.
This is how you make friends. Smile, nod, be polite. Kitty felt numb. Her voice was cold, the smile forced.
"Hi Andrea." Kitty said, straightforward.
Andrea looked back and mentioned something about leaving the area. Nothing useful was around. Fuck. So her trip up was all for nothing. A pathetic waste of time. Andrea's eyes looked worried and she was staring at Kitty like she was a creep. What was her problem? It wasn't like - Shit. The blood. How the hell could she have forgotten about the bloodied sword in her hand? Her eyes flared.
"This isn't mine," she said frantically, the smile still very present on her lips. "I found it on the ground. Totally innocent. I swear."
Should she mention Roland? No, she shouldn't. Roland should be a secret and all the best secrets were kept. Traveling with a murderer purposefully wasn't a great way to get people to trust you. What Roland didn't know wasn't going to hurt him. Kitty's mind wandered off for a moment. Would Roland be alright? Yes, yes, she was sure of that. Why was she worrying about him? He was fine.
Kitty's mind came back. Andrea had her head turned away from her. It confused her. She thought Andrea was the only person in the little shack. She shifted her weight on one foot to see if someone else was there. No one. Maybe they had their back pressed up against the wall? Why though?
"Is there someone else there?" She asked lightly. Cautiously. Her smile faded. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. You can trust me on that."
This is how you make friends. Smile, nod, be polite. Kitty felt numb. Her voice was cold, the smile forced.
"Hi Andrea." Kitty said, straightforward.
Andrea looked back and mentioned something about leaving the area. Nothing useful was around. Fuck. So her trip up was all for nothing. A pathetic waste of time. Andrea's eyes looked worried and she was staring at Kitty like she was a creep. What was her problem? It wasn't like - Shit. The blood. How the hell could she have forgotten about the bloodied sword in her hand? Her eyes flared.
"This isn't mine," she said frantically, the smile still very present on her lips. "I found it on the ground. Totally innocent. I swear."
Should she mention Roland? No, she shouldn't. Roland should be a secret and all the best secrets were kept. Traveling with a murderer purposefully wasn't a great way to get people to trust you. What Roland didn't know wasn't going to hurt him. Kitty's mind wandered off for a moment. Would Roland be alright? Yes, yes, she was sure of that. Why was she worrying about him? He was fine.
Kitty's mind came back. Andrea had her head turned away from her. It confused her. She thought Andrea was the only person in the little shack. She shifted her weight on one foot to see if someone else was there. No one. Maybe they had their back pressed up against the wall? Why though?
"Is there someone else there?" She asked lightly. Cautiously. Her smile faded. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. You can trust me on that."
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.
-
storyspoiler†
- Posts: 152
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:16 am
(Alice Boucher continued from Bump in the Night)
Alice Boucher had heard everything.
Andrea Raymer was what Alice would call a typical American. She thought she was the greatest, and was admirably upfront with it. She talked a lot (and loudly, and as though everyone for miles around should listen). She interrupted. She talked about American media and entertainment as if she knew everything in the entire world about them. As if she knew--knew--that Danya would have put in a "secret level" somewhere.
Alice envied her confidence, her relentless American optimism, her half-cocked plans. Of course, once she tells anyone the plan, it will be clear how wrong the plan is, but she won't fix it, she'll pretend to be a cowboy, like Americans do, and go out in a blaze of idiocy...
She could hear how her father used to clear his throat when she said something like that aloud. He would inhale a whiff of cigar smoke and laugh. France is full of critics of American plans. Go out into the world, dear Alice, my girl. It is not as simple as you would think.
Well, she had gone out into the world, and she didn't like what she saw. She wanted to go home so badly it made her choke.
When she had not been crying (or screaming and running away from scenes of violence, or shouting hateful things at her Mama and Papa at the camera like a child) she had been practicing with her whip. She had not liked her weapon when she unearthed it--it had seemed overly fetishistic. The sort of weapon you armed a domineering European slut with and thank God I don't know how to use it...
But using it, she realized, might be useful. And by useful, she meant "life-saving". So then she had to think about how to properly use a whip.
It was not a killing weapon. A strike from a cat-of-nine-tails might be painful, but it wasn't going to kill anyone. So it was a crowd control weapon. She had seen Indiana Jones movies, where he had used the whip to grasp objects and trip opponents. After her nearly-violent encounter with samurai-Julian Avery, she had decided to teach herself to do this.
It was harder than it looked. With no instruction manual, she had to find the particular wrist flick she needed by trial and error, and practice continuously until she got it right. Her wrist ached, felt almost rubbery, by the time she was confident.
Next she worked on grasping things firmly with the curl of the whip. This took her late into the night. She still wasn't completely satisfied come morning, but come morning came Andrea Raymer, Allen Birkman, and politician-come-samurai Julian Avery (again) to her hiding spot. She had fled, and listened, while Andrea drew out escape plans and the logic thereof.
At first Alice had been skeptical. Now she wasn't so sure.
She was, after all, on a reality TV show. One of those pulpy things, hack and slash and real tits and gore, like the New York Post or those other rubbishy newspapers. She'd been given a whip and told to kill people, the surly French girl--at least she wasn't in a frilly maid's costume. This was entertainment.
I am no longer a person now. To anyone but those on this island--to anyone who will be living for more than a few days--I am nothing but a construct, for someone else's amusement. I am electronic. A simulacra.
Now that was a scary thought. For all she knew, the terrorists were manipulating the image so she had perfect, tanned legs and a frilly French maid outfit.
She smiled a little, bitterly. And no one would know, except the one who won. If he ever saw me...
But no, she needed to bring her thoughts back to the prospect of escape. I am part of a show now, reality maybe. They need twists, ratings. Maybe they will plant an escape for us, to amuse the audience. Maybe some terrorist will come when the cameras are off, and offer me supplies to make fried bread if I use my whip on an American boy with my ankles showing. Maybe there's someone manipulating the camera even now, focusing it on my jiggling tits, or more likely, away from me and onto samurai Julian...
And she started laughing.
Then she turned to the camera, and spoke.
"I am real, you know that? Play the postmodernist, if you wish, but I am not some sort of electronic simulacra."
Andrea Raymer and her crowd were leaving. Alice didn't really care. Andrea was the kind of American she was always nervous around. And her plan would likely be half-cocked anyway.
But the seed the American had planted in her head--the idea that this was entertainment, and had the requirements thereof--was exciting to her. Maybe it could lead to an escape. It seemed likelier than any other way off the island, anyway.
Humming, she started down the hill.
(Alice Boucher continued in Heartbeat Symphony)
Alice Boucher had heard everything.
Andrea Raymer was what Alice would call a typical American. She thought she was the greatest, and was admirably upfront with it. She talked a lot (and loudly, and as though everyone for miles around should listen). She interrupted. She talked about American media and entertainment as if she knew everything in the entire world about them. As if she knew--knew--that Danya would have put in a "secret level" somewhere.
Alice envied her confidence, her relentless American optimism, her half-cocked plans. Of course, once she tells anyone the plan, it will be clear how wrong the plan is, but she won't fix it, she'll pretend to be a cowboy, like Americans do, and go out in a blaze of idiocy...
She could hear how her father used to clear his throat when she said something like that aloud. He would inhale a whiff of cigar smoke and laugh. France is full of critics of American plans. Go out into the world, dear Alice, my girl. It is not as simple as you would think.
Well, she had gone out into the world, and she didn't like what she saw. She wanted to go home so badly it made her choke.
When she had not been crying (or screaming and running away from scenes of violence, or shouting hateful things at her Mama and Papa at the camera like a child) she had been practicing with her whip. She had not liked her weapon when she unearthed it--it had seemed overly fetishistic. The sort of weapon you armed a domineering European slut with and thank God I don't know how to use it...
But using it, she realized, might be useful. And by useful, she meant "life-saving". So then she had to think about how to properly use a whip.
It was not a killing weapon. A strike from a cat-of-nine-tails might be painful, but it wasn't going to kill anyone. So it was a crowd control weapon. She had seen Indiana Jones movies, where he had used the whip to grasp objects and trip opponents. After her nearly-violent encounter with samurai-Julian Avery, she had decided to teach herself to do this.
It was harder than it looked. With no instruction manual, she had to find the particular wrist flick she needed by trial and error, and practice continuously until she got it right. Her wrist ached, felt almost rubbery, by the time she was confident.
Next she worked on grasping things firmly with the curl of the whip. This took her late into the night. She still wasn't completely satisfied come morning, but come morning came Andrea Raymer, Allen Birkman, and politician-come-samurai Julian Avery (again) to her hiding spot. She had fled, and listened, while Andrea drew out escape plans and the logic thereof.
At first Alice had been skeptical. Now she wasn't so sure.
She was, after all, on a reality TV show. One of those pulpy things, hack and slash and real tits and gore, like the New York Post or those other rubbishy newspapers. She'd been given a whip and told to kill people, the surly French girl--at least she wasn't in a frilly maid's costume. This was entertainment.
I am no longer a person now. To anyone but those on this island--to anyone who will be living for more than a few days--I am nothing but a construct, for someone else's amusement. I am electronic. A simulacra.
Now that was a scary thought. For all she knew, the terrorists were manipulating the image so she had perfect, tanned legs and a frilly French maid outfit.
She smiled a little, bitterly. And no one would know, except the one who won. If he ever saw me...
But no, she needed to bring her thoughts back to the prospect of escape. I am part of a show now, reality maybe. They need twists, ratings. Maybe they will plant an escape for us, to amuse the audience. Maybe some terrorist will come when the cameras are off, and offer me supplies to make fried bread if I use my whip on an American boy with my ankles showing. Maybe there's someone manipulating the camera even now, focusing it on my jiggling tits, or more likely, away from me and onto samurai Julian...
And she started laughing.
Then she turned to the camera, and spoke.
"I am real, you know that? Play the postmodernist, if you wish, but I am not some sort of electronic simulacra."
Andrea Raymer and her crowd were leaving. Alice didn't really care. Andrea was the kind of American she was always nervous around. And her plan would likely be half-cocked anyway.
But the seed the American had planted in her head--the idea that this was entertainment, and had the requirements thereof--was exciting to her. Maybe it could lead to an escape. It seemed likelier than any other way off the island, anyway.
Humming, she started down the hill.
(Alice Boucher continued in Heartbeat Symphony)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler storyspoiler. 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.
Oh shit. Bloodstains?
Yeah. Just how hadn't she noticed THOSE on Kitty's sword? To be fair, Andrea wasn't always the most observant person out there, but still.
Kitty spoke up and proclaimed her innocence, and Andrea found herself believing the girl more than she didn't. From what she knew of Kitty, going psycho-killer wasn't the most likely option available to her. But on the other hand, the girl sounded... weird. And sure, she hadn't been on the announcements, but all the same, that blood had to come from somewhere. Not to mention that she'd look pretty hypocritical to Allen if she just invited the girl with the bloody sword along after the speech she'd given him.
"Uh, yeah Kitty. I believe you, but look, I uh, don't take this personally or anything, but I think we're gonna take off now." She paused, and then added as an afterthought, "Good luck to ya, though."
She turned to Allen. "Yeah, I'm with you, let's go."
(Andrea Raymer continued in Jesus Loves the Little Children)
Yeah. Just how hadn't she noticed THOSE on Kitty's sword? To be fair, Andrea wasn't always the most observant person out there, but still.
Kitty spoke up and proclaimed her innocence, and Andrea found herself believing the girl more than she didn't. From what she knew of Kitty, going psycho-killer wasn't the most likely option available to her. But on the other hand, the girl sounded... weird. And sure, she hadn't been on the announcements, but all the same, that blood had to come from somewhere. Not to mention that she'd look pretty hypocritical to Allen if she just invited the girl with the bloody sword along after the speech she'd given him.
"Uh, yeah Kitty. I believe you, but look, I uh, don't take this personally or anything, but I think we're gonna take off now." She paused, and then added as an afterthought, "Good luck to ya, though."
She turned to Allen. "Yeah, I'm with you, let's go."
(Andrea Raymer continued in Jesus Loves the Little Children)
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
-
JamesRenard†
- Posts: 238
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 4:55 am
Allen wasn't buying Kitty's story for one second.
Why on Earth was she carting around a sword with blood on it? The red stuff couldn't have just appeared out of thin air. Her name... Kitty wasn't it? Yeah, Kitty, she really stood out at school with that blue hair of hers. Her name wasn't mentioned on the announcement, but that meant nothing. She could've attacked someone and seriously wounded them with intent to kill, but failed to do so. Or, even worse, she could've killed someone right after the announcements had finished. A murderer and nobody would have known it.
He could barely see it, but Kitty's lips were twisted into a smile. It unnerved him that she was still grinning while giving her explanation, which only made it harder for him to trust her and believe her side of the story. She then asked if someone else was in the tower. 'Wait, she can't see me?' Allen wondered. He didn't think it was that dark inside the building, but then again, he wasn't wearing particularly bright clothing either.
'So what now? Do I make myself known to her, or stay in the shadows?' he contemplated. His face fell when Andrea stated that she trusted Kitty, but then he felt considerably better when she decided against having her join them. 'Good for you-oh hey, wait for me!' he thought, noticing Andrea starting to exit the tower.
Allen had no choice but to walk past Kitty out of the door, keeping his eyes fixed on the bloodied weapon she was holding. He was half expecting her to raise the sword and decapitate him, stab him in the chest or wait until his back was turned before lodging the blade into his spine. The blow didn't come, but Allen still looked back occasionally at the girl and the structure as they shrunk into the distance.
"Right behind you, Andrea."
((Allen Birkman continued in Jesus Loves the Little Children))
Why on Earth was she carting around a sword with blood on it? The red stuff couldn't have just appeared out of thin air. Her name... Kitty wasn't it? Yeah, Kitty, she really stood out at school with that blue hair of hers. Her name wasn't mentioned on the announcement, but that meant nothing. She could've attacked someone and seriously wounded them with intent to kill, but failed to do so. Or, even worse, she could've killed someone right after the announcements had finished. A murderer and nobody would have known it.
He could barely see it, but Kitty's lips were twisted into a smile. It unnerved him that she was still grinning while giving her explanation, which only made it harder for him to trust her and believe her side of the story. She then asked if someone else was in the tower. 'Wait, she can't see me?' Allen wondered. He didn't think it was that dark inside the building, but then again, he wasn't wearing particularly bright clothing either.
'So what now? Do I make myself known to her, or stay in the shadows?' he contemplated. His face fell when Andrea stated that she trusted Kitty, but then he felt considerably better when she decided against having her join them. 'Good for you-oh hey, wait for me!' he thought, noticing Andrea starting to exit the tower.
Allen had no choice but to walk past Kitty out of the door, keeping his eyes fixed on the bloodied weapon she was holding. He was half expecting her to raise the sword and decapitate him, stab him in the chest or wait until his back was turned before lodging the blade into his spine. The blow didn't come, but Allen still looked back occasionally at the girl and the structure as they shrunk into the distance.
"Right behind you, Andrea."
((Allen Birkman continued in Jesus Loves the Little Children))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler JamesRenard. 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.
(Short post is short. Sorry, I've been struggling on this for the past week. Will edit it later if I need to.)
Kitty had done nothing to stop the other two from leaving. In hindsight the idea of going upto them and tried to be buddy buddy with them wasn't a really smart move. This was especially true concidering the swiod in her hand which had done nothing to smooth things over. Kitty really wanted to slap herself across the face. What the hell had she been thinking? They could have killed her.
Kitty was drifting. She was losing her edge.
"I'm not playing it smart," she told herself. "I HAVE to play it smart. Or else I'm done for."
Kitty sighed. It was nothing to worry about. Not now. She turned and headed back down the hill. The line she had made in the ground was still very present. Which was good. She had promised herself to come back, and she always kept her promises.
Roland was still sleeping. Kitty sighed. She nestled the sword a few feet away from Roland's sleeping form and made her way over to the tree. She slid down, sitting on the ground, her chin nestled against her kknees. Her hands coiled around her knees, keeping them together. She watched Roland sleep.
Roland was probably her only chance at living. It scared her.
(Kitty continued in Shore Leave)
Kitty had done nothing to stop the other two from leaving. In hindsight the idea of going upto them and tried to be buddy buddy with them wasn't a really smart move. This was especially true concidering the swiod in her hand which had done nothing to smooth things over. Kitty really wanted to slap herself across the face. What the hell had she been thinking? They could have killed her.
Kitty was drifting. She was losing her edge.
"I'm not playing it smart," she told herself. "I HAVE to play it smart. Or else I'm done for."
Kitty sighed. It was nothing to worry about. Not now. She turned and headed back down the hill. The line she had made in the ground was still very present. Which was good. She had promised herself to come back, and she always kept her promises.
Roland was still sleeping. Kitty sighed. She nestled the sword a few feet away from Roland's sleeping form and made her way over to the tree. She slid down, sitting on the ground, her chin nestled against her kknees. Her hands coiled around her knees, keeping them together. She watched Roland sleep.
Roland was probably her only chance at living. It scared her.
(Kitty continued in Shore Leave)
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.