[[Vivien Morin adopted & continued from Wants and Needs~]]
Vivien pouted.
He'd been doing that a lot, lately.
Two full days. That's how long he'd been alone. Two full days, 48 hours- more than that, really. He'd been alone since he'd picked up that imbecile Jonathon Jarocki's gun and wandered off from the cute little town he'd woken up in. He had no idea what time it had been when he woke up originally, and had no way of knowing, but he figured it had been nearly three days now. Of course, he didn't need protection anymore- beautiful, charming and well-armed was a fantastic conversation, both in reality TV and in reality itself. But he'd had a plan...sort of. His plan was essentially- find his girls. And...well, that was it. He didn't particularly want to start another Poison Angels (he had watched Version 3, and he found himself admiring their feminine wiles)- as entertaining as they had been, he felt as though running around murdering boys was a bit...unbecoming.
Besides, what if there were cute boys? There were a few of those running around Bayview, there had to be a few running around the island...
So Vivien had wandered, and wandered, and wandered some more to absolutely no avail. It seemed inconceivable that he'd run into exactly no one when there had to be at least two-hundred-something kids here. But there was nothing, or at least not much. He'd seem some kids, but no one he recognized, or at least no one he trusted enough to reveal himself to. He was sure anyone who saw him would recognize him- he was the Queen of Bayview, after all- but whether they would welcome him was another story.
He'd been doing pretty well, as far as we was concerned. He slept every night- outdoors, admittedly, and Vivien hoped and hoped he'd locate a bed sometime soon- but that was certainly better than not sleeping at all. He hadn't gone through much of his rations, as he was used to not eating much- if nothing else I certainly won't be gaining any weight any time soon. He was maybe not happy, but he was certainly surviving. He hadn't gone far, though- his heavy pink duffel bag prevented him from going far. Of course, there was no way Vivien Morin would ever ditch a bag full of gorgeous clothes, unless his life depended on it. He changed clothes every morning, as Danya made his announcements- cameras be damned. There was way less shame in nudity than there was in repetition.
He did listen to every announcement, of course, and he took quick mental notice of the important ones. Maxwell Lombardi, the cute English boy from prom- he'd apparently killed a lot of people. Always the cute ones that snap, isn't it? Sad how it always works out that way... Reiko was a multi-murderer at this point as well. Aislyn and Felicia and Sammy were okay, at least, but...
But nothing. People were dead, yeah, but this was Survival of the Fittest. He wasn't dead, and that was the trick, no?
Vivien finished dressing, repacked his bag. The dress he'd discovered (and forgot he'd packed, apparently) was reminiscent of his prom dress, and the memories came pouring back...
No more reminiscing, Viv. Sadly it seems that you'll never get to be quite that gorgeous again...
He could try, though. He stopped dead, unpacking his compact, his mascara, his hairbrush, using the water from his rations to wash the scrappy remains of makeup from his face and expertly reapplying. He fixed his hair, brushing it perfectly into position. He looked in the mirror, critically.
...You're a heartbreaker, sweetheart, really, you are.
Now. Off to find some hearts...
Vivien began to move again, slowly-slowly- it wouldn't do for him to break the gorgeous red pumps he was wearing, after all. He was sidelined, though, by something blue. Not the sky this time, no- the sea. He'd wandered quite near the cliffs the night before, though he hadn't noticed in the dark. Now that the sun had risen, though, the pink light of sunrise played on the water, and he found himself drawn as though by a magnet to the cliff's edge.
Beautiful scenery and a beautiful me...this is perfection, really.
He sat, his feet dangling over the cliff's edge, his toes curled tight-
This was nice and everything, but he'd be mighty pissed if he lost these pumps to the ocean.
Fabuleux
[[Reentry of B062- Early Day 4, Open]]
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Hollyquin†
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Fabuleux
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[Girl #101 - Sofia Martelli. Continued from On the Road Again.]
"It's a nice view, isn't it?"
Arms folded and leaning to one side, Sofia stood a few feet behind Vivien.
"With the sun coming up over the ocean like that, it's really pretty."
There wasn't much else she could come up with to say, really. Hello? How are you? Those would be kind of pointless now wouldn't they? So maybe some observation on the environment will fit better. Course, maybe she should have provided some warning of her approach; who knows, boy in pumps might be the jumpy kind who may end up... well, jumping. Off the cliff. Don't really think falling from a cliff will result in a beautiful corpse and such a vain boy might find that to be worse than dying.
"Vivien, right?"
Not that there was much chance in mistaking him for anyone else; really, he was kind of unique. Wasn't he the boy who showed up in a dress to prom?
"Why are you out here alone?"
Wasn't she alone too?
"I mean, I would have figured you would be with a group."
Really, wouldn't everyone be trying to stick with a group? Wasn't Sofia the only one walking away from groups of people in her quest for revenge? Really, sticking with a group was the good idea... but a group would slow her down. Maybe after she had her revenge. It might be nice to find someone she was friends with. Rosa or Frankie or... Ilario had killed someone, hadn't he? Maybe she should rethink that plan.
"You haven't seen Colin, have you?"
Her statement was followed by a quick scan of the surrounding area and then a peek over the edge of the cliff; it was a long drop.
"I'm looking for him. I've... well, I've got my reasons."
Well, one big reason, to be exact. But he didn't need to know what, or at least didn't need her to tell him that. Everyone had their own agendas here on this god forsaken island and everyone had their own plans; some were good and others were bad and some were for the right reasons and others not so much, but everyone had their own. Right now, the only plan she had was finding the one person she wanted to find and putting into motion every little plan and idea she'd come up with during her long and relatively lonely trip. Sure, she had a promise to keep, but she wasn't about to simply let Colin get away with what he did. Tony was hers, got it? He had no right... no right to take him from her.
Even if she was never quite sure about what she wanted. She still wanted that chance... and she'll be damned if she let someone get away with taking that chance away from her.
"Say... what did you get?"
She eyed his belongings for a moment, motioning toward the lead pipe she held; it was her weapon, her only tool on the island. Her hand probably had the smell of old metal on it, but that wasn't so bad. It reminded her of being back at home and working on little projects in the garage.
Something Tony would always comment on. His teasing when she showed up with grease stains...
I miss you...
"It's a nice view, isn't it?"
Arms folded and leaning to one side, Sofia stood a few feet behind Vivien.
"With the sun coming up over the ocean like that, it's really pretty."
There wasn't much else she could come up with to say, really. Hello? How are you? Those would be kind of pointless now wouldn't they? So maybe some observation on the environment will fit better. Course, maybe she should have provided some warning of her approach; who knows, boy in pumps might be the jumpy kind who may end up... well, jumping. Off the cliff. Don't really think falling from a cliff will result in a beautiful corpse and such a vain boy might find that to be worse than dying.
"Vivien, right?"
Not that there was much chance in mistaking him for anyone else; really, he was kind of unique. Wasn't he the boy who showed up in a dress to prom?
"Why are you out here alone?"
Wasn't she alone too?
"I mean, I would have figured you would be with a group."
Really, wouldn't everyone be trying to stick with a group? Wasn't Sofia the only one walking away from groups of people in her quest for revenge? Really, sticking with a group was the good idea... but a group would slow her down. Maybe after she had her revenge. It might be nice to find someone she was friends with. Rosa or Frankie or... Ilario had killed someone, hadn't he? Maybe she should rethink that plan.
"You haven't seen Colin, have you?"
Her statement was followed by a quick scan of the surrounding area and then a peek over the edge of the cliff; it was a long drop.
"I'm looking for him. I've... well, I've got my reasons."
Well, one big reason, to be exact. But he didn't need to know what, or at least didn't need her to tell him that. Everyone had their own agendas here on this god forsaken island and everyone had their own plans; some were good and others were bad and some were for the right reasons and others not so much, but everyone had their own. Right now, the only plan she had was finding the one person she wanted to find and putting into motion every little plan and idea she'd come up with during her long and relatively lonely trip. Sure, she had a promise to keep, but she wasn't about to simply let Colin get away with what he did. Tony was hers, got it? He had no right... no right to take him from her.
Even if she was never quite sure about what she wanted. She still wanted that chance... and she'll be damned if she let someone get away with taking that chance away from her.
"Say... what did you get?"
She eyed his belongings for a moment, motioning toward the lead pipe she held; it was her weapon, her only tool on the island. Her hand probably had the smell of old metal on it, but that wasn't so bad. It reminded her of being back at home and working on little projects in the garage.
Something Tony would always comment on. His teasing when she showed up with grease stains...
I miss you...
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Acelister†
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[[John Smith continued from Living In The Aftermath]]
John stumbled, almost hitting most of the trees he passed.
He'd stopped running and had a fitful sleep for a few hours in the night, but he hadn't been thinking straight since he ran from the Sawmill.
"Probably dead now..." he muttered, his clothes drenched with sweat. Tiredness racked his body and he couldn't stop thinking of what that girl screamed at him.
"Don't just sit there, come and help me." - then die when whoever he shot died as some sort of retribution? That's why he had to run.
He couldn't be responsible for killing someone! He even relocated worms he accidentally dug up in his parents garden! Sure, he shot whoever it was, but that was by accident!
He looked down at the shotgun in his hand, the weight of the two bags on his back now forgotten. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since before the 'incident', so he still had most of what was in the daypack. Less one round of ammunition, he thought grimacing at himself.
He tripped and fell to his knees, his limbs feeling very heavy. His clothes were filthy and he was definitely dehydrated - he'd stopped sweating quite as much. This was probably a good way to lose weight...
He looked up at the trees ahead which were thinning. He could hear the ocean crashing against cliffs. It wasn't a beach and he didn't know how high they were, but if he stayed here - nobody could get up behind him and kill him. He'd be safe... He got up and glanced behind himself as he walked towards the cliiftops.
John stumbled, almost hitting most of the trees he passed.
He'd stopped running and had a fitful sleep for a few hours in the night, but he hadn't been thinking straight since he ran from the Sawmill.
"Probably dead now..." he muttered, his clothes drenched with sweat. Tiredness racked his body and he couldn't stop thinking of what that girl screamed at him.
"Don't just sit there, come and help me." - then die when whoever he shot died as some sort of retribution? That's why he had to run.
He couldn't be responsible for killing someone! He even relocated worms he accidentally dug up in his parents garden! Sure, he shot whoever it was, but that was by accident!
He looked down at the shotgun in his hand, the weight of the two bags on his back now forgotten. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since before the 'incident', so he still had most of what was in the daypack. Less one round of ammunition, he thought grimacing at himself.
He tripped and fell to his knees, his limbs feeling very heavy. His clothes were filthy and he was definitely dehydrated - he'd stopped sweating quite as much. This was probably a good way to lose weight...
He looked up at the trees ahead which were thinning. He could hear the ocean crashing against cliffs. It wasn't a beach and he didn't know how high they were, but if he stayed here - nobody could get up behind him and kill him. He'd be safe... He got up and glanced behind himself as he walked towards the cliiftops.
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((Janet Claymont continued from Star-Crossed Lover))
God only knew why she had decided to come back up here.
Maybe it's because it was the place that stuck out most in her memory; maybe she thought she'd find his corpse here; maybe she wanted to run into Imraan again (He had a shotgun, after all). Whatever the reason, Janet was back at the cliffs.
She had to mind her steps extremely carefully on her way back up: she was missing two vital pieces of information from her map, and there was no way she could risk stepping into a danger zone; except for the first few minutes where she had forgotten the dangerous lack of knowledge, she had had to keep an eye open for anyone else in the area to show that it was safe, or any sign someone had been through recently. She wasn't an expert in navigation, but by the grace of that thing she refused to call luck she had avoided death at the hands of explosive decapitation.
The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs rebounded throughout as she moved closer and closer, a cool breeze wafting in the air; it clashed with her situation.
What was her situation now?
Chadd was still dead, and she was still on the island; what reason did she have to live? Her brother, he had told her, sure that was true, but it felt like an empty reason to keep going. She had to look after her brother, but her situation was just so hopeless...
The cliffs looked almost inviting.
Blinking back to reality, she shook her head hard at that terrible thought: she wasn't going to jump off the cliffs to her doom. She had to survive, by whatever means necessary, if not for Chadd then for her brother. She had to live so that he'd be able to see her again.
She turned aside and started walking, looking away from the roaring ocean. For a while she wandered around, scouring the area for any sign of Imraan, though the chances of him returning to a place he was almost shot didn't really cross her mind. There wasn't any sign of him though,and she began to consider looking somewhere else for him, but before she could decide on it she finally spotted two small figures in the distance. At her distance it was impossible to make them out as anything more than human, so she began her approach.
She jogged quickly, too reckless to think about stealth, instead wondering about the two mystery figures in her mind. Instead of considering whether or not they'd be trying to kill her, however, Janet was just focused on who these people were. If they were someone she knew she'd have an easier time finding out the details she wanted, and if not then odds were they'd know her, and would gladly hand over the information. She was a pretty well known girl in her opinion, after all.
Besides, meeting anyone right now was better than just wandering around on her own for hours on end.
Slowing down to a walk as she finally neared them, she eyed the two girlish figures facing away from her. She couldn't really recognise either of them, unfortunately, so she'd have to rely on them knowing her.
"Hey." she uttered, but her voice caught in her throat, barely even able to hear it herself. For some reason, she was hesitant
Shaking her head and swallowing the word, she clenched her fist and spoke again.
"Hey!"
God only knew why she had decided to come back up here.
Maybe it's because it was the place that stuck out most in her memory; maybe she thought she'd find his corpse here; maybe she wanted to run into Imraan again (He had a shotgun, after all). Whatever the reason, Janet was back at the cliffs.
She had to mind her steps extremely carefully on her way back up: she was missing two vital pieces of information from her map, and there was no way she could risk stepping into a danger zone; except for the first few minutes where she had forgotten the dangerous lack of knowledge, she had had to keep an eye open for anyone else in the area to show that it was safe, or any sign someone had been through recently. She wasn't an expert in navigation, but by the grace of that thing she refused to call luck she had avoided death at the hands of explosive decapitation.
The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs rebounded throughout as she moved closer and closer, a cool breeze wafting in the air; it clashed with her situation.
What was her situation now?
Chadd was still dead, and she was still on the island; what reason did she have to live? Her brother, he had told her, sure that was true, but it felt like an empty reason to keep going. She had to look after her brother, but her situation was just so hopeless...
The cliffs looked almost inviting.
Blinking back to reality, she shook her head hard at that terrible thought: she wasn't going to jump off the cliffs to her doom. She had to survive, by whatever means necessary, if not for Chadd then for her brother. She had to live so that he'd be able to see her again.
She turned aside and started walking, looking away from the roaring ocean. For a while she wandered around, scouring the area for any sign of Imraan, though the chances of him returning to a place he was almost shot didn't really cross her mind. There wasn't any sign of him though,and she began to consider looking somewhere else for him, but before she could decide on it she finally spotted two small figures in the distance. At her distance it was impossible to make them out as anything more than human, so she began her approach.
She jogged quickly, too reckless to think about stealth, instead wondering about the two mystery figures in her mind. Instead of considering whether or not they'd be trying to kill her, however, Janet was just focused on who these people were. If they were someone she knew she'd have an easier time finding out the details she wanted, and if not then odds were they'd know her, and would gladly hand over the information. She was a pretty well known girl in her opinion, after all.
Besides, meeting anyone right now was better than just wandering around on her own for hours on end.
Slowing down to a walk as she finally neared them, she eyed the two girlish figures facing away from her. She couldn't really recognise either of them, unfortunately, so she'd have to rely on them knowing her.
"Hey." she uttered, but her voice caught in her throat, barely even able to hear it herself. For some reason, she was hesitant
Shaking her head and swallowing the word, she clenched her fist and spoke again.
"Hey!"
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Hollyquin†
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[[OOC: Sorry for the wait! ><]]
And now, suddenly, people were coming out of the woodwork. Two days entirely on his own and here he sat down for five minutes to appreciate a gorgeous sunrise and people were suddenly showing up. Vivien wasn't quite sure how he felt about this. On one hand, being alone was boring. On the other hand, not being alone was far more likely to result in his untimely and surely unattractive demise.
First, there was a girl. A girl who spontaneously announced herself when she was this close and very nearly made Vivien drop a shoe.
In fact, it did make him lose a shoe. His glorious red pump- the left one, the one that had a very specific nick in it from when he'd nearly fallen his first time walking in them- fell, as though in slow motion. It hit the water with a muted splash and Vivien immediately hated this girl, whoever he was. He kicked the other pump into the water, feeling rather silly sitting there with a single heel, and turned around, wanting nothing more to throw this infuriating person into the water. If nothing else, she'd be able to retrieve his shoes.
Sofia Martelli. He knew the name because he knew all the names, though he'd never paid much attention to her before. She was pretty in a sort of masculine way and she certainly could use some fashion advice, which in any other circumstance he'd be more than willing to give. She also seemed to know his name, not that that was surprising. Vivien Morin was unmistakable. Unmistakably gorgeous, that is.
Maybe I could make an ally out of her...? She seems like a tough little thing, with that...is that a lead pipe? Oh, did everyone get an actual weapon except me? Well, at any rate, she'd do as a sort of bodyguard. An odd sort, I suppose, but a bodyguard nonetheless.
She'd asked questions. Several questions. Why he was alone, if he'd seen Colin (Colin...that musician boy? Didn't he kill someone...?), what he'd got...what he'd got. Vivien silently thanked whatever beautiful deity had led him to leave his newly-found gun in his bag, and led him to keep that Venus de Milo statuette.
"I'm alone because I haven't run into anyone I trust farther than I could throw them. Which isn't very far, I suspect," he said with a charming smile. "And no, I'm afraid I haven't seen Colin. You're the first person I've seen in days, in fact."
"And as for a weapon..."
He pulled the statuette from his bag. No need for anyone to know he was well-armed. Far better to being a damsel in distress than a hero. After all, no one expects a damsel in distress to shoot you in the back of the head when you're not looking.
"Danya apparently decided that this qualifies as a weapon," Vivien whined, mentally congratulating himself on a fabulous performance. "He probably picked it out specifically to mock me. Poor Viv, all alone with his Venus de Milo, indeed..."
...And then his performance was interrupted by a voice. Another female voice. Not one he recognized, to his dismay- where were his friends when he needed them? -but still, a girl would be slightly less likely to shoot him on sight. He hoped, at least. Besides, the fact that she was calling out was encouraging. Either she was trusting, or she was stupid.
Essentially the same thing.
Saying "hey" back would be undignified. He settled for a lingering "Hello?" which would hopefully be enough to draw this girl out of the woods where she'd undoubtedly been hiding.
And now, suddenly, people were coming out of the woodwork. Two days entirely on his own and here he sat down for five minutes to appreciate a gorgeous sunrise and people were suddenly showing up. Vivien wasn't quite sure how he felt about this. On one hand, being alone was boring. On the other hand, not being alone was far more likely to result in his untimely and surely unattractive demise.
First, there was a girl. A girl who spontaneously announced herself when she was this close and very nearly made Vivien drop a shoe.
In fact, it did make him lose a shoe. His glorious red pump- the left one, the one that had a very specific nick in it from when he'd nearly fallen his first time walking in them- fell, as though in slow motion. It hit the water with a muted splash and Vivien immediately hated this girl, whoever he was. He kicked the other pump into the water, feeling rather silly sitting there with a single heel, and turned around, wanting nothing more to throw this infuriating person into the water. If nothing else, she'd be able to retrieve his shoes.
Sofia Martelli. He knew the name because he knew all the names, though he'd never paid much attention to her before. She was pretty in a sort of masculine way and she certainly could use some fashion advice, which in any other circumstance he'd be more than willing to give. She also seemed to know his name, not that that was surprising. Vivien Morin was unmistakable. Unmistakably gorgeous, that is.
Maybe I could make an ally out of her...? She seems like a tough little thing, with that...is that a lead pipe? Oh, did everyone get an actual weapon except me? Well, at any rate, she'd do as a sort of bodyguard. An odd sort, I suppose, but a bodyguard nonetheless.
She'd asked questions. Several questions. Why he was alone, if he'd seen Colin (Colin...that musician boy? Didn't he kill someone...?), what he'd got...what he'd got. Vivien silently thanked whatever beautiful deity had led him to leave his newly-found gun in his bag, and led him to keep that Venus de Milo statuette.
"I'm alone because I haven't run into anyone I trust farther than I could throw them. Which isn't very far, I suspect," he said with a charming smile. "And no, I'm afraid I haven't seen Colin. You're the first person I've seen in days, in fact."
"And as for a weapon..."
He pulled the statuette from his bag. No need for anyone to know he was well-armed. Far better to being a damsel in distress than a hero. After all, no one expects a damsel in distress to shoot you in the back of the head when you're not looking.
"Danya apparently decided that this qualifies as a weapon," Vivien whined, mentally congratulating himself on a fabulous performance. "He probably picked it out specifically to mock me. Poor Viv, all alone with his Venus de Milo, indeed..."
...And then his performance was interrupted by a voice. Another female voice. Not one he recognized, to his dismay- where were his friends when he needed them? -but still, a girl would be slightly less likely to shoot him on sight. He hoped, at least. Besides, the fact that she was calling out was encouraging. Either she was trusting, or she was stupid.
Essentially the same thing.
Saying "hey" back would be undignified. He settled for a lingering "Hello?" which would hopefully be enough to draw this girl out of the woods where she'd undoubtedly been hiding.
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"The first person? Really? You're lucky then."
Maybe. I haven't decided yet.
"I'm sure there are plenty of people out here you'd rather not run in to."
Sofia listened for a moment as he pulled his 'weapon', shifting uneasily as he withdrew the object from the bag, expecting something far more dangerous. Of course, when he pulled out that little statuette, she couldn't help but let a smile slip out, especially when he started complaining about it. She probably would have laughed a bit if she was in higher spirits, but she was still focused on one thing and one thing only. Still, it was enjoyable to see someone complaining about what they'd gotten; most people she'd run in to seemed to have better weapons then she did, things like swords and sectioned staves and possibly worse. Seeing someone with a weapon that was more or less worse than hers was a little comforting.
Let's just hope the other people showing up were in the same boat weapon-wise.
Of course, when she turned to face the other voice, she didn't recognize who it was; she was too far away to identify the other girl properly and Sofia didn't recognize her voice. For a moment, she thought it might have been that goth girl whatsherface looking to get revenge for her ruined outfit. Of course, Sofia could tell the other girl was clothed even from this distance, so she didn't really think it was that goth girl. Then again... who brought only one outfit? It could be anyone... better not relax too much.
Holding the lead pipe tight, she expected the worst. She didn't exactly expect Janet to be the one who showed up. There wasn't any reason to be afraid of her. Sure, more people meant more danger and more chances of one of them being a few marbles short, but Janet was alright, wasn't she? Well, she was more than a little aggressive in school and she was part of that whole group of cheerleaders. Not exactly the best image. But oh well, she was better than the alternatives.
"Oh, it's you."
Wow, not exactly a great greeting. Still, at least she lowered her weapon. There was paranoia still and even a little panic, but there was no reason to hold a weapon on Janet. She didn't look to be armed or dangerous, so there really was no reason to show any hostility toward her. Well, neither was Meredith, now that she thought about it... but that little goth slut had it coming.
"Sorry, I was expecting someone else."
Like Meredith or...
"Do either of you have any plans from here on, by any chan--"
Her words caught in her throat when she spotted none other than John Smith walking toward the cliffs... toting a shotgun. She eyed the cliffs and the sea below. Would she survive it? It was a long fall... but if John wasn't exactly all there, she needed to have a plan right? She looked for a way out... and found none.
Nowhere to run.
Shit.
Maybe. I haven't decided yet.
"I'm sure there are plenty of people out here you'd rather not run in to."
Sofia listened for a moment as he pulled his 'weapon', shifting uneasily as he withdrew the object from the bag, expecting something far more dangerous. Of course, when he pulled out that little statuette, she couldn't help but let a smile slip out, especially when he started complaining about it. She probably would have laughed a bit if she was in higher spirits, but she was still focused on one thing and one thing only. Still, it was enjoyable to see someone complaining about what they'd gotten; most people she'd run in to seemed to have better weapons then she did, things like swords and sectioned staves and possibly worse. Seeing someone with a weapon that was more or less worse than hers was a little comforting.
Let's just hope the other people showing up were in the same boat weapon-wise.
Of course, when she turned to face the other voice, she didn't recognize who it was; she was too far away to identify the other girl properly and Sofia didn't recognize her voice. For a moment, she thought it might have been that goth girl whatsherface looking to get revenge for her ruined outfit. Of course, Sofia could tell the other girl was clothed even from this distance, so she didn't really think it was that goth girl. Then again... who brought only one outfit? It could be anyone... better not relax too much.
Holding the lead pipe tight, she expected the worst. She didn't exactly expect Janet to be the one who showed up. There wasn't any reason to be afraid of her. Sure, more people meant more danger and more chances of one of them being a few marbles short, but Janet was alright, wasn't she? Well, she was more than a little aggressive in school and she was part of that whole group of cheerleaders. Not exactly the best image. But oh well, she was better than the alternatives.
"Oh, it's you."
Wow, not exactly a great greeting. Still, at least she lowered her weapon. There was paranoia still and even a little panic, but there was no reason to hold a weapon on Janet. She didn't look to be armed or dangerous, so there really was no reason to show any hostility toward her. Well, neither was Meredith, now that she thought about it... but that little goth slut had it coming.
"Sorry, I was expecting someone else."
Like Meredith or...
"Do either of you have any plans from here on, by any chan--"
Her words caught in her throat when she spotted none other than John Smith walking toward the cliffs... toting a shotgun. She eyed the cliffs and the sea below. Would she survive it? It was a long fall... but if John wasn't exactly all there, she needed to have a plan right? She looked for a way out... and found none.
Nowhere to run.
Shit.
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Acelister†
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- Joined: Tue Sep 04, 2018 4:04 am
John walked up to the edge of the cliffs and watched a couple of waves hit the rocks below. The shotgun hung limply in one hand and he considered, if only for a moment, throwing it. What had it done for him?
Caused his arm to start aching. Shot a guy. Hung around uselessly.
Nothing else! Problems. That's what this was.
He then thought to look around, so did so as he took a step back. He froze when his eyes focussed on the three teens stood a short distance away.
Vivian - super-gay of the whole school. John liked guys, but Vivian took it up a notch for sure.
Janet - cheerleader who was too chaste to have a reputation but too slutty to avoid one.
Sofia - she was in History, right?
He slowly licked his lips, very aware of the fact he didn't reload his shotgun. He might have ended up blowing his crotch up or his face off, in his hurry to run from where he shot that guy. On the plus side - there was a small statue and a lead pipe on display. If those were the only weapons here, a fight would totally go in his favour. So long as he reloaded the shotgun before they reached him and beat the shit out of him...
He slowly let his bags slip down his arm and fall to the ground. Ammo was fairly resilient, right? Collisions with clothing was harmless... Surely. But should he speak? They seemed to be talking - they must have been travelling in a group. So it really was three-against-one...
Caused his arm to start aching. Shot a guy. Hung around uselessly.
Nothing else! Problems. That's what this was.
He then thought to look around, so did so as he took a step back. He froze when his eyes focussed on the three teens stood a short distance away.
Vivian - super-gay of the whole school. John liked guys, but Vivian took it up a notch for sure.
Janet - cheerleader who was too chaste to have a reputation but too slutty to avoid one.
Sofia - she was in History, right?
He slowly licked his lips, very aware of the fact he didn't reload his shotgun. He might have ended up blowing his crotch up or his face off, in his hurry to run from where he shot that guy. On the plus side - there was a small statue and a lead pipe on display. If those were the only weapons here, a fight would totally go in his favour. So long as he reloaded the shotgun before they reached him and beat the shit out of him...
He slowly let his bags slip down his arm and fall to the ground. Ammo was fairly resilient, right? Collisions with clothing was harmless... Surely. But should he speak? They seemed to be talking - they must have been travelling in a group. So it really was three-against-one...
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Thankfully they hadn't turned around and blown her head off; she had seen two people die already, and she only just realised that she had no idea what these two would do when a new person (victim?) appeared.
But she had said hey and they had replied; that was a good start, even if she did just find herself standing on the spot, feeling awkward. "Yo, what up?" "Oh, not much. Just killing everyone, you know." Yeah, that was how casual she wanted to sound. None the less, the approach was successful in that everyone was still alive and calm. Now all she needed to do was to find out if any of them had a map she could use to get her missing danger zones, and then she be on her way. Nothing against these people, but she had no reason to hang around when there were classmates dying out there all day.
"Hey..." she repeated dumbly, edging closer to the pair at the cliff side, oblivious to John's presence nearby. Now that she was (barely) talking to them, Janet knew she had no idea who these two were. One looked like she had headed straight from Prom, whilst the other couldn't have been anyone important around school. It sucked that they weren't familiar, would've made getting help much easier,, but at least she wouldn't have to explain herself when she ran off in the next few minutes.
"You guys got a map?" was all she could think to say, looking between the two as a lost person does. It hard to act friendly towards people she didn't know at all under normal circumstances, and the whole 'everyone getting killed' thing going on didn't exactly make it any easier or any more inviting; being blunt and to the point was the best thing she could hope to do, whether or not it paid off and she got the information she was looking for.
But she had said hey and they had replied; that was a good start, even if she did just find herself standing on the spot, feeling awkward. "Yo, what up?" "Oh, not much. Just killing everyone, you know." Yeah, that was how casual she wanted to sound. None the less, the approach was successful in that everyone was still alive and calm. Now all she needed to do was to find out if any of them had a map she could use to get her missing danger zones, and then she be on her way. Nothing against these people, but she had no reason to hang around when there were classmates dying out there all day.
"Hey..." she repeated dumbly, edging closer to the pair at the cliff side, oblivious to John's presence nearby. Now that she was (barely) talking to them, Janet knew she had no idea who these two were. One looked like she had headed straight from Prom, whilst the other couldn't have been anyone important around school. It sucked that they weren't familiar, would've made getting help much easier,, but at least she wouldn't have to explain herself when she ran off in the next few minutes.
"You guys got a map?" was all she could think to say, looking between the two as a lost person does. It hard to act friendly towards people she didn't know at all under normal circumstances, and the whole 'everyone getting killed' thing going on didn't exactly make it any easier or any more inviting; being blunt and to the point was the best thing she could hope to do, whether or not it paid off and she got the information she was looking for.
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
Well. Things seemed to be going well. Relatively, at least, given that on Survival of the Fittest going well generally meant not a shriveled corpse bleeding out on a cliff somewhere. No, Vivien Morin was whole and beautiful as he ever was, and now he had quite a bit of company to keep.
This other girl, Janet Claymont. He frowned. Hadn't she killed someone? Hadn't he heard something about that on the announcements? He tried to think back- no no no, he'd been thinking of Janet Binachi, she had killed someone, and Janet Victoriee-Ser was dead. Not a good time to be named Janet, hm? He hadn't, didn't, know any of them well.
This Janet was a cheerleader, he knew that much. She didn't have a reputation for being particularly...nice, and she clearly had no sense in clothing (and was in desperate need of some hair dye). But clearly this girl trusted them enough to call out to them. At the very least she would make a good patsy, if she stuck around. Obviously anyone idiotic enough to yell to a couple of strangers on Survival of the Fittest isn't intelligent enough to lead...or to be alone. Or maybe her and Sonia know each other...?
"Oh, it's you. Sorry, I was expecting someone else."
Well, that didn't sound like the words of a girl reunited with a friend. Who on earth was Sonia expecting at a time like this? This was Survival of the Fittest, not a Starbucks. You don't invite your friends somewhere, meet up, have a coffee (Vivien could go for a latte macchiato right about now, actually). Unless maybe Sonia had split up with some friends earlier, made plans to meet them? But no, Sonia had been looking for someone, so that seemed unlikely.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Do either of you have any plans from here on, by any chan--"
Vivien had a few answers ready- find his girls, find someplace relatively comfortable to stay for a while, change into an outfit that didn't look ridiculous sans his gorgeous red pumps which he just now was remembering to be angry at Sonia over the loss of- when Sonia stopped dead and so did he.
There was someone there. Someone with a shotgun.
A whimper escaped Vivien's throat involuntarily. It wasn't even a cute boy, he would have a bit to be happy for with that, at least. But alas, no, it was John Smith. Fatty John, Vivien thought with an internal chuckle, remembering the name he'd heard around school. The boy wasn't even that big. But he was holding a shotgun, and he was definitely looking at them. And he could definitely kill them all right now, if he was the kind of boy who'd do that kind of thing.
Vivien really wasn't sure.
But he hadn't shot them yet. That was encouraging. Vivien recovered his composure, and his manners, and gave the other boy a formal, pageantry sort of wave. He didn't particularly want this boy to join them, but he'd rather that than becoming a fresh bloodstain on the cliff.
This other girl, Janet Claymont. He frowned. Hadn't she killed someone? Hadn't he heard something about that on the announcements? He tried to think back- no no no, he'd been thinking of Janet Binachi, she had killed someone, and Janet Victoriee-Ser was dead. Not a good time to be named Janet, hm? He hadn't, didn't, know any of them well.
This Janet was a cheerleader, he knew that much. She didn't have a reputation for being particularly...nice, and she clearly had no sense in clothing (and was in desperate need of some hair dye). But clearly this girl trusted them enough to call out to them. At the very least she would make a good patsy, if she stuck around. Obviously anyone idiotic enough to yell to a couple of strangers on Survival of the Fittest isn't intelligent enough to lead...or to be alone. Or maybe her and Sonia know each other...?
"Oh, it's you. Sorry, I was expecting someone else."
Well, that didn't sound like the words of a girl reunited with a friend. Who on earth was Sonia expecting at a time like this? This was Survival of the Fittest, not a Starbucks. You don't invite your friends somewhere, meet up, have a coffee (Vivien could go for a latte macchiato right about now, actually). Unless maybe Sonia had split up with some friends earlier, made plans to meet them? But no, Sonia had been looking for someone, so that seemed unlikely.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Do either of you have any plans from here on, by any chan--"
Vivien had a few answers ready- find his girls, find someplace relatively comfortable to stay for a while, change into an outfit that didn't look ridiculous sans his gorgeous red pumps which he just now was remembering to be angry at Sonia over the loss of- when Sonia stopped dead and so did he.
There was someone there. Someone with a shotgun.
A whimper escaped Vivien's throat involuntarily. It wasn't even a cute boy, he would have a bit to be happy for with that, at least. But alas, no, it was John Smith. Fatty John, Vivien thought with an internal chuckle, remembering the name he'd heard around school. The boy wasn't even that big. But he was holding a shotgun, and he was definitely looking at them. And he could definitely kill them all right now, if he was the kind of boy who'd do that kind of thing.
Vivien really wasn't sure.
But he hadn't shot them yet. That was encouraging. Vivien recovered his composure, and his manners, and gave the other boy a formal, pageantry sort of wave. He didn't particularly want this boy to join them, but he'd rather that than becoming a fresh bloodstain on the cliff.
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Well, it certainly seemed like Sofia wasn't the only one who panicked at the sight of John with his shotgun. Vivien was there and he actually whimpered; if that was his reaction to danger then maybe Sofia really didn't have anything to worry about, at least when it came to Viv. Really, he wasn't armed, he was probably the vainest gay man she'd ever met... and let's face it, he didn't look too intimidating when he was being fabulous. Really, she didn't have much cause to fear Vivien, or even Janet as she was standing nearby awaiting an answer to her questions regarding a map. A map? Really? There was a guy with a shotgun nearby and she wanted a map? Maybe she should get her priorities straight...
"Don't you have your own map? Or better yet, don't you think this is a really, really bad time to be asking for a map?"
She motioned to John, bringing more attention to the gun-toting boy as she once again looked to the cliffs and the sea and the surrounding areas. Where could she run to, where could she hide if she needed to get away? Sure, the quickest and probably safest route would be to jump off the cliff... but could she really survive that kind of fall? Who knew what was waiting for her at the bottom of that cliff. The water might not be very deep, it could be hiding a bunch of jagged rocks for all she knew and she didn't really think she could jump far enough away from the cliff to avoid them if that was the case.
But even then... it became awfully tempting when thoughts drifted back to the reason she was even at the cliff. Why she had been looking for Colin. Things really might be better if she... well, y'know.
Fuck it. If I'm going to die... I'm not going to do it cowering in fear. I can't just sit here wondering if he's going to shoot me. He's either going to do it or he isn't... and I'm not going to give him time to think about it!
"Fuck this."
Well, talk about a mood swing. In a moment, Sofia had gone from contemplating suicide and fearing for her life and safety to tightening her grip on the lead pipe and storming toward John as quickly as she could. There was no way in hell she was going to let him stop her from making Colin pay for what he did, for the chances and choices that he took from her. She wasn't about to let him slow her down or turn her road in to a dead end. No fucking way. It was time to make another choice...
Do or die.
Do or fucking die!
"Drop that fucking gun or find out what lead tastes like. Your choice."
Big risk... but is there even a chance for a reward?
"Don't you have your own map? Or better yet, don't you think this is a really, really bad time to be asking for a map?"
She motioned to John, bringing more attention to the gun-toting boy as she once again looked to the cliffs and the sea and the surrounding areas. Where could she run to, where could she hide if she needed to get away? Sure, the quickest and probably safest route would be to jump off the cliff... but could she really survive that kind of fall? Who knew what was waiting for her at the bottom of that cliff. The water might not be very deep, it could be hiding a bunch of jagged rocks for all she knew and she didn't really think she could jump far enough away from the cliff to avoid them if that was the case.
But even then... it became awfully tempting when thoughts drifted back to the reason she was even at the cliff. Why she had been looking for Colin. Things really might be better if she... well, y'know.
Fuck it. If I'm going to die... I'm not going to do it cowering in fear. I can't just sit here wondering if he's going to shoot me. He's either going to do it or he isn't... and I'm not going to give him time to think about it!
"Fuck this."
Well, talk about a mood swing. In a moment, Sofia had gone from contemplating suicide and fearing for her life and safety to tightening her grip on the lead pipe and storming toward John as quickly as she could. There was no way in hell she was going to let him stop her from making Colin pay for what he did, for the chances and choices that he took from her. She wasn't about to let him slow her down or turn her road in to a dead end. No fucking way. It was time to make another choice...
Do or die.
Do or fucking die!
"Drop that fucking gun or find out what lead tastes like. Your choice."
Big risk... but is there even a chance for a reward?
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Acelister†
- Posts: 245
- Joined: Tue Sep 04, 2018 4:04 am
John waited silent but for his breathing, as the three eventually all took in the guy with the gun. He couldn't remember hearing their names in the announcements, but that wasn't a guarantee. Today's announcement still hadn't gone out - they might have killed a dozen people this morning or even last night.
"Fuck this."
John's eyes widened as Sofia began stalking towards him, brandishing her lead pipe. This wasn't a good thing. He hadn't reloaded yet, meaning the gun was useless.
"Drop that fucking gun or find out what lead tastes like. Your choice."
Or was it?
"Fuck off!" he stated, levelling the shotgun at her. When that didn't slow her pace noticeably, he realised she might be calling his bluff. From what he's seen, it would be believable that Danya would give someone a gun but no ammunition. Or he might have already used his ammo. Or not reloaded.
He shifted the weapon quickly, turning it to take hold of the barrel. The weight of it was very different this way, making it seem heavier due to his inability to hold it firmly. But he didn't consider that as he swung the shotgun like a club. "Stay the fuck off!" he shouted, a mash-up of 'stay the hell away' and 'fuck off'. He swung it several times even though he wasn't sure if he was trying to hit her or just keep that pipe out of his teeth.
"Fuck this."
John's eyes widened as Sofia began stalking towards him, brandishing her lead pipe. This wasn't a good thing. He hadn't reloaded yet, meaning the gun was useless.
"Drop that fucking gun or find out what lead tastes like. Your choice."
Or was it?
"Fuck off!" he stated, levelling the shotgun at her. When that didn't slow her pace noticeably, he realised she might be calling his bluff. From what he's seen, it would be believable that Danya would give someone a gun but no ammunition. Or he might have already used his ammo. Or not reloaded.
He shifted the weapon quickly, turning it to take hold of the barrel. The weight of it was very different this way, making it seem heavier due to his inability to hold it firmly. But he didn't consider that as he swung the shotgun like a club. "Stay the fuck off!" he shouted, a mash-up of 'stay the hell away' and 'fuck off'. He swung it several times even though he wasn't sure if he was trying to hit her or just keep that pipe out of his teeth.
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Getting priorities straight? What was she on abou -
Oh.
Janet looked at John Smith and his shotgun, standing quite clearly off a short distance from them.
Her thoughts on this? "Shit."
Her words of choice? "Oh shit!"
Her actions to take? Not quite shitting herself, but had she not taken care of business earlier the shock just might have done it.
This was definitely a crap situation.
In her moment of panic, Sophia had already began charging towards him, brandishing her lead pipe like a mad woman and shouting at him to drop the gun. "Is she nuts?!" Janet berated, looking at Sophia like she was the dumbest person on the planet? "Fuck, she's screwed!"
But even though it looked like a given at first, for some reason John had grabbed his shotgun like he was the one with a lead pipe instead of a deadly boomstick, swinging it wildly and screaming for her to back off. "Is -he- nuts?" she asked again, still standing on the spot amidst surprise, fear and confusion.
Nuts or not however, she was in a bad place right now. If that shotgun was loaded, Janet would be wide open when he was done painting the cliffs red with Sophia's crazy guts, whether he went for the other chick first or not (who must've been fucking nuts too; she was standing there waving!).
What could she do though? Run? Maybe. Stay and help? And get her pretty face shot up? No thanks. Do something? Anything? What?!
Fuck, she was stuck for ideas and stuck to the spot! For now, whilst she stood there begging for an idea of what to do, she could only watch the brawl and hope she didn't end up dead after they were done with each other.
Oh.
Janet looked at John Smith and his shotgun, standing quite clearly off a short distance from them.
Her thoughts on this? "Shit."
Her words of choice? "Oh shit!"
Her actions to take? Not quite shitting herself, but had she not taken care of business earlier the shock just might have done it.
This was definitely a crap situation.
In her moment of panic, Sophia had already began charging towards him, brandishing her lead pipe like a mad woman and shouting at him to drop the gun. "Is she nuts?!" Janet berated, looking at Sophia like she was the dumbest person on the planet? "Fuck, she's screwed!"
But even though it looked like a given at first, for some reason John had grabbed his shotgun like he was the one with a lead pipe instead of a deadly boomstick, swinging it wildly and screaming for her to back off. "Is -he- nuts?" she asked again, still standing on the spot amidst surprise, fear and confusion.
Nuts or not however, she was in a bad place right now. If that shotgun was loaded, Janet would be wide open when he was done painting the cliffs red with Sophia's crazy guts, whether he went for the other chick first or not (who must've been fucking nuts too; she was standing there waving!).
What could she do though? Run? Maybe. Stay and help? And get her pretty face shot up? No thanks. Do something? Anything? What?!
Fuck, she was stuck for ideas and stuck to the spot! For now, whilst she stood there begging for an idea of what to do, she could only watch the brawl and hope she didn't end up dead after they were done with each other.
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
"Drop that fucking gun or find out what lead tastes like. Your choice."
Oh...dear. Perhaps she's just an idiot after all. At least there's a warm body between me and that gun...Good choice, Vi, wearing red. Blood won't show up on red.
Those thoughts ran through his head in a deceptive calm, disguising his more pressing and more appropriate feelings of panic. Not particularly becoming in a lady, perhaps, but when there's a madman waving a gun at you, what are you supposed to do? Give him the fashion advice he so desperately needs? No. And this was no time for strategy, either. No one was listening. Best Vivien could do was play the helpless girl card, be the damsel in distress. He was pretty good at that. Of course, if Fatty John knew him (and who didn't?), if Fatty John was a homophobe...well. Then dear Vivien might be in a bit of trouble.
He subtly maneuvered himself to put Sofia between himself and that shotgun. John was freaking out, Janet seemed overcome by panic, the way he would be if he were a lesser competitor. Whatever, he was panicking too, but at least he could think enough to take himself (relatively) out of harm's way. His hand slipped inside his bag- to Sofia it would presumably look like a desperate attempt to secure his pathetic excuse for a weapon, and he did wrap his hand around the Venus de Milo, but his fingers brushed his gun. If this boy took a shot, he wouldn't have long to live after. Sofia might get shot, but hey, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Shame about his dress, though.
And- what was he doing now? Was he...was he holding the shotgun like a club? And Vivien had thought Sofia was an idiot. The only decent reason he could think of for a boy with a gun to hold it by the barrel was if said gun wasn't loaded, and if that was the case he had nothing to fear anyway. And if it was loaded, well, hopefully this boy would blow himself up by mistake.
I really did underestimate the stupidity of my classmates. Sigh. This is oh-so-pathetic. I really do need better allies.
He was about to say something- probably something understated yet pithy- when the loudspeaker crackled to life.
The voice wasn't Danya's. It was Mr. Kwong.
Vivien's wide eyes found the nearest speaker and he stared at it as the voice of his old math teacher came out. He was searching for answers, and he found them- some girl, Liz Polanski (who?) had messed with her collar. They were being offered a reward in return for killing her. And if other people tried to interfere with their collar, others would be killed. Including, possibly, Mr. Kwong.
Vivien didn't even recognize the name. Clearly this girl was outside of his social circle...outside of any social circle, really. Clearly she wasn't anyone he cared about.
Or anyone he minded killing. Getting a weapon, a real, powerful weapon...that sounded nice. Vivien would be happy with that.
But back to matters at hand. The boy swinging his shotgun around like a lunatic, the girl screaming at him to drop his gun, the other girl shocked into silence- Vivien realized that there was really nothing to say. If anyone got hurt here, it wasn't going to be him.
He'd mind his own business. Make a move when the time was right.
And if one of these two took out the other, well...
One down.
Oh...dear. Perhaps she's just an idiot after all. At least there's a warm body between me and that gun...Good choice, Vi, wearing red. Blood won't show up on red.
Those thoughts ran through his head in a deceptive calm, disguising his more pressing and more appropriate feelings of panic. Not particularly becoming in a lady, perhaps, but when there's a madman waving a gun at you, what are you supposed to do? Give him the fashion advice he so desperately needs? No. And this was no time for strategy, either. No one was listening. Best Vivien could do was play the helpless girl card, be the damsel in distress. He was pretty good at that. Of course, if Fatty John knew him (and who didn't?), if Fatty John was a homophobe...well. Then dear Vivien might be in a bit of trouble.
He subtly maneuvered himself to put Sofia between himself and that shotgun. John was freaking out, Janet seemed overcome by panic, the way he would be if he were a lesser competitor. Whatever, he was panicking too, but at least he could think enough to take himself (relatively) out of harm's way. His hand slipped inside his bag- to Sofia it would presumably look like a desperate attempt to secure his pathetic excuse for a weapon, and he did wrap his hand around the Venus de Milo, but his fingers brushed his gun. If this boy took a shot, he wouldn't have long to live after. Sofia might get shot, but hey, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Shame about his dress, though.
And- what was he doing now? Was he...was he holding the shotgun like a club? And Vivien had thought Sofia was an idiot. The only decent reason he could think of for a boy with a gun to hold it by the barrel was if said gun wasn't loaded, and if that was the case he had nothing to fear anyway. And if it was loaded, well, hopefully this boy would blow himself up by mistake.
I really did underestimate the stupidity of my classmates. Sigh. This is oh-so-pathetic. I really do need better allies.
He was about to say something- probably something understated yet pithy- when the loudspeaker crackled to life.
The voice wasn't Danya's. It was Mr. Kwong.
Vivien's wide eyes found the nearest speaker and he stared at it as the voice of his old math teacher came out. He was searching for answers, and he found them- some girl, Liz Polanski (who?) had messed with her collar. They were being offered a reward in return for killing her. And if other people tried to interfere with their collar, others would be killed. Including, possibly, Mr. Kwong.
Vivien didn't even recognize the name. Clearly this girl was outside of his social circle...outside of any social circle, really. Clearly she wasn't anyone he cared about.
Or anyone he minded killing. Getting a weapon, a real, powerful weapon...that sounded nice. Vivien would be happy with that.
But back to matters at hand. The boy swinging his shotgun around like a lunatic, the girl screaming at him to drop his gun, the other girl shocked into silence- Vivien realized that there was really nothing to say. If anyone got hurt here, it wasn't going to be him.
He'd mind his own business. Make a move when the time was right.
And if one of these two took out the other, well...
One down.
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[So sorry for the delay. Holidays, writer's block and the such came up.]
Swing after swing, John tried to keep Sofia at bay and keep her from using that lead pipe to teach him a few lessons about bringing a gun to a club fight. An unloaded gun at that, which meant that Sofia's incredibly risky game of chance had actually paid off and she wasn't going to have any part of her head blown off any time soon. Well, hopefully. She could still end up with a nasty headache if that thing hit her, but she just had to make sure that didn't happen. So every time John swung the shotgun at her, she backed away, trying to avoid the unwieldy club he was swinging without putting so much room between them that he would have time to grab any ammunition from his bag.
Oh course, it would have been nice if Vivien and Janet had helped out a little. Ungrateful bastards.
There were a couple close calls, but for every time he came close to striking her, she lashed out with her own weapon; one swing was a little wide and another came up just short, but she never stopped swinging. Even when the loudspeakers crackled to life with a familiar voice, she didn't let up. There was no time to focus on the short announcement, no time to listen to Kwong read off Danya's proposal. If she took her focus off of John for even a second, it may be the end of her. She wasn't about to let that happen. Not now, not ever. John was nothing but an obstacle and she knew exactly how to handle such a large obstacle.
Break it down.
"Stupid fat fuck!"
Probably not the best mid-combat statement, but it was a welcome break from the relative silence she was held in for the majority of the fight so far. But at least she had the advantage; swinging heavy objects might as well be her forte and the lead pipe her favorite instrument next to a wrench. But John? John was struggling to hold the shotgun firm enough to actually keep hold of it once he made contact with one of his swings. Janet and Vivien may have thought she was nuts to charge the shotgun toting boy but all she needed was one golden opportunity to take that weapon away from him. One little opening to strike and that weapon would be hers.
Her gamble may pay off in the end, but really... why did she take such a huge risk?
She didn't know the gun wasn't loaded. She couldn't have known. Yet she still charged at John the moment she weighed her options. Leap to her death or stare it down, those were the choices. Maybe she really did want for it all to end.
No! Not yet. Not until I make him pay. Then and only then will I let this end... but not yet!
Another swing came from John, but this time, she wouldn't just move out of the way. No, this time she'd grab opportunity by the short hairs and make it hers. She didn't move, she didn't try to dodge, all she did was brace herself against the blow.
The weapon came toward her left side.
With a thud and a gasp from Sofia, it made contact... but she clamped her arm down on the shotgun. She grabbed it and wrapped her arm around it as tight as she could. Holding on for dear life, she took the opportunity when it came.
"You're mine!"
This was her chance. Pipe in hand high above and ready to strike, she brought the weapon down. Her target? John's forearm.
Oh how she waited for the sound of breaking bones.
Swing after swing, John tried to keep Sofia at bay and keep her from using that lead pipe to teach him a few lessons about bringing a gun to a club fight. An unloaded gun at that, which meant that Sofia's incredibly risky game of chance had actually paid off and she wasn't going to have any part of her head blown off any time soon. Well, hopefully. She could still end up with a nasty headache if that thing hit her, but she just had to make sure that didn't happen. So every time John swung the shotgun at her, she backed away, trying to avoid the unwieldy club he was swinging without putting so much room between them that he would have time to grab any ammunition from his bag.
Oh course, it would have been nice if Vivien and Janet had helped out a little. Ungrateful bastards.
There were a couple close calls, but for every time he came close to striking her, she lashed out with her own weapon; one swing was a little wide and another came up just short, but she never stopped swinging. Even when the loudspeakers crackled to life with a familiar voice, she didn't let up. There was no time to focus on the short announcement, no time to listen to Kwong read off Danya's proposal. If she took her focus off of John for even a second, it may be the end of her. She wasn't about to let that happen. Not now, not ever. John was nothing but an obstacle and she knew exactly how to handle such a large obstacle.
Break it down.
"Stupid fat fuck!"
Probably not the best mid-combat statement, but it was a welcome break from the relative silence she was held in for the majority of the fight so far. But at least she had the advantage; swinging heavy objects might as well be her forte and the lead pipe her favorite instrument next to a wrench. But John? John was struggling to hold the shotgun firm enough to actually keep hold of it once he made contact with one of his swings. Janet and Vivien may have thought she was nuts to charge the shotgun toting boy but all she needed was one golden opportunity to take that weapon away from him. One little opening to strike and that weapon would be hers.
Her gamble may pay off in the end, but really... why did she take such a huge risk?
She didn't know the gun wasn't loaded. She couldn't have known. Yet she still charged at John the moment she weighed her options. Leap to her death or stare it down, those were the choices. Maybe she really did want for it all to end.
No! Not yet. Not until I make him pay. Then and only then will I let this end... but not yet!
Another swing came from John, but this time, she wouldn't just move out of the way. No, this time she'd grab opportunity by the short hairs and make it hers. She didn't move, she didn't try to dodge, all she did was brace herself against the blow.
The weapon came toward her left side.
With a thud and a gasp from Sofia, it made contact... but she clamped her arm down on the shotgun. She grabbed it and wrapped her arm around it as tight as she could. Holding on for dear life, she took the opportunity when it came.
"You're mine!"
This was her chance. Pipe in hand high above and ready to strike, she brought the weapon down. Her target? John's forearm.
Oh how she waited for the sound of breaking bones.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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Acelister†
- Posts: 245
- Joined: Tue Sep 04, 2018 4:04 am
John could feel that he was freaking out. This girl looked psychotic! Stood there, dodging his ill-timed, ill-aimed swings in silence. Despite the lack of speech, he didn't try to hear the announcement that barked into life.
"Stupid fat fuck!"
Oh, THAT was better than silence... What, she wanted to get a rise from him? As if she was the first person to throw that insult at him. But at least this was keeping that lead pipe away from him. So long as she didn't get any closer to him, he'd have to keep swinging this shotgun. Hopefully not hitting her, but who knew what might happen.
'WHACK'
John's eyes widened and his jaw dropped - he hit her. He couldn't move to take the gun away, words of apology froze in his throat. Guilt welled up, momentarily blinding him to the fact that dreaded lead pipe was raised in the air, then flying towards him.
"You're mine!"
'CRACK'
John let out a scream of pain as metal met flesh - then bone.
"My arm!" he cried, the shotgun dropping from his grip as he grabbed his now-certainly fractured left forearm. Tears stung his eyes and began to stream down his face as a patch of blood began to grow on his sleeve. It wasn't a lot or fast, but the pain was clearly not just from a broken bone. John clung to the injured body-part, a look of horror on his face. He didn't even see the other three anymore, pain clouding his vision and his mind.
"Stupid fat fuck!"
Oh, THAT was better than silence... What, she wanted to get a rise from him? As if she was the first person to throw that insult at him. But at least this was keeping that lead pipe away from him. So long as she didn't get any closer to him, he'd have to keep swinging this shotgun. Hopefully not hitting her, but who knew what might happen.
'WHACK'
John's eyes widened and his jaw dropped - he hit her. He couldn't move to take the gun away, words of apology froze in his throat. Guilt welled up, momentarily blinding him to the fact that dreaded lead pipe was raised in the air, then flying towards him.
"You're mine!"
'CRACK'
John let out a scream of pain as metal met flesh - then bone.
"My arm!" he cried, the shotgun dropping from his grip as he grabbed his now-certainly fractured left forearm. Tears stung his eyes and began to stream down his face as a patch of blood began to grow on his sleeve. It wasn't a lot or fast, but the pain was clearly not just from a broken bone. John clung to the injured body-part, a look of horror on his face. He didn't even see the other three anymore, pain clouding his vision and his mind.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Acelister. 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.