Peter had just wanted to take a little more time to read his new gun's manual. Well, maybe he didn't want to actually walk back into that church just yet. Not until he'd done something to make up for Jackie.
He hadn't meant to kill her. He didn't even know how he'd managed to do that. The gun hadn't even been pointed close enough to hit her. But regardless of what Peter knew, that wasn't what everyone else knew. Everyone else knew he was the killer, and that would make it harder for people to trust him.
Hell, he was surprised that Brendan hadn't run off earlier when the morning's announcements had gone off.
So he spent his time leafing through the manual. There was a lot of interesting information about its specifications, as well as some fairly detailed diagrams of how the gun actually worked. There was a good chunk devoted to gun safety too, which Peter read carefully; he didn't want a repeat of what had happened to Stephen or to Jackie. So he took the time to educate himself about-
Shouts. The clang of metal impacting something solid. A gunshot.
Peter didn't know which of those had actually woken him from his intent reading. He didn't want to think about which one because it would mean that he hadn't been paying attention for the others. He looked around, trying to figure out where the sounds were coming from.
Wasting time.
Of course it was coming from inside. From where Brendan had just gone a few minutes.
Fuck.
In a flash, Peter had snapped his new gun from its harness on his backpack and rushed through the church doors. It was another bloody tableau all over again. Anna Chase, wielding quite the hefty shovel and yelling at the other girl to get the fuck out. The other girl was Kitty Gitschall. Peter only knew of her, but never had any classes with her. Nothing special about her seemed to stand out from his memories. Which generally meant there wasn't much to worry about.
Except Survival of the Fittest changes things. Like adding that gun in her hand. Or that the blood on that baseball bat.
Blood that was also splattered on the ground around Brendan, curled up on the ground.
Who was he kidding? He couldn't protect anyone. He'd failed again. Every single fucking time.
"What the fuck did you do, bitch?"
The only thing left to do was to pay her back for her troubles. She'd fucking deserve it too- if Brendan was actually dead instead of twitching feebly... which meant Brendan was at least alive. Which meant that pumping Kitty full of lead might not be the most just thing to do at the moment.
But maybe a bullet in her leg....
Still, Peter had his gun trained on Kitty. She had a gun, after all. "Actually, scratch that. I can figure it out. And I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, since Brendan's still kicking." Peter tried to flash a reassuring smile at Anna, but he still needed to keep his eye on Kitty. "So here's how it goes: get the fuck out and I don't shoot you; stick around and I will. And don't think I won't if it means I can save his life."
Kitty eyed Peter, then flicked her gaze to Anna and Brendan, and then back to Peter. Or more precisely, at Peter's gun. Her mouth opened in an attempt to protest or reason, but Peter beat her to the punch. "I don't give a flying fuck about whys or any other bullshit that you're going to say. Just get the fuck out. Now." Her face twisted into a scowl of sorts, and then she quickly backpedaled out the side door of the church.
The instant Kitty exited his line of sight, Peter was on the ground and propping Brendan up to rest against a pew. "Brendan?" Peter asked, voice tinged with worry. His hands ran their practiced routine of checking for injuries. He could feel tender spots in far too many places. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his legs, his face. There was blood too, but Peter couldn't find any gunshot wounds. That was good. Well, as good as it could be after being beat into bloody pulp. Brendan would survive though.
"Jesus, she fucked you up real bad. Sit still for a minute. I'm gonna try to do, well, something. God, you're really helpless some-" Brendan gurgled something out, but he seemed hazy from the beating. "What?" Peter asked, praying that Brendan hadn't gotten hit too hard in the head. That would screw up all his diagnoses.
Brendan tried again, and this time coherent words came out, although in broken statements. That wasn't good either, but his words themselves lent new hope. Getting the collars off. Getting off the island. It was a dream come true. But when had...?
Right. It was when he'd heard that gunshot or whatever. The loud voices weren't just coming from inside the church. They had offered an escape from the island. A chance to get home alive without any more killing.
Except for the killers.
Would they take Brendan? It had just been an accident, but some people were sticklers for rules. Peter was a killer too. Would they take him, too? There had been blood spilt, but it had been for a good cause. Maybe they'd understand.
But that would be running. Peter had already made his decision a long time ago.
He could still save someone else though. Anna deserved to get off. She hadn't killed anyone yet. At least, he could help her get to the beach. He wasn't leaving Brendan behind either. "Alright then, big guy. Let's get moving. I got you, so just lean on me." Peter looked at Anna and tilted his head to the door.
"Let's go home."
((Peter Siu, Brendan Wallace, and Anna Chase continued in The Cavalry Arrives))
Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!
Open! Come and play!
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solomir. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
...
Kitty could have shot her.
She was no gunslinger. Hell, she had never shot a gun before in her entire life. But if she were destructive enough, she could have pulled her gun out and fired. At least one bullet would have hit her. It was ungraceful, sure, but fuck it. Kitty had a gun now. Fuck everyone else.
Instead, she tried to run. It was an incredibly stupid idea. Kitty should have been reckless. Now Chase had the upper hand, and she could easily knock Kitty down before Kitty could shoot her. Kitty rose to her feet, her hand still holding the gun.
Take a step back. Turn around. Shoot Chase. It was a lame plan, but at least it would get Chase off her back. Then she could get Brendan off her back, and right there the remaining people she had to deal with would be down by two. Or maybe she could beat Brendan's head in. That would save her a bullet. She would have to conserve after all. Couldn't go shooting bullets into every bleeding man on the floor.
Then he had to appear.
She didn't notice him at first. There was a voice though, one that she had mistakenly thought was Chase's. Her brain processed for a minute. She turned her head towards the doorway.
She knew of Peter Siu. She also heard his name over the announcements. Kitty had been under the impression that he was playing, so the fact that the boy had his gun trained on her was no surprise. The things he was saying surprised her plenty more. He wanted to know why?! She didn't owe him an explanation, so he was only wasting his breath. He backpedaled after he asked that. He looked like he was trying to hold his anger back, and Kitty couldn't comprehend why. Was this little groveling rat his friend? Didn't he understand that having friends was a bad idea in a place like this?! He should understand that, he destroyed enough people's lives to have had the idea drilled into his skull.
He gave her the option of leaving. Just like that.
"..." She turned her head to Chase, back to Peter. She thought.
She could take both of them down. She could make a name for herself, kill four people in the span of a day, one of which being an active player. She could even win an award! It was a stupid dream though. More likely she would be the one spilling the blood. If she shot at Peter, she could miss completely. Even if she did manage to hit him, she would be giving Chase an opening to run over and beat her with a shovel. If she shot at Chase, it would give Peter enough time to shoot her. So unless luck was on her side, this was a lose/lose situation. Peter was offering her a second choice, and while it did nothing to further her in this game... well, at least she would still be alive.
So it was decided.
She didn't say anything. She took an awkward step back, out of the pew. She picked up the bloodstained bat and slipped it back into her back. Kitty stared at Peter.
Kitty scoffed. A slight mix between a sneer and a smirk crossed her lips.
Oh Peter. She was so wrong about you.
She opened her mouth to say that, exactly, but closed it just as quickly. She didn't waste any time in going out the side door.
Well. That could have gone better. She rubbed her sore back. Her arm stung. All the same, she had a gun. She had the boy's bag. She had an edge. If she could stay in the shadows and play it smart, she could win.
You know the old saying. To make an omelet, you'd have to break a few eggs. To make it out alive, you'd have to break a few kids.
She could hear the voice protesting. Like before, it told her that she was wrong. And like before, she ignored it.
(Kitty Gittschall continued in Deep Warm Drunk)
Kitty could have shot her.
She was no gunslinger. Hell, she had never shot a gun before in her entire life. But if she were destructive enough, she could have pulled her gun out and fired. At least one bullet would have hit her. It was ungraceful, sure, but fuck it. Kitty had a gun now. Fuck everyone else.
Instead, she tried to run. It was an incredibly stupid idea. Kitty should have been reckless. Now Chase had the upper hand, and she could easily knock Kitty down before Kitty could shoot her. Kitty rose to her feet, her hand still holding the gun.
Take a step back. Turn around. Shoot Chase. It was a lame plan, but at least it would get Chase off her back. Then she could get Brendan off her back, and right there the remaining people she had to deal with would be down by two. Or maybe she could beat Brendan's head in. That would save her a bullet. She would have to conserve after all. Couldn't go shooting bullets into every bleeding man on the floor.
Then he had to appear.
She didn't notice him at first. There was a voice though, one that she had mistakenly thought was Chase's. Her brain processed for a minute. She turned her head towards the doorway.
She knew of Peter Siu. She also heard his name over the announcements. Kitty had been under the impression that he was playing, so the fact that the boy had his gun trained on her was no surprise. The things he was saying surprised her plenty more. He wanted to know why?! She didn't owe him an explanation, so he was only wasting his breath. He backpedaled after he asked that. He looked like he was trying to hold his anger back, and Kitty couldn't comprehend why. Was this little groveling rat his friend? Didn't he understand that having friends was a bad idea in a place like this?! He should understand that, he destroyed enough people's lives to have had the idea drilled into his skull.
He gave her the option of leaving. Just like that.
"..." She turned her head to Chase, back to Peter. She thought.
She could take both of them down. She could make a name for herself, kill four people in the span of a day, one of which being an active player. She could even win an award! It was a stupid dream though. More likely she would be the one spilling the blood. If she shot at Peter, she could miss completely. Even if she did manage to hit him, she would be giving Chase an opening to run over and beat her with a shovel. If she shot at Chase, it would give Peter enough time to shoot her. So unless luck was on her side, this was a lose/lose situation. Peter was offering her a second choice, and while it did nothing to further her in this game... well, at least she would still be alive.
So it was decided.
She didn't say anything. She took an awkward step back, out of the pew. She picked up the bloodstained bat and slipped it back into her back. Kitty stared at Peter.
Kitty scoffed. A slight mix between a sneer and a smirk crossed her lips.
Oh Peter. She was so wrong about you.
She opened her mouth to say that, exactly, but closed it just as quickly. She didn't waste any time in going out the side door.
Well. That could have gone better. She rubbed her sore back. Her arm stung. All the same, she had a gun. She had the boy's bag. She had an edge. If she could stay in the shadows and play it smart, she could win.
You know the old saying. To make an omelet, you'd have to break a few eggs. To make it out alive, you'd have to break a few kids.
She could hear the voice protesting. Like before, it told her that she was wrong. And like before, she ignored it.
(Kitty Gittschall continued in Deep Warm Drunk)
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