He had an automatic shotgun.
He had an automatic shotgun.
He had an automatic shotgun.
He had a fucking automatic shotgun.
((B019: Michael Mitchellson, start.))
Even without hearing Danya's speech, it hadn't been hard for Michael to understand the situation he was in. Class of kids abducted on a school trip? Teacher executed right in front of them? (Michael shifted uncomfortably, trying not to think of the blood, of the corpse slumping over in its chair.) A fucking collar around his neck? This was it. Survival of the Fittest wasn't as over as the president had claimed. Motherfucker wouldn't be getting Michael's vote come election season, that was for sure.
Michael was alone, from what he could tell. Not that he'd be able to tell if anything, be it fellow student or velociraptor was sneaking up on him through the shoulder-high wheat, which seemed to extend forever in every direction, swaying gently in the breeze. It almost felt like he was the last being left alive in the world, an impression only furthered by the rusted farm equipment, laying abandoned.
He wasn't, of course. Wherever the hell Michael was, the rest of his class was trapped with him. Kill or get blown the fuck up for being boring. As nice as it would be to think otherwise, sooner or later people would start killing. He couldn't be caught alone when that happened. All it'd take was one desperate guy to get behind him, and boom. One less stylish badass in the world.
Who could be trusted? Daniel, of course. Rachael. Garett. The rest of the book club. As Michael barely knew most of his classmates, that was pretty much it. Of course, if he didn't find Daniel he was fucked, anyway. Not only had the terrorists confiscated his iPhone, they'd taken his handy pad of paper and pencil, too! The nerve! What the hell did they expect Michael to do, interpretive breakdancing? Diplomatically showing his displeasure with the situation by kicking the smug bastards right in their fucking faces? He didn't really have many options, here.
The gun would help, at least. It was heavy in his hands, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. All it would take was one pull of the trigger to end a life. Not that Michael planned on shooting anybody, of course. All he had to do was intimidate people. Point this beauty in their face, ain't no way they're gonna mess with a man wearing such a kickass hat as himself, no sir.
The gun had been loaded when Michael had found it lying next to his bag. Even if he wasn't going to hurt anybody, it'd still be a shame to miss a chance to try out such a kickass gun. Michael aimed at the ground about five feet away from him. Bracing himself, he pulled the trigger and was promptly knocked on his ass.
Agh, the recoil on this thing is a bitch!
It dawned on Michael that, perhaps, he hasn't quite thought this whole thing though. Unless he had in his possession the fabled silenced automatic shotgun, he'd just announced his presence to everyone in the immediate area. Climbing to his feet, Michael placed his hat (which had been knocked off) firmly back on top of his head, scanning the area for any movement.
The Heavy Weapons Guy
Open.
((Timothy Abrams V5 Start))
Timothy adjusted the straps of the gas canisters on his shoulders as he pushed his way through the wheat. His back ached. Why'd they have to make the backpack for this thing so damn heavy? He got that it was supposed to be a life-like replica, but still... He still wasn't even sure why he hadn't ditched it as soon as he had woken up. It's not like he could swing it hard enough to use defensively. The logical side of Timothy urged him to drop it now and try to find a nice place to hide. However, the military history buff in him just wouldn't stand to see such a well-crafted replica flamethrower just get thrown by the wayside. He stopped for a moment, resting while he tried to come to a decision.
The history buff won the argument. Timothy groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, setting again off into the vast field of yellow. Of all the places he could have ended up, why here? They were on their way to Disneyland for God's sake! They were supposed to be having fun, like kids are supposed to. It went without saying that killing did not fall into that category. As he griped, the floodgates of emotion opened up, the impact of the previous few hours hitting him again all at once. He tried to hold back his tears as he remembered Mr. Davidge's fate. He was far from Timothy's favourite teacher, but...nobody deserves that kind of treatment. These thoughts swirled around and around in Timothy's head before being distracted by a loud bang.
A gunshot.
Timothy looked around, desperately trying to find the source of the noise. His sight eventually landed on a hat wearing boy a few feet away. Timothy strained to get a closer look. It was Michael from the book club! He ran towards him excitedly, almost tripping on a rather large rock. He gave a yelp of pain as he stopped, his stubbed toe throbbing. He was about to yell a greeting toward Michael before he remembered the boy's condition. Feeling stupid, Timothy continued toward the boy, hoping that he had some form of writing materials with him in order to communicate with. It was good to see at least one friendly face here.
Timothy adjusted the straps of the gas canisters on his shoulders as he pushed his way through the wheat. His back ached. Why'd they have to make the backpack for this thing so damn heavy? He got that it was supposed to be a life-like replica, but still... He still wasn't even sure why he hadn't ditched it as soon as he had woken up. It's not like he could swing it hard enough to use defensively. The logical side of Timothy urged him to drop it now and try to find a nice place to hide. However, the military history buff in him just wouldn't stand to see such a well-crafted replica flamethrower just get thrown by the wayside. He stopped for a moment, resting while he tried to come to a decision.
The history buff won the argument. Timothy groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, setting again off into the vast field of yellow. Of all the places he could have ended up, why here? They were on their way to Disneyland for God's sake! They were supposed to be having fun, like kids are supposed to. It went without saying that killing did not fall into that category. As he griped, the floodgates of emotion opened up, the impact of the previous few hours hitting him again all at once. He tried to hold back his tears as he remembered Mr. Davidge's fate. He was far from Timothy's favourite teacher, but...nobody deserves that kind of treatment. These thoughts swirled around and around in Timothy's head before being distracted by a loud bang.
A gunshot.
Timothy looked around, desperately trying to find the source of the noise. His sight eventually landed on a hat wearing boy a few feet away. Timothy strained to get a closer look. It was Michael from the book club! He ran towards him excitedly, almost tripping on a rather large rock. He gave a yelp of pain as he stopped, his stubbed toe throbbing. He was about to yell a greeting toward Michael before he remembered the boy's condition. Feeling stupid, Timothy continued toward the boy, hoping that he had some form of writing materials with him in order to communicate with. It was good to see at least one friendly face here.
Oh, hey, Tim! This is great- holy shit he has a fucking flamethrower what the actual christ.
Michael flinched, before realizing that he probably wasn't about to get torched to death, especially as Tim seemed pretty excited to see him. It was nice to have friends. Michael casually placed his (fucking) automatic shotgun on the ground, then waved and shot Tim a thumbs up.
Brothers in arms! We are truly the motherfucking destructive forces dudes!
Adjusting his hat idly, Michael shifted awkwardly. No phone, no paper, no translator, final fuckin' destination. This was going to be a hard time, he could already tell. He didn't even know how to breakdance, let alone in an interpretive fashion.
Goddammit, Daniel, where are you when I need you, man?
It was weird, being on his own. Since he was a kid, Daniel had always been there for him, and even when they were apart there was still text messaging. For the first time in a very long time, Michael was truly alone, taking him back to the days where he was a lonely, friendless child with no one to talk to except his family. Even though Tim was right in front of him, Michael had no real way to communicate with him.
...Is a piece of fucking paper too much to ask for, you murderous bastards? I don't even need a pencil, I'll use a fucking stick if I have to, but c'mon, you can't just leave me like this, you motherfuckers!
They could, though, and Michael hated it.
Michael flinched, before realizing that he probably wasn't about to get torched to death, especially as Tim seemed pretty excited to see him. It was nice to have friends. Michael casually placed his (fucking) automatic shotgun on the ground, then waved and shot Tim a thumbs up.
Brothers in arms! We are truly the motherfucking destructive forces dudes!
Adjusting his hat idly, Michael shifted awkwardly. No phone, no paper, no translator, final fuckin' destination. This was going to be a hard time, he could already tell. He didn't even know how to breakdance, let alone in an interpretive fashion.
Goddammit, Daniel, where are you when I need you, man?
It was weird, being on his own. Since he was a kid, Daniel had always been there for him, and even when they were apart there was still text messaging. For the first time in a very long time, Michael was truly alone, taking him back to the days where he was a lonely, friendless child with no one to talk to except his family. Even though Tim was right in front of him, Michael had no real way to communicate with him.
...Is a piece of fucking paper too much to ask for, you murderous bastards? I don't even need a pencil, I'll use a fucking stick if I have to, but c'mon, you can't just leave me like this, you motherfuckers!
They could, though, and Michael hated it.
A thumbs up. That was a good sign. Timothy smiled as he returned Michael's gesture. It was good to find at least one person he could trust on this god-forsaken island. Maybe there was hope after all for them. People got rescued last time, didn't they. As long they stuck together, they could probably outlast the few crazy ones until the cavalry arrived.
He walked forward gingerly as Michael was putting down a wicked looking gun of some sort. Timothy regarded it with admiration. That gun wouldn't look out of place in the hands of a space marine or imperial guardsman. No scratch that, the Imperium of Man would never waste such a nice piece of kit on a guardsman. All they need is a cardboard bodysuit and a flashlight and they're battle ready.
What was he thinking about again? Oh yeah. In different circumstances, Tim would've been one of the first to congratulate Mike on his acquisition. He could bet that Michael probably wasn't feeling very lucky at the moment. The dull ache in his foot subsided as he pushed wheat out of his way with the gun attachment of the flamethrower.
As he made his way to where Michael was standing, Timothy loosened the straps on his backpack and set it on the ground. Hopefully they'd be able to rest for a bit before they headed off. It would probably be best to make a few plans before setting off into the great unknown, anyway.
The best course of action would probably be to find Daniel, since he was the only one who was able to reliably communicate with Michael through sign language. When he had first joined the book club and met Michael, Timothy had gone to the library and checked out a few books on sign language. Now he really regretted not putting in the time to study it, as the most he could remember were a few rudimentary signs. He turned to Michael and mimicked the motion of writing with his hands. Hopefully they'd be able to communicate that way for the time being.
He walked forward gingerly as Michael was putting down a wicked looking gun of some sort. Timothy regarded it with admiration. That gun wouldn't look out of place in the hands of a space marine or imperial guardsman. No scratch that, the Imperium of Man would never waste such a nice piece of kit on a guardsman. All they need is a cardboard bodysuit and a flashlight and they're battle ready.
What was he thinking about again? Oh yeah. In different circumstances, Tim would've been one of the first to congratulate Mike on his acquisition. He could bet that Michael probably wasn't feeling very lucky at the moment. The dull ache in his foot subsided as he pushed wheat out of his way with the gun attachment of the flamethrower.
As he made his way to where Michael was standing, Timothy loosened the straps on his backpack and set it on the ground. Hopefully they'd be able to rest for a bit before they headed off. It would probably be best to make a few plans before setting off into the great unknown, anyway.
The best course of action would probably be to find Daniel, since he was the only one who was able to reliably communicate with Michael through sign language. When he had first joined the book club and met Michael, Timothy had gone to the library and checked out a few books on sign language. Now he really regretted not putting in the time to study it, as the most he could remember were a few rudimentary signs. He turned to Michael and mimicked the motion of writing with his hands. Hopefully they'd be able to communicate that way for the time being.
Frowning, Michael shook his head at Tim's gesture, then shrugged. Dude apparently hadn't noticed that all the paper had been taken from their belongings. Unless he planned on setting the field on fucking fire and using smoke signals or some shit, Michael doubted Tim had any better way to communicate.
Dammit. Alright, think, Michael. How do you express "THIS IS FUCKING BULLSHIT" via pantomime?
Frustrated, Michael spun around and flipped off an arbitrary patch of wheat. Hopefully there was a camera hiding somewhere in there so the terrorists could catch a tiny, tiny glimpse of the pure and utter rage boiling within Michael's skin like hell's coffee or some shit, he didn't even know, metaphors were hard.
Turning back to face Tim, Michael awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. As glad as he was to see a friendly face, it wasn't much of a comfort when they couldn't even reliably communicate.
Dammit. Alright, think, Michael. How do you express "THIS IS FUCKING BULLSHIT" via pantomime?
Frustrated, Michael spun around and flipped off an arbitrary patch of wheat. Hopefully there was a camera hiding somewhere in there so the terrorists could catch a tiny, tiny glimpse of the pure and utter rage boiling within Michael's skin like hell's coffee or some shit, he didn't even know, metaphors were hard.
Turning back to face Tim, Michael awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. As glad as he was to see a friendly face, it wasn't much of a comfort when they couldn't even reliably communicate.
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
((Corey Esposito continued from Rabbit Heart.))
Of course, the barn was surrounded by wheat. Lots and lots of wheat. So if they wanted to get out of the area, they'd have to go through that field large field of wheat.
Fuckin' wheat.
He turned to Rachael. "Looks like we're going to have to scour the wheat."
That's when he heard the loud blast.
Holy shit!
"Stay behind me," he whispered in Rachael's direction.
Then he parted the wall of wheat and made his way through, keeping the top of the wheat at eye level.
It wasn't long before he saw two people, standing in a small clearing several feet ahead. He recognized them both, Michael and Timothy. Neither of which he knew intimately well. Complicating matters, of course, was the fact that both of them had large weapons, and Corey didn't particularly feel like being on the wrong end of those.
"Any ideas?" he whispered to Rachael.
Of course, the barn was surrounded by wheat. Lots and lots of wheat. So if they wanted to get out of the area, they'd have to go through that field large field of wheat.
Fuckin' wheat.
He turned to Rachael. "Looks like we're going to have to scour the wheat."
That's when he heard the loud blast.
Holy shit!
"Stay behind me," he whispered in Rachael's direction.
Then he parted the wall of wheat and made his way through, keeping the top of the wheat at eye level.
It wasn't long before he saw two people, standing in a small clearing several feet ahead. He recognized them both, Michael and Timothy. Neither of which he knew intimately well. Complicating matters, of course, was the fact that both of them had large weapons, and Corey didn't particularly feel like being on the wrong end of those.
"Any ideas?" he whispered to Rachael.
((Rachael Langdon continued from Rabbit Heart))
Rachael followed Corey out of the barn and stayed close to him. She tried brushing some of the straws of hay off her blouse and skirt as she walked. She knew she'd probably have to spend longer getting some out of her hair, but she could do that when she had a safe moment to brush her hair.
They soon found themselves walking through a large field of wheat. The wheat was pretty thick, making it slightly difficult for her to walk through. She figured she'd be able to do it. The high wheat could also provide enough of a cover if needed.
From the sound of the loud bang, she realized cover might be more needed than originally thought.
Corey instructed Rachael to stay behind him. Instinctively, she crouched low and followed him through the wheat. She bit her lip and tried to slow her breathing down. If they were in danger just after leaving the barn, they might need to get away quietly.
Corey then found two people in the field, presumably the cause of the loud sound. He asked if she had any ideas. Rachael looked past Corey and saw the two boys in the field. She immediately recognized the fedora of one boy and the glasses of the other. Michael and Tim, two of her good friends from Book Club. Rachael smiled.
"It's alright," she whispered to Corey, "I know these guys. I'll try to talk to them."
Rachael stood completely up from the wheat, raising her arms up. She moved a bit closer to the two boys.
"Tim!" she called out, knowing Michael wouldn't hear her. "It's Rachael! Hello!"
She smiled at the boy and waved. She couldn't believe she was already finding some of her friends from school. It was a miracle.
Rachael followed Corey out of the barn and stayed close to him. She tried brushing some of the straws of hay off her blouse and skirt as she walked. She knew she'd probably have to spend longer getting some out of her hair, but she could do that when she had a safe moment to brush her hair.
They soon found themselves walking through a large field of wheat. The wheat was pretty thick, making it slightly difficult for her to walk through. She figured she'd be able to do it. The high wheat could also provide enough of a cover if needed.
From the sound of the loud bang, she realized cover might be more needed than originally thought.
Corey instructed Rachael to stay behind him. Instinctively, she crouched low and followed him through the wheat. She bit her lip and tried to slow her breathing down. If they were in danger just after leaving the barn, they might need to get away quietly.
Corey then found two people in the field, presumably the cause of the loud sound. He asked if she had any ideas. Rachael looked past Corey and saw the two boys in the field. She immediately recognized the fedora of one boy and the glasses of the other. Michael and Tim, two of her good friends from Book Club. Rachael smiled.
"It's alright," she whispered to Corey, "I know these guys. I'll try to talk to them."
Rachael stood completely up from the wheat, raising her arms up. She moved a bit closer to the two boys.
"Tim!" she called out, knowing Michael wouldn't hear her. "It's Rachael! Hello!"
She smiled at the boy and waved. She couldn't believe she was already finding some of her friends from school. It was a miracle.
Yes! More book club people. Timothy smiled as he turned towards the familiar voice. Things were finally looking up. He tapped Michael on the shoulder to notify him of this new development. Hopefully the group would be able to find some way to communicate effectively until they found Daniel.
With a groan of exertion, Timothy lifted the flamethrower's backpack onto his shoulders and set off toward the newcomers. To be honest, standing exposed in the middle of this field was making him rather uncomfortable. Anyway, there was safety in numbers, right? Luckily for his feet, there were no rocks to trip over this time.
He ignored the tickling of the wheat against his chin as he reached Rachael and her friend. He had a few classes with Corey, but they hadn't spoken much. Still, if he was with Rachael, he had to be alright. Timothy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Rachael! You have no idea how glad I am to see you. And, uh, hi Corey, nice to see you too."
He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for their reply. As he did, he remembered another thing to ask.
"Have either of you seen Daniel?"
With a groan of exertion, Timothy lifted the flamethrower's backpack onto his shoulders and set off toward the newcomers. To be honest, standing exposed in the middle of this field was making him rather uncomfortable. Anyway, there was safety in numbers, right? Luckily for his feet, there were no rocks to trip over this time.
He ignored the tickling of the wheat against his chin as he reached Rachael and her friend. He had a few classes with Corey, but they hadn't spoken much. Still, if he was with Rachael, he had to be alright. Timothy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Rachael! You have no idea how glad I am to see you. And, uh, hi Corey, nice to see you too."
He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for their reply. As he did, he remembered another thing to ask.
"Have either of you seen Daniel?"
Who's this asshole?
Michael frowned a bit, staring at Corey. He had no fucking idea who that was. A fellow student, obviously, and Michael vaguely recalled seeing him around the hallways, but that was just about it. He was just about to reach down and pick up his auto-fucking-matic shotgun (just for protection. Ain't nobody gonna be starting shit with that baby pointing in their general direction. Or, hell, even in the completely opposite direction.) Upon seeing Rachael appear, however, Michael smiled and relaxed, waving.
Hell yeah, we're reuniting our party! With Rachael, Tim, Random Asshole, and me, victory is guaranteed!
Michael scanned the area beside the two newcomers, checking to see if they'd managed to casually drag Daniel along in their wake. No such luck. Dammit. Still, finding Rachael was pretty awesome, even if they hadn't made any progress communication-wise. He picked up his weapon (making sure the safety was on, never could be too careful) and leisurely followed Tim as he walked towards Asshole and Rachael.
Once they arrived, Michael shifted uncomfortably in place while the others talked. Who needed the ability to understand what the fuck was going on when you had a bigass shotgun, right? All he had to do was point and look threatening, no conversation required at all! Ahahahah! Michael drooped.
Daniel, if you don't show up soon, I swear on those fucking mystery novels you love so much I'll kick your ass so hard, insert threatening outcome here. After the mandatory manly bro-hug, of course.
Michael frowned a bit, staring at Corey. He had no fucking idea who that was. A fellow student, obviously, and Michael vaguely recalled seeing him around the hallways, but that was just about it. He was just about to reach down and pick up his auto-fucking-matic shotgun (just for protection. Ain't nobody gonna be starting shit with that baby pointing in their general direction. Or, hell, even in the completely opposite direction.) Upon seeing Rachael appear, however, Michael smiled and relaxed, waving.
Hell yeah, we're reuniting our party! With Rachael, Tim, Random Asshole, and me, victory is guaranteed!
Michael scanned the area beside the two newcomers, checking to see if they'd managed to casually drag Daniel along in their wake. No such luck. Dammit. Still, finding Rachael was pretty awesome, even if they hadn't made any progress communication-wise. He picked up his weapon (making sure the safety was on, never could be too careful) and leisurely followed Tim as he walked towards Asshole and Rachael.
Once they arrived, Michael shifted uncomfortably in place while the others talked. Who needed the ability to understand what the fuck was going on when you had a bigass shotgun, right? All he had to do was point and look threatening, no conversation required at all! Ahahahah! Michael drooped.
Daniel, if you don't show up soon, I swear on those fucking mystery novels you love so much I'll kick your ass so hard, insert threatening outcome here. After the mandatory manly bro-hug, of course.
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
Thankfully, Rachael seemed to know the two better than he did.
[sarcasm]Oh, good, that makes things a lot less awkward for me.[/sarcasm]
But no, it was good that they'd managed to find more people so quickly. And they were people that Rachael knew well, so there should be no problems here.
"Rachael! You have no idea how glad I am to see you. And, uh, hi Corey, nice to see you too."
Wow, thanks. Despite that, though, Corey couldn't help but crack a small smile. Their plan was already growing into fruition.
There was one small problem, however.
Corey knew of Michael's deafness, at the very least. He'd also seen him using a notepad and pencil to communicate.
Presumably they hadn't left Michael with anything to communicate with.
"No, sorry," he said, answering Tim's question. "I'm wondering if... maybe the terrorists left some paper or something lying around?"
[sarcasm]Oh, good, that makes things a lot less awkward for me.[/sarcasm]
But no, it was good that they'd managed to find more people so quickly. And they were people that Rachael knew well, so there should be no problems here.
"Rachael! You have no idea how glad I am to see you. And, uh, hi Corey, nice to see you too."
Wow, thanks. Despite that, though, Corey couldn't help but crack a small smile. Their plan was already growing into fruition.
There was one small problem, however.
Corey knew of Michael's deafness, at the very least. He'd also seen him using a notepad and pencil to communicate.
Presumably they hadn't left Michael with anything to communicate with.
"No, sorry," he said, answering Tim's question. "I'm wondering if... maybe the terrorists left some paper or something lying around?"
"No, I haven't seen Daniel," Rachael said. "I just woke up in the barn over there."
Rachael pointed back to the barn in the distance. Corey's question about the paper made Rachael realize why they asked about Daniel beyond general concern for their friend. Michael must not have had his phone with him, making it difficult to communicate. Rachael had tried to learn some sign language, but she was probably nowhere as good as Daniel at communicating through sign language.
"Let me check if I have something he can use," she said.
Rachael swung her bag in front of her and began to search through it. She began to shove aside the clothes, first aid, and the stupid calculator, looking for anything they could use. She could have sworn she packed some writing materials in case she wanted to do some writing on the trip. It looked like her notebook and pens were missing. The terrorists must have confiscated it for whatever reason. They even took her copy of A Dance with Dragons.
Well, not like she was ever going to finish that book. Ugh, and I had such a good idea for a short story in that notebook. Wait, what's this?
Rachael found a thin sheet of paper and pulled it out. She looked at it carefully and saw that it was a map of the island. The back side was blank, but more importantly, it told them where they were and where they could go.
"Guys, we could search the island for something for Michael to use," she suggested. "I know it could be dangerous, but there's got to be some places that might have what we need, like the, uh, town, or school, maybe the shopping center. Maybe we should check those places out?"
Rachael pointed back to the barn in the distance. Corey's question about the paper made Rachael realize why they asked about Daniel beyond general concern for their friend. Michael must not have had his phone with him, making it difficult to communicate. Rachael had tried to learn some sign language, but she was probably nowhere as good as Daniel at communicating through sign language.
"Let me check if I have something he can use," she said.
Rachael swung her bag in front of her and began to search through it. She began to shove aside the clothes, first aid, and the stupid calculator, looking for anything they could use. She could have sworn she packed some writing materials in case she wanted to do some writing on the trip. It looked like her notebook and pens were missing. The terrorists must have confiscated it for whatever reason. They even took her copy of A Dance with Dragons.
Well, not like she was ever going to finish that book. Ugh, and I had such a good idea for a short story in that notebook. Wait, what's this?
Rachael found a thin sheet of paper and pulled it out. She looked at it carefully and saw that it was a map of the island. The back side was blank, but more importantly, it told them where they were and where they could go.
"Guys, we could search the island for something for Michael to use," she suggested. "I know it could be dangerous, but there's got to be some places that might have what we need, like the, uh, town, or school, maybe the shopping center. Maybe we should check those places out?"
Damn it. Why would the terrorists confiscate paper and pencils? It's like they wanted to make things harder for poor Michael here. Well, there was no sense complaining when they could be doing something to help. Timothy scratched his head as he stood, taking in the conversation around him.
Wait a second, if they were confiscating writing materials, why did they give everyone a big piece of paper that could be written on? That was hardly logical. It's not like they could be expected to think through every part of their plan, but still... If you're planning on kidnapping and killing a whole bunch of people, at least do it right!
Timothy stopped himself, sighing in frustration. Was he really trying to critique the terrorists' kidnapping skills? There were far more important things at hand, like trying find methods to, well, survive. At the very least, they needed to find some way to allow Michael to have some idea of what was going on. A faint smile crept onto Timothy's face as an idea entered his mind.
"Yeah, the shopping mall sounds like a great idea. In the mean time, we can write on the map like this."
After pulling his map out of his daypack, he bent down and licked his finger before sticking it into the soil below. He unsuccessfully tried to surpress a grimace as he felt the dirt on his skin. No matter how many times, he did it, there would be no way that would ever feel natural to him. His knees cracked as he stood up. Taking his muddied finger, he drew the word "Hi" on the back.
"It's not perfect, but it'll probably last us until we can find a pencil or something, as long as we don't take up too much space. What do you guys think?"
Wait a second, if they were confiscating writing materials, why did they give everyone a big piece of paper that could be written on? That was hardly logical. It's not like they could be expected to think through every part of their plan, but still... If you're planning on kidnapping and killing a whole bunch of people, at least do it right!
Timothy stopped himself, sighing in frustration. Was he really trying to critique the terrorists' kidnapping skills? There were far more important things at hand, like trying find methods to, well, survive. At the very least, they needed to find some way to allow Michael to have some idea of what was going on. A faint smile crept onto Timothy's face as an idea entered his mind.
"Yeah, the shopping mall sounds like a great idea. In the mean time, we can write on the map like this."
After pulling his map out of his daypack, he bent down and licked his finger before sticking it into the soil below. He unsuccessfully tried to surpress a grimace as he felt the dirt on his skin. No matter how many times, he did it, there would be no way that would ever feel natural to him. His knees cracked as he stood up. Taking his muddied finger, he drew the word "Hi" on the back.
"It's not perfect, but it'll probably last us until we can find a pencil or something, as long as we don't take up too much space. What do you guys think?"
While the others busied themselves with conversation, Michael preoccupied himself by digging the map out of his bag and examining it. His current location other than "in the middle of a fuckton of wheat" was the homestead, apparently. It appeared that most of the island's features were located to the west of Michael's group.
Alright, touristy shit, touristy shit, hospital, touristy shit, nuclear power plant, touristy shit- wait, what the fuck?
Michael leaned in to give the map a closer look. Yup, definitely said nuclear power plant. What it was doing on what was otherwise a tourism hellhole, he had no idea. It was like the plot of some hilariously awful B movie. Oh, look, it's a nice vacation spot! Oh no, some idiotic assholes built a fuckin' NUCLEAR POWER PLANT right next door! What could possibly go wrong? OH NO, RADIOACTIVE GIANT ZOMBIE ENEMY CRABS!
Lemme guess, the terrorists are hiding a nuke in there to blow us all to heaven or hell if we piss them off too much? That's be the perfect "fuck you" to anyone who tried to escape. Congrats, you made it! All your friends were vaporized in the blink of an eye! Doesn't that make you happy, asshole?
Glancing up, Michael noticed Tim writing a greeting in mud on the back of his map. Genius. Michael grinned, shooting his friend another thumbs up. Might be crude, but anything was better than nothing. He refrained from writing on his own map for the moment, waiting for more to respond to. Writing space was at a premium, after all, his epic 500-page fanfiction about how the students all teamed up and built a robot made out of friendship would have to wait.
Alright, touristy shit, touristy shit, hospital, touristy shit, nuclear power plant, touristy shit- wait, what the fuck?
Michael leaned in to give the map a closer look. Yup, definitely said nuclear power plant. What it was doing on what was otherwise a tourism hellhole, he had no idea. It was like the plot of some hilariously awful B movie. Oh, look, it's a nice vacation spot! Oh no, some idiotic assholes built a fuckin' NUCLEAR POWER PLANT right next door! What could possibly go wrong? OH NO, RADIOACTIVE GIANT ZOMBIE ENEMY CRABS!
Lemme guess, the terrorists are hiding a nuke in there to blow us all to heaven or hell if we piss them off too much? That's be the perfect "fuck you" to anyone who tried to escape. Congrats, you made it! All your friends were vaporized in the blink of an eye! Doesn't that make you happy, asshole?
Glancing up, Michael noticed Tim writing a greeting in mud on the back of his map. Genius. Michael grinned, shooting his friend another thumbs up. Might be crude, but anything was better than nothing. He refrained from writing on his own map for the moment, waiting for more to respond to. Writing space was at a premium, after all, his epic 500-page fanfiction about how the students all teamed up and built a robot made out of friendship would have to wait.
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
"Nice."
Corey didn't feel like writing something down on his own map. At the very least, not just yet. He felt more comfortable just talking. But at least they found a way to communicate with Michael now. Well, that was one problem down, even if only temporarily.
"Alright, this will work for now, but we'll want to find either more paper or Daniel as soon as possible."
He looked over at Rachael's map.
"It looks like most of the places we'd want to check out are to the west."
He reached into his bag again, searching for... he pushed aside the first aid kit and the food bars until his fingers found...
"Aha!" he shouted, pulling out a compass.
"This'll help us."
Corey didn't feel like writing something down on his own map. At the very least, not just yet. He felt more comfortable just talking. But at least they found a way to communicate with Michael now. Well, that was one problem down, even if only temporarily.
"Alright, this will work for now, but we'll want to find either more paper or Daniel as soon as possible."
He looked over at Rachael's map.
"It looks like most of the places we'd want to check out are to the west."
He reached into his bag again, searching for... he pushed aside the first aid kit and the food bars until his fingers found...
"Aha!" he shouted, pulling out a compass.
"This'll help us."
Rachael continued to look over the map. Looks like the guys were in the same mindset: Michael needed some way to communicate with them. Tim's way was likely to not work in the long term, but there was still a chance they could find the materials somewhere for them to use.
Moving to the more developed areas might help us find more friends. Arthur's still out there. Naomi's probably there as well. And Daniel as well.
Daniel. The boy who confessed to her. She still hadn't really said anything to him about if she felt the same way. Sure, they went to Prom and did some fun things together after that, but she really hadn't responded to him. Looks like she might have to figure that out soon before they both perished.
Corey pulled out a compass and talked about trying to find West.
"Oh, yeah, let's find out which way is West," she said, folding the map up.
Moving to the more developed areas might help us find more friends. Arthur's still out there. Naomi's probably there as well. And Daniel as well.
Daniel. The boy who confessed to her. She still hadn't really said anything to him about if she felt the same way. Sure, they went to Prom and did some fun things together after that, but she really hadn't responded to him. Looks like she might have to figure that out soon before they both perished.
Corey pulled out a compass and talked about trying to find West.
"Oh, yeah, let's find out which way is West," she said, folding the map up.