Even though Heath should agree with Ianto, his restlessness and general lack of social skills made it all seem very aggressive and overly stern. Heath, who was never talked to in this manner, took major offense to the harsh reprimand.
What the hell? You massive asshole! Why bark that to me? How can anyone hear us? I was trying to get your attention without you shooting me or something, you major jerkoff. Shit, bite my head off- ouch that would hurt a lot, now that I think about it. How long would I have consciousness with that one? Probably around the time when I reach halfway through the esophagus, though hopefully before entering the stomach. Neh, the acids sound horrible as well-
SHORYUKEN!!
While he was on this mental wandering, his body was moving along with the rest of the group. He turned over to look over to a girl he also doesn't know and realized that he was alone with Petra outside a building, with Ianto going off in the other direction.
"Well," Heath started to reply," I think he wants to check it out by himself, make sure there isn't an ambush or..." Catching site of what Petra really looks. He stammered and no clue how to continue.
Why don't I know what to say? This is insane! Man, she is attractive. Heath, you filthy bastard! Don't you dare think that way! Moron, this isn't prom or something. Say something!
"Umm, sorry, I'm just not used to being around a girl, especially the pretty one such as yourself." A slight reddening spread over his face and a nervous chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh, where are my m-manners?" Heath stuttered, offering a visibly shaking hand. "My name is Heath Trennoby..." Heath sighs and adds, "which I blathered out already, considering you just said it..."
The Beginning is The End is The Beginning
If you lived here you'd be home by now.
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((Bobby Jacks continued from: Sound and Fury))
Tyson fell dead in an instant, the syringe sticking straight through his eye socket and driven into his brain.
Ric reeled back, clutching his stomach as a red stain blossomed across his white shirt. He looked vaguely bemused for a moment before a fist met his face, smashing him to the ground.
Quale dropped to his knees, crying out in pain. His neck made a dry snapping sound as it was wrenched back and he fell flat on his face.
"Why?" Reg croaked, a bullet blasting through the back of his skull mere moments later.
Bam. And just like that, Arthur pitched to the ground, dead, brain matter and blood decorating the ground below.
A cry, a reflexive firing of the weapon, and a dull thud. Lucky shot? Not for the other guy.
The easy tearing of the skin around the throat, the scalpel cutting straight through, blood gouting out and Ivan falling soundlessly...
Even as part of Bobby concentrated on keeping a look out for both traps and other students, another played back the deaths of the seven people Bobby had killed, over and over again. As far as he knew... he was the top killer on the island, unless somebody else had decided to slaughter the rest of their group or something.
The very concept of it chilled him.
He wasn't playing defensively, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was attempting to keep confrontations to a minimum. Bobby had watched bits and pieces of the first SotF program (although he'd avoided the second, it wasn't really his kind of thing) and he knew who he seemed to be.
Jacob Starr. Hell, he even matched the guy's kill count. Walking around indescriminately killing anybody he could, what did it matter that he regretted it? Feeling sorry for his victims would hardly make them feel any better would it?
Another random statistic came to him - barely remembered from a report of sorts.
Jesus. I'm joint fifth on the highest all-time kill... leaderboard? Try justifying that. I don't think anybody is going to buy self-defence or extreme circumstances here.
A sort of numbness settled in then. There was no way he was going to be able to go back to a normal life, and with that, his entire motive crumbled. All he wanted to do was get out of this hellhole, and because he could conceive of no way of escape, that meant playing the game... but what hope did he have of being able to walk out of this unaffected? It wasn't like he had been protecting anybody - or even himself, he'd actively sought out other people to take out. Probably every person watching thought that he was an evil bastard - and every person on the island to boot.
And are they wrong? I'm not so sure.
Bobby sighed deeply, trying not to dwell on things. What was the likelyhood he would even make it to the end anyway? Why worry about what would happen once he won the game when there were still upwards of 100 students left? Bobby had a huge target on him: both for prestige factor and that most people would likely attack him on sight. There was little to no chance he'd make it anywhere close to the end game.
It was still raining, and it was no dark too to boot, but nevertheless, Bobby identified a large building in front of him. At the same time, the foilage underfoot went from grass to something hard... where had he wound up? He guessed it was the airfield, although he couldn't be sure in the darkness.
This... could actually work in his favour - if he couldn't be identified it was less likely people would shoot at him. Cautiously, Bobby headed towards the large building, keeping low in case anybody decided to take a potshot at him.
Tyson fell dead in an instant, the syringe sticking straight through his eye socket and driven into his brain.
Ric reeled back, clutching his stomach as a red stain blossomed across his white shirt. He looked vaguely bemused for a moment before a fist met his face, smashing him to the ground.
Quale dropped to his knees, crying out in pain. His neck made a dry snapping sound as it was wrenched back and he fell flat on his face.
"Why?" Reg croaked, a bullet blasting through the back of his skull mere moments later.
Bam. And just like that, Arthur pitched to the ground, dead, brain matter and blood decorating the ground below.
A cry, a reflexive firing of the weapon, and a dull thud. Lucky shot? Not for the other guy.
The easy tearing of the skin around the throat, the scalpel cutting straight through, blood gouting out and Ivan falling soundlessly...
Even as part of Bobby concentrated on keeping a look out for both traps and other students, another played back the deaths of the seven people Bobby had killed, over and over again. As far as he knew... he was the top killer on the island, unless somebody else had decided to slaughter the rest of their group or something.
The very concept of it chilled him.
He wasn't playing defensively, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was attempting to keep confrontations to a minimum. Bobby had watched bits and pieces of the first SotF program (although he'd avoided the second, it wasn't really his kind of thing) and he knew who he seemed to be.
Jacob Starr. Hell, he even matched the guy's kill count. Walking around indescriminately killing anybody he could, what did it matter that he regretted it? Feeling sorry for his victims would hardly make them feel any better would it?
Another random statistic came to him - barely remembered from a report of sorts.
Jesus. I'm joint fifth on the highest all-time kill... leaderboard? Try justifying that. I don't think anybody is going to buy self-defence or extreme circumstances here.
A sort of numbness settled in then. There was no way he was going to be able to go back to a normal life, and with that, his entire motive crumbled. All he wanted to do was get out of this hellhole, and because he could conceive of no way of escape, that meant playing the game... but what hope did he have of being able to walk out of this unaffected? It wasn't like he had been protecting anybody - or even himself, he'd actively sought out other people to take out. Probably every person watching thought that he was an evil bastard - and every person on the island to boot.
And are they wrong? I'm not so sure.
Bobby sighed deeply, trying not to dwell on things. What was the likelyhood he would even make it to the end anyway? Why worry about what would happen once he won the game when there were still upwards of 100 students left? Bobby had a huge target on him: both for prestige factor and that most people would likely attack him on sight. There was little to no chance he'd make it anywhere close to the end game.
It was still raining, and it was no dark too to boot, but nevertheless, Bobby identified a large building in front of him. At the same time, the foilage underfoot went from grass to something hard... where had he wound up? He guessed it was the airfield, although he couldn't be sure in the darkness.
This... could actually work in his favour - if he couldn't be identified it was less likely people would shoot at him. Cautiously, Bobby headed towards the large building, keeping low in case anybody decided to take a potshot at him.
Terrie frowned slightly as Brad declared that Ianto hadn't made it to the airfield. For whatever reason, the class vice-president always seemed to be the one getting separated from them. Then again, it hadn't always been a bad thing. If he hadn't dragged into the mess hall when he had, they might have been in a world of hurt -- no, they might have been dead -- at the hands of Bobby Jacks. Brad rambled on for a moment before inquiring whether or not she was alright. Terrie simply shrugged her shoulders in response.
"I'm... alive... right? That's better than..." her voice trailed off for a moment, as though she was afraid to continue the sentence.
Better alive than dead. So many people were dead though. So many of her friends had been listed on Danya's daily "kill tally" that he opted to do every morning. By the look of the dark sky outside, they'd be forced to listen through another one of those again soon. Part of her wished she could tune him out, that she didn't have to listen to what he was saying. No matter how many names were read off, no matter how many people she knew died, it never got any easier to deal with.
And someday soon, it'll be my name... or Ianto's... or Brad's... and then what? It's just a matter of time...
The solemn expression that had overtaken her features quickly turned into one of embarrassment as Ianto's voice echoed out from the hallway. Realizing that she was still hugging Brad, she immediately let go, eyes glued to the floor in an attempt to hide the redness that had suddenly appeared in her cheeks.
"You..." Terrie muttered quietly before looking up at her friend, "You've really gotta quit doing that. You had me worried sick. I swear, you've got quite possibly the worst sense of direction I've ever seen. Always getting lost and... making us worry."
She couldn't help but smile as she said it. Ianto was nigh on impossible to be angry with. There was just something about his personality that made the things he did simply roll away. Terrie's attention suddenly turned to the bottom of the spiral stairwell once again. She heard voices. Moments later, she simply shrugged them off. There were definitely voices there, but seeing as they were talking about following Ianto, she could only figure them for new additions he had managed to drag along.
To be honest, after the whole ordeal with Serenity, and after Simon pulling the stunt he had on them and then going off to get himself killed, Terrie didn't really want any new additions to their group. She, Ianto, and Brad were surviving perfectly fine on their own. Bigger groups might have meant more protection in some cases, but people like Margaret Tweedy? They weren't exactly the type of people Terrie felt like she could trust, especially not in a situation like this one.
It was Margaret who offered up the standard "what now?" question. Terrie only sighed slightly. Ianto's forehead obviously needed bandaged, her wounds needed fresh bandages, Brad's probably did too. How many of these newcomers would need bandages, food, and water? How many more people would be using up their supplies, making it harder and harder for them to survive? Immediately chastising herself for her thoughts, Terrie pushed them out of her mind. They needed all the help they could get to stay alive, it didn't matter where that help came from.
Still, over the past week, Terrie had formed some sort of inexplicable bond with the two boys she had been traveling with. "Opening the doors" of their group, so to speak, to new people? It seemed like it was getting harder and harder. The past week had been trying for everyone, and eventually, someone was going to lose it. Never in a million years could Terrie see it being Brad or Ianto, so of course, her suspicions once again fell on the people that had been following them from the mess hall.
Terrie looked toward Ianto, then Brad, and shrugged lightly.
"Your call, guys... what are we doing?"
"I'm... alive... right? That's better than..." her voice trailed off for a moment, as though she was afraid to continue the sentence.
Better alive than dead. So many people were dead though. So many of her friends had been listed on Danya's daily "kill tally" that he opted to do every morning. By the look of the dark sky outside, they'd be forced to listen through another one of those again soon. Part of her wished she could tune him out, that she didn't have to listen to what he was saying. No matter how many names were read off, no matter how many people she knew died, it never got any easier to deal with.
And someday soon, it'll be my name... or Ianto's... or Brad's... and then what? It's just a matter of time...
The solemn expression that had overtaken her features quickly turned into one of embarrassment as Ianto's voice echoed out from the hallway. Realizing that she was still hugging Brad, she immediately let go, eyes glued to the floor in an attempt to hide the redness that had suddenly appeared in her cheeks.
"You..." Terrie muttered quietly before looking up at her friend, "You've really gotta quit doing that. You had me worried sick. I swear, you've got quite possibly the worst sense of direction I've ever seen. Always getting lost and... making us worry."
She couldn't help but smile as she said it. Ianto was nigh on impossible to be angry with. There was just something about his personality that made the things he did simply roll away. Terrie's attention suddenly turned to the bottom of the spiral stairwell once again. She heard voices. Moments later, she simply shrugged them off. There were definitely voices there, but seeing as they were talking about following Ianto, she could only figure them for new additions he had managed to drag along.
To be honest, after the whole ordeal with Serenity, and after Simon pulling the stunt he had on them and then going off to get himself killed, Terrie didn't really want any new additions to their group. She, Ianto, and Brad were surviving perfectly fine on their own. Bigger groups might have meant more protection in some cases, but people like Margaret Tweedy? They weren't exactly the type of people Terrie felt like she could trust, especially not in a situation like this one.
It was Margaret who offered up the standard "what now?" question. Terrie only sighed slightly. Ianto's forehead obviously needed bandaged, her wounds needed fresh bandages, Brad's probably did too. How many of these newcomers would need bandages, food, and water? How many more people would be using up their supplies, making it harder and harder for them to survive? Immediately chastising herself for her thoughts, Terrie pushed them out of her mind. They needed all the help they could get to stay alive, it didn't matter where that help came from.
Still, over the past week, Terrie had formed some sort of inexplicable bond with the two boys she had been traveling with. "Opening the doors" of their group, so to speak, to new people? It seemed like it was getting harder and harder. The past week had been trying for everyone, and eventually, someone was going to lose it. Never in a million years could Terrie see it being Brad or Ianto, so of course, her suspicions once again fell on the people that had been following them from the mess hall.
Terrie looked toward Ianto, then Brad, and shrugged lightly.
"Your call, guys... what are we doing?"
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"... Dead?"
Terrie didn't finish what she was saying but she really didn't have to. Brad was smart enough to fill in the blanks. He hesitated for the longest time after that. Yes... there was nothing worse than winding up dead. Brad bit his lip. He didn't want to frown, but he was finding it almost impossible to keep a positive look on him. Why was he trying so hard to look upbeat when it was pretty plain to see that he wasn't happy at all? Maybe he was just a fool who could never admit his own faults. Maybe he wanted the others to feel better, which didn't seem to be working at all. Or maybe he WAS happy. Whichever the case it was he couldn't tell.
Ianto appeared literally out of nowhere, although this didn't surprise Brad. Ianto was heading in the same direction as Terrie so it was only a matter of time that he came by. Ianto responded with a snarky remark (the kind he was known for) and Brad felt himself blushing, looking towards the ceiling for a brief second. He felt himself laugh under his breath, mostly out of total embarrassment. He stared nervously at Terrie before turning his attention back to Ianto.
"Yeah," Brad agreed with a cheeky grin. "Jesus Ianto, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
That grin dissolved the second Margaret spoke. He turned to look at her. Margaret... Shit, I almost forgot she was there. How rude. His first reaction would to immediately apologize to her like a solemn child though Brad had grown out of this habit a year ago. Being mean to Margaret wasn't what he had wanted... to do to anyone, when he thought about it. He couldn't help but to frown at this luck, simply because there were so many mixed emotions in his head at that moment that it was the only thing he could do.
"I know one thing for sure," Brad told them, stepping forward and looking out the door for a brief moment. "We won't be leaving from this spot. We've probably crossed the whole fucking island three times over and if you ask me, I don't want to do it a fourth time. I'm tired, and I can imagine that you guys are..."
...Huh?
Brad saw a figure outside the door. Not the two figures off in the distance. He had assumed that one of them was Heath but another voice seemed to remind him of a girl (Name's gotta be Petite... Patricka... shit, I don't know.) No, he wasn't so suspicious of them. He was focused however on a figure down further to his right. It was crotched over and while Brad would have easily dismissed it, how it was moving was what concerned him. Wait... who the hell is that over there? He scratched his head. I've... got a bad feeling. A very BAD feeling. Could it be Jacks?... fuck no, couldn't be him. He stumbled away a day ago, there's gotta be a 1,000,000:1 shot that's Jacks. It must be a... bear or something. A bear? On a tropical island? Brad, you're such a fucking idiot. Shut up, you're embarrassing yourself.
Brad looked back at Terrie and Ianto, then over to Margaret. "Uhh... guys? I think we'd better close the door. Like right now... there's someone out there. I can't see who it is, but they're crotched down... I think it's an animal. It's too dark outside to tell but I don't like the looks of it... Margaret, call Heath and that other girl in here as quickly as you can. Ianto..." Brad brought the gun up. "You know what to do."
The last thing Brad wanted was another person to die because of his foolishness. Being a hero was a hard thing to do, but warning the others of another was the least Brad could do. If only to make himself feel better because he...
You can't protect anyone. Couldn't even save Serenity. Steve was the one who killed her but YOU were the one who let him in like the wimp you are. Can't leave Ianto and Terrie for an hour before you go running back to them with your tail between your legs. Jesus, you're a loser. Why do Ianto and Terrie even bother with you?
The truth was that Brad was virtually useless now. A nasty habit of putting oneself down constantly would cause someone to think that way. Brad was fighting his subconsciousness and he was losing.
Brad looked at Terrie, then at Ianto. "I don't want to alarm you guys, not to get any of you to freak out but..." Something got caught in his throat, and he found it hard to breath. "BUT it's better to be safe than sorry, y'know? I don't want anyone else dying. Not now, not ever. I can't do shit for you guys and... I want to protect you all. I want to protect you guys because... I-I'm not sure how I'll do without you... I ain't got any friends left except for you two a-and none of you even know me that well. Even though I want to help you guys, I can't. My purpose in life is to be the guy that stands in the background, not to stand in front and be a leader. That's just how it's always been."
Brad's eyes were shifting nervously. He knew something was going to happen. He had to make this quick. "Every time I take the initiative something bad happens. That's just how it is. That Theobaldt freak cut me up good when I jumped in front of him, Blood Boy shot me, Jacks broke my nose. It's just a huge cycle of stupidity that'll keep getting worse the longer I let it and... and if I act stupid again like I did back in that cafeteria then there's a good chance I'm gonna get myself killed... or that you guys could get killed protecting me and that's... that's not what I want. I just can't let that happen..." This was the part where Brad would tear up but he found the courage to stop it from happening. Instead, he gave them a brave smile. "I just can't..."
Terrie didn't finish what she was saying but she really didn't have to. Brad was smart enough to fill in the blanks. He hesitated for the longest time after that. Yes... there was nothing worse than winding up dead. Brad bit his lip. He didn't want to frown, but he was finding it almost impossible to keep a positive look on him. Why was he trying so hard to look upbeat when it was pretty plain to see that he wasn't happy at all? Maybe he was just a fool who could never admit his own faults. Maybe he wanted the others to feel better, which didn't seem to be working at all. Or maybe he WAS happy. Whichever the case it was he couldn't tell.
Ianto appeared literally out of nowhere, although this didn't surprise Brad. Ianto was heading in the same direction as Terrie so it was only a matter of time that he came by. Ianto responded with a snarky remark (the kind he was known for) and Brad felt himself blushing, looking towards the ceiling for a brief second. He felt himself laugh under his breath, mostly out of total embarrassment. He stared nervously at Terrie before turning his attention back to Ianto.
"Yeah," Brad agreed with a cheeky grin. "Jesus Ianto, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
That grin dissolved the second Margaret spoke. He turned to look at her. Margaret... Shit, I almost forgot she was there. How rude. His first reaction would to immediately apologize to her like a solemn child though Brad had grown out of this habit a year ago. Being mean to Margaret wasn't what he had wanted... to do to anyone, when he thought about it. He couldn't help but to frown at this luck, simply because there were so many mixed emotions in his head at that moment that it was the only thing he could do.
"I know one thing for sure," Brad told them, stepping forward and looking out the door for a brief moment. "We won't be leaving from this spot. We've probably crossed the whole fucking island three times over and if you ask me, I don't want to do it a fourth time. I'm tired, and I can imagine that you guys are..."
...Huh?
Brad saw a figure outside the door. Not the two figures off in the distance. He had assumed that one of them was Heath but another voice seemed to remind him of a girl (Name's gotta be Petite... Patricka... shit, I don't know.) No, he wasn't so suspicious of them. He was focused however on a figure down further to his right. It was crotched over and while Brad would have easily dismissed it, how it was moving was what concerned him. Wait... who the hell is that over there? He scratched his head. I've... got a bad feeling. A very BAD feeling. Could it be Jacks?... fuck no, couldn't be him. He stumbled away a day ago, there's gotta be a 1,000,000:1 shot that's Jacks. It must be a... bear or something. A bear? On a tropical island? Brad, you're such a fucking idiot. Shut up, you're embarrassing yourself.
Brad looked back at Terrie and Ianto, then over to Margaret. "Uhh... guys? I think we'd better close the door. Like right now... there's someone out there. I can't see who it is, but they're crotched down... I think it's an animal. It's too dark outside to tell but I don't like the looks of it... Margaret, call Heath and that other girl in here as quickly as you can. Ianto..." Brad brought the gun up. "You know what to do."
The last thing Brad wanted was another person to die because of his foolishness. Being a hero was a hard thing to do, but warning the others of another was the least Brad could do. If only to make himself feel better because he...
You can't protect anyone. Couldn't even save Serenity. Steve was the one who killed her but YOU were the one who let him in like the wimp you are. Can't leave Ianto and Terrie for an hour before you go running back to them with your tail between your legs. Jesus, you're a loser. Why do Ianto and Terrie even bother with you?
The truth was that Brad was virtually useless now. A nasty habit of putting oneself down constantly would cause someone to think that way. Brad was fighting his subconsciousness and he was losing.
Brad looked at Terrie, then at Ianto. "I don't want to alarm you guys, not to get any of you to freak out but..." Something got caught in his throat, and he found it hard to breath. "BUT it's better to be safe than sorry, y'know? I don't want anyone else dying. Not now, not ever. I can't do shit for you guys and... I want to protect you all. I want to protect you guys because... I-I'm not sure how I'll do without you... I ain't got any friends left except for you two a-and none of you even know me that well. Even though I want to help you guys, I can't. My purpose in life is to be the guy that stands in the background, not to stand in front and be a leader. That's just how it's always been."
Brad's eyes were shifting nervously. He knew something was going to happen. He had to make this quick. "Every time I take the initiative something bad happens. That's just how it is. That Theobaldt freak cut me up good when I jumped in front of him, Blood Boy shot me, Jacks broke my nose. It's just a huge cycle of stupidity that'll keep getting worse the longer I let it and... and if I act stupid again like I did back in that cafeteria then there's a good chance I'm gonna get myself killed... or that you guys could get killed protecting me and that's... that's not what I want. I just can't let that happen..." This was the part where Brad would tear up but he found the courage to stop it from happening. Instead, he gave them a brave smile. "I just can't..."
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Margaret nodded and stepped outside, leaning over the railing at the top of the tower. "Heath! You and that other girl better get in here now if you want to live!" She kept an eye out for the two stragglers, but stopped when she heard Brad talk again. From the sound of it, he didn't sound too confident in their odds.
The hell is this now? She stepped back inside the door to get a better listen. Brad was practically falling apart at the seams now, leaking sentiment and concessions from his orifices, and it was disturbing to watch. The basic gist of his speech was that he couldn't handle the pressure that the game had put on him. Margaret had spent most of the game hiding in the jungle, a solitary period that left her with no emotional attachments. By contrast, Brad had spent his game trying to keep the people he knew safe, and it was killing him.
Only Margaret seemed to see the writing on the wall. Brad Kavanagh was going to die on this island. And the instant that THAT happens to me, so will I.
She frowned and stepped back inside. "Nice soliloquy," she commented bluntly. "But you've put your friends in an awkward position. Someone's gotta call the shots here, and if you don't do it, then what? You're just passing the buck onto one of your little buddies here? You might as well have just cut them off right here. That'd be more honest."
The group would be forever closed to her now, but Margaret didn't care. She knew a lost cause when she saw one. "Whoever's leading you, it won't be me. I don't have time to babysit." She pulled her daypack onto her shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to choke a bitch."
And so she walked out the door and into the open, fully intent on vanishing into the wilderness once again.
The hell is this now? She stepped back inside the door to get a better listen. Brad was practically falling apart at the seams now, leaking sentiment and concessions from his orifices, and it was disturbing to watch. The basic gist of his speech was that he couldn't handle the pressure that the game had put on him. Margaret had spent most of the game hiding in the jungle, a solitary period that left her with no emotional attachments. By contrast, Brad had spent his game trying to keep the people he knew safe, and it was killing him.
Only Margaret seemed to see the writing on the wall. Brad Kavanagh was going to die on this island. And the instant that THAT happens to me, so will I.
She frowned and stepped back inside. "Nice soliloquy," she commented bluntly. "But you've put your friends in an awkward position. Someone's gotta call the shots here, and if you don't do it, then what? You're just passing the buck onto one of your little buddies here? You might as well have just cut them off right here. That'd be more honest."
The group would be forever closed to her now, but Margaret didn't care. She knew a lost cause when she saw one. "Whoever's leading you, it won't be me. I don't have time to babysit." She pulled her daypack onto her shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to choke a bitch."
And so she walked out the door and into the open, fully intent on vanishing into the wilderness once again.
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
Fiddling with her pack, Petra wondered if it was smart to wait out in an open field were anyone with a projectile weapon could take a shot at them. The thought that the rain might provide some visual cover came to her, but didn't make her feel any better. Crushing the light bag to her chest, Petra tried her best to keep from shivering as the rain continued its persistent pattering.
Heath was being rational, explaining that Ianto was probably just checking for an ambush. The thought made the athletic girl's stomach twist into knots. There could be someone in there who'd want to hurt them. No, that was naïve. If someone was lying in wait they wouldn't stop with simply wounding them. That wasn't how the game was played. If there were students who'd become players...become killers, first blood wouldn't be enough for them.
Shifting from one foot to the other, Petra winced as she felt a familiar sting. Her feet had been hurting for the past day or so. Apparently, wandering the jungle in soaking wet sneakers wasn't exactly the best thing for your feet. The girl dreaded what she'd find when she took her shoes off. No doubt a whole mess of blisters.
Heath was mumbling something. He'd started out sounding normal, if a little annoyed, but now he was tripping over his tongue. Did he see something? The grip on her day pack turning her knuckles white, Petra did her best to scan the airfield for any threats. The curtain of rain did a good job of keeping the nervous girl jumping at shadows. For a moment, she even thought he might have seen a person. No...no. That's just your imagination. There's no one there. Calm down Petra....
Heath finally managed to force out what he'd been choking on. "Umm, sorry, I'm just not used to being around a girl, especially the pretty one such as yourself."
Blinking a few times, the track team member struggled to find a way to respond to the compliment. Pretty. She was pretty? Her mother had always said she was a plain girl. That was why she needed to work on good housekeeping skills to get a husband. Petra'd always thought of the idea a bit outdated, but wouldn't raise the point.
Her father didn't care about things like aesthetics. All he cared about was find a way to make his daughter go faster, improve her defensive posture, become stronger. He just wanted her to win. Petra being "pretty" wasn't something that he cared about, so, when visiting him, the matter never came up.
She'd never brought the matter up with any of the other members on the track team. She'd heard the other girls talking animatedly once. They were complimenting each other on differing aspects of their good looks. "Oh, your eyes are cute." "Your legs are so sexy!" "You have such pretty lips, I'm jealous."
Petra tried to find anything about herself that leapt out and demanded attention, but came up empty. She tried her best not to be upset about it. It wasn't something that would interfere with her cooking, running, or music practice. So, why did it matter?
And now, on an island drenched in blood, someone was telling her she was pretty. As the rain continued its relentless hammering, Petra couldn't decide how she felt. It was gratifying to know that someone felt that way, but wasn't this the worst possible time to bring that up? I guess the prospect of dying makes you say things you normally wouldn't. Nobody wants to die without saying something worthwhile, right? It's only natural someone would just throw that out there at some point. But still...it feels nice to hear someone say it.
"Oh, where are my m-manners? My name is Heath Trennoby..." Stuttering over every other syllable, Heath managed to say something coherent and extend a shaking hand. After a moment, the boy let out an embarrassed sigh, "Which I blathered out already, considering you just said it..."
Taking the proffered hand in a firm grip, the drenched girl gave a reassuring smile. Making the guy look like an idiot wasn't very constructive, so it was best to try and stay friendly. And, if Heath's admission made Petra feel flustered or embarrassed, she hid it very well. "Heath Trennoby. Nice to meet you, I'm Petra Andrews."
A voice broke the relative silence of the rainstorm. "Heath! You and that other girl better get in here now if you want to live!"
Giving Heath a quizzical look, Petra gestured towards the sound of the voice. "A friend of yours?" The sprinter did the best to keep the worry from her voice. Her efforts didn't seem to make any difference. "And if it is, pease tell me that's a joke."
Heath was being rational, explaining that Ianto was probably just checking for an ambush. The thought made the athletic girl's stomach twist into knots. There could be someone in there who'd want to hurt them. No, that was naïve. If someone was lying in wait they wouldn't stop with simply wounding them. That wasn't how the game was played. If there were students who'd become players...become killers, first blood wouldn't be enough for them.
Shifting from one foot to the other, Petra winced as she felt a familiar sting. Her feet had been hurting for the past day or so. Apparently, wandering the jungle in soaking wet sneakers wasn't exactly the best thing for your feet. The girl dreaded what she'd find when she took her shoes off. No doubt a whole mess of blisters.
Heath was mumbling something. He'd started out sounding normal, if a little annoyed, but now he was tripping over his tongue. Did he see something? The grip on her day pack turning her knuckles white, Petra did her best to scan the airfield for any threats. The curtain of rain did a good job of keeping the nervous girl jumping at shadows. For a moment, she even thought he might have seen a person. No...no. That's just your imagination. There's no one there. Calm down Petra....
Heath finally managed to force out what he'd been choking on. "Umm, sorry, I'm just not used to being around a girl, especially the pretty one such as yourself."
Blinking a few times, the track team member struggled to find a way to respond to the compliment. Pretty. She was pretty? Her mother had always said she was a plain girl. That was why she needed to work on good housekeeping skills to get a husband. Petra'd always thought of the idea a bit outdated, but wouldn't raise the point.
Her father didn't care about things like aesthetics. All he cared about was find a way to make his daughter go faster, improve her defensive posture, become stronger. He just wanted her to win. Petra being "pretty" wasn't something that he cared about, so, when visiting him, the matter never came up.
She'd never brought the matter up with any of the other members on the track team. She'd heard the other girls talking animatedly once. They were complimenting each other on differing aspects of their good looks. "Oh, your eyes are cute." "Your legs are so sexy!" "You have such pretty lips, I'm jealous."
Petra tried to find anything about herself that leapt out and demanded attention, but came up empty. She tried her best not to be upset about it. It wasn't something that would interfere with her cooking, running, or music practice. So, why did it matter?
And now, on an island drenched in blood, someone was telling her she was pretty. As the rain continued its relentless hammering, Petra couldn't decide how she felt. It was gratifying to know that someone felt that way, but wasn't this the worst possible time to bring that up? I guess the prospect of dying makes you say things you normally wouldn't. Nobody wants to die without saying something worthwhile, right? It's only natural someone would just throw that out there at some point. But still...it feels nice to hear someone say it.
"Oh, where are my m-manners? My name is Heath Trennoby..." Stuttering over every other syllable, Heath managed to say something coherent and extend a shaking hand. After a moment, the boy let out an embarrassed sigh, "Which I blathered out already, considering you just said it..."
Taking the proffered hand in a firm grip, the drenched girl gave a reassuring smile. Making the guy look like an idiot wasn't very constructive, so it was best to try and stay friendly. And, if Heath's admission made Petra feel flustered or embarrassed, she hid it very well. "Heath Trennoby. Nice to meet you, I'm Petra Andrews."
A voice broke the relative silence of the rainstorm. "Heath! You and that other girl better get in here now if you want to live!"
Giving Heath a quizzical look, Petra gestured towards the sound of the voice. "A friend of yours?" The sprinter did the best to keep the worry from her voice. Her efforts didn't seem to make any difference. "And if it is, pease tell me that's a joke."
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It took Bobby a few moments, but he managed to identify a number of figures standing outside. He didn't claim to be an expert, but that struck him as very foolish. Out in the open with no cover and not even moving was just asking for somebody to come and take you down out of nowhere.
He stopped then, looking down at the SIG Sauer he was still holding in his right hand. Earlier he'd made an interesting discovery; the bullets for the carbine and the SIG were compatible with each other, which solved his problem of low ammo for the pistol. However, he had to load the bullets into the magazine manually, and he was still limited to two full clips at any one time, since those from the carbine, despite using the same bullets, just didn't fit. It meant whilst long-term ammo issues had been resolved, in the short term, bullets were still going to be scarce, because there was no way he could replenish the magazines in the middle of a fight.
As a last resort, Bobby had pocketed a few individual bullets which, in a pinch, he would be able to load by hand. He'd truly have his back against the wall if he had to use those though, and he definitely wasn't planning on getting himself into a situation where he'd be forced to hand load. The whole thing with SADD had been a mistake - and three people had wound up dead because of it. He was immensely lucky that one of them hadn't been him. At one point, there were seven people with guns on him. He would have been dead if it wasn't for a huge amount of luck.
Bobby continued staring at the SIG, straightening up as he did so. Two people had already been killed by this weapon, and soon enough it would have claimed more lives...
I can't... this is...
I have no choice. I can't baulk here. Not after ... today.
Four people. Jesus.
He clenched the gun with both hands and let out a primal scream of rage, depressing the trigger over and over again until the magazine ran dry, giving everybody around the area of the hanger door fifteen bullets to think about. With that many targets, shooting that many times in a small area, a hit was inevitable.
I don't know who you are. I suppose you'll have to accept a mental apology. Although even if you heard me... no.
I don't have to say sorry because there's no point. Nobody's forgiveness to seek and no-one who would give it to me. I'm not worth acceptance.
He stopped then, looking down at the SIG Sauer he was still holding in his right hand. Earlier he'd made an interesting discovery; the bullets for the carbine and the SIG were compatible with each other, which solved his problem of low ammo for the pistol. However, he had to load the bullets into the magazine manually, and he was still limited to two full clips at any one time, since those from the carbine, despite using the same bullets, just didn't fit. It meant whilst long-term ammo issues had been resolved, in the short term, bullets were still going to be scarce, because there was no way he could replenish the magazines in the middle of a fight.
As a last resort, Bobby had pocketed a few individual bullets which, in a pinch, he would be able to load by hand. He'd truly have his back against the wall if he had to use those though, and he definitely wasn't planning on getting himself into a situation where he'd be forced to hand load. The whole thing with SADD had been a mistake - and three people had wound up dead because of it. He was immensely lucky that one of them hadn't been him. At one point, there were seven people with guns on him. He would have been dead if it wasn't for a huge amount of luck.
Bobby continued staring at the SIG, straightening up as he did so. Two people had already been killed by this weapon, and soon enough it would have claimed more lives...
I can't... this is...
I have no choice. I can't baulk here. Not after ... today.
Four people. Jesus.
He clenched the gun with both hands and let out a primal scream of rage, depressing the trigger over and over again until the magazine ran dry, giving everybody around the area of the hanger door fifteen bullets to think about. With that many targets, shooting that many times in a small area, a hit was inevitable.
I don't know who you are. I suppose you'll have to accept a mental apology. Although even if you heard me... no.
I don't have to say sorry because there's no point. Nobody's forgiveness to seek and no-one who would give it to me. I'm not worth acceptance.
Heath had never up to that point shook a girl's hand as far as he remembered. Considering he isn't the most social of types, something that Heath has accepted, this made logical sense. As such, he felt quite a bit embarrassed and disconcerted when she took his hand, even though he did offer it.
What took him most by surprise was just how firm the grip felt. It just didn't feel like a grip that girl would have. It was remarkable cold to senses, warmth just barely getting through.
The smile she offered was enough to warm him internally, which he responded by broadening his own smile. It wasn't just that it was from a girl that warmed him so. It was the fact that was the first smile that he saw on this godforsaken island since he came here. That shocked him.
Shit, this has been seven days, and now is the first time I saw someone smiling. Granted being here of all places- Heath snapped out of it, realizing how rude of him to go off like that.
"Heath Trennoby. Nice to meet you, I'm Petra Andrews."
He nodded his head, about to respond with a courtesy; something generic like 'wow what a pretty name', 'nice to make your acquaintance' or other such fine noise. Until Margaret, the girl Heath meet up for a second in the mess hall, shouted, "Heath! You and that other girl better get in here now if you want to live!"
What the hell happened now? Heath thought nervously. Is it that one kid again? That Bobby kid or whatever his name is?
Looking back to Petra, who was giving him an inquire-laden look. "A friend of yours? And if it is, please tell me that's a joke."
Despite his lack of understanding social cues and people in general, could sense the worry in Petra's voice. He knew that worrying this girl will be a horrible thing to do. But he also knew the truth wasn't going to be any better.
Grabbing hold of Petra's hand, he whispered, "Let's run for it on three. OK?" Heath sighs. "One. Two. Three." He, with Petra in hand rushes over to the group. At least, tried to. The first bullet Bobby fired off hit Heath in the right elbow and sent him tumbling to the floor, flat on his face.
Within a single moment, his senses were consumed in a state of being unknown to Heath. His sight was blurred, his hearing was shot, he could taste the dirt of earth and blood of his mouth, and the pain. Oh pain. Heath never felt this before in his eighteen years of life.
"H-help..." was the only sound that drifted his lips.
What took him most by surprise was just how firm the grip felt. It just didn't feel like a grip that girl would have. It was remarkable cold to senses, warmth just barely getting through.
The smile she offered was enough to warm him internally, which he responded by broadening his own smile. It wasn't just that it was from a girl that warmed him so. It was the fact that was the first smile that he saw on this godforsaken island since he came here. That shocked him.
Shit, this has been seven days, and now is the first time I saw someone smiling. Granted being here of all places- Heath snapped out of it, realizing how rude of him to go off like that.
"Heath Trennoby. Nice to meet you, I'm Petra Andrews."
He nodded his head, about to respond with a courtesy; something generic like 'wow what a pretty name', 'nice to make your acquaintance' or other such fine noise. Until Margaret, the girl Heath meet up for a second in the mess hall, shouted, "Heath! You and that other girl better get in here now if you want to live!"
What the hell happened now? Heath thought nervously. Is it that one kid again? That Bobby kid or whatever his name is?
Looking back to Petra, who was giving him an inquire-laden look. "A friend of yours? And if it is, please tell me that's a joke."
Despite his lack of understanding social cues and people in general, could sense the worry in Petra's voice. He knew that worrying this girl will be a horrible thing to do. But he also knew the truth wasn't going to be any better.
Grabbing hold of Petra's hand, he whispered, "Let's run for it on three. OK?" Heath sighs. "One. Two. Three." He, with Petra in hand rushes over to the group. At least, tried to. The first bullet Bobby fired off hit Heath in the right elbow and sent him tumbling to the floor, flat on his face.
Within a single moment, his senses were consumed in a state of being unknown to Heath. His sight was blurred, his hearing was shot, he could taste the dirt of earth and blood of his mouth, and the pain. Oh pain. Heath never felt this before in his eighteen years of life.
"H-help..." was the only sound that drifted his lips.
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Ianto found himself unable to help smiling at Terrie's words toward him, nodding in agreement—it wasn't so much his horrible sense of direction, much anyway, just his ability to get distracted and lag behind more often than not. Breathing out a soft sigh still as he found himself happy at the current situation, something he didn't think would have happen again not after all that had been happening in these past few days. After Serenity died he really didn't think such a thing would be possible, at that point everything just seemed to be going downhill but for some reason he found himself unable to let himself to believe that. Unable to understand why, after so long here—running out of food, thankfully water seemed abundant but for some reason every time he thought he might be on the verge of giving up he found himself unable to stay in that mindset for long.
After all, what good would it be? For Terrie or for Brad to have him in such a state... still though, now he supposed wasn't the time to think about this either now that they had once again managed to find one another again. Glancing briefly to the other girl in the room with a small look at the 'what now' comment, thinking on it for a moment before remembering that he didn't even now this girl. Well, he knew of her—name and all that, but he didn't really know anything about her beyond the simple things and he could see why. The almost annoyed way of speaking and the less than pleasant looks almost made him feel annoyed, even though he understood the reasons to feel that way but it wasn't going to help with anything. He almost wanted to remind her that he didn't remember anything coming into agreement with her actually staying with them...
After all, larger groups were cause for more problems in the long run... that had he frankly didn't think he'd want to spend any amount of time beyond right now with the girl. Sighing somewhat as he clearly remembered the two downstairs, picking at his drenched sleeve somewhat as he thought—because even though he couldn't very well tell the girl to just leave, even though his basic instincts were telling him otherwise, he still had to put Terrie's and Brad's well-being first. Throughout this whole game he probably couldn't count on his fingers all the people that had died that he considered friends... hell he even took unable him to bury the unborn child of two of his classmates, and he was stuck at a point in this metaphoric road where he just wasn't to sure what to do. Swallowing somewhat as Terrie spoke as well about what they should do... though at this point he wondered how many options they had left.
They had probably covered most of the island in their time here... they were all exhausted, wounded, and in need of a break. And this place seemed probably the best place to do so, it was warm up here for the most part, shelter from the rain, and the door looked rather heavy so they wouldn't have to worry about anyone popping up on them. Though before he could speak he found himself smiling again as Brad spoke, nodding his head somewhat, "Sorry about that," He returned before Brad continued, nodding and agreeing with what he was saying about not leaving this place just yet. "I have to agree with you there, I have to bandage up myself... you guys need new bandages, we also need to figure out just how much food we have left. Water—thankfully—isn't that big of a problem at the moment." He said, rubbing at his chin somewhat with frown.
The frown only grew when Brad began to speak again, blinking somewhat concerned at the other's sudden... change in tone, like he as suddenly terribly worried about something. Ianto glancing back to the door with a tilt of his head, listening as Brad instructed the other girl in the room to call up Heath and Petra, glancing back in time as Brad held up the rifle he had remembered passing to him back in the mess hall with a mused look as he reached out to take him. Pausing and unzipping the daypack lying against his side to dig through it for a moment to quickly reload the weapon, something he had taught himself to do during the large majority of their time they spent walking from one location on the island to another. Though still, as Brad began to speak again, frowning somewhat because this was slightly startling he had to admit.
And as he ended, Ianto found himself frowning as he absently picked at his shirt sleeve before glancing up to Brad and opening his mouth to perhaps say something but found himself being cut off as the other girl spoke—glancing in her direction with a small look, making a small sound at her words concerning that she wouldn't be 'babysitting' them, "Well good. I don't remember any of asking us anything of you anyway." He said lightly, rolling his eyes and not bothering to listen any further as he returned to focusing on Brad and tilting his head somewhat and at least trying to smile somewhat. "Brad, dude, really—do you think any of us know what to do right now? Last week none of us could ever have thought of something like this could happen to a bunch of high school seniors going on a camping trip."
Ianto found that he was frowning again at that point, sifting uncomfortable on his feet as he rubbed his fingers near the wound on his forehead. "And if you ask me I think we're doing a pretty good job, sure you've had some bad luck—and we've lost friends, but you did what you could you besides what you—"
Just as quickly as he began to speak Ianto cut himself off as the sudden sounds of gunfire filled the air, glancing around in a panic trying to locate the source, but it seemed to be coming from outside the building. Afraid to move near the window in case one of the many bullets that seemed to be being fired off one after another, but just as quickly as it started it seemed to have ended. Ianto breathing out a sigh of relief, glad to see that no seemed to be hurt in their area... but what Petra and Heath?
"Really I don't know how this can get any worse." He muttered, about to walk toward the door to peek down the stairs to see if the other two had indeed followed, or had they been caught up in the gunfire that had just rocked outside? Before he got a chance to though he found himself pausing at that becoming familiar sound...
He was almost admitted not to listen, though it was hard not to as the death toll just seemed to continue climbing and climbing and he could only wonder when and where it was going to stop. Though if this was going to be like the last two versions of this game then he very well knew when this was going to end... but as Danya went on to mention the danger zone he couldn't help the annoyed sound. "It seems wherever we go this is going to happen." He muttered, glancing back to Terrie and Brad. "Seems we need to get moving before we risk the chance of having out necks blown off... again."
After all, what good would it be? For Terrie or for Brad to have him in such a state... still though, now he supposed wasn't the time to think about this either now that they had once again managed to find one another again. Glancing briefly to the other girl in the room with a small look at the 'what now' comment, thinking on it for a moment before remembering that he didn't even now this girl. Well, he knew of her—name and all that, but he didn't really know anything about her beyond the simple things and he could see why. The almost annoyed way of speaking and the less than pleasant looks almost made him feel annoyed, even though he understood the reasons to feel that way but it wasn't going to help with anything. He almost wanted to remind her that he didn't remember anything coming into agreement with her actually staying with them...
After all, larger groups were cause for more problems in the long run... that had he frankly didn't think he'd want to spend any amount of time beyond right now with the girl. Sighing somewhat as he clearly remembered the two downstairs, picking at his drenched sleeve somewhat as he thought—because even though he couldn't very well tell the girl to just leave, even though his basic instincts were telling him otherwise, he still had to put Terrie's and Brad's well-being first. Throughout this whole game he probably couldn't count on his fingers all the people that had died that he considered friends... hell he even took unable him to bury the unborn child of two of his classmates, and he was stuck at a point in this metaphoric road where he just wasn't to sure what to do. Swallowing somewhat as Terrie spoke as well about what they should do... though at this point he wondered how many options they had left.
They had probably covered most of the island in their time here... they were all exhausted, wounded, and in need of a break. And this place seemed probably the best place to do so, it was warm up here for the most part, shelter from the rain, and the door looked rather heavy so they wouldn't have to worry about anyone popping up on them. Though before he could speak he found himself smiling again as Brad spoke, nodding his head somewhat, "Sorry about that," He returned before Brad continued, nodding and agreeing with what he was saying about not leaving this place just yet. "I have to agree with you there, I have to bandage up myself... you guys need new bandages, we also need to figure out just how much food we have left. Water—thankfully—isn't that big of a problem at the moment." He said, rubbing at his chin somewhat with frown.
The frown only grew when Brad began to speak again, blinking somewhat concerned at the other's sudden... change in tone, like he as suddenly terribly worried about something. Ianto glancing back to the door with a tilt of his head, listening as Brad instructed the other girl in the room to call up Heath and Petra, glancing back in time as Brad held up the rifle he had remembered passing to him back in the mess hall with a mused look as he reached out to take him. Pausing and unzipping the daypack lying against his side to dig through it for a moment to quickly reload the weapon, something he had taught himself to do during the large majority of their time they spent walking from one location on the island to another. Though still, as Brad began to speak again, frowning somewhat because this was slightly startling he had to admit.
And as he ended, Ianto found himself frowning as he absently picked at his shirt sleeve before glancing up to Brad and opening his mouth to perhaps say something but found himself being cut off as the other girl spoke—glancing in her direction with a small look, making a small sound at her words concerning that she wouldn't be 'babysitting' them, "Well good. I don't remember any of asking us anything of you anyway." He said lightly, rolling his eyes and not bothering to listen any further as he returned to focusing on Brad and tilting his head somewhat and at least trying to smile somewhat. "Brad, dude, really—do you think any of us know what to do right now? Last week none of us could ever have thought of something like this could happen to a bunch of high school seniors going on a camping trip."
Ianto found that he was frowning again at that point, sifting uncomfortable on his feet as he rubbed his fingers near the wound on his forehead. "And if you ask me I think we're doing a pretty good job, sure you've had some bad luck—and we've lost friends, but you did what you could you besides what you—"
Just as quickly as he began to speak Ianto cut himself off as the sudden sounds of gunfire filled the air, glancing around in a panic trying to locate the source, but it seemed to be coming from outside the building. Afraid to move near the window in case one of the many bullets that seemed to be being fired off one after another, but just as quickly as it started it seemed to have ended. Ianto breathing out a sigh of relief, glad to see that no seemed to be hurt in their area... but what Petra and Heath?
"Really I don't know how this can get any worse." He muttered, about to walk toward the door to peek down the stairs to see if the other two had indeed followed, or had they been caught up in the gunfire that had just rocked outside? Before he got a chance to though he found himself pausing at that becoming familiar sound...
He was almost admitted not to listen, though it was hard not to as the death toll just seemed to continue climbing and climbing and he could only wonder when and where it was going to stop. Though if this was going to be like the last two versions of this game then he very well knew when this was going to end... but as Danya went on to mention the danger zone he couldn't help the annoyed sound. "It seems wherever we go this is going to happen." He muttered, glancing back to Terrie and Brad. "Seems we need to get moving before we risk the chance of having out necks blown off... again."
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((Might wanna edit that Neuphim 
. Kinda no-selling getting shot at there.))
After screaming his anger (self-hatred perhaps?) and unloading an entire magazine's worth of ammunition for the SIG at the group lazing around outside the hanger of the airfield Bobby didn't stop to see whether he hit them or not, turning around and beginning to walk away, ammunition and rage momentarily spent, apart from...
Bobby wheeled around to shout out at the top of his lungs, conflicting somewhat with the announcement as Danya droned on about kills and who did what and all that shit.
"ROBERT! JACKS!" he bellowed, easily carrying over the sound of the PA, at least to those in the immediate vicinity. "He's a murderer! A killer! A player! Seven times people have died because of him! And he isn't proud! It doesn't make him feel good! It makes him feel hollow! Knowing the depths that he'll sink to just to safeguard his miserable little life! Hate him if you must, but don't fear him - pity him! He's taking the easy option out, and now that he's chosen that path, he's doomed to walk it until the day he dies!" Bobby had to choke back tears then, a few trickles running down as his face as he subsided in time to hear the area designated a danger zone.
Time to leave, and time to kill. Always time to kill, never to... rest.
Bobby staggered away, back into the comfort of the solitary reflection of the jungle.
((Continued in Mourn/Sound and Fury))
. Kinda no-selling getting shot at there.))After screaming his anger (self-hatred perhaps?) and unloading an entire magazine's worth of ammunition for the SIG at the group lazing around outside the hanger of the airfield Bobby didn't stop to see whether he hit them or not, turning around and beginning to walk away, ammunition and rage momentarily spent, apart from...
Bobby wheeled around to shout out at the top of his lungs, conflicting somewhat with the announcement as Danya droned on about kills and who did what and all that shit.
"ROBERT! JACKS!" he bellowed, easily carrying over the sound of the PA, at least to those in the immediate vicinity. "He's a murderer! A killer! A player! Seven times people have died because of him! And he isn't proud! It doesn't make him feel good! It makes him feel hollow! Knowing the depths that he'll sink to just to safeguard his miserable little life! Hate him if you must, but don't fear him - pity him! He's taking the easy option out, and now that he's chosen that path, he's doomed to walk it until the day he dies!" Bobby had to choke back tears then, a few trickles running down as his face as he subsided in time to hear the area designated a danger zone.
Time to leave, and time to kill. Always time to kill, never to... rest.
Bobby staggered away, back into the comfort of the solitary reflection of the jungle.
((Continued in Mourn/Sound and Fury))
(I tried to edited it yesterday. But the site crashed or something while I was on, I'll change it right now to be more appropiate.)
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(Alrighty, just thought I'd mention it. Anyhow. Enough OOC spam))
Margaret could faintly hear the voice of the tormented Bobby Jacks as she stepped away from the borders of the airfield. "Nice speech," she commented to herself. "A bit on the melodramatic side, though."
She couldn't concern herself with that now. She had a mission and no power on earth would stop her from completing it.
((Margaret Tweedy continued elsewhere))
She couldn't concern herself with that now. She had a mission and no power on earth would stop her from completing it.
((Margaret Tweedy continued elsewhere))
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-
DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
Petra didn't like the look that quickly came over Heath's face. She liked his response even less. Taking her hand in his, the boy's stone serious face told her that the situation was nothing to joke about. "Let's run for it on three. OK?" Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, Petra clenched her jaw and gave a quick nod. Planting her feet for an explosive takeoff, she waited for Heath's signal.
"One. Two. Three."
At the uttering of the word, Petra did her best to burst towards the tower. The mud, gave way to her foot, slowing down the sprinter. Keeping a close distance to Heath, Petra eyes wouldn't stray from her goal. Gotta' run. Gotta' make it inside.
No more than a few strides into her sprint, she heard it. The sound of gunfire cracked loudly across the airfield. Just as suddenly as the gunfire, Heath's hand disappeared from around hers. Turning to look for her companion, Petra was in time for a bullet to found its home in her left shoulder. A moment later, a second tore its way through the bicep of the same arm. Spinning from the shots, Petra quickly fell to her knees, her day pack dropping from her suddenly open hand.
Doubling over, her ruined arm carefully tucked against her chest, the girl cried out as blood stained her clothing. Tears streaked down her cheeks and pain burned in her arm. The pop of gunfire finally subsided, only to be replaced by an anguished wail. Robert Jacks poured out the hurts of his soul, expecting sympathy. For a moment, Petra's pain-addled mind almost felt sorry for Jacks. He sounded so remorseful. And then she heard the pathetic moans for help coming from the collapsed boy next to her.
Clenching her teeth, the girl shook her head and kept a firm grip on the wound in her upper arm. No. No sympathy. No pity. He doesn't deserve it. Other people were just as afraid as Jacks was. Not everyone resorted to killing. Those that did must have had a good reason for it, right? But Jacks...he just shot at people because they were easy targets. And then he had the nerve to ask for forgiveness? Bullshit.
"You're full of shit, Jacks!" Still hunched over, the girl screamed out at the top of her lungs. "You didn't have to do this! You didn't have to play! You're not some sort of tortured soul in need of pity! You...you're just...YOU'RE JUST EVIL!"
Sniveling in the rain, Petra finally realized that the announcements had been going on during the shouting match. That didn't matter. She just hoped Jacks had heard her. Until Danya announced the Danger Zones.
"Shit..." Looking back at the fallen Heath, the injured girl forced herself to her feet. "Hey...Heath, you ok? We gotta' get outta' here." Stumbling next to the boy, she quickly took a knee next to his prone form. "Heath, can you hear me?" Touching his shoulder, she felt the familiar urge to cry. "Please don't be dead."
No. Don't cry anymore. Do something useful.
"Ianto!" Grabbing at Heath's arm, Petra did her best to haul to boy up. She couldn't do this alone. "Ianto, please help me!"
"One. Two. Three."
At the uttering of the word, Petra did her best to burst towards the tower. The mud, gave way to her foot, slowing down the sprinter. Keeping a close distance to Heath, Petra eyes wouldn't stray from her goal. Gotta' run. Gotta' make it inside.
No more than a few strides into her sprint, she heard it. The sound of gunfire cracked loudly across the airfield. Just as suddenly as the gunfire, Heath's hand disappeared from around hers. Turning to look for her companion, Petra was in time for a bullet to found its home in her left shoulder. A moment later, a second tore its way through the bicep of the same arm. Spinning from the shots, Petra quickly fell to her knees, her day pack dropping from her suddenly open hand.
Doubling over, her ruined arm carefully tucked against her chest, the girl cried out as blood stained her clothing. Tears streaked down her cheeks and pain burned in her arm. The pop of gunfire finally subsided, only to be replaced by an anguished wail. Robert Jacks poured out the hurts of his soul, expecting sympathy. For a moment, Petra's pain-addled mind almost felt sorry for Jacks. He sounded so remorseful. And then she heard the pathetic moans for help coming from the collapsed boy next to her.
Clenching her teeth, the girl shook her head and kept a firm grip on the wound in her upper arm. No. No sympathy. No pity. He doesn't deserve it. Other people were just as afraid as Jacks was. Not everyone resorted to killing. Those that did must have had a good reason for it, right? But Jacks...he just shot at people because they were easy targets. And then he had the nerve to ask for forgiveness? Bullshit.
"You're full of shit, Jacks!" Still hunched over, the girl screamed out at the top of her lungs. "You didn't have to do this! You didn't have to play! You're not some sort of tortured soul in need of pity! You...you're just...YOU'RE JUST EVIL!"
Sniveling in the rain, Petra finally realized that the announcements had been going on during the shouting match. That didn't matter. She just hoped Jacks had heard her. Until Danya announced the Danger Zones.
"Shit..." Looking back at the fallen Heath, the injured girl forced herself to her feet. "Hey...Heath, you ok? We gotta' get outta' here." Stumbling next to the boy, she quickly took a knee next to his prone form. "Heath, can you hear me?" Touching his shoulder, she felt the familiar urge to cry. "Please don't be dead."
No. Don't cry anymore. Do something useful.
"Ianto!" Grabbing at Heath's arm, Petra did her best to haul to boy up. She couldn't do this alone. "Ianto, please help me!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.
Heath usually thought about death and the afterlife all the time. But laying there, it truly struck with overwhelming force. He thought about his mother and father, wanting to know what they were thinking. When they died that is.
He also wondered about his brother, wether or not he was seeing this as well. Heath hoped he didn't. He doesn't want the little guy getting nightmares or something.
He breathed in and out, waiting for death to finally come.
Heath, don't be a pussy! Get the fuck up right now! All that happened was that you got shot in the arm, so stop acting all dead andget the fuck up!
Heath opened his eyes to see that Petra was helping him up. He clutched hold of her hand, lifting himself up in the process. His head feels like it was made of air but he shook it off. He was
"Petra... thank you." His eyes widden when his sight took notice of Petra's bullet wounds. "Shit, you're hurt!" Heath pulled his good arm around Petra, feeling his right spaz slightly. He stood his ground, helping Petra as she did the same for him.
Heath looked to Petra, giving a sly wink, and then the rest of the group. "Let's git."
(Heath leaves with Petra when she leaves)
He also wondered about his brother, wether or not he was seeing this as well. Heath hoped he didn't. He doesn't want the little guy getting nightmares or something.
He breathed in and out, waiting for death to finally come.
Heath, don't be a pussy! Get the fuck up right now! All that happened was that you got shot in the arm, so stop acting all dead andget the fuck up!
Heath opened his eyes to see that Petra was helping him up. He clutched hold of her hand, lifting himself up in the process. His head feels like it was made of air but he shook it off. He was
"Petra... thank you." His eyes widden when his sight took notice of Petra's bullet wounds. "Shit, you're hurt!" Heath pulled his good arm around Petra, feeling his right spaz slightly. He stood his ground, helping Petra as she did the same for him.
Heath looked to Petra, giving a sly wink, and then the rest of the group. "Let's git."
(Heath leaves with Petra when she leaves)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Neuphim. 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.