10.
That was the number of bullets a Mauser M2 could hold. A rare gun to say the least. No longer in production and never was popular as an import, the Mauser M2 was reletively unknown. The chances of one ever appearing on a reality show was staggering even when something like Survival of the Fittest was concerned. What people didn't know was that the gun itself was very safe in and of itself. The recoil wasn't staggering to the point of dislocating a shoulder, and while it isn't as violent as a .44 Magnum it could kill. Definitely. Any gun could kill, it just mattered on where you fired.
7.
That's how many clips came with the Mauser M2. One of them was half used on a tree. Target practice.
6.
That's how many clips were left.
65.
That's how many bullets could be shot at Bobby Jacks, at that moment.
Why was all of this important? Simple. Nicholas Nutbrown had enough bullets on him so that if he so chose, he could kill Bobby Jacks right then and there. And, from how things were heading, that was going to be the case very soon.
Nicholas was having some rotten luck. He had gone for five days without seeing a soul, and the first person he sees is Bobby Jacks, a crazed motherfucker. Jesus. He killed three people in the past ten minutes. What chance did Nicholas have? Pretty high, he figured. Nutbrown was holding his pistol with two hands and he was close enough to get a good shot at Bobby's head. Damned close. VERY damned close. Should Nutbrown take the reigns and kill Bobby? Good question, but that wasn't what he was looking to answer. The biggest question of the moment: could he kill him?
"..."
Why not find out?
Nutbrown wanted to be fair towards Bobby, but that was thrown out the window a few minutes before. Aiming at the head was about the only he could do. He saw that Bobby took a bullet to the chest and still found the energy to get back up. Either he could take the pain or he had a vest on. That's about what Nutbrown conjured up, although damned if he knew. Standing from behind Bobby was even more deceitful, although he was standing pretty far away. The darnkess of the night was Nutbrown's friend: it envelopes him and makes him dissapear. Even if he was facing Bobby face-to-face Jacks would have a hard time seeing him.
But enough talk. Nutbrown aimed at Bobby and pulled the trigger three times, his hands moving in responce to the recoil. Those bullets were going straight for Jacks, although not aimed for the head but instead for his chest and his neck. He was planning to stay in the background, behind the scenes, but not now. Taking Bobby down was his first objective.
Meanwhile, Dominica was at the end of her string. She had let Arthur head out there and get killed. She had no sympathy, but a huge feeling of guilt hung about her like a large rain cloud. She could have done something to help and yet she did nothing. Nothing at all. And now Neil was flipping out, obviously mad. Dominica got up from her position, standing up straight and ran her arm against his shoulder.
"Come on Neil, let it go..." she sighed. Why the hell was she saying this again? If Neil died it would be no dirt on her shoulders but... she felt as though she had to calm him down. "He'll leave. He's got what he wanted. He killed someone, and if you shoot him it'll just give him incentive to kill you. You're the only sane person out there and if you die then we all die. Just let Jacks pass."
Sound and Fury
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Matt turned his eyes away at the first gunshot. He knew it meant that Arthur was dead. Bobby shot him. He knew it was coming, and he felt the guilt and sorrow well up inside him. However... he couldn't muster a single tear for the boy's death. Matt had been so surrounded by it, that he found it barely affected him anymore. He too had a hand in the death of a student on the island. Death was a normality here... and it scared him that he had adapted to that fact.
At the sound of a following gunshot, Matt's head snapped in the direction of the sound. He saw nothing, but soon enough, he saw blood spouting out of Ivan's neck. He watched as the boy's eyes widened, then grew cold as his limp, lifeless body fell onto the wet grass. The look in his eyes... it was the same look that Khrysta had when her own throat was slit. It was a look of knowing. Knowing there was nothing they could have done to save themselves.
Neil screamed at Bobby to leave. Matt understood. They couldn't risk losing anyone else. No matter how much it hurt to watch their comrades, for however short a time, die. The most important thing was keeping those who were still alive safe, and finding a way to beat the game. Dominica tried to calm Neil down, and Matt rested against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut.
The thing that bothered him the most wasn't that they were dead, or that they were letting the one who killed them walk free...
No...
It was the fact that he couldn't cry that shook him to his core.
At the sound of a following gunshot, Matt's head snapped in the direction of the sound. He saw nothing, but soon enough, he saw blood spouting out of Ivan's neck. He watched as the boy's eyes widened, then grew cold as his limp, lifeless body fell onto the wet grass. The look in his eyes... it was the same look that Khrysta had when her own throat was slit. It was a look of knowing. Knowing there was nothing they could have done to save themselves.
Neil screamed at Bobby to leave. Matt understood. They couldn't risk losing anyone else. No matter how much it hurt to watch their comrades, for however short a time, die. The most important thing was keeping those who were still alive safe, and finding a way to beat the game. Dominica tried to calm Neil down, and Matt rested against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut.
The thing that bothered him the most wasn't that they were dead, or that they were letting the one who killed them walk free...
No...
It was the fact that he couldn't cry that shook him to his core.
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Warren had frozen yet again. He wasn't opposed to shooting Bobby Jacks per se, but the presence of Ivan in close proximity to Bobby pretty much screwed that idea. There was no way in hell he could live with himself if he accidentally killed an innocent bystander.
As it turned out, living with having let innocent bystanders die was almost as bad. Jacks had first taken out the shy little kid who came up to them with a cell phone, of all things, then a nerd (one of Warren's old punching bags, he couldn't help but notice) who stumbled out of the jungle looking half-dead already before Bobby gunned him down. And lastly was Ivan, the very hostage that Warren had refused to shoot around. Warren had stood by and done nothing while Jacks killed them,
one
after
another
after
another.
NO! God dammit, can't I do anything right? Quincy's never going to let me live this down!
But Quincy was caught up in his own little world. Since Bobby began making his threat, his brain decided to add special effects, blurring everything out and muting the colors to the point where Bobby looked like an indistinct dark blob. Everybody's voices were also muffled, as though the sound was played over speakers covered in several layers of wool.
The only detail in this stark vision first appeared when Bobby shot Arhtur, who foolishly charged the bigger and better-armed contestant. As the bullets thudded into Artie's body, blood the color of a Stampede's duster splashed out. Nothing else that Quincy had seen on the island even came close to the startling clarity that he could see in these droplets of wasted life. Each little drop, lovingly rendered with the hand of a skilled and disturbed animator, fell gracefully to the ground and landed on several blades of grass, weighing them down until pointed to the soil, the ultimate destination of all bodily fluids in the game.
Quincy was so enthralled with Artie's blood that he nearly missed the opportunity to witness the slaughter of Bobby's sixth victim. In a bold move, Jacks didn't even bother to honor his victim with a glance, shooting blindly at his prey and inexplicably striking it in the head. Bollocks! There's absolutely no way he could have made that shot! It was a one-in-a-million chance, and I don't care what Pratchett says, it's just not going to work!
But it did work, and Quincy's mental protest was drowned out by the sight of Andy's head exploding in slow motion. Bobby's bullets made mincemeat out of the poor nerd's noggin, spraying not just cartoon blood but cartoon brain matter as well, causing it to soar through the air behind the boy until it came to rest on the bark of a nearby tree, oddly reminding Quincy of the last time his mother had prepared spaghetti for him. As much as he hated that tart, he did love the way she cooked spaghetti.
But all good things come in threes, and Boddy delivered by spilling another fountain of blood from the neck of Ivan Roeghmills. One of the major breaks in immersion during the first SOTF was the death of Jacob Starr; after all of the tribulation and abuse he forced his body through, all it took was a slice at the throat to finally put him to rest. The blood there was all wrong, too. Apparently Jacob held the Guinness world record for highest blood pressure, because it squirted from his neck wound like it was being pumped through a firehose, liberally emptying out of his body with sickening alacrity. Ivan's blood, by contrast, briefly sprayed outward before he fell to the ground, then soaked into the ground and clung to the contours of his lifeless body.
As soon as Ivan fell, most of Quincy's vision and hearing returned to normal. Neil was screaming at the top of his lungs in outrage to Bobby's triple kill, while Dominica was attempting to placate him and keep the group safe.
Which left Quincy with the question of just what the hell his vision meant. Did he really obsess over the way the victims bled? What was happening to him?
"Splunge?" he asked out loud, finding himself at a loss for real words.
I gave you blood, blood
Gallons of the stuff
I gave you all that you can drink
And it has never been enough
I gave you blood, blood
Bloo-oo-ood!
I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love!
As it turned out, living with having let innocent bystanders die was almost as bad. Jacks had first taken out the shy little kid who came up to them with a cell phone, of all things, then a nerd (one of Warren's old punching bags, he couldn't help but notice) who stumbled out of the jungle looking half-dead already before Bobby gunned him down. And lastly was Ivan, the very hostage that Warren had refused to shoot around. Warren had stood by and done nothing while Jacks killed them,
one
after
another
after
another.
NO! God dammit, can't I do anything right? Quincy's never going to let me live this down!
But Quincy was caught up in his own little world. Since Bobby began making his threat, his brain decided to add special effects, blurring everything out and muting the colors to the point where Bobby looked like an indistinct dark blob. Everybody's voices were also muffled, as though the sound was played over speakers covered in several layers of wool.
The only detail in this stark vision first appeared when Bobby shot Arhtur, who foolishly charged the bigger and better-armed contestant. As the bullets thudded into Artie's body, blood the color of a Stampede's duster splashed out. Nothing else that Quincy had seen on the island even came close to the startling clarity that he could see in these droplets of wasted life. Each little drop, lovingly rendered with the hand of a skilled and disturbed animator, fell gracefully to the ground and landed on several blades of grass, weighing them down until pointed to the soil, the ultimate destination of all bodily fluids in the game.
Quincy was so enthralled with Artie's blood that he nearly missed the opportunity to witness the slaughter of Bobby's sixth victim. In a bold move, Jacks didn't even bother to honor his victim with a glance, shooting blindly at his prey and inexplicably striking it in the head. Bollocks! There's absolutely no way he could have made that shot! It was a one-in-a-million chance, and I don't care what Pratchett says, it's just not going to work!
But it did work, and Quincy's mental protest was drowned out by the sight of Andy's head exploding in slow motion. Bobby's bullets made mincemeat out of the poor nerd's noggin, spraying not just cartoon blood but cartoon brain matter as well, causing it to soar through the air behind the boy until it came to rest on the bark of a nearby tree, oddly reminding Quincy of the last time his mother had prepared spaghetti for him. As much as he hated that tart, he did love the way she cooked spaghetti.
But all good things come in threes, and Boddy delivered by spilling another fountain of blood from the neck of Ivan Roeghmills. One of the major breaks in immersion during the first SOTF was the death of Jacob Starr; after all of the tribulation and abuse he forced his body through, all it took was a slice at the throat to finally put him to rest. The blood there was all wrong, too. Apparently Jacob held the Guinness world record for highest blood pressure, because it squirted from his neck wound like it was being pumped through a firehose, liberally emptying out of his body with sickening alacrity. Ivan's blood, by contrast, briefly sprayed outward before he fell to the ground, then soaked into the ground and clung to the contours of his lifeless body.
As soon as Ivan fell, most of Quincy's vision and hearing returned to normal. Neil was screaming at the top of his lungs in outrage to Bobby's triple kill, while Dominica was attempting to placate him and keep the group safe.
Which left Quincy with the question of just what the hell his vision meant. Did he really obsess over the way the victims bled? What was happening to him?
"Splunge?" he asked out loud, finding himself at a loss for real words.
I gave you blood, blood
Gallons of the stuff
I gave you all that you can drink
And it has never been enough
I gave you blood, blood
Bloo-oo-ood!
I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love!
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-
Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
One gunshot.
Two gunshots.
Hannah was surprised at her lack of any kind of reaction to them. But then again, she was already close to the edge; there wasn't much farther that she could go. She didn't even need to see or hear the other's reaction to know what had happened.
Arthur and Ivan were dead.
Morbid curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself carefully crawling towards the entrance of the barracks and looking outside. She quickly wished that she hadn't.
She had seen her share of dead bodies on the island, and while they did horrify her at first, she quickly built up a sort of detachment towards them. Maybe it was because she didn't personally know many of the people at her school. Maybe it was because it was obvious that the bodies had been dead for some time. But seeing the freshly-killed bodies of Arthur, Ivan, and Andy, it took all Hannah had to keep from throwing up right then and there. They were all alive just a moment ago. Arthur was right in the doorway, offering SADD a possible way off the island. Ivan, though he was unconcious until right up near the end, Hannah had risked her life running out from under cover with an experienced killer nearby to save him.
And then he died anyway.
Crushing despair sunk in as reality struck her. She wanted to run, to run far away from this scene of carnage and go back to trying to survive on her own. She knew that if she ran, she would die eventually, but she was sure at that moment that if she stayed, she would die a lot faster. Initially, she had only thought of the good things to come of joining SADD, but now she started to see the downsides. Besides the fact that they had gotten under Danya's skin enough for him to actually punish them himself, their exploits had been announced across the entire island. Friends of those who had been killed by Danya's collar detenation spree would probably go after SADD, seeking revenge. Even if it wasn't for that, a group like SADD would be an obvious target for any player looking to make a name for themselves in the game.
Suddenly, three more gunshots rang out, and Hannah instinctively threw herself to the ground a second time, curling up again and trying to make herself as small a target as she could.
Two gunshots.
Hannah was surprised at her lack of any kind of reaction to them. But then again, she was already close to the edge; there wasn't much farther that she could go. She didn't even need to see or hear the other's reaction to know what had happened.
Arthur and Ivan were dead.
Morbid curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself carefully crawling towards the entrance of the barracks and looking outside. She quickly wished that she hadn't.
She had seen her share of dead bodies on the island, and while they did horrify her at first, she quickly built up a sort of detachment towards them. Maybe it was because she didn't personally know many of the people at her school. Maybe it was because it was obvious that the bodies had been dead for some time. But seeing the freshly-killed bodies of Arthur, Ivan, and Andy, it took all Hannah had to keep from throwing up right then and there. They were all alive just a moment ago. Arthur was right in the doorway, offering SADD a possible way off the island. Ivan, though he was unconcious until right up near the end, Hannah had risked her life running out from under cover with an experienced killer nearby to save him.
And then he died anyway.
Crushing despair sunk in as reality struck her. She wanted to run, to run far away from this scene of carnage and go back to trying to survive on her own. She knew that if she ran, she would die eventually, but she was sure at that moment that if she stayed, she would die a lot faster. Initially, she had only thought of the good things to come of joining SADD, but now she started to see the downsides. Besides the fact that they had gotten under Danya's skin enough for him to actually punish them himself, their exploits had been announced across the entire island. Friends of those who had been killed by Danya's collar detenation spree would probably go after SADD, seeking revenge. Even if it wasn't for that, a group like SADD would be an obvious target for any player looking to make a name for themselves in the game.
Suddenly, three more gunshots rang out, and Hannah instinctively threw herself to the ground a second time, curling up again and trying to make herself as small a target as she could.
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And like that, Ivan was dead too. As his victim crumpled, Bobby abstractly wondered if that was some kind of record for a group of kills - the entire thing must have happened inside of a minute, if even that. Blam. Arthur was gone. Blam. That other kid was gone. Slice. Ivan was gone.
Just...
Like...
That...
It was a good thing that Bobby hadn't wanted to dally at the barracks any longer. Upon slitting Ivan's throat he had immediately turned about and was on the move. That probably saved him from being shot in the face, plus the fact that Nutbrown had very little experience with his weapon. It didn't matter what the comic books depicted, you didn't become an expert by squeezing off a couple of shots: Bobby would be surprised if he even managed to hit anything else with his SIG. Hitting Andy had been a phenomenally lucky shot, one he was unlikely to ever replicate without arranging the whole situation perfectly.
Turning around, it took a split second for Bobby to register there was somebody standing in the shadows of the treeline, and in that regard, it was very lucky indeed he'd already started to move. The three bullets fired by whoever the guy in the trees was buzzed by on Bobby's left, and the boxer didn't plan on giving him time to re-adjust his aim, sprinting off on a diagonal tangent to the right, putting the trees between him and his assailant.
Bobby vaguely heard voices call out behind him, but he didn't heed them. It was probably Neil warning the others he was about to take a potshot or something. Much to his surprise, he made it into the forest and finally, blissfully, escaped the area.
((Bobby Jacks continued in: The Beginning is The End is The Beginning))
Just...
Like...
That...
It was a good thing that Bobby hadn't wanted to dally at the barracks any longer. Upon slitting Ivan's throat he had immediately turned about and was on the move. That probably saved him from being shot in the face, plus the fact that Nutbrown had very little experience with his weapon. It didn't matter what the comic books depicted, you didn't become an expert by squeezing off a couple of shots: Bobby would be surprised if he even managed to hit anything else with his SIG. Hitting Andy had been a phenomenally lucky shot, one he was unlikely to ever replicate without arranging the whole situation perfectly.
Turning around, it took a split second for Bobby to register there was somebody standing in the shadows of the treeline, and in that regard, it was very lucky indeed he'd already started to move. The three bullets fired by whoever the guy in the trees was buzzed by on Bobby's left, and the boxer didn't plan on giving him time to re-adjust his aim, sprinting off on a diagonal tangent to the right, putting the trees between him and his assailant.
Bobby vaguely heard voices call out behind him, but he didn't heed them. It was probably Neil warning the others he was about to take a potshot or something. Much to his surprise, he made it into the forest and finally, blissfully, escaped the area.
((Bobby Jacks continued in: The Beginning is The End is The Beginning))
"Dominica...thanks..."
Neil was glad that he head friends like her. She was different than she was when he first met her on the island. Neil would keep his promise, and not bring up her past on the island before she met her and his rag tag group. She deserved that promise after all she did to help him.
Neil Sinclair heard more gunshots, but when he leaned out, Bobby Jacks was gone.
He saw the shape disappearing into the distance. Neil thought about collapsing, just letting his emotions take over. He wanted to scream, to yell, to cry. He couldn't though. people were looking up to him, and in the wake of this disaster Neil would have to be the one who stood up. He had to be the beacon that led the others to get off this island. To get back at Danya. Just like the song Neil sang with Evan and Ric back at the shore telling Danya off.
Neil ran out from his cover to Ivan. He dropped to the ground over the boy and pressed his hands against Ivan's neck.
"Please come on man...don't be dead..."
Neil knew it was stupid. The boy was dead. There was nothing that could be done. After a full minute of trying to revive the boy Neil through his head back in anger and screamed.
It was a scream of anger, horror, hatred, sadness. It was the type of roar heard most often throughout the island. Slowly standing up, Neil looked around. Blood stained on his hands. He took his M16 off his shoulder and held it, the warm blood staining the gun. He looked around at those who were left.
"Listen up! Everyone here! Those in hiding and those who came with me!"
Neil took a moment, making sure everyone could hear him.
"Those of you who don't know me, I'm Neil Sinclair! The very same guy from the announcements! Leader of S.A.D.D! You may have heard me on the announcements! If you want to take your shot at killing me, go ahead! What will it get you anyways? A spot at fame? You want to be like Bobby!?! You want to run around killing people!?! Who are we?"
Neil slowly turned around, to catch the eyes of those who were looking, and to let his voice carry to those in hiding.
"I am fucking Neil Sinclair! I'm responsible for a little group known as S.A.D.D! Danya's already let it be known that we're a thorn in his side. We can rise against this! We can do this! None of us are killers! We all saw what a killer is like, we all just witnessed the worst thing anyone should ever have to witness! I have blood on my hands now! I saw my friend Corbin die at the lookout tower! I just saw three kids die now!"
Neil paused, his mind racing for what to say next. His adrenaline was pumping, and he was reminded of his very first concert he performed at. He was nervous, yet loved the crowd. He let their energy feed into him, and in return he gave them their energy back in the form of a great show.
"Right now, is our time to make a stand! All of you! There is no unpopular versus popular here. There is no rich and poor. There is only good and evil. We all saw evil, and we are the good! If you want to make your stand, if you want to do something other than survive, follow me! I'm going to be heading to the chapel soon, where S.A.D.D will form their next actions. If you're in S.A.D.D and still are willing to follow me, great. If you aren't in my group but want to join, great."
"Now come on everyone!"
Neil Sinclair raised both of his hands in the air, holding his M16 up high.
"SADD! SADD! SADD! SADD!"
Neil hoped to get everyone's energy flowing. He wanted everyone to get involved.
It was time to strike back against the island.
Neil was glad that he head friends like her. She was different than she was when he first met her on the island. Neil would keep his promise, and not bring up her past on the island before she met her and his rag tag group. She deserved that promise after all she did to help him.
Neil Sinclair heard more gunshots, but when he leaned out, Bobby Jacks was gone.
He saw the shape disappearing into the distance. Neil thought about collapsing, just letting his emotions take over. He wanted to scream, to yell, to cry. He couldn't though. people were looking up to him, and in the wake of this disaster Neil would have to be the one who stood up. He had to be the beacon that led the others to get off this island. To get back at Danya. Just like the song Neil sang with Evan and Ric back at the shore telling Danya off.
Neil ran out from his cover to Ivan. He dropped to the ground over the boy and pressed his hands against Ivan's neck.
"Please come on man...don't be dead..."
Neil knew it was stupid. The boy was dead. There was nothing that could be done. After a full minute of trying to revive the boy Neil through his head back in anger and screamed.
It was a scream of anger, horror, hatred, sadness. It was the type of roar heard most often throughout the island. Slowly standing up, Neil looked around. Blood stained on his hands. He took his M16 off his shoulder and held it, the warm blood staining the gun. He looked around at those who were left.
"Listen up! Everyone here! Those in hiding and those who came with me!"
Neil took a moment, making sure everyone could hear him.
"Those of you who don't know me, I'm Neil Sinclair! The very same guy from the announcements! Leader of S.A.D.D! You may have heard me on the announcements! If you want to take your shot at killing me, go ahead! What will it get you anyways? A spot at fame? You want to be like Bobby!?! You want to run around killing people!?! Who are we?"
Neil slowly turned around, to catch the eyes of those who were looking, and to let his voice carry to those in hiding.
"I am fucking Neil Sinclair! I'm responsible for a little group known as S.A.D.D! Danya's already let it be known that we're a thorn in his side. We can rise against this! We can do this! None of us are killers! We all saw what a killer is like, we all just witnessed the worst thing anyone should ever have to witness! I have blood on my hands now! I saw my friend Corbin die at the lookout tower! I just saw three kids die now!"
Neil paused, his mind racing for what to say next. His adrenaline was pumping, and he was reminded of his very first concert he performed at. He was nervous, yet loved the crowd. He let their energy feed into him, and in return he gave them their energy back in the form of a great show.
"Right now, is our time to make a stand! All of you! There is no unpopular versus popular here. There is no rich and poor. There is only good and evil. We all saw evil, and we are the good! If you want to make your stand, if you want to do something other than survive, follow me! I'm going to be heading to the chapel soon, where S.A.D.D will form their next actions. If you're in S.A.D.D and still are willing to follow me, great. If you aren't in my group but want to join, great."
"Now come on everyone!"
Neil Sinclair raised both of his hands in the air, holding his M16 up high.
"SADD! SADD! SADD! SADD!"
Neil hoped to get everyone's energy flowing. He wanted everyone to get involved.
It was time to strike back against the island.
Dorian Ibanescu, Male Student no. 65, felt weaker than he ever had in his life.
He'd done nothing but stand there, mortified at the fact that Bobby Jacks could heartlessly kill another human being. When Arthur Williams appeared seemingly out of nowhere and became Bobby's first victim, Dorian had to turn away the second Bobby pointed the gun at his head. He'd managed to travel the island for days without seeing another of his friends get murdered, and that was a streak he'd rather not have ruined. Unfortunately he made the mistake of turning back to face Bobby just before a second sound erupted from his gun, striking Andy McCann down behind him. The sign he held that read "SOTF" in large blue writing almost seemed to be mocking everyone who stood helplessly by as Bobby increased his kill count.
When Bobby leaned down to whisper something in Ivan's ear, Dorian was prepared for the worst. What was the point of taking a hostage if you never intended to let them go to begin with? Why Ivan, of all people? Why wasn't he reacting? Was there anything that anyone could really do? What the hell was Bobby Jacks thinking? Questions kept swimming through Dorian's mind and making it hard for him to think straight, but he soon found that he didn't have to think for very much longer.
All of those questions went unanswered, and instead were replaced with Ivan Roeghmills' corpse falling limp in Bobby's arms and crumpling on the ground beneath him.
More gunshots rang out soon afterward, but Dorian barely heard them. He stared at Ivan's corpse for a moment, entranced, before noticing that somehow Bobby had managed to escape. It should've bothered him a lot more than it did, but that was only one of many pangs of regret and foreboding that Dorian felt at the moment. He kept thinking that he should feel like avenging Ivan and the others, but as far as he was concerned, Bobby wasn't worth the effort.
More importantly, his thoughts wandered once more back to Marnie. What if she was the next victim of some raving lunatic like Bobby? What if she was the next person Dorian had to see murdered as he stood by helplessly? What if he didn't even get to her in time and only discovered her corpse? What if he never saw her again...?
All at once, Dorian's priorities changed. He found himself opening Ivan's pack and gathering up food, water and medical supplies, along with the bread knife that Ivan had stashed away in there. He replaced the rations and supplies into his daypack before closing it and hoisting it over his back, clutching the bread knife tightly in his right hand as he made his way out of the Barrack. Neil had come to examine Ivan's corpse now, and after he was finished giving his inspirational speech, Dorian gave him a grim look.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to find Marnie. I can't let her be next," he offered with determination, turning away from Neil and walking a few paces away. He felt like he owed Neil and everyone else more though, and raising his voice a little so everyone could hear he declared, "The chapel? We'll meet you guys there!" It was quite evident that the smile he gave off was forced.
After that, Dorian wasted no time in getting as far away from the barracks as he could.
(Dorian Ibanescu continued elsewhere)
He'd done nothing but stand there, mortified at the fact that Bobby Jacks could heartlessly kill another human being. When Arthur Williams appeared seemingly out of nowhere and became Bobby's first victim, Dorian had to turn away the second Bobby pointed the gun at his head. He'd managed to travel the island for days without seeing another of his friends get murdered, and that was a streak he'd rather not have ruined. Unfortunately he made the mistake of turning back to face Bobby just before a second sound erupted from his gun, striking Andy McCann down behind him. The sign he held that read "SOTF" in large blue writing almost seemed to be mocking everyone who stood helplessly by as Bobby increased his kill count.
When Bobby leaned down to whisper something in Ivan's ear, Dorian was prepared for the worst. What was the point of taking a hostage if you never intended to let them go to begin with? Why Ivan, of all people? Why wasn't he reacting? Was there anything that anyone could really do? What the hell was Bobby Jacks thinking? Questions kept swimming through Dorian's mind and making it hard for him to think straight, but he soon found that he didn't have to think for very much longer.
All of those questions went unanswered, and instead were replaced with Ivan Roeghmills' corpse falling limp in Bobby's arms and crumpling on the ground beneath him.
More gunshots rang out soon afterward, but Dorian barely heard them. He stared at Ivan's corpse for a moment, entranced, before noticing that somehow Bobby had managed to escape. It should've bothered him a lot more than it did, but that was only one of many pangs of regret and foreboding that Dorian felt at the moment. He kept thinking that he should feel like avenging Ivan and the others, but as far as he was concerned, Bobby wasn't worth the effort.
More importantly, his thoughts wandered once more back to Marnie. What if she was the next victim of some raving lunatic like Bobby? What if she was the next person Dorian had to see murdered as he stood by helplessly? What if he didn't even get to her in time and only discovered her corpse? What if he never saw her again...?
All at once, Dorian's priorities changed. He found himself opening Ivan's pack and gathering up food, water and medical supplies, along with the bread knife that Ivan had stashed away in there. He replaced the rations and supplies into his daypack before closing it and hoisting it over his back, clutching the bread knife tightly in his right hand as he made his way out of the Barrack. Neil had come to examine Ivan's corpse now, and after he was finished giving his inspirational speech, Dorian gave him a grim look.
"I'm sorry, but I really have to find Marnie. I can't let her be next," he offered with determination, turning away from Neil and walking a few paces away. He felt like he owed Neil and everyone else more though, and raising his voice a little so everyone could hear he declared, "The chapel? We'll meet you guys there!" It was quite evident that the smile he gave off was forced.
After that, Dorian wasted no time in getting as far away from the barracks as he could.
(Dorian Ibanescu continued elsewhere)
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Quincy raised his hand high in the air, forming a V with his fingers. "Alright, Grunge Man, you've convinced me," he said, approaching Neil with a good-natured smile on his face. He couldn't wait to tell Neil about the news with Jack's virus. It couldn't be too hard to come up with a backup plan with that variable in place, could it? I've got some suggestions, if our fearless leader has ears to listen. Yeah. This could actually work! Unlike the chumps who had talked of escaping in the other SOTFs, Neil was actually doing something, and he'd forced Danya's hand to boot!
He turned to Warren, who shyly looked away from him. "Eh, what's the matter, mate? Not getting cold feet, are we?"
Warren sighed. "Sorry Quincy. It's just that, well, I could have saved two of their lives if I just..." He stopped, unable to finish that sentence.
Quincy raised an eyebrow. "You were thinking of shooting Bobby without regards to Ivan's safety? That's a little dark, isn't it?"
Warren nodded. By taking that risk, Warren would have reduced the lives lost to two, or one, if he was extremely lucky. In exchange, he would have saved the lives of Arty and Andy, and kept Bobby from killing anyone else later, as Warren was certain he would. Sadly, Warren couldn't follow through; he didn't want to have to make that kind of choice. I don't want to be like Bobby. I don't want to have to justify murder.
Quincy had an inkling that this was the case, and rolled his eyes. "Welcome to the real world, guy. I guarantee we'll get into more of these situations if we stick with S.A.D.D., so you'll have to get used to it. Or you could just give me your gun and let me handle things.
Warren recoiled and stepped back, hiding his revolver by holding it over his shoulder. "No fucking way!" he cried. Quincy had blatantly admitted that he still despised Warren, and he couldn't risk him having the means to kill him.
Quincy groaned. Oh, come on. Like I'm really going to murder you in front of all of these armed people. Maybe if the group breaks up, but for now I'm a team player. Yep. "Well then, will you at least but some bullets in the bloody thing?"
Oh, right. Warren looked over the Python, trying to remember the instructions he received with the gun. He could sort of recall that there was a catch on the left side somewhere...
After a few seconds of examination, he found the catch and pressed it, causing the cylinder to swing out. Sure enough, the chambers were completely bare. Warren fished around in his bag for bullets, and clumsily slid them into the cylinder, pushing it back into place when it was full.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Quincy asked him. "Now you'd better be careful with that. I definitely wouldn't put it in my pockets again."
He turned back to Neil. "We're both ready to leave whenever you are."
He turned to Warren, who shyly looked away from him. "Eh, what's the matter, mate? Not getting cold feet, are we?"
Warren sighed. "Sorry Quincy. It's just that, well, I could have saved two of their lives if I just..." He stopped, unable to finish that sentence.
Quincy raised an eyebrow. "You were thinking of shooting Bobby without regards to Ivan's safety? That's a little dark, isn't it?"
Warren nodded. By taking that risk, Warren would have reduced the lives lost to two, or one, if he was extremely lucky. In exchange, he would have saved the lives of Arty and Andy, and kept Bobby from killing anyone else later, as Warren was certain he would. Sadly, Warren couldn't follow through; he didn't want to have to make that kind of choice. I don't want to be like Bobby. I don't want to have to justify murder.
Quincy had an inkling that this was the case, and rolled his eyes. "Welcome to the real world, guy. I guarantee we'll get into more of these situations if we stick with S.A.D.D., so you'll have to get used to it. Or you could just give me your gun and let me handle things.
Warren recoiled and stepped back, hiding his revolver by holding it over his shoulder. "No fucking way!" he cried. Quincy had blatantly admitted that he still despised Warren, and he couldn't risk him having the means to kill him.
Quincy groaned. Oh, come on. Like I'm really going to murder you in front of all of these armed people. Maybe if the group breaks up, but for now I'm a team player. Yep. "Well then, will you at least but some bullets in the bloody thing?"
Oh, right. Warren looked over the Python, trying to remember the instructions he received with the gun. He could sort of recall that there was a catch on the left side somewhere...
After a few seconds of examination, he found the catch and pressed it, causing the cylinder to swing out. Sure enough, the chambers were completely bare. Warren fished around in his bag for bullets, and clumsily slid them into the cylinder, pushing it back into place when it was full.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Quincy asked him. "Now you'd better be careful with that. I definitely wouldn't put it in my pockets again."
He turned back to Neil. "We're both ready to leave whenever you are."
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dinah_shore†
- Posts: 126
- Joined: Wed Oct 10, 2018 7:53 am
Denise jumped at Neil Sinclair's pained scream. At first she thought he had been hurt, until he began to speak to everyone in a tone that increasingly gained intensity and confidence.
"None of us are killers! We all saw what a killer is like, we all just witnessed the worst thing anyone should ever have to witness! I have blood on my hands now! I saw my friend Corbin die at the lookout tower! I just saw three kids die now!"
Denise felt her eyes well up. Neil was right, she was no killer. She'd had many an opportunity to off a couple of her classmates, but she hadn't. Neil believed they could get out of this without violence, and Denise was willing to try. It was obvious her original method wasn't working very well.
This is what Reg wanted. I should have listened to him!
Instead, she had left her childhood neighbour with Lenny Priestly. Someone who is the finest grade of batshit crazy, even though Denise barely knew the extent of his unbalancedness when she had departed. She figured Reg was probably fine, he had a group and was probably out there fighting the good fight, as usual. She'd have to find them. No, they would have to find him. He would be so pleased to know that everyone was giving peace a chance.
Peace. It was something that everyone wanted, but so few were ready to put into practice. It was something no one, not even Denise, wanted to bank their money on. Maybe that's all it took. Maybe all it took was a risk, a big one, to show the world that it really is possible. She would see her daughter again, without blood on her hands and conscience. Denise wholly believed in Neil Sinclair's message.
It was strange how quicky she'd been changing her mind since she arrived at the barracks. For once though, she was sure that this was a step in the right direction.
Calmly, she stood up and pushed the cot the rest of the way clear of the door, and then stooped to grab her things. Pausing, she turned to speak to Shane and Mark, her hand resting on the door.
"You guys should come too."
And with that, she walked out into the rain, towards Neil.
"None of us are killers! We all saw what a killer is like, we all just witnessed the worst thing anyone should ever have to witness! I have blood on my hands now! I saw my friend Corbin die at the lookout tower! I just saw three kids die now!"
Denise felt her eyes well up. Neil was right, she was no killer. She'd had many an opportunity to off a couple of her classmates, but she hadn't. Neil believed they could get out of this without violence, and Denise was willing to try. It was obvious her original method wasn't working very well.
This is what Reg wanted. I should have listened to him!
Instead, she had left her childhood neighbour with Lenny Priestly. Someone who is the finest grade of batshit crazy, even though Denise barely knew the extent of his unbalancedness when she had departed. She figured Reg was probably fine, he had a group and was probably out there fighting the good fight, as usual. She'd have to find them. No, they would have to find him. He would be so pleased to know that everyone was giving peace a chance.
Peace. It was something that everyone wanted, but so few were ready to put into practice. It was something no one, not even Denise, wanted to bank their money on. Maybe that's all it took. Maybe all it took was a risk, a big one, to show the world that it really is possible. She would see her daughter again, without blood on her hands and conscience. Denise wholly believed in Neil Sinclair's message.
It was strange how quicky she'd been changing her mind since she arrived at the barracks. For once though, she was sure that this was a step in the right direction.
Calmly, she stood up and pushed the cot the rest of the way clear of the door, and then stooped to grab her things. Pausing, she turned to speak to Shane and Mark, her hand resting on the door.
"You guys should come too."
And with that, she walked out into the rain, towards Neil.
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Nutbrown is a cool cat and he scooted out of there completely unnoticed, especially after Bobby's bullet nearly hit him.
(Nutbrown continued elsewhere)
Dominica wasn't too sure how to react. Neil was screaming at the top of his lungs, calling to everyone in sight. She had never seen him act like this before. It was... scary. Scary? No, it didn't scare her. She didn't know how to describe him, how he was talking. She cringed at every word that he stressed out but there was no fear in her. It was a good feeling, it made her want to scream along with him. What was this? She felt... pumped up. Was that the right expression?
Her hands were trembling. Her heart was running at a mile a minute. She felt like smiling, and before she knew it she was grinning. She was excited, she was intensified. That was a very hard thing to do, so Neil could get her to change her gloomy look then Neil was getting his message across.
No one's screaming along... why isn't anyone screaming with Neil? Dominica looked around, seeing that mostly everyone wasn't feeling the same thing she was. What is wrong with these people? They... They aren't... well it's not like I can't blame them but surely they have felt some form of excitement in their lives. Should I.... She looked around the room for a brief moment. Should I take the mantle and go first?
Dominica bit her lip. Of course not. I shouldn't have to. All this screaming nonsense is nonsen.... futile. I-I...
Dominica threw caution to the wind and raised her fist up in the air.
"S.A.D.D! S.A.D.D.!"
She only did two cries though. Her face grew very flushed and her eyes pointed down to the ground in a fit of embarrasment. I'm a fool. Now everyone is going to look at me like I'm crazy. Ugghh... bad decision. Not hesitating one bit in leaving the cabin, Dominica made her way over to Neil. She was still trembling violently and the rain was making it much harder for her to stop.
"U-Uhh.... N-Neil... " Dominica spoke softly. A sheepish grin was crossed over her cheeks, a rarity to see in and of itself especially for her. "I'm ready to go when you are. I... I'll go where ever you go." Dominica's eyes glazed over Ivan's dvd box, and then over to the piece of cardboard that lay untouched on Andy's corpse. Wow... they didn't have a chance in hell, did they?
(Nutbrown continued elsewhere)
Dominica wasn't too sure how to react. Neil was screaming at the top of his lungs, calling to everyone in sight. She had never seen him act like this before. It was... scary. Scary? No, it didn't scare her. She didn't know how to describe him, how he was talking. She cringed at every word that he stressed out but there was no fear in her. It was a good feeling, it made her want to scream along with him. What was this? She felt... pumped up. Was that the right expression?
Her hands were trembling. Her heart was running at a mile a minute. She felt like smiling, and before she knew it she was grinning. She was excited, she was intensified. That was a very hard thing to do, so Neil could get her to change her gloomy look then Neil was getting his message across.
No one's screaming along... why isn't anyone screaming with Neil? Dominica looked around, seeing that mostly everyone wasn't feeling the same thing she was. What is wrong with these people? They... They aren't... well it's not like I can't blame them but surely they have felt some form of excitement in their lives. Should I.... She looked around the room for a brief moment. Should I take the mantle and go first?
Dominica bit her lip. Of course not. I shouldn't have to. All this screaming nonsense is nonsen.... futile. I-I...
Dominica threw caution to the wind and raised her fist up in the air.
"S.A.D.D! S.A.D.D.!"
She only did two cries though. Her face grew very flushed and her eyes pointed down to the ground in a fit of embarrasment. I'm a fool. Now everyone is going to look at me like I'm crazy. Ugghh... bad decision. Not hesitating one bit in leaving the cabin, Dominica made her way over to Neil. She was still trembling violently and the rain was making it much harder for her to stop.
"U-Uhh.... N-Neil... " Dominica spoke softly. A sheepish grin was crossed over her cheeks, a rarity to see in and of itself especially for her. "I'm ready to go when you are. I... I'll go where ever you go." Dominica's eyes glazed over Ivan's dvd box, and then over to the piece of cardboard that lay untouched on Andy's corpse. Wow... they didn't have a chance in hell, did they?
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Heatwizard†
- Posts: 21
- Joined: Thu Oct 11, 2018 5:04 am
More yelling. More threats. Someone was running around. Apathy was at an all time high in Dennis' head, and he didn't bother to listen too hard.
And then there was Street Fighter.
"What the fuck?" He sat up, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to keep his sanity, and weird voices from nowhere weren't so great for that. Although it seemed to come fr-
Gunshot.
No. This was not OK. Dennis moved to load his shotgun.
Gunshot. Again.
"God damnit, are we so determined to have a shootout?" He muttered before looking out the door, looking for the shooter. It seemed to have been Jacks. He had turned and was running, leaving behind three fresh corpses. "FUCK!" It was all he could find in his vocabulary at the moment. "FUCKING FUCKER!" He threw his gun to the ground. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He stopped for a second, not entirely sure what to do from there. He grabbed his gun from the ground and fired it into the air. It didn't really help. He furrowed his eyebrows and sighed.
Neil was yelling. Again. And what a wonderful track record the yelling had.
"SADD!" Ugh.
"SADD!" Shut up, Neil.
"SADD!" Shut up, Neil.
"SADD!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, NEIL!" Dennis whipped around to face the leader, just barely resisting the urge to throw the shotgun at him. "DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED THE LAST TIME YOU STARTED YELLING? THREE PEOPLE DIED! THEY DIED BECAUSE YOU STARTED YELLING AND WAVING THAT FUCKING GUN AROUND! ALL YOU DO WITH YOUR YELLING IS YOU PISS PEOPLE OFF AND TELL EVEN MORE PSYCHOS LIKE THE JACKS PIECE OF SHIT 'HEY GUYS! COME AND KILL US!' SO SHUT THE FUCK UP BECAUSE I THINK I WOULD LIKE TO LIVE THROUGH THIS AND EVERY TIME YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH OUR CHANCES OF SURVIVAL TAKE A NOSEDIVE!" The restraint was quickly leaving. Dennis had just enough sense to take the round out before chucking the gun at Neil with a very loud scream. It was pretty heavy and difficult to throw, though, and would probably only connect with his legs rather feebly. It was really just to illustrate the point, though. SADD was becoming a deathtrap pretty quick. And Neil was more or less the center of everything that just happened.
Oh, and also he just started getting really rude to the guy with the rifle, who also happened to be the only guy that was trying to rescue other people and was being the most successful. That was cool too. Between the new feelings of 'Boy now I am quite an asshole, now aren't I" and "Now he's going to shoot me because I just brandished my lethal weapon at him while yelling and stuff, man that was such a great idea", Dennis was ready to puke.
And then there was Street Fighter.
"What the fuck?" He sat up, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to keep his sanity, and weird voices from nowhere weren't so great for that. Although it seemed to come fr-
Gunshot.
No. This was not OK. Dennis moved to load his shotgun.
Gunshot. Again.
"God damnit, are we so determined to have a shootout?" He muttered before looking out the door, looking for the shooter. It seemed to have been Jacks. He had turned and was running, leaving behind three fresh corpses. "FUCK!" It was all he could find in his vocabulary at the moment. "FUCKING FUCKER!" He threw his gun to the ground. "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" He stopped for a second, not entirely sure what to do from there. He grabbed his gun from the ground and fired it into the air. It didn't really help. He furrowed his eyebrows and sighed.
Neil was yelling. Again. And what a wonderful track record the yelling had.
"SADD!" Ugh.
"SADD!" Shut up, Neil.
"SADD!" Shut up, Neil.
"SADD!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, NEIL!" Dennis whipped around to face the leader, just barely resisting the urge to throw the shotgun at him. "DO YOU REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED THE LAST TIME YOU STARTED YELLING? THREE PEOPLE DIED! THEY DIED BECAUSE YOU STARTED YELLING AND WAVING THAT FUCKING GUN AROUND! ALL YOU DO WITH YOUR YELLING IS YOU PISS PEOPLE OFF AND TELL EVEN MORE PSYCHOS LIKE THE JACKS PIECE OF SHIT 'HEY GUYS! COME AND KILL US!' SO SHUT THE FUCK UP BECAUSE I THINK I WOULD LIKE TO LIVE THROUGH THIS AND EVERY TIME YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH OUR CHANCES OF SURVIVAL TAKE A NOSEDIVE!" The restraint was quickly leaving. Dennis had just enough sense to take the round out before chucking the gun at Neil with a very loud scream. It was pretty heavy and difficult to throw, though, and would probably only connect with his legs rather feebly. It was really just to illustrate the point, though. SADD was becoming a deathtrap pretty quick. And Neil was more or less the center of everything that just happened.
Oh, and also he just started getting really rude to the guy with the rifle, who also happened to be the only guy that was trying to rescue other people and was being the most successful. That was cool too. Between the new feelings of 'Boy now I am quite an asshole, now aren't I" and "Now he's going to shoot me because I just brandished my lethal weapon at him while yelling and stuff, man that was such a great idea", Dennis was ready to puke.
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Neil nodded as Dorian went off. He had his own mission to accomplish. For some reason he wanted to find Marnie. Neil respected that, and knew once he found her, they would meet back up. Dorian was a good guy. Then there was Denise.
Neil wasn't even aware she was here, but he knew of her. Didn't she have a kid or something? When she came out of hiding in a barracks, Neil smiled. It looked like his speech had worked, and he could bring more members into S.A.D.D.
Then Dominica continued Neil's chant of "S.A.D.D!"
He smiled, turning around to see the girl, who looked obviously embarrassed to have did what she did. She approached him and told him she was in too.
"Thanks."
Neil was going to continue talking when Dennis started to yell.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, NEIL!"
Neil turned around to Dennis, who was holding a shotgun. He had been apart of S.A.D.D back at the lookout tower, what was his problem now?
He accused Neil of being the reason three people died. He accused Neil of whenever he spoke, people died. Survival rates dropped down.
Neil lost his smile, and lowered his hands which were once in the air proudly. Now he held his M16 close, staring at the boy who was calling him out.
Then Dennis threw his shotgun at him. The gun sailed through the air, and hit Neil in the legs, which surprisingly hurt quite a bit. Neil jumped back, almost wanting to scream at the boy out of anger.
He wouldn't yell at Dennis though, no. That would get him nowhere. That would get no one anywhere.
"What makes you so self righteous Dennis where you can accuse me of causing these three kids to die? I did my best to save them. We all did our best to keep them alive. The only thing I ever did was organize a group. It was Bobby who killed these students. Not me. Not any of us. Do you know where I was when the lookout tower became a danger zone Dennis? I stayed behind, to make sure everyone got out safely. I wasn't running out, I stayed. To make sure my friends, like you, got out of there ok. I stayed and I had to watch my friend Corbin die because of a killer on this island."
"I am not the cause of any of this Dennis. If you want to throw blame at me, fine. If you want, come here. Pick up this shotgun you just threw at me. Aim it at me. Pull the trigger. Kill me. What will that get you? Will you truly accomplish anything? Do you feel better about throwing it at me? So go ahead, accuse me of causing all of this. You can quit S.A.D.D if you want. Go on your own. Leave this group. Never see me again. Though you know very well that your chances of survival are doubled when you're in a heavily armed group of good students. Students with a plan."
Neil looked at Dennis, and he didn't hate the boy. He felt sorry for him. This was what the island was making people become.
Neil wasn't even aware she was here, but he knew of her. Didn't she have a kid or something? When she came out of hiding in a barracks, Neil smiled. It looked like his speech had worked, and he could bring more members into S.A.D.D.
Then Dominica continued Neil's chant of "S.A.D.D!"
He smiled, turning around to see the girl, who looked obviously embarrassed to have did what she did. She approached him and told him she was in too.
"Thanks."
Neil was going to continue talking when Dennis started to yell.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, NEIL!"
Neil turned around to Dennis, who was holding a shotgun. He had been apart of S.A.D.D back at the lookout tower, what was his problem now?
He accused Neil of being the reason three people died. He accused Neil of whenever he spoke, people died. Survival rates dropped down.
Neil lost his smile, and lowered his hands which were once in the air proudly. Now he held his M16 close, staring at the boy who was calling him out.
Then Dennis threw his shotgun at him. The gun sailed through the air, and hit Neil in the legs, which surprisingly hurt quite a bit. Neil jumped back, almost wanting to scream at the boy out of anger.
He wouldn't yell at Dennis though, no. That would get him nowhere. That would get no one anywhere.
"What makes you so self righteous Dennis where you can accuse me of causing these three kids to die? I did my best to save them. We all did our best to keep them alive. The only thing I ever did was organize a group. It was Bobby who killed these students. Not me. Not any of us. Do you know where I was when the lookout tower became a danger zone Dennis? I stayed behind, to make sure everyone got out safely. I wasn't running out, I stayed. To make sure my friends, like you, got out of there ok. I stayed and I had to watch my friend Corbin die because of a killer on this island."
"I am not the cause of any of this Dennis. If you want to throw blame at me, fine. If you want, come here. Pick up this shotgun you just threw at me. Aim it at me. Pull the trigger. Kill me. What will that get you? Will you truly accomplish anything? Do you feel better about throwing it at me? So go ahead, accuse me of causing all of this. You can quit S.A.D.D if you want. Go on your own. Leave this group. Never see me again. Though you know very well that your chances of survival are doubled when you're in a heavily armed group of good students. Students with a plan."
Neil looked at Dennis, and he didn't hate the boy. He felt sorry for him. This was what the island was making people become.
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Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
Hannah looked up as Neil left the barracks, getting up herself and making her way outside as well, Neil's sudden scream doing nothing to help her crushed spirits. Her eyes wandered across the three freshly-made dead bodies, eventually settling on Andy McCann. On the piece of cardboard laid across his body, with the words SOTF written on it.
SOTF.
Survival of the Fittest.
Nothing could be more true at this moment.
In a fight between an athletic, experienced boxer, armed with two guns and a scalpel, and three athletically unimpressive students armed with some of the most pathetic excuses for weapons Danya had to offer, the boxer won with little to no difficulty at all.
Though she had never watched the previous two versions of SOTF, she did have passing knowledge of them. Adam Dodd and Bryan Calvert, the two previous winners of SOTF, both athletically gifted, both given real weapons, real weapons that were actually MADE to kill people.
Athletically gifted students with real weapons win SOTF.
Nobodies with rusty spoons don't win SOTF.
They just die.
The tears starts streaming down her cheeks. She just didn't care anymore. She wanted to just lay down right there in the dirt and give up. In her mind, she lost the game the moment she was put on the island. Eventually someone would come along and put her out of her misery. She didn't care who it was. Hell, it could even be that Nathanial Harris guy. She just didn't care.
She looked down at her lucky hat in her hands. Lucky hat? What a load of garbage. She couldn't believe she actually trusted something like luck, especially in a place like this. Tightening her grip on the hat for a moment, she took a step forward and threw the hat as hard as she could. It didn't fly very far, and Hannah overextended herself throwing it, losing her balance and falling to the ground face first.
She didn't bother to get back up, though. She just laid there.
She just didn't care anymore.
Then Neil started his speech, Hannah looking half-heartedly in his direction. She listened as Neil tried to rally SADD, and was met with hostility from Dennis. The words Neil said ran through her mind over and over again, and suddenly she realized.
There's a third option. It was a far-fetched, one-in-a-million chance option, but it was still there.
She didn't have to either win the game or die. She could escape. SADD had already done something towards that end to warrent Danya actually punishing them for it. If he had done that, that must mean that they were actually doing something right. If she stuck around and helped out however she could, she could escape with them.
And if they failed...well, she was already doomed from the start, anyway.
She slowly picked herself up off the ground. "Y...you're right." She said to Neil. "I don't want to just survive. I know if I try to just survive, then I don't stand a chance. I know if I tried to play the game I wouldn't stand a chance. I was dead the second I was put on this island." She wobbled a bit as she tried to stand upright, exhaustion starting to get to her. "But I don't want to die. And I don't want to kill anybody. I just want to live. I'll do anything, anything you want me to do. I just want to live." Her voice was weary, her clothes were almost completely covered in mud, and there were bags under her eyes indicating that she was long overdue for some much needed sleep. Overall, she looked absolutely miserable, but the look in her eyes said it all. She had finally snapped out of her funk.
"I...I JUST WANT TO LIVE!"
SOTF.
Survival of the Fittest.
Nothing could be more true at this moment.
In a fight between an athletic, experienced boxer, armed with two guns and a scalpel, and three athletically unimpressive students armed with some of the most pathetic excuses for weapons Danya had to offer, the boxer won with little to no difficulty at all.
Though she had never watched the previous two versions of SOTF, she did have passing knowledge of them. Adam Dodd and Bryan Calvert, the two previous winners of SOTF, both athletically gifted, both given real weapons, real weapons that were actually MADE to kill people.
Athletically gifted students with real weapons win SOTF.
Nobodies with rusty spoons don't win SOTF.
They just die.
The tears starts streaming down her cheeks. She just didn't care anymore. She wanted to just lay down right there in the dirt and give up. In her mind, she lost the game the moment she was put on the island. Eventually someone would come along and put her out of her misery. She didn't care who it was. Hell, it could even be that Nathanial Harris guy. She just didn't care.
She looked down at her lucky hat in her hands. Lucky hat? What a load of garbage. She couldn't believe she actually trusted something like luck, especially in a place like this. Tightening her grip on the hat for a moment, she took a step forward and threw the hat as hard as she could. It didn't fly very far, and Hannah overextended herself throwing it, losing her balance and falling to the ground face first.
She didn't bother to get back up, though. She just laid there.
She just didn't care anymore.
Then Neil started his speech, Hannah looking half-heartedly in his direction. She listened as Neil tried to rally SADD, and was met with hostility from Dennis. The words Neil said ran through her mind over and over again, and suddenly she realized.
There's a third option. It was a far-fetched, one-in-a-million chance option, but it was still there.
She didn't have to either win the game or die. She could escape. SADD had already done something towards that end to warrent Danya actually punishing them for it. If he had done that, that must mean that they were actually doing something right. If she stuck around and helped out however she could, she could escape with them.
And if they failed...well, she was already doomed from the start, anyway.
She slowly picked herself up off the ground. "Y...you're right." She said to Neil. "I don't want to just survive. I know if I try to just survive, then I don't stand a chance. I know if I tried to play the game I wouldn't stand a chance. I was dead the second I was put on this island." She wobbled a bit as she tried to stand upright, exhaustion starting to get to her. "But I don't want to die. And I don't want to kill anybody. I just want to live. I'll do anything, anything you want me to do. I just want to live." Her voice was weary, her clothes were almost completely covered in mud, and there were bags under her eyes indicating that she was long overdue for some much needed sleep. Overall, she looked absolutely miserable, but the look in her eyes said it all. She had finally snapped out of her funk.
"I...I JUST WANT TO LIVE!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
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Heatwizard†
- Posts: 21
- Joined: Thu Oct 11, 2018 5:04 am
Dennis spit off to the side. "Yeah, you were at the tower. Where's Corbin?" He knew that one wasn't Neil's fault, but...Dennis supposed he was just looking for reasons to cast a shadow over Neil's supposedly clean conscience. This wasn't black and white. Neil was deep into grey and didn't want to see it. He couldn't face how his actions had been paid for in blood, and just how unsafe this group was had been illuminated. He picked up his shotgun and pulled his bag from indoors.
"I was willing to go along with your russian roulettes when it was against Danya. But now look what's going on. You're picking fights against everyone else here. Jacks' behavior wasn't good enough, so you took a gamble and three people paid for it. Is this getting through to you yet? If you had just kept your damn mouth shut, if you had just turned around and left it alone, they could've lived." He threw his shotgun into his bag. He didn't want to use it here, this wasn't worth a shootout.
"So you're damn right I can quit. I'm doing it now. Before you roll the dice again and I get to pay for it. God knows if you don't get this group killed yourself, Danya will do it for you before long." Dennis turned around and started walking. He choked on his emotions a bit as he left; SADD was the only sure bet for finding people who weren't killing. There wasn't anywhere safe at all here. It was not a fun thought.
[Dennis McDonald continued elsewhere]
"I was willing to go along with your russian roulettes when it was against Danya. But now look what's going on. You're picking fights against everyone else here. Jacks' behavior wasn't good enough, so you took a gamble and three people paid for it. Is this getting through to you yet? If you had just kept your damn mouth shut, if you had just turned around and left it alone, they could've lived." He threw his shotgun into his bag. He didn't want to use it here, this wasn't worth a shootout.
"So you're damn right I can quit. I'm doing it now. Before you roll the dice again and I get to pay for it. God knows if you don't get this group killed yourself, Danya will do it for you before long." Dennis turned around and started walking. He choked on his emotions a bit as he left; SADD was the only sure bet for finding people who weren't killing. There wasn't anywhere safe at all here. It was not a fun thought.
[Dennis McDonald continued elsewhere]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Heatwizard. 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.
"I tried to stop the fighting with Jacks! I didn't kill them!"
Neil had no more words left to say to Dennis, as he left. He was gone. He wanted to scream out that he was worse off leaving. That he wasn't going to find another group like S.A.D.D. Though he didn't. Maybe Dennis was right. Maybe Neil was the reason Corbin is dead. Maybe he's the reason for the three deaths here.
No.
He had supporters now. He had new people like this Denise and Hannah who were willing to fight with him. He had Dorian who even though he left, he would be re-united with S.A.D.D later with a new member. Neil had Dominica and Matthew. He had Quincy and Warren.
S.A.D.D would live. S.A.D.D would escape.
Neil smiled at all the supporters and said, "It's ok, we don't need him."
Neil crouched and put his pack on the ground. Reaching in he took out his pencil and notebook and quickly wrote down words.
Don't speak out loud about S.A.D.D's true intentions. We write down the plans. We're escaping. I promise I'm going to get us off this island.
Neil showed the notebook to everyone and when he was satisfied put it back in his pack. Adjusting his pack against his guitar which was strung across his back, he held on to his M16.
"Alright S.A.D.D. Let's move out. We're heading to the chapel."
((Neil Sinclair continued at The Science of Selling Yourself))
Neil had no more words left to say to Dennis, as he left. He was gone. He wanted to scream out that he was worse off leaving. That he wasn't going to find another group like S.A.D.D. Though he didn't. Maybe Dennis was right. Maybe Neil was the reason Corbin is dead. Maybe he's the reason for the three deaths here.
No.
He had supporters now. He had new people like this Denise and Hannah who were willing to fight with him. He had Dorian who even though he left, he would be re-united with S.A.D.D later with a new member. Neil had Dominica and Matthew. He had Quincy and Warren.
S.A.D.D would live. S.A.D.D would escape.
Neil smiled at all the supporters and said, "It's ok, we don't need him."
Neil crouched and put his pack on the ground. Reaching in he took out his pencil and notebook and quickly wrote down words.
Don't speak out loud about S.A.D.D's true intentions. We write down the plans. We're escaping. I promise I'm going to get us off this island.
Neil showed the notebook to everyone and when he was satisfied put it back in his pack. Adjusting his pack against his guitar which was strung across his back, he held on to his M16.
"Alright S.A.D.D. Let's move out. We're heading to the chapel."
((Neil Sinclair continued at The Science of Selling Yourself))