Hannah looked a bit embarassed as she realized how utterly melodramatic she sounded just now. It was the truth though. She just wanted to live. She'd do anything SADD told her to, if it meant she could get off this island alive.
She watched as Dennis stormed off, and then looked to Neil for what they should do next. As he pulled out his notebook and wrote something down, Hannah moved in closer to see what it was, giving a silent nod of understanding, and as Neil set off, Hannah started to follow, but stopped, looking back.
Her magic hat lay there on the ground where she had thrown it. She hesitated for a moment, then turned around and headed back, picking it up and trying to brush the mud off it it before putting it back on. She then turned back around and set off after Neil again.
It would be okay. She was with SADD now.
She was going to survive.
{{continued at The Science of Selling Yourself}}
Sound and Fury
-
Super Llama†
- Posts: 339
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:39 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
"Dennis!" Warren yelled as the former group member ran off. "Dennis, wait!" He stopped once Dennis was out of sight, and hung his head, crestfallen. "He's going to get himself killed," he moaned.
He turned back to the rest of the group and listened to Neil console the others. Are you sure we don't need him, Neil? Warren felt a sense of foreboding; this was a group bound clumsily together by desperation. Any more knocks could set them apart for good this time.
Quincy followed closely behind Neil as the latter left the barracks, with Hannah following them shortly afterwards. It looked like the Brit was talking to Neil, or trying to at least. He looked strangely confident, but then again, when didn't he? He almost always had a smile on his face, whether it was genuinely cheerful or whether it said 'I know something you don't'.
Warren sighed and followed them out. Whether or not S.A.D.D. was doomed, he would go down with the ship. There were still too many things he had to make up for.
((Quincy and Warren continued in The Science of Selling Yourself))
He turned back to the rest of the group and listened to Neil console the others. Are you sure we don't need him, Neil? Warren felt a sense of foreboding; this was a group bound clumsily together by desperation. Any more knocks could set them apart for good this time.
Quincy followed closely behind Neil as the latter left the barracks, with Hannah following them shortly afterwards. It looked like the Brit was talking to Neil, or trying to at least. He looked strangely confident, but then again, when didn't he? He almost always had a smile on his face, whether it was genuinely cheerful or whether it said 'I know something you don't'.
Warren sighed and followed them out. Whether or not S.A.D.D. was doomed, he would go down with the ship. There were still too many things he had to make up for.
((Quincy and Warren continued in The Science of Selling Yourself))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
"Dennis..." Dominica said, slightly concerned.
The minutes had gone way too fast for her liking. For a minute she actually thought everything was fine, until Dennis reacted the way he did. Then Hannah was crying at the top of her lungs, and everything was just upsetting Dominica. Why was all of this happening? The simple fact that Danya reacted to them mean that they were doing something, that they were winning. They'll find another way to put those cameras out of commission, no mistake.
Or was this forced optimism?
Whichever the case, Dominica just followed Neil into the overgrowth. Heading towards the chapel... heh. There should be something mighty ironic in this, but I'm not sure what.
(Continued in The Science of Selling Yourself)
The minutes had gone way too fast for her liking. For a minute she actually thought everything was fine, until Dennis reacted the way he did. Then Hannah was crying at the top of her lungs, and everything was just upsetting Dominica. Why was all of this happening? The simple fact that Danya reacted to them mean that they were doing something, that they were winning. They'll find another way to put those cameras out of commission, no mistake.
Or was this forced optimism?
Whichever the case, Dominica just followed Neil into the overgrowth. Heading towards the chapel... heh. There should be something mighty ironic in this, but I'm not sure what.
(Continued in The Science of Selling Yourself)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Ciel. 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.
Matt followed everyone out.
((Continued: Elsewhere))
((sorry for the craptastic post ya'll....))
((Continued: Elsewhere))
((sorry for the craptastic post ya'll....))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Mitsuko2. 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.
((Taking over as Dane's handler...))
Too fast... it all happened too fast...
Dane could do little to stem the slaughter of three of his fellow students. The crossfire between S.A.D.D. and Bobby Jacks offered no easy solution, but Dane wasn't prepared to deal with seeing one death, much less three.
Arty Williams just wanted to keep to himself, and Dane couldn't blame him. Kids could be cruel, especially towards intellectuals like Arty. Dane thought that he was a recluse, a cynic. So why did he try to save Ivan? Had the island changed his priorities that much?
Andy McCann was even more pitiable. Overweight, unable to do a single pull-up, and to make things worse, he'd failed to harden his heart to the world as Arty did. His time on the island must have been a living hell. And to think that Jacks had destroyed his head without even looking! It made Dane angry just thinking about it.
Ivan Roeghmills... Dane had more mixed feelings for the would-be artist. The whole incident had started when Bobby took Ivan hostage, claiming that the other boy had jumped him. Was it really true, or was the game getting to Jacks, planting the seeds of paranoia in his mind?
"Goddamn it!" Dane cried, his voice choked with sorrow. His voice was louder than he expected, and when he looked around he saw why.
He was all alone.
But... where? Then he remembered. The group had moved on. Except for their fourth casualty, Dennis McDonald. Neil's attempt to rally the colors had failed to convince his friend to give him another shot. In addition to the three deaths at the barracks, Dennis placed a share of the blame for the deaths of the girls on the announcement and Corbin squarely on Neil's shoulders. Despite Neil's explanation, and the pleas of Warren Pace (both seemed quick to allow Dennis his leave,) S.A.D.D. was down a member, and seemed to have picked up Quincy Archer, a fellow Brit, as compensation.
Dane sighed and clutched his daypack to his side, then looked around the area wildly, desperately trying to remember which way Dennis went. Finally he made a choice and took off running, hoping to catch his friend before he got himself killed.
((Dane Zygmunt continued elsewhere))
Too fast... it all happened too fast...
Dane could do little to stem the slaughter of three of his fellow students. The crossfire between S.A.D.D. and Bobby Jacks offered no easy solution, but Dane wasn't prepared to deal with seeing one death, much less three.
Arty Williams just wanted to keep to himself, and Dane couldn't blame him. Kids could be cruel, especially towards intellectuals like Arty. Dane thought that he was a recluse, a cynic. So why did he try to save Ivan? Had the island changed his priorities that much?
Andy McCann was even more pitiable. Overweight, unable to do a single pull-up, and to make things worse, he'd failed to harden his heart to the world as Arty did. His time on the island must have been a living hell. And to think that Jacks had destroyed his head without even looking! It made Dane angry just thinking about it.
Ivan Roeghmills... Dane had more mixed feelings for the would-be artist. The whole incident had started when Bobby took Ivan hostage, claiming that the other boy had jumped him. Was it really true, or was the game getting to Jacks, planting the seeds of paranoia in his mind?
"Goddamn it!" Dane cried, his voice choked with sorrow. His voice was louder than he expected, and when he looked around he saw why.
He was all alone.
But... where? Then he remembered. The group had moved on. Except for their fourth casualty, Dennis McDonald. Neil's attempt to rally the colors had failed to convince his friend to give him another shot. In addition to the three deaths at the barracks, Dennis placed a share of the blame for the deaths of the girls on the announcement and Corbin squarely on Neil's shoulders. Despite Neil's explanation, and the pleas of Warren Pace (both seemed quick to allow Dennis his leave,) S.A.D.D. was down a member, and seemed to have picked up Quincy Archer, a fellow Brit, as compensation.
Dane sighed and clutched his daypack to his side, then looked around the area wildly, desperately trying to remember which way Dennis went. Finally he made a choice and took off running, hoping to catch his friend before he got himself killed.
((Dane Zygmunt continued elsewhere))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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.
((Continued from: The Beginning is the End is the Beginning. This thread is reeee-opened, seenas like four people got stuck. It's just the same post from before that Crash told me to move.))
Feeding bullets into the magazine one by one manually, Bobby slowly picked his way through the trees, one eye on his surroundings at all times even as he concentrated on filling up the clip with ammunition painstakingly removed from one of his armalon carbine's magazines. It was time consuming, but worth it to maintain a steady supply of shots for his pistol - which was much superior to the bolt-action carbine.
Finishing his task, Bobby put away the filled clip and glanced up, finding his stomach doing a somersault at what he was looking at. Not paying too much attention to navigation, he'd ended up retracing his own steps all the way back to the barracks again. He was instantly alert, on the lookout for any members of the massive group that had been there the previous day, who after the ... incident, which has resulted in three people getting killed, well... put it this way: Neil Sinclair, or indeed any member of SADD would be thrilled to shoot him on sight if he showed up to crash their party again.
But no... the place looked deserted but for the corpses.
And three of those bodies were put there by me. Judging by that girl shouting back at me at the airfield I haven't got any more blood on my hands... yet, but she's right. Pity? I'm not even worth that. Just... what's the point of it all? Did they loath Dodd? Is Calvert reviled? No, because they tried to do what was right and protect people they cared about. When did Adam ever kill a person that wasn't trying to harm him or his friends? Bryan... he was much the same, as far as I remember, he had a change of heart early on.
Me though? Ha! I'm the bad guy, the Starr, the Sebbert, the guy people are hoping against hope will get taken down by the hero. What's good about that? A life saved at the expense of others is worth nothing. Less than that.
"Time after time..." Bobby whispered to himself. "I've said that once I set off down this path there's no turning back... how have I let that spur me on? There might not be any turning back, but I could... stop. I said once before that the game had its hooks in me but that I was able to prevent myself from being dragged along too far... guess I was wrong,"
Bobby stopped dead, his foot bumping against something, and he felt his gaze being drawn down. There at his feet, one eye bloodied and with shards of glass sticking out of it, the other widended in horror and a huge hole in his skull was who Bobby could only presume was Andy McCann. Bobby stared at the body with a massive sense of disgust, the vacant eye seeming to bore into his soul.
He turned away and promptly threw up on the ground, the first time he'd had even an indication of being disturbed *at least physically) by all of the corpses about the place.
Fuck it! Fuck it! Do yourself a favour and stop this now!
Bobby stood up, walked over to the nearest camera and flipped the bird right into its lense.
"It's me again Danya! Remember our little chat way back when on Day 1? Well fuck you. I'm bowing out of your twisted game right. Fucking. Now,"
He looked away from the camera and brought his SIG up in one hand, pointing it directly at his own head. Closing his eyes, Bobby's finger tightened on the trigger and...
...
...
...
...
Bang.
...
...
...
...
The camera was blown to oblivion by the shot and Bobby stood there for a few moments, regarding the wreckage thoughtfully. He glanced around for a bit, then walked over to the nearest camera he saw (the consequences of destroying a camera not once crossing his mind). He remained upright in front of this one for several long moments, a sombre look on his face.
"What, you really thought you were going to get rid of me that easily? Fuck no. I've come this far because I'm willing to fight for my life. Killing after today? ... I'm not so sure. But it cheapens those people I've killed to take the coward's way out," Bobby raised his free hand, forming it into a 'gun' shape with two fingers sticking out, the remainder folded and the thumb raised up, before making a motion seeming to 'fire' the 'gun' towards the camera. "I'm still not going to go down without a fight, and I guess that's good entertainment. But Danya, and all of you sick bastards watching and loving this at home... You will face reprecussions for your actions. Somewhere along the line. Now excuse me, I'm off to probably kill the next person that I see. I don't get why they called me anti-social, I'm not remiss to meeting new people and killing them in a variety of violent ways..."
Bobby walked away, somehow feeling better for having vented, but knowing that before long he'd likely be fufilling exactly what he had just said. Who would trust a seven time killer? Even if he never made another threatening gesture he would still have to raise arms to avoid being killed by vengeful classmates.
For the old days, he mourned.
((Bobby continued in: Amaro
By the way, thought I'd point out the part with the gunshot isn't an attempt to fake you out 'kay? I already did that once, heh.))
Feeding bullets into the magazine one by one manually, Bobby slowly picked his way through the trees, one eye on his surroundings at all times even as he concentrated on filling up the clip with ammunition painstakingly removed from one of his armalon carbine's magazines. It was time consuming, but worth it to maintain a steady supply of shots for his pistol - which was much superior to the bolt-action carbine.
Finishing his task, Bobby put away the filled clip and glanced up, finding his stomach doing a somersault at what he was looking at. Not paying too much attention to navigation, he'd ended up retracing his own steps all the way back to the barracks again. He was instantly alert, on the lookout for any members of the massive group that had been there the previous day, who after the ... incident, which has resulted in three people getting killed, well... put it this way: Neil Sinclair, or indeed any member of SADD would be thrilled to shoot him on sight if he showed up to crash their party again.
But no... the place looked deserted but for the corpses.
And three of those bodies were put there by me. Judging by that girl shouting back at me at the airfield I haven't got any more blood on my hands... yet, but she's right. Pity? I'm not even worth that. Just... what's the point of it all? Did they loath Dodd? Is Calvert reviled? No, because they tried to do what was right and protect people they cared about. When did Adam ever kill a person that wasn't trying to harm him or his friends? Bryan... he was much the same, as far as I remember, he had a change of heart early on.
Me though? Ha! I'm the bad guy, the Starr, the Sebbert, the guy people are hoping against hope will get taken down by the hero. What's good about that? A life saved at the expense of others is worth nothing. Less than that.
"Time after time..." Bobby whispered to himself. "I've said that once I set off down this path there's no turning back... how have I let that spur me on? There might not be any turning back, but I could... stop. I said once before that the game had its hooks in me but that I was able to prevent myself from being dragged along too far... guess I was wrong,"
Bobby stopped dead, his foot bumping against something, and he felt his gaze being drawn down. There at his feet, one eye bloodied and with shards of glass sticking out of it, the other widended in horror and a huge hole in his skull was who Bobby could only presume was Andy McCann. Bobby stared at the body with a massive sense of disgust, the vacant eye seeming to bore into his soul.
He turned away and promptly threw up on the ground, the first time he'd had even an indication of being disturbed *at least physically) by all of the corpses about the place.
Fuck it! Fuck it! Do yourself a favour and stop this now!
Bobby stood up, walked over to the nearest camera and flipped the bird right into its lense.
"It's me again Danya! Remember our little chat way back when on Day 1? Well fuck you. I'm bowing out of your twisted game right. Fucking. Now,"
He looked away from the camera and brought his SIG up in one hand, pointing it directly at his own head. Closing his eyes, Bobby's finger tightened on the trigger and...
...
...
...
...
Bang.
...
...
...
...
The camera was blown to oblivion by the shot and Bobby stood there for a few moments, regarding the wreckage thoughtfully. He glanced around for a bit, then walked over to the nearest camera he saw (the consequences of destroying a camera not once crossing his mind). He remained upright in front of this one for several long moments, a sombre look on his face.
"What, you really thought you were going to get rid of me that easily? Fuck no. I've come this far because I'm willing to fight for my life. Killing after today? ... I'm not so sure. But it cheapens those people I've killed to take the coward's way out," Bobby raised his free hand, forming it into a 'gun' shape with two fingers sticking out, the remainder folded and the thumb raised up, before making a motion seeming to 'fire' the 'gun' towards the camera. "I'm still not going to go down without a fight, and I guess that's good entertainment. But Danya, and all of you sick bastards watching and loving this at home... You will face reprecussions for your actions. Somewhere along the line. Now excuse me, I'm off to probably kill the next person that I see. I don't get why they called me anti-social, I'm not remiss to meeting new people and killing them in a variety of violent ways..."
Bobby walked away, somehow feeling better for having vented, but knowing that before long he'd likely be fufilling exactly what he had just said. Who would trust a seven time killer? Even if he never made another threatening gesture he would still have to raise arms to avoid being killed by vengeful classmates.
For the old days, he mourned.
((Bobby continued in: Amaro
By the way, thought I'd point out the part with the gunshot isn't an attempt to fake you out 'kay? I already did that once, heh.))
-
dinah_shore†
- Posts: 126
- Joined: Wed Oct 10, 2018 7:53 am
Denise stood outside, waiting for Mark or Shane to join her. Several minutes passed, and the barrack's door remained closed.
"Fuck you guys then," she thought, raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips together in a thin line.
Noticing that the rain had more or less let up, she moved her cigarettes into her jean's back pocket for easy access. She jogged to catch up with the group before she fell too far behind.
((Continued in The Science of Selling Yourself))
"Fuck you guys then," she thought, raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips together in a thin line.
Noticing that the rain had more or less let up, she moved her cigarettes into her jean's back pocket for easy access. She jogged to catch up with the group before she fell too far behind.
((Continued in The Science of Selling Yourself))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler dinah_shore. 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.
(OOC: Shane Rafferty, Mark Tavarian and Johnny Lancer are all now irredeemably inactive, and will be removed from the thread until their deaths have been enacted elsewhere.)
As the commotion outside died down, Johnny made his way into the building towards Mark. He was certainly glad his best friend was okay, but the guy sitting on the opposite end of the room with a gun in his hand set him on edge. Who was he, anyway? Johnny felt his grip tightening on his shotgun as he kept a close eye on the boy, hoping he didn't decide to make any sudden moves.
"Dude, let's get out of here," Mark urged, looking towards Johnny. It wasn't exactly what Johnny had expected to hear, especially granted that him and Mark had been separated for so long. What happened to the "I'm glad you're safe!" or "Dude, you look like shit!"? Curiously, Johnny cast a sidelong glance at Mark, which was when he noticed the panicked expression in his face.
"What's wrong?" He offered bemusedly, not exactly sure what had gotten into Mark.
"I dunno...I just don't want to be here anymore," he responded shortly.
"...Okay," Johnny replied, and Mark exited the building behind him. Johnny kept his shotgun trained at Shane the entire time as he walked backwards out of the building slowly. Once the two were outside they rejoined and made haste in getting as far away from the barracks as possible. Both of them had come within an inch of their lives in the last few hours, and neither was feeling particularly ecstatic at that point in time. The three new corpses of their classmates that lined the area didn't do much to pick up their moods, either.
(Mark Tavarian continued elsewhere)
(Johnny Lancer continued elsewhere)
***
For the short length of time that Johnny and Mark exchanged words, Shane found himself sitting in silence, nursing his wound. Part of him was still spaced out, but his better half had had a load of sense forcefully knocked into him by Denise. Deciding it was better not to cause any more trouble than he already had, he'd remained seated on the floor for a good few minutes after they were clear of the area.
Shortly afterwards he pulled a makeshift bandage over his wound and tied it (rather sloppily), then picked up his pack and left the area as well.
(Shane Rafferty continued elsewhere)
As the commotion outside died down, Johnny made his way into the building towards Mark. He was certainly glad his best friend was okay, but the guy sitting on the opposite end of the room with a gun in his hand set him on edge. Who was he, anyway? Johnny felt his grip tightening on his shotgun as he kept a close eye on the boy, hoping he didn't decide to make any sudden moves.
"Dude, let's get out of here," Mark urged, looking towards Johnny. It wasn't exactly what Johnny had expected to hear, especially granted that him and Mark had been separated for so long. What happened to the "I'm glad you're safe!" or "Dude, you look like shit!"? Curiously, Johnny cast a sidelong glance at Mark, which was when he noticed the panicked expression in his face.
"What's wrong?" He offered bemusedly, not exactly sure what had gotten into Mark.
"I dunno...I just don't want to be here anymore," he responded shortly.
"...Okay," Johnny replied, and Mark exited the building behind him. Johnny kept his shotgun trained at Shane the entire time as he walked backwards out of the building slowly. Once the two were outside they rejoined and made haste in getting as far away from the barracks as possible. Both of them had come within an inch of their lives in the last few hours, and neither was feeling particularly ecstatic at that point in time. The three new corpses of their classmates that lined the area didn't do much to pick up their moods, either.
(Mark Tavarian continued elsewhere)
(Johnny Lancer continued elsewhere)
***
For the short length of time that Johnny and Mark exchanged words, Shane found himself sitting in silence, nursing his wound. Part of him was still spaced out, but his better half had had a load of sense forcefully knocked into him by Denise. Deciding it was better not to cause any more trouble than he already had, he'd remained seated on the floor for a good few minutes after they were clear of the area.
Shortly afterwards he pulled a makeshift bandage over his wound and tied it (rather sloppily), then picked up his pack and left the area as well.
(Shane Rafferty continued elsewhere)
