The feeling was almost mutual, in a sense, because while the whole school had caught her in her awkward moment with Blood Boy, Renee was the only one to have caught Jessa in hers and even then Jessa didn't exactly notice. She probably would have smirked her famous razor-smirk at the implications of what Jessa just said about "playing" were she not currently in the middle of a complete nervous breakdown. She also would have done so had somebody else - whom she probably didn't recognize either - appear with a dagger in his hand. Not that the sudden appearance of a male didn't cause her to reflexively think it was BB for a second, and that didn't do much to calm her.
Renee slowly sidestepped away from the wall to get an equal distance between the two, arrow in hand wielded like a crude spear. She unslung the bow from her shoulder, but didn't arm the arrow yet. She made sure to throw a glance at Jessa just in case she tried to turn the tables on her. Of course, the way the newcomer put his hands to the side didn't exactly make him an easy target either, and she held the bow aside, ready to discard in case he made a sudden move. That didn't necessarily mean she'd try to make her own sudden moves just in case.
"You want to play...she wants to play...who-FUCKING-else wants to play!?" she groaned, almost screaming the F-word.
She Bop
CONTENT WARNING [Content Warning: Sexual Assault]
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Melina watched with a tiny smirk as Maxie rushed out of the area, hightailing it after Madison. It didn't matter. Maxie had always been a waste of her time. She had no need of wasting any more precious moments fighting the girl. If they ever crossed paths again, Maxie would meet her end. But until then, she had no use of the other girl. Melina looked to her companions. Jessa hadn't had a chance to prove herself yet, but Renee haad been a useful ally thus far. She turned to look at the corpse of Monique St Clair. She had no more use for the girl. After all, she had done Monique a service by killing her. Monique would never have lasted. Someone else would have killed her in the long run anyway. Monique was simply ill equipped to survive this game. That was all there was to it.
A new face soon sprouted forth from the surrounding treeline. He carried with him a blade, one which Melina would love to have. He asked if they wanted to play. What a fool. Men were idiots. Did he think he could kill them? He was dead. Melina turned her eyes to Jessa for a short moment. She had a great idea.
"Love... " She said as she walked up to the other girl. "I believe this is a perfect time for you to prove yourself. Here, take this axe. Kill that boy. Should you need the assistance, Renee and I will attack him as well, but I want to watch you tear him to bloody pieces. Think of it as training." She said while thrusting the Axe into Jessa's hands.
"Go on then... show him why we're called the Poison Angles."
A new face soon sprouted forth from the surrounding treeline. He carried with him a blade, one which Melina would love to have. He asked if they wanted to play. What a fool. Men were idiots. Did he think he could kill them? He was dead. Melina turned her eyes to Jessa for a short moment. She had a great idea.
"Love... " She said as she walked up to the other girl. "I believe this is a perfect time for you to prove yourself. Here, take this axe. Kill that boy. Should you need the assistance, Renee and I will attack him as well, but I want to watch you tear him to bloody pieces. Think of it as training." She said while thrusting the Axe into Jessa's hands.
"Go on then... show him why we're called the Poison Angles."
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The first girl that spoke up with a sharp retort left Jeff with a sour taste in his mouth. Useless bitch. What did she matter? She was of no importance to his ascension to the realm of stardom, nor would she have any lasting impression on the Director's masterfully orchestrated game, in his opinion. She was just another rung on the ladder he had to climb to reach the top. It was all too simple, in his mind. Take out three by himself? That would be all too perfect of an introduction into this glorious game for him. Surely, that would catch Danya's attention. Never once did the thought cross his mind that perhaps the 'luck' he thought he had came upon was a little too good to be true.
"Poison Angles, huh? Oh, I'll give you a whole new set of angles in a minute, my darling." He hissed mockingly, noting that the leader of the three appeared to be handing his target a fair-sized axe. It didn't matter to Jeff, though. The thought never even occurred to him that his life might be in any immediate danger. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for all his life, and he'd be sure to seize it with both hands. The weight of the scramasax felt like a feather pillow in his right hand, and he'd be sure to put the beautiful instrument to good use.
"You first, slut!" He boomed somewhat unexpectedly, rushing towards Jessa in with his shoulder lowered in an attempt to knock her off balance. He didn't manage to see whether or not she'd already got a hold of her weapon, but either way, stunning her was definitely the first step he needed in order to secure a quick defeat.
"Poison Angles, huh? Oh, I'll give you a whole new set of angles in a minute, my darling." He hissed mockingly, noting that the leader of the three appeared to be handing his target a fair-sized axe. It didn't matter to Jeff, though. The thought never even occurred to him that his life might be in any immediate danger. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for all his life, and he'd be sure to seize it with both hands. The weight of the scramasax felt like a feather pillow in his right hand, and he'd be sure to put the beautiful instrument to good use.
"You first, slut!" He boomed somewhat unexpectedly, rushing towards Jessa in with his shoulder lowered in an attempt to knock her off balance. He didn't manage to see whether or not she'd already got a hold of her weapon, but either way, stunning her was definitely the first step he needed in order to secure a quick defeat.
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Jessa's forehead became hot when Melina called her "love". She wouldn't have given it a second thought to take that ax and bury it in the bitch's head, but Renee was present and armed with arrows so unfortunately she'd have to wait for a more opportune time.
Meanwhile, she had no qualms about killing this chump if it would get her in tight with the group. It was true she wanted to get back at Melina, but Jessa had to admit that the humiliating experience had stressed the importance of covering one's ass. Joining a group would definitely increase her chances of survival, even if she was convinced that she'd still have to watch her back.
Jessa knew Mel'd never let her guard down if she suspected vengeance on her part, so she gave the bitch a toothy smile upon receiving the ax.
"Yes ma'am."
Jeff wasn't about to wait around for Jessa to be fully prepared, of course, and sprang at her. Jessa grunted and swung the weapon at him in an oblique arc, but it didn't connect seeing as he was already plowing into her. She had about a snowball's chance in hell of staying on her feet, owing especially to the slippery wet grass. Jessa landed hard on her butt and lost her grip on the weapon, punctuating this fact with a loud "Fuck--!"
Meanwhile, she had no qualms about killing this chump if it would get her in tight with the group. It was true she wanted to get back at Melina, but Jessa had to admit that the humiliating experience had stressed the importance of covering one's ass. Joining a group would definitely increase her chances of survival, even if she was convinced that she'd still have to watch her back.
Jessa knew Mel'd never let her guard down if she suspected vengeance on her part, so she gave the bitch a toothy smile upon receiving the ax.
"Yes ma'am."
Jeff wasn't about to wait around for Jessa to be fully prepared, of course, and sprang at her. Jessa grunted and swung the weapon at him in an oblique arc, but it didn't connect seeing as he was already plowing into her. She had about a snowball's chance in hell of staying on her feet, owing especially to the slippery wet grass. Jessa landed hard on her butt and lost her grip on the weapon, punctuating this fact with a loud "Fuck--!"
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"...Slut?" Reneé muttered to herself.
The only thing the redhead could hear amidst the deafening silence that cleared her mind appeared to be the crinkling of glass. Whether it was from inside the house or just a figment of her imagination did not seem to matter to someone who believed that comment was directed at her for what had happened to her several weeks ago. It was certainly bad enough that Reneé now believed that the "Go play with yourself" comment was also directed at her as well. But she'd have to take care of Jessa later.
Reneé probably didn't notice herself planting one foot back and arming the bow with the arrow she had just now wielded in her hand like a crude spear. She could see herself aiming the projectile at the boy's solar plexus, with Olympian focus, and hear and feel her seething slowly regulating itself. She could see him moving forward and knocking Jessa to the ground, but Jessa was in the corner of her vision. The boy was in the center, and (from Reneé's perspective anyway), not moving very fast.
"You want to play..." she said as she could feel her middle and index fingers letting the arrow loose, her eyes widening with a murderous gleam, "LET'S. PLAY."
Time seemed to resume its normal pace as the bowstring propelled the arrow off its holster and directly at the boy.
The only thing the redhead could hear amidst the deafening silence that cleared her mind appeared to be the crinkling of glass. Whether it was from inside the house or just a figment of her imagination did not seem to matter to someone who believed that comment was directed at her for what had happened to her several weeks ago. It was certainly bad enough that Reneé now believed that the "Go play with yourself" comment was also directed at her as well. But she'd have to take care of Jessa later.
Reneé probably didn't notice herself planting one foot back and arming the bow with the arrow she had just now wielded in her hand like a crude spear. She could see herself aiming the projectile at the boy's solar plexus, with Olympian focus, and hear and feel her seething slowly regulating itself. She could see him moving forward and knocking Jessa to the ground, but Jessa was in the corner of her vision. The boy was in the center, and (from Reneé's perspective anyway), not moving very fast.
"You want to play..." she said as she could feel her middle and index fingers letting the arrow loose, her eyes widening with a murderous gleam, "LET'S. PLAY."
Time seemed to resume its normal pace as the bowstring propelled the arrow off its holster and directly at the boy.
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"Renee.... no helping" Melina stated as if this were a simple challenge. To her, it was. Jessa had to prove she'd be more useful to her than Monique. After all, Melina had no reason to tote around and protect a useless ally. Not that they were allies. More like they were working toward a similar goal. SHould one stray away from that goal, Melina had full intent to kill them.
"Let her handle it. Don't worry. You've already proven yourself a true Angel." She smiled at the other redhead.
"Just let them play." She grinned.
"Let her handle it. Don't worry. You've already proven yourself a true Angel." She smiled at the other redhead.
"Just let them play." She grinned.
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AtomicWaffle†
- Posts: 230
- Joined: Sun Jan 27, 2019 6:55 am
((Continued from First, Do No Harm))
Loss.
A familiar feeling for Will. Both of his parents were murdered right before his eyes. All over the island, people he knew were killing each other. Most of his friends were dead. His best friend, Christian... Will saved him the further pain of bleeding to death by shooting him in the heart.
He had no one. There was not a single human being on this island that he trusted. It wouldn't matter if they died. This was all about Will now. The entire time on the island he had thought about keeping Christian alive. He had so much more to live for than he did, Will thought. Now Christian was dead, and Will could now only think of his own survival. Did he even want to survive? Will had considered suicide. It was the reason the Colt King Cobra Revolver was gripped in his hand right now. However, Will planned on living a long life. At least longer than 18 years.
There were those on this island who needed to die. Anyone Will considered a threat to his own survival, was a target. Anyone who was in his way, would have to die. And anyone who clearly has no chance of survival on this island, one who doesn't even have a chance... well... Will would put them out of their misery. They would only be killed by someone else if he didn't.
This wasn't a good idea, nor was it by any means something Will would enjoy or agree with. But he knew that it was the only way he could exist in this competition and have a decent chance of survival. Will could never stay with a group - They were doomed to fail and he could not bear to lose anyone he might form a friendship with; to attempt to survive on his own without killing another individual, well... that was also doomed to fail on the principle that there was, quite frankly, no way to avoid violence on this island.
Will saw another clearing nearby, one that stood out from the rest. There was a cottage in the middle of it, from what he could tell. The boy stopped right at the edge of the forest and opened up his daypack. Some things, he really would have no use for anymore and would only slow him down. An MP3 Player, some books, a pen, paper... a notebook.
The notebook. That odd hobby of Will's. Obsessing over certain people. Observing them. Most would consider it disturbing, maybe even stalking; but no, Will didn't stalk them. When they would move about Will would analyze their behavior, try to find reasoning in their actions. Perhaps it made it easier for Will to try and figure out who he really was, perhaps it was just something to do.
"Fuck it."
Will tossed the notebook away along with all of the other items he had thrown. The rain soaked the pages, and the ink smeared and blurred out completely. Hastily he zipped up the duffel bag and picked it up once more. Much lighter. He did a quick inventory of what he had on him. A shortsword was encased in a sheath that hung off of his belt - his assigned weapon. The revolver he took from Viktor Kurchatov was in his hand. Luckily there was quite a bit of ammunition for the gun, and Will had lined his pockets with it. Deciding that it was perhaps a better idea to look less agressive, just in case someone had a twitchy trigger finger, Will placed the revolver in his jacket. It was not heavy, dark coloured, waterproof, and quite good looking... usually Will had a shirt on underneath it, though. His bare chest glistened with the raindrops, and Will looked at it, his blonde hair hanging in his eyes. He brushed it out of the way. For such an academically oriented person Will was quite physically fit. At one point, years ago, he had been quite thin; he had built up a good deal of muscle since then, a result of a year of harsh bullying. Now not only did he have a quick wit, but he was more than strong enough to defend himself, though by no means was he extensively muscular and against some of the jocks he wouldn't have much of a chance. That is, if he didn't have a sword and gun with him at the moment.
"Hmm."
Will muttered to himself incoherently before once again striding into a clearing, except this time, it was not empty. There was a group of people here, Will counted about four, three girls and one boy. And it seemed a fight was going on. Without hesitation Will threw the duffel bag to the side, pulled out the revolver, and held it beside him. They hadn't seen him. Yet. One of them was armed with a bow, the only weapon he could see that would pose any deal of harm to him. The weapon he carried was a six-cylindered revolver. He could easily dispatch all of these individuals should he choose to do so. But maybe they deserved to live. Will decided to find out. He was trying to find some kind of shelter anyways, and the cottage seemed... adequate. He walked at a quick pace until he was about three meters from the group of them, and stopped.
They weren't too focused on him, it seemed. Good. Will figured he would sit back for a minute, watch how this little fight turned out. Besides, if they started killing each other he could save himself the trouble.
Loss.
A familiar feeling for Will. Both of his parents were murdered right before his eyes. All over the island, people he knew were killing each other. Most of his friends were dead. His best friend, Christian... Will saved him the further pain of bleeding to death by shooting him in the heart.
He had no one. There was not a single human being on this island that he trusted. It wouldn't matter if they died. This was all about Will now. The entire time on the island he had thought about keeping Christian alive. He had so much more to live for than he did, Will thought. Now Christian was dead, and Will could now only think of his own survival. Did he even want to survive? Will had considered suicide. It was the reason the Colt King Cobra Revolver was gripped in his hand right now. However, Will planned on living a long life. At least longer than 18 years.
There were those on this island who needed to die. Anyone Will considered a threat to his own survival, was a target. Anyone who was in his way, would have to die. And anyone who clearly has no chance of survival on this island, one who doesn't even have a chance... well... Will would put them out of their misery. They would only be killed by someone else if he didn't.
This wasn't a good idea, nor was it by any means something Will would enjoy or agree with. But he knew that it was the only way he could exist in this competition and have a decent chance of survival. Will could never stay with a group - They were doomed to fail and he could not bear to lose anyone he might form a friendship with; to attempt to survive on his own without killing another individual, well... that was also doomed to fail on the principle that there was, quite frankly, no way to avoid violence on this island.
Will saw another clearing nearby, one that stood out from the rest. There was a cottage in the middle of it, from what he could tell. The boy stopped right at the edge of the forest and opened up his daypack. Some things, he really would have no use for anymore and would only slow him down. An MP3 Player, some books, a pen, paper... a notebook.
The notebook. That odd hobby of Will's. Obsessing over certain people. Observing them. Most would consider it disturbing, maybe even stalking; but no, Will didn't stalk them. When they would move about Will would analyze their behavior, try to find reasoning in their actions. Perhaps it made it easier for Will to try and figure out who he really was, perhaps it was just something to do.
"Fuck it."
Will tossed the notebook away along with all of the other items he had thrown. The rain soaked the pages, and the ink smeared and blurred out completely. Hastily he zipped up the duffel bag and picked it up once more. Much lighter. He did a quick inventory of what he had on him. A shortsword was encased in a sheath that hung off of his belt - his assigned weapon. The revolver he took from Viktor Kurchatov was in his hand. Luckily there was quite a bit of ammunition for the gun, and Will had lined his pockets with it. Deciding that it was perhaps a better idea to look less agressive, just in case someone had a twitchy trigger finger, Will placed the revolver in his jacket. It was not heavy, dark coloured, waterproof, and quite good looking... usually Will had a shirt on underneath it, though. His bare chest glistened with the raindrops, and Will looked at it, his blonde hair hanging in his eyes. He brushed it out of the way. For such an academically oriented person Will was quite physically fit. At one point, years ago, he had been quite thin; he had built up a good deal of muscle since then, a result of a year of harsh bullying. Now not only did he have a quick wit, but he was more than strong enough to defend himself, though by no means was he extensively muscular and against some of the jocks he wouldn't have much of a chance. That is, if he didn't have a sword and gun with him at the moment.
"Hmm."
Will muttered to himself incoherently before once again striding into a clearing, except this time, it was not empty. There was a group of people here, Will counted about four, three girls and one boy. And it seemed a fight was going on. Without hesitation Will threw the duffel bag to the side, pulled out the revolver, and held it beside him. They hadn't seen him. Yet. One of them was armed with a bow, the only weapon he could see that would pose any deal of harm to him. The weapon he carried was a six-cylindered revolver. He could easily dispatch all of these individuals should he choose to do so. But maybe they deserved to live. Will decided to find out. He was trying to find some kind of shelter anyways, and the cottage seemed... adequate. He walked at a quick pace until he was about three meters from the group of them, and stopped.
They weren't too focused on him, it seemed. Good. Will figured he would sit back for a minute, watch how this little fight turned out. Besides, if they started killing each other he could save himself the trouble.
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Jeff's shoulder tackle had proven as effective as he could've hoped, as it had sent Jessa hard down towards the ground below him. He now towered over her, staring down intently at his pitiful victim. He swore he could hear voices and footsteps all around him, but none of them registered - he was too busy admiring his own work. The tackle had also managed to disarm her, which in Jeff's mind had secured his own victory.
As he stared down at his helpless opponent, he couldn't help but revel in how easy the entire process had been. Jessa was an obstacle in his path, and he had knocked her over and kept going. If the rest of the game played out like this, he was bound to come out on top. Mathematics had never been Jeff's forte; in fact, he much preferred drama, but despite the fact that right now he was faced with three opponents he felt like the odds were on his side. Another one of the voices he thought he'd heard earlier piped up again, causing him to remove his gaze from Jessa and break his concentration. His eyes traced their way up the ground towards the source of his annoyance, the one in the back, and his eyes narrowed.
"Oh, would you just shut the fuck-..."
Jeff was cut off mid-way through his taunting by a searing pain in his abdomen, and he managed to look down to discover that the very girl he had begun to refute had shot him through the stomach with an arrow. Jeff lost his grip on his weapon, the scramasax falling onto the dew-covered grass beside Jessa, as his hands moved down towards his stomach, clasping either side of the arrow. He didn't attempt to remove the projectile, mainly because he was so overwhelmed by the fact that somebody he'd considered insignificant only a few seconds before had manage to cripple him so severely. His disillusionment was slowly starting to fade away, but it seemed like it all came much too late.
Jeff dropped to his knees, hands still clutching the arrow. His breathing had become nothing more than painful wheezes, the arrow having apparently pierced and punctured his diaphragm. His gaze, which had previously been fixed on the arrow, lifted up towards Jessa. He had no right to ask her to spare him, nor did he have the right to ask her to finish the job. All he could manage was a painful gasp, which was followed by a coughing and spluttering of blood which slowly oozed out of the sides of his mouth. He could no longer will himself to move.
As he stared down at his helpless opponent, he couldn't help but revel in how easy the entire process had been. Jessa was an obstacle in his path, and he had knocked her over and kept going. If the rest of the game played out like this, he was bound to come out on top. Mathematics had never been Jeff's forte; in fact, he much preferred drama, but despite the fact that right now he was faced with three opponents he felt like the odds were on his side. Another one of the voices he thought he'd heard earlier piped up again, causing him to remove his gaze from Jessa and break his concentration. His eyes traced their way up the ground towards the source of his annoyance, the one in the back, and his eyes narrowed.
"Oh, would you just shut the fuck-..."
Jeff was cut off mid-way through his taunting by a searing pain in his abdomen, and he managed to look down to discover that the very girl he had begun to refute had shot him through the stomach with an arrow. Jeff lost his grip on his weapon, the scramasax falling onto the dew-covered grass beside Jessa, as his hands moved down towards his stomach, clasping either side of the arrow. He didn't attempt to remove the projectile, mainly because he was so overwhelmed by the fact that somebody he'd considered insignificant only a few seconds before had manage to cripple him so severely. His disillusionment was slowly starting to fade away, but it seemed like it all came much too late.
Jeff dropped to his knees, hands still clutching the arrow. His breathing had become nothing more than painful wheezes, the arrow having apparently pierced and punctured his diaphragm. His gaze, which had previously been fixed on the arrow, lifted up towards Jessa. He had no right to ask her to spare him, nor did he have the right to ask her to finish the job. All he could manage was a painful gasp, which was followed by a coughing and spluttering of blood which slowly oozed out of the sides of his mouth. He could no longer will himself to move.
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Jessa's life began flashing before her eyes, which was pretty bitchin' because she hadn't ever honestly believed that it did when staring death in the face. Of course Renee's arrow--her shimmering, pointy savior--interrupted the phenomenon halfway through and left Jessa with images of her family's vacation the previous year stuffed behind her eyeballs. Blinking in confusion and still fumbling behind her for the ax, she got to her feet, no longer in any immediate peril from the looks of things.
Her confidence came rushing back the moment she felt the axe back in her hand, as did her big gleaming smile. She chuckled, hefting the weapon and savouring the satisfying moment of sure-thing victory.
"Ho-ho-hooo..." she beamed, excited and half-crazed by the adrenaline. "You're dead, bitch. You're deeeeaaaad. Game fucking over."
Although she hadn't really done jack-all to vanquish this asshole Jessa felt she'd earned a victory in some small way just by having been through so much. She'd earned this. Right?
...Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just fucking waste the faggot.
"Hoounh!" With a heavy grunt Jessa tugged the axe around from the side with both hands, stepping into her swing with little more concern for the boy than whether his blood would stain her clothes. Fuck him. Fuck everybody on the island who wasn't Jessa Ann Vanallen.
(...Especially Mel.)
Her confidence came rushing back the moment she felt the axe back in her hand, as did her big gleaming smile. She chuckled, hefting the weapon and savouring the satisfying moment of sure-thing victory.
"Ho-ho-hooo..." she beamed, excited and half-crazed by the adrenaline. "You're dead, bitch. You're deeeeaaaad. Game fucking over."
Although she hadn't really done jack-all to vanquish this asshole Jessa felt she'd earned a victory in some small way just by having been through so much. She'd earned this. Right?
...Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just fucking waste the faggot.
"Hoounh!" With a heavy grunt Jessa tugged the axe around from the side with both hands, stepping into her swing with little more concern for the boy than whether his blood would stain her clothes. Fuck him. Fuck everybody on the island who wasn't Jessa Ann Vanallen.
(...Especially Mel.)
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Just because time had "resumed" its normal pace (again, from Reneé's prespective) did not necessarily mean the raging redhead noticed (and/or had full control over) what she was doing. She could feel herself loading another arrow - her 5th or 6th, she had probably lost count - and aiming it right for the falling Jeff. With his staggering figure getting closer to her and Jessa, it made him that much more of an easy target. She thought she'd heard Jessa say something, but it was hard to hear let alone discern over the ringing that had started in her ears since the proverbial red mist descended. All she wanted at the moment was to exact revenge on the bastard that had called her a slut.
Anything to quiet the ringing.
"Playtime's just beginning..." she growled as she let the axe-swinging Jessa pass her. Renee didn't actually see where the arrow flew, as she had fired it in enough of a hurry that she didn't quite aim it right. Not that she cared about her aim at this point, either. She was about ready to toss the bow aside and go cavewoman on the prick after Jessa was finished with him, as long as there was something left for her to go cavewoman on.
Anything to quiet the ringing.
"Playtime's just beginning..." she growled as she let the axe-swinging Jessa pass her. Renee didn't actually see where the arrow flew, as she had fired it in enough of a hurry that she didn't quite aim it right. Not that she cared about her aim at this point, either. She was about ready to toss the bow aside and go cavewoman on the prick after Jessa was finished with him, as long as there was something left for her to go cavewoman on.
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EndlessScribe†
- Posts: 5
- Joined: Wed Oct 10, 2018 7:53 pm
My fucking luck. There was a moment of confusion where he wondered if that was him hissing - his inner monologue got away from him from time to time. The sword he'd let dance loosely in his hands was now clenched tight. A goddamn sword. Well, at least he didn't need an instruction manual. Put the pointy end in the fleshy thing and watch it go. He grinned, crouching behind the tree, but another flighty glance proved that there wasn't much to grin about. Fare thee well, dumbass. Taking on three people at once... Stupid.
He almost danced a bit, anxious to get out of this confining space, surrounded on all sides by trees and bushes that gave him almost no visibility - and the only angle he did have gave Temple a view of three crazy chicks who were definitely playing the game. So, I do what I always do. Think fast. They're not interested in playing nice, and there's no way I can get in on the fun. If I try to play, I'll be in trouble. So what DO I do? Common sense says get the hell out of here... but this place could be locked up, gimme a place to camp out 'till Danya says it goes boom. If I let 'em hang out here I lose my in. Guess we just wait and see what fate tosses our way? And if all else fails, run like hell.
He almost danced a bit, anxious to get out of this confining space, surrounded on all sides by trees and bushes that gave him almost no visibility - and the only angle he did have gave Temple a view of three crazy chicks who were definitely playing the game. So, I do what I always do. Think fast. They're not interested in playing nice, and there's no way I can get in on the fun. If I try to play, I'll be in trouble. So what DO I do? Common sense says get the hell out of here... but this place could be locked up, gimme a place to camp out 'till Danya says it goes boom. If I let 'em hang out here I lose my in. Guess we just wait and see what fate tosses our way? And if all else fails, run like hell.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler EndlessScribe. 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.
Jeff was helpless to do anything but gasp for air as the girl in front of him recovered rather quickly. He noticed her picking herself up off the ground and reaching for her weapon, but after that, he became gradually unaware of what was happening around him. His vision had begun to blur, and he was a little more than distracted by the immense pain in his abdomen and the seething of blood gurgling in his throat as he feebly attempted a last clutch at life. He was fairly sure she'd said something shortly afterwards, but whatever it was escaped him. The voices in the area had become indistinguishable waves of sound, crashing against him.
As the beating of his heart seemed to slow and echo louder in the back of Jeff's mind, his thinking and rationale seemed to refocus. In death, everything had become so infinitely clear to him. From the moment he'd awoken on the island, Jeff had maintained only one distinct focus; he would win the Survival of the Fittest, and use it as a stepping stone on his path to fame. He would beat Danya's masterfully orchestrated game, and he wouldn't let anyone else get in his way. It was only now that he realized that he had failed miserably. In attempting to win the game, he had lost himself. Danya had foreseen everything, and it had all gone according to his plan. In the end, Jeff was nothing more than an insignificant pawn in the grand scheme of things.
He hadn't managed any sort of victory at all. The game had defeated him right from the beginning.
***
The heavy wooden door to the Marontate home was slammed shut as quickly as it had been opened, and a nine year old Jeff stood in the doorway, heavily distressed. His hair was matted and dishevelled, and almost his entire face and arms were covered in scrapes and bruises. His pants had been ripped at the kneecaps fairly recently, evidenced by the loose threads of fabric that hung from both of the open holes, and his now exposed kneecaps were covered in dry blood and dirt. The cuts on his face had been left unattended to, and the tears he was trying so hard to repress had smeared some of the blood down his cheeks. Jeff's hands shook violently as he let his backpack drop onto the floor, and he sniffed loudly. Whatever or whomever he'd run into had left him in terrible shape.
Trembling, Jeff stepped forward, his mud-covered shoes echoing solidly against the hardwood floor. The entry of the house opened into an incredibly spacious living room, which seemed to dominate the majority of the first floor of the home. Dark green drapes covered the windows, and two long, white couches accounted for the majority of the space. On one of the couches sat Lindsay Marontate gazing transfixedly at the television, a box of kleenex in her lap and tears welling up in her eyes. She was watching a soap opera. Jeff had become well accustomed to the fact that on the rare occasion he did catch his mother at home, she was always absorbed in catching up on what she'd missed during the week on All My Children or Days of Our Lives. She didn't even seem to hear him come through the door, let alone approach her.
"Mommy..." Jeff whimpered from behind the couch, his head hanging low. He was sure that she'd be disappointed in him for ruining his new clothes, even though it obviously wasn't his fault, but he nevertheless sought her out for consolation.
"Mo-...mom...." He choked up once more, the pitch of his voice rising considerably.
Annoyed, Lindsay turned around, her trembling lips hardening almost immediately and her eyes narrowing. "Oh, Jeff, I just cleaned that floor! Go take your shoes off!" She scanned Jeff for a moment afterwards, growing increasingly aggrivated. "And look what you've done to your clothes!" Seemingly torn, she opted not to continue scolding Jeff in favour of turning back towards the TV and engaging in her soap opera once more.
"B-but, mom..." Jeff piped up for a moment in an attempt to explain what happened, but was cut short.
"Go wash up and get changed, dinner's in an hour," she interjected curtly.
"Mom!" Jeff insisted, stamping his foot on the ground, but Lindsay wouldn't have any of it.
"NOW, Jeffrey!" She commanded, and as if on cue, Jeff burst into streams of tears again. The fresh tears stung the open wounds on his face, but he was far past the point of caring. His assailants had managed to ravage his body, and his own mother had managed to shatter his heart yet again. Desperately stricken by heartbreak, Jeff removed his shoes and tossed them towards the door, then ran up the stairs. Halfway up, he paused and stared down towards his mother, then up towards the television she was fixed on.
"I hate you..." he managed through sobs. It was directed to every person in their living room.
***
Drama. It was both the cause of all of Jeff's problems, and the fuel that kept him going. His thirst for it could have been genetic, but he'd never really stopped to ponder the subject until now. The memory of one of many similar events from his childhood pained him, but it also cleared away the rest of his disillusionment. As another of the projectiles flew past him a few feet shy of his head, Jeff couldn't help but regret the manner in which he'd played the game...or at least, the manner in which hed attempted to play it. In the end, the game was the one that took him for a ride. He felt exhausted, and he couldn't keep his balance up any longer. He began to fall forward...
Before he could move very far, however, Jessa's axe buried itself deep in the back of his skull, effectively cleaving it apart. As it tore through both bone and brain matter, Jeff felt the pain in his abdomen and the discomfort in his throat disappear. Soon afterward, he felt nothing at all. As he fell forward, axe buried in his skull, the curtain closed on Jeff Marontate's life for the final time.
B57: JEFF MARONTATE - DECEASED
As the beating of his heart seemed to slow and echo louder in the back of Jeff's mind, his thinking and rationale seemed to refocus. In death, everything had become so infinitely clear to him. From the moment he'd awoken on the island, Jeff had maintained only one distinct focus; he would win the Survival of the Fittest, and use it as a stepping stone on his path to fame. He would beat Danya's masterfully orchestrated game, and he wouldn't let anyone else get in his way. It was only now that he realized that he had failed miserably. In attempting to win the game, he had lost himself. Danya had foreseen everything, and it had all gone according to his plan. In the end, Jeff was nothing more than an insignificant pawn in the grand scheme of things.
He hadn't managed any sort of victory at all. The game had defeated him right from the beginning.
***
The heavy wooden door to the Marontate home was slammed shut as quickly as it had been opened, and a nine year old Jeff stood in the doorway, heavily distressed. His hair was matted and dishevelled, and almost his entire face and arms were covered in scrapes and bruises. His pants had been ripped at the kneecaps fairly recently, evidenced by the loose threads of fabric that hung from both of the open holes, and his now exposed kneecaps were covered in dry blood and dirt. The cuts on his face had been left unattended to, and the tears he was trying so hard to repress had smeared some of the blood down his cheeks. Jeff's hands shook violently as he let his backpack drop onto the floor, and he sniffed loudly. Whatever or whomever he'd run into had left him in terrible shape.
Trembling, Jeff stepped forward, his mud-covered shoes echoing solidly against the hardwood floor. The entry of the house opened into an incredibly spacious living room, which seemed to dominate the majority of the first floor of the home. Dark green drapes covered the windows, and two long, white couches accounted for the majority of the space. On one of the couches sat Lindsay Marontate gazing transfixedly at the television, a box of kleenex in her lap and tears welling up in her eyes. She was watching a soap opera. Jeff had become well accustomed to the fact that on the rare occasion he did catch his mother at home, she was always absorbed in catching up on what she'd missed during the week on All My Children or Days of Our Lives. She didn't even seem to hear him come through the door, let alone approach her.
"Mommy..." Jeff whimpered from behind the couch, his head hanging low. He was sure that she'd be disappointed in him for ruining his new clothes, even though it obviously wasn't his fault, but he nevertheless sought her out for consolation.
"Mo-...mom...." He choked up once more, the pitch of his voice rising considerably.
Annoyed, Lindsay turned around, her trembling lips hardening almost immediately and her eyes narrowing. "Oh, Jeff, I just cleaned that floor! Go take your shoes off!" She scanned Jeff for a moment afterwards, growing increasingly aggrivated. "And look what you've done to your clothes!" Seemingly torn, she opted not to continue scolding Jeff in favour of turning back towards the TV and engaging in her soap opera once more.
"B-but, mom..." Jeff piped up for a moment in an attempt to explain what happened, but was cut short.
"Go wash up and get changed, dinner's in an hour," she interjected curtly.
"Mom!" Jeff insisted, stamping his foot on the ground, but Lindsay wouldn't have any of it.
"NOW, Jeffrey!" She commanded, and as if on cue, Jeff burst into streams of tears again. The fresh tears stung the open wounds on his face, but he was far past the point of caring. His assailants had managed to ravage his body, and his own mother had managed to shatter his heart yet again. Desperately stricken by heartbreak, Jeff removed his shoes and tossed them towards the door, then ran up the stairs. Halfway up, he paused and stared down towards his mother, then up towards the television she was fixed on.
"I hate you..." he managed through sobs. It was directed to every person in their living room.
***
Drama. It was both the cause of all of Jeff's problems, and the fuel that kept him going. His thirst for it could have been genetic, but he'd never really stopped to ponder the subject until now. The memory of one of many similar events from his childhood pained him, but it also cleared away the rest of his disillusionment. As another of the projectiles flew past him a few feet shy of his head, Jeff couldn't help but regret the manner in which he'd played the game...or at least, the manner in which hed attempted to play it. In the end, the game was the one that took him for a ride. He felt exhausted, and he couldn't keep his balance up any longer. He began to fall forward...
Before he could move very far, however, Jessa's axe buried itself deep in the back of his skull, effectively cleaving it apart. As it tore through both bone and brain matter, Jeff felt the pain in his abdomen and the discomfort in his throat disappear. Soon afterward, he felt nothing at all. As he fell forward, axe buried in his skull, the curtain closed on Jeff Marontate's life for the final time.
B57: JEFF MARONTATE - DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Crash. 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.
The ax found its mark with a wet crack and became lodged firmly in Jeff's skull. Jessa stumbled forward a tiny bit, pulled by the weight of the dead boy's crumpling body pulling his head pulling the ax. She steadied herself though, and planting her foot against Jeff's head clumsily wrenched the blade free.
For a second or two she stood in awe of what she'd just done, wondering if it was normal not to feel much of anything for the person she'd just killed in cold blood. Given the situation...maybe. Who knew. Jessa wrinkled her nose and spat at Jeff's corpse as she bent over to pick up the knife he'd dropped.
'Dumb fag.'
"Howsat, Mel?" she chortled to the other girls. "Huh? That a pass or what?"
For a second or two she stood in awe of what she'd just done, wondering if it was normal not to feel much of anything for the person she'd just killed in cold blood. Given the situation...maybe. Who knew. Jessa wrinkled her nose and spat at Jeff's corpse as she bent over to pick up the knife he'd dropped.
'Dumb fag.'
"Howsat, Mel?" she chortled to the other girls. "Huh? That a pass or what?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Cyco. 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.
Melina giggled at the crunch the axe made as it came into contact with the obnoxious boy's skull. She looked upon his corpse with disgust. It was idiotic of him to think he stood a chance against three of them. With only a blade at that! Men were such fools. That was the reason for everything she was doing. Ridding this place of the foolish men would only help her later down the road. When push came to shove, the men were still the more brawny gender. That would be detrimental later on in the game, when all the guns were out to play.
Melina was going to win. She was to become the first female winner of Survival of the Fittest.
She knew that girls like Jessa and Renee were putting their trust in her. That was by far the stupidest thing they could have done. Melina in no way trusted either of them. She knew they would eventually try to have a "revolt". They'd backstab her eventually, but that was fine by her. She'd probably do it to them before they could even launch any plan regardless. Just like what she did to Monique.
Once their use was fulfilled, they would only be fodder to be slaughtered.
Melina grinned at Jessa. She had indeed proved herself of use to Melina. She turned and retrieved her chain from the ground. It was her first weapon, and it could still be of use to her later down the road. She stowed the chain away in her daypack for later use. She walked up to Jessa.
"Good work soldier... give me the weapon you feel less comfortable with. If you want to keep the axe or the knife, it's your decision." She took the weapon that Jessa didn't want and stared at its blade. Time for the Poison Angles to go out on the hunt once again. How thrilling it was.
"alright... I've grown tired of this place. We must go hunting. Im sure there are plenty more on this island who need to be put in their place. Follow me girls... I will lead you to survival. I will lead you to glory." She grinned. "Because, after all... we are indeed the fittest." With that said, she began to leave the area, taking one last look at the two corpses that now lay rotting on the ground. She chuckled, and continued on her way.
CONTINUED: ESLEWHERE
Melina was going to win. She was to become the first female winner of Survival of the Fittest.
She knew that girls like Jessa and Renee were putting their trust in her. That was by far the stupidest thing they could have done. Melina in no way trusted either of them. She knew they would eventually try to have a "revolt". They'd backstab her eventually, but that was fine by her. She'd probably do it to them before they could even launch any plan regardless. Just like what she did to Monique.
Once their use was fulfilled, they would only be fodder to be slaughtered.
Melina grinned at Jessa. She had indeed proved herself of use to Melina. She turned and retrieved her chain from the ground. It was her first weapon, and it could still be of use to her later down the road. She stowed the chain away in her daypack for later use. She walked up to Jessa.
"Good work soldier... give me the weapon you feel less comfortable with. If you want to keep the axe or the knife, it's your decision." She took the weapon that Jessa didn't want and stared at its blade. Time for the Poison Angles to go out on the hunt once again. How thrilling it was.
"alright... I've grown tired of this place. We must go hunting. Im sure there are plenty more on this island who need to be put in their place. Follow me girls... I will lead you to survival. I will lead you to glory." She grinned. "Because, after all... we are indeed the fittest." With that said, she began to leave the area, taking one last look at the two corpses that now lay rotting on the ground. She chuckled, and continued on her way.
CONTINUED: ESLEWHERE
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.
Jessa eased up and tried to get a hold on her nerves. The adrenaline was really sticking it to her, and although her heart was racing uncomfortably against her ribcage she had to admit that it was a tremendous high. Arousing, even.
Melina gave her the option of the knife or the ax, to which her immediate decision was, 'Knife.' Lighter and easier to handle, but not so small that it made her feel vulnerable and ill-equipped. Plus it looked pretty badass, and she needed all the fuck-yeah self-esteem inflation she could get after bitching out in front of the group's leader. Mel seemed pretty convinced that Jessa didn't pose a threat to her, and that's exactly how she wanted it. She would probably have to get Renee out of the picture, but she could wait. Anything could happen in the next few days.
'Oh Mel. Ooh, baby. I am going to get you,' she thought eagerly as she grabbed the dead assholes bag and headed after the two girls.
((continued in What a Day x3))
Melina gave her the option of the knife or the ax, to which her immediate decision was, 'Knife.' Lighter and easier to handle, but not so small that it made her feel vulnerable and ill-equipped. Plus it looked pretty badass, and she needed all the fuck-yeah self-esteem inflation she could get after bitching out in front of the group's leader. Mel seemed pretty convinced that Jessa didn't pose a threat to her, and that's exactly how she wanted it. She would probably have to get Renee out of the picture, but she could wait. Anything could happen in the next few days.
'Oh Mel. Ooh, baby. I am going to get you,' she thought eagerly as she grabbed the dead assholes bag and headed after the two girls.
((continued in What a Day x3))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Cyco. 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.