Peter stood there for a moment, letting what the girl said to him sink in...then he made his way back in the direction he saw Kristey was heading. His mind was made up...he would align himself with Kristey, and if Damien were to turn, then he would kill him immediately without a single moment of hesitation. "I can do it..." he thought, "this razorblade in my pocket isn't much, but I know I can take him down with other means first...and then we'll see if that blade is worth half a damn..." But then Peter froze in his tracks when he heard Kristey call out that name...the previous few seconds were spent trying to conceive a plan to kill Damien and now all of that was lost as he clutched his chest. Now his thoughts were consumed by Andi as he raced toward Kristey as fast as he could carry his somewhat excessive weight.
"Wait, Kristey...you know Andi too?" he asked her, trying his best not to give anything away...though Peter knew for a fact that he was gay and had no interest in girls, maybe she was a friend of his as well. Still, he couldn't help but to blush...but then the moment was lost when he heard a strange sound, head snappion around to see where it came from. "Hey...did you hear that?" He continued looking around, face still red...he now had a couple new objectives...and the thoughts began to slowly creep through his mind. Obviously, the first was to find Andi...but the second was to keep Kristey from knowing of his involvement with him. He knew that if she found out anything, all hell would break loose and things would turn ugly in a hurry.
Well... isn't this fucking great?!
Kristey's anger [Content warning: Sam Sorenson and his erection show up for like two posts and then leave]
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Kristey was off in her own little world and didn't notice Peter speaking.
SHe did, however, notice a brief loud sound, and kept her bat at the ready.
SHe did, however, notice a brief loud sound, and kept her bat at the ready.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. 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.
Damien stood frozen in place as his sneakered foot crushed the porcelain remains of what was probably some once-sacred Buddha statue, making a rather innocuous clinking that to him sounded like someone took a sledgehammer to a Ming vase in a badly soundproofed room in his head. In that moment, it was the only thing he could hear. He could also feel sweat beading down his forehead and weave through his messed-up hair and whatever pore it came out of. The rest was his body starting to act up again from Marvin's punches.
Warning punches...the worst is for last...
Damien's breathing got faster again. His heart started to pump faster and harder, sending blood and sensation to every part of his body, especially the injured parts. Those in turn caused the injured parts to hurt even more. The icing on the cake was his recent revelation that his fears that even those who tried to help him were the ones who hurt him most were all confirmed. And from the icing, the cycle started again with more intensity. Faster, more violent, more painful. And still he stood. The sound of his body pulsing was all he could hear. His eyes squinted shut and his hands quickly latched themselves to his ears.
"Stop...please...stop it..." he whimpered...
Then it stopped, just like he wanted. Dead silence.
Now you see.
See what?
Silence.
What!? What do I see?!
As Damien opened his eyes, he saw the same trashed interior of the temple, felt the crushed remains of the Buddha under his shoes. His body still hurt, blood still pumping and fueling the pain, but it was only as intense as it was when he arrived at the pagoda. Sweat still beaded out of his pores, and his breathing was slowing back down to normal. Everything was just the way it was. Except for maybe the shadowy, human-shape figures that surrounded him, ready to attack.
What the!?
Each shadow was pitch black, seeming to absorb whatever light shone into the interior of the pagoda. The only light that came from the shadows were their almost-glowing white eyes. They came in different shapes and sizes, but Damien recognized them all. Four were male. Two were large and imposing, another was simply large. The other was rather diminuitive. Three were female, each shapely and ominous. One of the female shadows wasn't as voluptuous as the others, but the slithering ponytail that extruded from the back of its head left no doubt in his mind that she was their leader.
Oh God...shit...
But in a blink of an eye, they were all gone, and all that was left was him, the pagoda, and the light. The light that seeped through whatever openings in the pagoda that let light in almost seemed to bloom or glow. Slivers of dust and other small, fluttery nothing fluttered about the glow, the light causing them to shine like little fireflies, slowly hovering around, going everywhere and nowhere.
That...was fucked up...
Everything was just the way it was now. Everything was fine.
Except for the then-quickly-realized fact that Kristey was already on her way back to find out what he was up to. Damien hobbled back to his backpack, which wasn't really that far away. The trip however, seemed like an eternity, in which a lot of that tension started to build up again.
That fear was still there, still prevailing, still creating those discomforting feelings that added to his discomfort. Only for some reason, it also - somehow, someway - felt like determination. Almost like...courage. For a moment before that dreadful silence...it almost felt...
...good.
Damien set aside his shield and opened his daypack, his hands shaking from the pain. The first thing to greet him was his blue Corona notebook, the pen neatly clipped to the front cover. He snatched it up and held it close to his chest for a few moments, taking in a few deep breaths. He wanted to calm down. He needed to calm down. Once he felt the first signs of such, he slumped back against the wall - still inside the pagoda - opened the notebook to the back page and unclipped the pen.
He took one more deep breath and stared worryingly at the book before he started writing. The handwriting was visibly shaky from writing so fast but still very legible.
1 - Rowland Kelly
It was the first name that came to his mind, almost out of nowhere, and after writing this he took a pause, to which he briefly wondered why that name was really of any significance. He started getting very worried, knowing he'd have to pick up the pace. The next two names he wrote very quickly, both linking to each other in his mind.
2 - Franco Sebberts
3 - Debrah Dollop
Damien took another look outside...hoping the coast was clear...
Warning punches...the worst is for last...
Damien's breathing got faster again. His heart started to pump faster and harder, sending blood and sensation to every part of his body, especially the injured parts. Those in turn caused the injured parts to hurt even more. The icing on the cake was his recent revelation that his fears that even those who tried to help him were the ones who hurt him most were all confirmed. And from the icing, the cycle started again with more intensity. Faster, more violent, more painful. And still he stood. The sound of his body pulsing was all he could hear. His eyes squinted shut and his hands quickly latched themselves to his ears.
"Stop...please...stop it..." he whimpered...
Then it stopped, just like he wanted. Dead silence.
Now you see.
See what?
Silence.
What!? What do I see?!
As Damien opened his eyes, he saw the same trashed interior of the temple, felt the crushed remains of the Buddha under his shoes. His body still hurt, blood still pumping and fueling the pain, but it was only as intense as it was when he arrived at the pagoda. Sweat still beaded out of his pores, and his breathing was slowing back down to normal. Everything was just the way it was. Except for maybe the shadowy, human-shape figures that surrounded him, ready to attack.
What the!?
Each shadow was pitch black, seeming to absorb whatever light shone into the interior of the pagoda. The only light that came from the shadows were their almost-glowing white eyes. They came in different shapes and sizes, but Damien recognized them all. Four were male. Two were large and imposing, another was simply large. The other was rather diminuitive. Three were female, each shapely and ominous. One of the female shadows wasn't as voluptuous as the others, but the slithering ponytail that extruded from the back of its head left no doubt in his mind that she was their leader.
Oh God...shit...
But in a blink of an eye, they were all gone, and all that was left was him, the pagoda, and the light. The light that seeped through whatever openings in the pagoda that let light in almost seemed to bloom or glow. Slivers of dust and other small, fluttery nothing fluttered about the glow, the light causing them to shine like little fireflies, slowly hovering around, going everywhere and nowhere.
That...was fucked up...
Everything was just the way it was now. Everything was fine.
Except for the then-quickly-realized fact that Kristey was already on her way back to find out what he was up to. Damien hobbled back to his backpack, which wasn't really that far away. The trip however, seemed like an eternity, in which a lot of that tension started to build up again.
That fear was still there, still prevailing, still creating those discomforting feelings that added to his discomfort. Only for some reason, it also - somehow, someway - felt like determination. Almost like...courage. For a moment before that dreadful silence...it almost felt...
...good.
Damien set aside his shield and opened his daypack, his hands shaking from the pain. The first thing to greet him was his blue Corona notebook, the pen neatly clipped to the front cover. He snatched it up and held it close to his chest for a few moments, taking in a few deep breaths. He wanted to calm down. He needed to calm down. Once he felt the first signs of such, he slumped back against the wall - still inside the pagoda - opened the notebook to the back page and unclipped the pen.
He took one more deep breath and stared worryingly at the book before he started writing. The handwriting was visibly shaky from writing so fast but still very legible.
1 - Rowland Kelly
It was the first name that came to his mind, almost out of nowhere, and after writing this he took a pause, to which he briefly wondered why that name was really of any significance. He started getting very worried, knowing he'd have to pick up the pace. The next two names he wrote very quickly, both linking to each other in his mind.
2 - Franco Sebberts
3 - Debrah Dollop
Damien took another look outside...hoping the coast was clear...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.
((Sorry I took so long, up until today my internet has been cut off... fucking bills...))
Kristey was scoping around the area after hearing a noise.
She was way too paranoid for her own good, but that's to be expected in a place where everyone is out to kill each other, and she wasn't about to let herself die until she exacted some punishment on a few people.
She spent a few minutes going everywhere in the pagoda with her bat in hand, but didn't find anything, and thought it might be best if she got Damien and Peter to look into it with her.
She quickly made her way to where Damien was, and found him writing something out.
It looked like a list of names...
Kristey was scoping around the area after hearing a noise.
She was way too paranoid for her own good, but that's to be expected in a place where everyone is out to kill each other, and she wasn't about to let herself die until she exacted some punishment on a few people.
She spent a few minutes going everywhere in the pagoda with her bat in hand, but didn't find anything, and thought it might be best if she got Damien and Peter to look into it with her.
She quickly made her way to where Damien was, and found him writing something out.
It looked like a list of names...
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Damien saw the coast was clear, and continued writing. He took the extra effort to make the next name in his little blue Death Note really special, tracing over it to make it extra bold. One could notice the hints of a smile on Damien's face as he underlined the name, each mark like a slash.
4 - Marvin Hendrick
There would, logically, have been one more name left on the list, the best really for last. However, recent developments left him no choice but to leave that last name for last, and insert new ones in between. And he knew exactly where to start.
Damien looked up again to see who was there, and found himself staring briefly up the skirt of, and then up into the face of Kristey Burrowell. His pen, which he'd already let continue as he checked, quickly skidded to a halt, and as Damien quickly turned his head back to look at exactly where it had stopped he was filled with dread yet anew, and those faint hints of a grin were shattered like so much porcelain. The line he had only begun to write, not quite as bold as #4 but still quite prominent, read as followed:
5 - Kr
Damien suddenly jolted his pen to try to connect the two top points of the 'K' into an 'R', but she'd already seen the writing in the book. When the 'K' didn't look enough like an 'R' he started rounding off the edges. But then that still didn't look good enough so he started tracing over the entire letter, the pen starting to smear in places from the pressure. Then THAT didn't look good enough, so he tried increasing the size with each trace, making the letter bolder and less readable. By that time he was already starting to sob, and scribbling over that entire line in some sort of desperate interpretation of "If she can't see it, it never existed!". He didn't want to accept that this writing in the book was the writing on the wall, and realizing that he'd forgotten to deal with that second r...well...
"Oh God...please...you didn't just see that..."
4 - Marvin Hendrick
There would, logically, have been one more name left on the list, the best really for last. However, recent developments left him no choice but to leave that last name for last, and insert new ones in between. And he knew exactly where to start.
Damien looked up again to see who was there, and found himself staring briefly up the skirt of, and then up into the face of Kristey Burrowell. His pen, which he'd already let continue as he checked, quickly skidded to a halt, and as Damien quickly turned his head back to look at exactly where it had stopped he was filled with dread yet anew, and those faint hints of a grin were shattered like so much porcelain. The line he had only begun to write, not quite as bold as #4 but still quite prominent, read as followed:
5 - Kr
Damien suddenly jolted his pen to try to connect the two top points of the 'K' into an 'R', but she'd already seen the writing in the book. When the 'K' didn't look enough like an 'R' he started rounding off the edges. But then that still didn't look good enough so he started tracing over the entire letter, the pen starting to smear in places from the pressure. Then THAT didn't look good enough, so he tried increasing the size with each trace, making the letter bolder and less readable. By that time he was already starting to sob, and scribbling over that entire line in some sort of desperate interpretation of "If she can't see it, it never existed!". He didn't want to accept that this writing in the book was the writing on the wall, and realizing that he'd forgotten to deal with that second r...well...
"Oh God...please...you didn't just see that..."
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Kristey looked at Damien who seemed to be frantic, and somewhat nervous.
She also saw that he was hiding something, and wasn't in the mood for games.
She held her bat with her face held up high, and spoke.
"What would that be, dear Damien?"
She held out her hand, wanting to know what it was.
She knew full well what it was, a list. And, briefly caught some familiar names.
She also saw that he was hiding something, and wasn't in the mood for games.
She held her bat with her face held up high, and spoke.
"What would that be, dear Damien?"
She held out her hand, wanting to know what it was.
She knew full well what it was, a list. And, briefly caught some familiar names.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. 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.
Damien looked down upon the notebook, breathing a half-hearted sigh of relief. Half-hearted because Kristey's name had been blotted out rather completely, and half-hearted because he'd even started writing it in the first place, and it had been blotted out so conspicuously that she was bound to suspect what he'd written under it anyway.
Nice going, genius.
It's your fault!
Didn't I just say I'd tell you what to do? You were the one to actually do it.
But...but...
He looked away as he feebly placed the little blue notebook in Kristey's hand. After all, she was the one with the baseball bat that trashed half the pagoda, and his body had already been used for batting practice. If she figured out what that inkblot covered, she'd bat his fucking head clear across the island. After she'd beaten him to a bloody pulp, of course. Marvin just tenderized the meat for the roasting.
At least she'd never see what he'd written/drawn about her in his other notebook, safely locked away - probably forever, a really tragic thought - in his closet. It wouldn't make much difference if Nicole found it, though, what would she do? Coddle him some more? Go after his bullies that were already condemned to die gruesome deaths? And what difference would it make if he were already dead to begin with?
A whimpering Damien got up onto his feet, grabbed his backpack and shield, and started to slink away from her as fast as his slowly-recovering body would allow.
Nice going, genius.
It's your fault!
Didn't I just say I'd tell you what to do? You were the one to actually do it.
But...but...
He looked away as he feebly placed the little blue notebook in Kristey's hand. After all, she was the one with the baseball bat that trashed half the pagoda, and his body had already been used for batting practice. If she figured out what that inkblot covered, she'd bat his fucking head clear across the island. After she'd beaten him to a bloody pulp, of course. Marvin just tenderized the meat for the roasting.
At least she'd never see what he'd written/drawn about her in his other notebook, safely locked away - probably forever, a really tragic thought - in his closet. It wouldn't make much difference if Nicole found it, though, what would she do? Coddle him some more? Go after his bullies that were already condemned to die gruesome deaths? And what difference would it make if he were already dead to begin with?
A whimpering Damien got up onto his feet, grabbed his backpack and shield, and started to slink away from her as fast as his slowly-recovering body would allow.
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Kristey saw him start darting away, but then instead of giving chase...
"Get out of here."
She said it in a voice that she knew he could her.
"Leave now. If you come back, I swear I'll kill you."
"Get out of here."
She said it in a voice that she knew he could her.
"Leave now. If you come back, I swear I'll kill you."
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"...If you come back, I swear I will kill you." Kristey said as Damien started to make his way down the stairs.
Straight from the horse's mouth. The words penetrated into the back of his head straight as any bullet, causing him to stop about halfway down the stairs. He could feel a slight chill, the first of the evening winds starting to blow in, ruffling his hair as it had long since been freed by the confines of the gel. But apart from that and the tension that racked his bodily nerves, he didn't seem to feel much else.
Somehow, just like really taking a bullet in the back of the head, it didn't seem to even hurt at all. All he felt was something like someone flicking his skull, and then all that pain, all that tension seemed like nothing, except for his crying. Maybe it was because that he became numb from all of it anyway, especially when one had been beaten to a pulp at least twice in the last few months, endured thoughts and verbal sessions of wishing those instigators gruesomely dead, and bore constant threats of retribution and aggression.
Or maybe it wasn't so much the bullet in the back of the head than the straw that broke the camel's back. Both were incapacitating, both led to loss of feeling. But while the former would instantaneously free him from all the pain, the latter would be quickly followed by even worse pain until one too was freed, usually by submitting. How long that would last, he didn't know. Of course, when he was already used to so much pain for so long, how much more really was worse?
Damien's lips seemed to fluctuate between smile and sadness as he tried to comprehend it all. He looked back and over his shoulder, the resignation visible in the eye/s that Kristey could see. His tears seemed to glint in the light.
"Could I just...have my notebook back?" he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. It was small comfort, especially given the conditions with which he was dismissed.
Straight from the horse's mouth. The words penetrated into the back of his head straight as any bullet, causing him to stop about halfway down the stairs. He could feel a slight chill, the first of the evening winds starting to blow in, ruffling his hair as it had long since been freed by the confines of the gel. But apart from that and the tension that racked his bodily nerves, he didn't seem to feel much else.
Somehow, just like really taking a bullet in the back of the head, it didn't seem to even hurt at all. All he felt was something like someone flicking his skull, and then all that pain, all that tension seemed like nothing, except for his crying. Maybe it was because that he became numb from all of it anyway, especially when one had been beaten to a pulp at least twice in the last few months, endured thoughts and verbal sessions of wishing those instigators gruesomely dead, and bore constant threats of retribution and aggression.
Or maybe it wasn't so much the bullet in the back of the head than the straw that broke the camel's back. Both were incapacitating, both led to loss of feeling. But while the former would instantaneously free him from all the pain, the latter would be quickly followed by even worse pain until one too was freed, usually by submitting. How long that would last, he didn't know. Of course, when he was already used to so much pain for so long, how much more really was worse?
Damien's lips seemed to fluctuate between smile and sadness as he tried to comprehend it all. He looked back and over his shoulder, the resignation visible in the eye/s that Kristey could see. His tears seemed to glint in the light.
"Could I just...have my notebook back?" he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. It was small comfort, especially given the conditions with which he was dismissed.
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Kristey was trying hard not to feel hurt. The one person that she tried to defend and he couldn't even trust her. She knew that it was her name he almost scribbled down. She's not an idiot, any person who was that nervous and fidgity was obviously covering their tracks.
But, now, there was one fact she pointed out to herself: You no longer need to worry about Damien's safety.
She heard him ask for his notebook, and she threw it in his direction, hoping it would hit him, but not before tearing out the names that he wrote down.
This... can be good actually...
She smiled to herself. She felt like her old self again.
She went to go find Peter, bat in hand.
She needed to start killing people, and she and Peter would start by taking down the people Damien wanted first.
But, now, there was one fact she pointed out to herself: You no longer need to worry about Damien's safety.
She heard him ask for his notebook, and she threw it in his direction, hoping it would hit him, but not before tearing out the names that he wrote down.
This... can be good actually...
She smiled to herself. She felt like her old self again.
She went to go find Peter, bat in hand.
She needed to start killing people, and she and Peter would start by taking down the people Damien wanted first.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. 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.
Damien could really only look on as Kristey tore out that page from his notebook that bore his preliminary death-list. He could barely hear the ripping of the paper, and he barely felt its almost mandatory ripple effect across his body. He didn't care what was ripped from his soul anymore, if it hadn't already been ripped into oblivion, let alone defiled beyond recognition from what had gone down over the past few months. Besides, he still had the pen and the rest of the notebook to make a new one. He'd have all the time in the world to carry it out, per se.
Watching as the blue book came back at him like a frisbee, Damien quickly raised one hand in a feeble attempt at deftly catching the notebook as it flew over his shoulder. It ended up bouncing rather harmlessly up over his shoulder and clattering to the stairs at the step below his feet. He didn't help his body as it crouched and twitched to pick it up like the benchwarmer fumbling with a basketball passed to him by the star player in the middle of a championship game. His "shield" also ended up slipping out of his other hand, clanking onto the steps and rolling downward toward the grass. As he stooped to pick up the notebook, trying to ignore the pain that his body was giving off as he changed positions, he affirmed that she'd clearly tried to hit him with it, because that's who he always knew she was.
Just like everyone else.
"Why were you ever kind to me in the first place?" Damien asked with a slightly louder, a bit more mournful tone of voice. He turned around to see if she'd give a reply, but Kristey had already gone. That didn't matter to him though, it was a rhetorical question he'd known the answer to as soon as he'd met her.
He withdrew his pen from his pocket, opened his notebook to the page after the one torn out, and started writing again. His writing was steadier now, though his mind was a bit jumbled from the trauma he still remembered the names.
1 - Marvin Hendrick
===
"Iho, I'm sorry about what happened at that party. I should've seen it coming."
"..."
===
2 - Roland Kelly
===
"Tell you what, when we get home I'll cook us a little something nice to cheer us up and maybe we'll watch some TV together. You like that, don't you?"
"..."
===
3 - Debrah Dollop
===
"Look, don't be such a grumpy gus. We'll both get over this, and I assure you those kids will be served justice. You'll be fine!"
"They'll get...justice...they're all gonna get it..."
"What was that, anak?"
===
4 - Franco Sebberts
===
"I said they're all gonna die, mother."
"EsCUSE me?"
"Yes, mother. Every one of them."
"You get those nasty thoughts out of your head, now."
===
5 - Peter
Damien stopped briefly as he remembered that he'd never gotten that fat guy's last name. He figured he'd probably get it later though, some how, some way. He resumed writing, slowly starting to cope with the little twangs that were transmitted to his arms from his brain via his injured head and torso.
6 - Reneé Valenti
===
"No, mom! I won't! They will die! I'll die! Everyone's going to die!"
"Iho, if you don't stop saying thise things you will be grounded!"
"How's that going to stop it, mother? HOW? No, you don't know, because you're dead too!"
===
Despite being the big boss of sorts, Valenti wasn't going to be his final boss. There was a new finale to his list, which he'd placed at the very bottom of the page in the required big, bold font, leaving a significant gap where any other names might have to be added. His mom's name wouldn't be there, probably not Danya's unless he actually had better reason than sending him out to probably get slaughtered by whichever psycho there was on the island. If anything, being alone with all these other kids on the island with weapons was starting to seem more of an opportunity than merely a death sentence.
The pen almost tore into the paper as he wrote down one last name.
X - Kristey Burrowell
===
"Damien! Shut up, NOW!"
"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"[/b]
===
((Cue the opening theme from Shadow of the Colossus...))
Another cold, chilly breeze blew by, making his hair flutter to the side, almost romantically. Damien Carter-Madison was heading back into the wilderness alone, hungry, hurting, lost. He was certainly conscious of that now, more than ever. It would afflict him worse than he already knew and shorten his time greatly, even if he could get up and do something about it. He already figured he had to, but he probably wouldn't be able to spend much time figuring out how. Chances were he'd soon regret going it alone in this condition in the first place instead of teaming up with Kristey and Peter and not letting his paranoia get the best of him like it always did. But he was effectively dead anyway, why would that matter? All that he hoped for now was that he'd die after the rest of them did.
As soon as he reached the bottom of the steps he found his shield, resting innocently on the stone path. He closed his notebook, clipped the pen to it and stuffed it back into his daypack before stooping to pick up the shield.
It was as Damien stood back up that he looked briefly up into the sky, took a deep breath and did something he hadn't done in recent memory. It was a very small gesture, just for himself, but it was better than a breath of the fresh island air in clearing his mind. It gave his face a sort of innocent, childlike aura to it, especially when complimented with the sun glinting off his eyes and still-moist tears. It was the kind that hid bigger things. It wouldn't last long, for sure, but it would certainly be one of the more pleasing things while it did.
((...then fade from that into:))
Many men, many many many many men,
Wish death 'pon me/Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more
Have mercy on me/Have mercy on my soul
So when my heart turn cold/Have mercy on many men,
many many many many men,
Who wish death 'pon me...
Damien was smiling.
((Continued in Headhunter))
Watching as the blue book came back at him like a frisbee, Damien quickly raised one hand in a feeble attempt at deftly catching the notebook as it flew over his shoulder. It ended up bouncing rather harmlessly up over his shoulder and clattering to the stairs at the step below his feet. He didn't help his body as it crouched and twitched to pick it up like the benchwarmer fumbling with a basketball passed to him by the star player in the middle of a championship game. His "shield" also ended up slipping out of his other hand, clanking onto the steps and rolling downward toward the grass. As he stooped to pick up the notebook, trying to ignore the pain that his body was giving off as he changed positions, he affirmed that she'd clearly tried to hit him with it, because that's who he always knew she was.
Just like everyone else.
"Why were you ever kind to me in the first place?" Damien asked with a slightly louder, a bit more mournful tone of voice. He turned around to see if she'd give a reply, but Kristey had already gone. That didn't matter to him though, it was a rhetorical question he'd known the answer to as soon as he'd met her.
He withdrew his pen from his pocket, opened his notebook to the page after the one torn out, and started writing again. His writing was steadier now, though his mind was a bit jumbled from the trauma he still remembered the names.
1 - Marvin Hendrick
===
"Iho, I'm sorry about what happened at that party. I should've seen it coming."
"..."
===
2 - Roland Kelly
===
"Tell you what, when we get home I'll cook us a little something nice to cheer us up and maybe we'll watch some TV together. You like that, don't you?"
"..."
===
3 - Debrah Dollop
===
"Look, don't be such a grumpy gus. We'll both get over this, and I assure you those kids will be served justice. You'll be fine!"
"They'll get...justice...they're all gonna get it..."
"What was that, anak?"
===
4 - Franco Sebberts
===
"I said they're all gonna die, mother."
"EsCUSE me?"
"Yes, mother. Every one of them."
"You get those nasty thoughts out of your head, now."
===
5 - Peter
Damien stopped briefly as he remembered that he'd never gotten that fat guy's last name. He figured he'd probably get it later though, some how, some way. He resumed writing, slowly starting to cope with the little twangs that were transmitted to his arms from his brain via his injured head and torso.
6 - Reneé Valenti
===
"No, mom! I won't! They will die! I'll die! Everyone's going to die!"
"Iho, if you don't stop saying thise things you will be grounded!"
"How's that going to stop it, mother? HOW? No, you don't know, because you're dead too!"
===
Despite being the big boss of sorts, Valenti wasn't going to be his final boss. There was a new finale to his list, which he'd placed at the very bottom of the page in the required big, bold font, leaving a significant gap where any other names might have to be added. His mom's name wouldn't be there, probably not Danya's unless he actually had better reason than sending him out to probably get slaughtered by whichever psycho there was on the island. If anything, being alone with all these other kids on the island with weapons was starting to seem more of an opportunity than merely a death sentence.
The pen almost tore into the paper as he wrote down one last name.
X - Kristey Burrowell
===
"Damien! Shut up, NOW!"
"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"[/b]
===
((Cue the opening theme from Shadow of the Colossus...))
Another cold, chilly breeze blew by, making his hair flutter to the side, almost romantically. Damien Carter-Madison was heading back into the wilderness alone, hungry, hurting, lost. He was certainly conscious of that now, more than ever. It would afflict him worse than he already knew and shorten his time greatly, even if he could get up and do something about it. He already figured he had to, but he probably wouldn't be able to spend much time figuring out how. Chances were he'd soon regret going it alone in this condition in the first place instead of teaming up with Kristey and Peter and not letting his paranoia get the best of him like it always did. But he was effectively dead anyway, why would that matter? All that he hoped for now was that he'd die after the rest of them did.
As soon as he reached the bottom of the steps he found his shield, resting innocently on the stone path. He closed his notebook, clipped the pen to it and stuffed it back into his daypack before stooping to pick up the shield.
It was as Damien stood back up that he looked briefly up into the sky, took a deep breath and did something he hadn't done in recent memory. It was a very small gesture, just for himself, but it was better than a breath of the fresh island air in clearing his mind. It gave his face a sort of innocent, childlike aura to it, especially when complimented with the sun glinting off his eyes and still-moist tears. It was the kind that hid bigger things. It wouldn't last long, for sure, but it would certainly be one of the more pleasing things while it did.
((...then fade from that into:))
Many men, many many many many men,
Wish death 'pon me/Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more
Have mercy on me/Have mercy on my soul
So when my heart turn cold/Have mercy on many men,
many many many many men,
Who wish death 'pon me...
Damien was smiling.
((Continued in Headhunter))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler laZardo. 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.
It's been some time since she saw Damien leave.
She felt kind of bad at first, but then she started feeling like her former self, cold, beautiful, and merciless.
She looked at the list that Damien had formed thus far, and decided that they were to be her primary targets. She's not going to let that child get what he wants, after seeing that he was writing HER name onto the list.
She was having trouble finding Peter for a while.
"Where the fuck did he disappear off to?"
She wanted to call out for him, but didn't want to risk being noticed by anyone who may be outside, so she opted to keep looking.
She felt kind of bad at first, but then she started feeling like her former self, cold, beautiful, and merciless.
She looked at the list that Damien had formed thus far, and decided that they were to be her primary targets. She's not going to let that child get what he wants, after seeing that he was writing HER name onto the list.
She was having trouble finding Peter for a while.
"Where the fuck did he disappear off to?"
She wanted to call out for him, but didn't want to risk being noticed by anyone who may be outside, so she opted to keep looking.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. 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.
As Kristey was pacing about, someone bumped into her when she came through an open doorway...that someone turned out to be Peter as he jumped back. He had heard Damien's outbursts and was frantically trying to located her; though he had only known him for a couple hours, he knew that Damien was unstable and likely to turn if someone did so much as look at him the wrong way. But that was the last thing on Peter's mind as he staggered, then fell back.
"Kristey! What the fuck...I've been looking all over for you!" He reached into his pack and grabbed one of the bottles of water, quickly consuming half of the contents before twisting the top back on and setting it inside.
"Kristey! What the fuck...I've been looking all over for you!" He reached into his pack and grabbed one of the bottles of water, quickly consuming half of the contents before twisting the top back on and setting it inside.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Croco. 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.
Kristey was still pacing around looking for Peter, when she had an idea...
She took out a pen that she kept in her pocket, and started looking at Damien's handwriting on the notepad.
She figured his handwriting was easy to copy, so she wrote her name, as well as Peter's on the paper. She figured the only way she could get Peter to agree is to make him feel threatened. But then she added a name for herself, a target on that list that she wanted: Andi Ayala.
She went back to her pacing, and then bumped into Peter, quite literally.
She was so startled by it, she almost made a swing at him, but then she realized, very quickly, that it was him.
"Finally... I have something."
She handed him the list Damien wrote.
"Damien's gone... I told him to leave after I found him writing this... think Kill Bill; it's a death list."
She kind of felt bed that she's, at some level, framing poor Damien.
But, since he's no longer her worry, he's going to be a target.
The big fat kill.
She took out a pen that she kept in her pocket, and started looking at Damien's handwriting on the notepad.
She figured his handwriting was easy to copy, so she wrote her name, as well as Peter's on the paper. She figured the only way she could get Peter to agree is to make him feel threatened. But then she added a name for herself, a target on that list that she wanted: Andi Ayala.
She went back to her pacing, and then bumped into Peter, quite literally.
She was so startled by it, she almost made a swing at him, but then she realized, very quickly, that it was him.
"Finally... I have something."
She handed him the list Damien wrote.
"Damien's gone... I told him to leave after I found him writing this... think Kill Bill; it's a death list."
She kind of felt bed that she's, at some level, framing poor Damien.
But, since he's no longer her worry, he's going to be a target.
The big fat kill.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Xaldien. 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.
Peter studied the list for a moment before nodding when Kristey mentioned what it was. "Oh yeah, I think I know what you're talking about," he said, "though it's been a while since I've seen that movie. You know that one part wh-..." He paused in mid-sentence when he saw the final name on the list: Andi Ayala...the one that he loved more than anyone...the boy that stole his heart over the past year.
"What...what does he want with Andi?" he asked Kristey, not knowing that it was Kristey herself that put Andi's name on the list. "We'd better find Damien and take care of him before he kills him...or us for that matter, Kristey..."
"What...what does he want with Andi?" he asked Kristey, not knowing that it was Kristey herself that put Andi's name on the list. "We'd better find Damien and take care of him before he kills him...or us for that matter, Kristey..."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Croco. 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.