((Continued from Pretty Vacant))
Justin stumbled into the Botanical Garden really hoping he could find someone. He had not run into anyone other than corpses. The botanicals gardens gave him some of form of peace as he wandered through. It was as though the abundance of life in the insects and plants was a more than welcome relief that Justin needed badly.
After wandering around the building, Justin came upon another all to familiar sight. It was the corpse of a girl. From what Justin could tell it was a suicide. She had plunged a katana through herself. The katana now lay bloodied beside the corpse of the girl. Justin bent low and scooped the girl in his arms. He lifted her out of the pool of her own blood, and rest her on top of one of the displays, gently laying her body on the bed of flowers. He may not have known this girl, but he figured it was a good thing to get her out of the pool of blood.
Justin found the girls bag, and ripped off a portion of material. He placed it over the wound of the girl. He then took her remaining food and water which wasn't much, and placed it in his own bag. He then bent down and picked up the girl's sword.
Better than my knife Justin thought.
Resting the blade on his shoulder as if he were a baseball player standing on the sideline waiting for his turn to bat, Justin took the time to think about how much he was like a vulture. All he seemed to do was find corpses, get food and drink off them, and take their weapon. This was not the way to win the game, and he knew it. Eventually someone would find him, or he'd find someone. He just hoped it wouldn't be soon.
Salvage is my Middle Name
Salvage is my Middle Name
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
Blake stalked through the central region of the island, keeping his distance and haunting the outskirts of the islands populated regions. Hiding from sight and eating and drinking when he felt he could keep the food down. He walked across a dangerous precipice, between the danger zones and the very outer limits of the island. It was preferable to his other options.
Despite his fear driven will to survive and his utter contempt for his own such feeling, he could still chuckle at the fact that he still didn't really have anything that could be counted as a defensible weapon. Brass knuckles, a baby doll and a Bible; yet he'd still killed two people. How bout them odds.
He inched up on the botanical garden, thinking it abandoned and creep through a decorative garden, turning it in disarray in the process. He could feel the aching in his gut, hurting him, yet urging him onward, he didn't want to live like this, he wasn't even sure he wanted to live, but that sensation, that urge of fear and pain sent him forward.
He shuffled through the bushes into a clearing, half expecting it to be abandoned when he saw another boy not two steps away. Within the flash of an eye he slipped his had into on of his many pockets on his large green survival jacket and curled his fingers around the brass knuckles. The other kid was holding a sword, but Blake was a quick thinker and good on his feet, he wasn't sure what to do...
Damn. I was just looking for a place to rest and eat a bit.
After a tense few seconds on his guard Blake spoke in quiet tones through dry lips.
"Look... I don't want to get in your way, so if you don't fuck with me I won't fuck with you, alright?"
He adjusted his makeshift body armour. Since his fight with An Linh he'd fortified it with more scraps of cardboard and paper, wrapping them around his body and around the thick cover of the Bible.
He didn't want to kill, and he didn't want to fight, but he would if it came down to it, he'd proven that much to himself already, despite his best intentions. Did that still make him a terrible person? Did it really matter?
He waited for a response, his wiry frame tense with knotted muscles and self-preservation.
Despite his fear driven will to survive and his utter contempt for his own such feeling, he could still chuckle at the fact that he still didn't really have anything that could be counted as a defensible weapon. Brass knuckles, a baby doll and a Bible; yet he'd still killed two people. How bout them odds.
He inched up on the botanical garden, thinking it abandoned and creep through a decorative garden, turning it in disarray in the process. He could feel the aching in his gut, hurting him, yet urging him onward, he didn't want to live like this, he wasn't even sure he wanted to live, but that sensation, that urge of fear and pain sent him forward.
He shuffled through the bushes into a clearing, half expecting it to be abandoned when he saw another boy not two steps away. Within the flash of an eye he slipped his had into on of his many pockets on his large green survival jacket and curled his fingers around the brass knuckles. The other kid was holding a sword, but Blake was a quick thinker and good on his feet, he wasn't sure what to do...
Damn. I was just looking for a place to rest and eat a bit.
After a tense few seconds on his guard Blake spoke in quiet tones through dry lips.
"Look... I don't want to get in your way, so if you don't fuck with me I won't fuck with you, alright?"
He adjusted his makeshift body armour. Since his fight with An Linh he'd fortified it with more scraps of cardboard and paper, wrapping them around his body and around the thick cover of the Bible.
He didn't want to kill, and he didn't want to fight, but he would if it came down to it, he'd proven that much to himself already, despite his best intentions. Did that still make him a terrible person? Did it really matter?
He waited for a response, his wiry frame tense with knotted muscles and self-preservation.
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Justin did about 6 double takes, and even took a second to place his sword leaned up against his leg, and clean his glasses lenses. It was an actual living person. Justin had been on this island for days without seeing a living soul. Picking his sword again in his right hand Justin took in what the boy said.
"Ha. Thats pretty funny mi amigo. I have no way to get into. You're the first living person I've run into this island. I don't know if I'm saying it right when I say I'd really like to avoid playing this game. I mean, I'm not exactly skilled with guns or swords or you know, anything physically confrontational. Unless you're talking Counter-Strike, then I'm pretty good, but from the announcements I've heard and the two corpses I've come across, this is all real. Its like being in your own personal FPS I guess."
He really couldn't help it. Once a nerd always a nerd.
"Ha. Thats pretty funny mi amigo. I have no way to get into. You're the first living person I've run into this island. I don't know if I'm saying it right when I say I'd really like to avoid playing this game. I mean, I'm not exactly skilled with guns or swords or you know, anything physically confrontational. Unless you're talking Counter-Strike, then I'm pretty good, but from the announcements I've heard and the two corpses I've come across, this is all real. Its like being in your own personal FPS I guess."
He really couldn't help it. Once a nerd always a nerd.
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
"Yeah," Blake scoffed. "It's all real alright."
Blake relaxed a little, placing his brass knuckles back in his pocket. A wave of relief passed over him as he took a few steps closer leading with his open hand; a gesture of peace. He was careful to keep his distance, despite appearances this kid could be putting on some sort of charade. For the most part this was the first seemingly normal conversation Blake had had with anyone on the island thus far. As normal as a conversation can get anyway.
"My name's Hal. Hal Carpenter," careful not to use his real name, Blake wasn't sure what people would think of him knowing that Blake Ross had been heard over the announcements more then once as a killer. He wasn't a bad person; he was just stuck in a bad situation. "I'm from Bathurst. You?"
He sifted through his gear, looking for food and water. He still had a great deal of rations left, given that he'd looted many places for rations off the start and hadn't used very many in the first place. Examining the other boy, he realized he probably wouldn't have to watch his back to carefully, given his nature, but he'd keep an eye out regardless.
"I'm just looking for a place to rest for a bit. You can stay or you can go, I don't really care. Just... Just be careful out there if you do go out," Blake sighed. "There are a lot worse people then me out there."
Blake ran a weary hand across his face; he was growing increasingly haggard and coarse. The island was certainly wearing him down. Like a starving animal, hungry, afraid and backed into a corner.
Blake relaxed a little, placing his brass knuckles back in his pocket. A wave of relief passed over him as he took a few steps closer leading with his open hand; a gesture of peace. He was careful to keep his distance, despite appearances this kid could be putting on some sort of charade. For the most part this was the first seemingly normal conversation Blake had had with anyone on the island thus far. As normal as a conversation can get anyway.
"My name's Hal. Hal Carpenter," careful not to use his real name, Blake wasn't sure what people would think of him knowing that Blake Ross had been heard over the announcements more then once as a killer. He wasn't a bad person; he was just stuck in a bad situation. "I'm from Bathurst. You?"
He sifted through his gear, looking for food and water. He still had a great deal of rations left, given that he'd looted many places for rations off the start and hadn't used very many in the first place. Examining the other boy, he realized he probably wouldn't have to watch his back to carefully, given his nature, but he'd keep an eye out regardless.
"I'm just looking for a place to rest for a bit. You can stay or you can go, I don't really care. Just... Just be careful out there if you do go out," Blake sighed. "There are a lot worse people then me out there."
Blake ran a weary hand across his face; he was growing increasingly haggard and coarse. The island was certainly wearing him down. Like a starving animal, hungry, afraid and backed into a corner.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. 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.
Justin took the hand without a second thought. He really had no choice. After all, Justin was smart enough to realize this game could have mental effects of all kinds on people. Insulting someone even with the rejection of a handshake could be a fatal mistake.
"Justin, Justin Moore. I went to Franklyn," He responded, "Yeah, if you want to rest up go right ahead. I was actually going to keep exploring this place a bit. If you want, I'll give you my word that if I see anyone I can give you a yell as a sort of warning. I mean I already found that girls body, " Justin pointed to Venus' body laying on the flower bed where he placed her, "It appears to be a suicide, but who knows. There might still be somebody in here."
((Continued in This is the End))
"Justin, Justin Moore. I went to Franklyn," He responded, "Yeah, if you want to rest up go right ahead. I was actually going to keep exploring this place a bit. If you want, I'll give you my word that if I see anyone I can give you a yell as a sort of warning. I mean I already found that girls body, " Justin pointed to Venus' body laying on the flower bed where he placed her, "It appears to be a suicide, but who knows. There might still be somebody in here."
((Continued in This is the End))
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
"Well," Blake eyed the other boy with an air of suspicion after claiming the girl had killed herself. "You never really know do you?"
Blake let his words hang across the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. He doubted that the other boy had killed anyone, given his manner of speech, and for some reason Blake had an inkling that he should trust this other boy. He seemed like the kind of kid Blake would hang out with outside of this, kind of nerdy on the outside, but a good person. Blake could relate, while he retained most of his own nerdiness deep down, he was still knew what it was like.
"Things are pretty rough out here, you gotta keep your eyes peeled all the time," Blake gave a quick scan of the area. He stayed fixed where he was standing and turned his attention back to Justin after his quick survey. "I haven't been able to catch much sleep for just that reason... well, that and a few others."
The words echoed through his mind again, ever present.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep...
Blake let his words hang across the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. He doubted that the other boy had killed anyone, given his manner of speech, and for some reason Blake had an inkling that he should trust this other boy. He seemed like the kind of kid Blake would hang out with outside of this, kind of nerdy on the outside, but a good person. Blake could relate, while he retained most of his own nerdiness deep down, he was still knew what it was like.
"Things are pretty rough out here, you gotta keep your eyes peeled all the time," Blake gave a quick scan of the area. He stayed fixed where he was standing and turned his attention back to Justin after his quick survey. "I haven't been able to catch much sleep for just that reason... well, that and a few others."
The words echoed through his mind again, ever present.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. 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, bud, but I've got a lot of characetrs to kill and such so I've gotta leave you hanging. Catch you later 
))
Blake looked around for the other boy after searching through his own equipment; he had wandered away a bit to search the area for anything he could add to his cache of survival gear. He still had plenty of food and water, but those were becoming less and less important to survival and more a matter of semantics. What Blake needed was weapons.
He ran a hand across the brass knuckles on his right hand, sitting above coat sleeve and fist. His other weapons were useless by comparison, which wasn't saying much considering Blake knew guys packing shotguns and fully automatic weapons. The thought had got to him more than once to drop the other trinkets behind, but in more than one circumstance the trinkets have saved him from near death. B02 could have never anticipated a baby doll in the chin, and Walter Smith's shank would have pierced his chest if he hadn't turned his Bible into makeshift body armour.
He was dead now. Blake wasn't sure if that comforted him or set him at ease, knowing that Walter, a murderer and psychopath, was now taking a dirt bath was a little consoling. Nevertheless, someone had been just as vicious or even worse to have put him down, someone might have gotten lucky with a stray bullet but somehow Blake doubted that.
No. There were worse people here than him. They were few and far between, but they were the ones running the show now. He could recall a few names from the announcements: Bryan Calvert, Mariavel Varella, and Franco Sebberts were the main ones. Each had been mentioned nearly every time with a new kill under their belt.
Blake shook himself out of his contemplation, even in heel it was hard to shake off his bad habit of over thinking things. The dawn light brought Blake's thoughts back into reality. He still wasn't ready to die, he almost wish he did, but that lingering fire, ignited by sheer terror, fuel by the unknown utterance of death. It was a tortured existence. He'd killed two of his friends, on the surface he truly believed he deserved death, but the deep stirring pushed him on.
He would have to take measures, starting now, to ensure he could live on. He would have to arm himself. Stir himself with the thought of fallen friends, and put an end to the terror that these others were inflicting on everyone else. He couldn't save himself from guilt and fear now, but he could take the burden from others.
"I'm broken, but I can take the responsibility for others. Ensure that on one else has to feel what I feel," Blake uttered the words to himself; he was already leaving the botanical garden in search of other things. He looked back over his shoulder. "If I have to keep on living like this... I have nothing else to lose..."
He took off. Leaving the other boy behind.
((Blake continued in Maison d'Abattage))
))Blake looked around for the other boy after searching through his own equipment; he had wandered away a bit to search the area for anything he could add to his cache of survival gear. He still had plenty of food and water, but those were becoming less and less important to survival and more a matter of semantics. What Blake needed was weapons.
He ran a hand across the brass knuckles on his right hand, sitting above coat sleeve and fist. His other weapons were useless by comparison, which wasn't saying much considering Blake knew guys packing shotguns and fully automatic weapons. The thought had got to him more than once to drop the other trinkets behind, but in more than one circumstance the trinkets have saved him from near death. B02 could have never anticipated a baby doll in the chin, and Walter Smith's shank would have pierced his chest if he hadn't turned his Bible into makeshift body armour.
He was dead now. Blake wasn't sure if that comforted him or set him at ease, knowing that Walter, a murderer and psychopath, was now taking a dirt bath was a little consoling. Nevertheless, someone had been just as vicious or even worse to have put him down, someone might have gotten lucky with a stray bullet but somehow Blake doubted that.
No. There were worse people here than him. They were few and far between, but they were the ones running the show now. He could recall a few names from the announcements: Bryan Calvert, Mariavel Varella, and Franco Sebberts were the main ones. Each had been mentioned nearly every time with a new kill under their belt.
Blake shook himself out of his contemplation, even in heel it was hard to shake off his bad habit of over thinking things. The dawn light brought Blake's thoughts back into reality. He still wasn't ready to die, he almost wish he did, but that lingering fire, ignited by sheer terror, fuel by the unknown utterance of death. It was a tortured existence. He'd killed two of his friends, on the surface he truly believed he deserved death, but the deep stirring pushed him on.
He would have to take measures, starting now, to ensure he could live on. He would have to arm himself. Stir himself with the thought of fallen friends, and put an end to the terror that these others were inflicting on everyone else. He couldn't save himself from guilt and fear now, but he could take the burden from others.
"I'm broken, but I can take the responsibility for others. Ensure that on one else has to feel what I feel," Blake uttered the words to himself; he was already leaving the botanical garden in search of other things. He looked back over his shoulder. "If I have to keep on living like this... I have nothing else to lose..."
He took off. Leaving the other boy behind.
((Blake continued in Maison d'Abattage))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nealosi. 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.