We watched these days go by,
The seasons change and faded away
And the things I've learned to love go on and die.
Why is it so hard?
Ricky's heart was throbbing, his head was spinning, everything felt like it had been moving in slow motion since he'd heard the gunshots from outside and slung open the door of the classroom. He felt like someone had their hands around his neck trying to suffocate him. He was struggling to breathe. And above all else, Ricky couldn't push the infuriating, searing, burning anger that coursed throughout his entire body away. Even when Bryan obliged his request to leave, all Ricky wanted to do was point the pistol at the back of the other student's head and pull the trigger.
Why is it so hard to just let go?
There's no reason why, no reason why, no reason why, no reason why
'Cause life's too short to spend alone in misery.
His whole body shook violently, racked with not physical but emotional pain that was so devestatingly painful that it left him almost completely incapacitated. Bryan disappeared into the darkness of the long hallway, and just like that, Ricky's chance to vengeance had been thrust out the window. Now, all he was left with were his thoughts, the horrible memories of the game, and the dying body of the one person he had tried vehemently to protect throughout the entire game. He tried desperately to fight back the tears, but they refused to cease.
Why couldn't I do it? Why couldn't I save the one person I wanted to protect the most? All I wanted was to send her home, she deserved that much.
He looked down at his dying companion through bleary vision, but much to his surprise, the blonde-headed girl wasn't crying. Instead, she was smiling. Ricky was completely taken aback by her reaction, and if Whitney could, she would've laughed at him for acting this way. She could tell, even though she was barely conscious, that he was blaming himself for everything that had happened. It was just like him. Even though the off-chance of her being shot hadn't been his fault, he was trying to put it on himself, just like he tried to do when Eric had died, and Huy and Anna, and everyone else.
Everybody seems to look the same
I feel so alone and now my head is bowed in shame again
So I look to the heart of the devil for answers
"Hey..." she choked out quietly.
Ricky's attention shot toward the girl, and he tried to give her a halfhearted smile, although in his current state of mind all he could manage was some warped, disfigured movement.
"Grown boys shouldn't... cry," she smiled, albeit painfully, "There's no need to be sad. You couldn't help it, it just happened... shouldn't blame... yourself."
This path is like a loaded gun
But what's said is done
You don't have to say a word
"I..." he sputtered out, but Whitney shakily raised a finger to hush him.
"We came a long way, you know... probably wouldn't have survived this long if not for you. Guess I should... thank you for that. I know you... think you failed everybody... but you didn't. You can't save everyone, Ricky... but you should at least try to save... yourself. At least if... you get out of here... you'll have won some sort of victory... for all of us. Don't just... lay down and die... okay? Get out there and... and win."
He couldn't even dignify her with a response. It hurt too much.
I'm so afraid to ask
I'll turn my back, forget the past, find me something true that is intact
I'm so afraid to ask
This silence never seems to last
I turn away as the sunshine fades to black
"... Stay with me... 'til it's over?" she asked.
Ricky closed his eyes tightly and carefully picked up the bullet-ridden body of his companion. His arms held onto her tightly as he continued to kneel on the cold hardwood floor of the school building. It was so hard to let go, so hard to believe that everything and everyone he had fought to protect was fading from existence, but it was really happening. Ricky was having a hard time trying to wrap his head around it.
"I wish... you would've said something... in school," she mused with a faint smile, "Could've... gone out sometime... would've been nice... you're a good guy... I just never knew it."
I spend my nights and days locked away
They're all the same
I don't know how much more I can take.
"Yeah..." he responded through tear-filled eyes, "It would've."
"Win it for us..." she mused quietly, "And... stop letting people push you around... don't try to be... someone you aren't. Never got to know the real you... 'cause of the front you put up for everybody. Shouldn't... care about impressing other people... people like you for you... I like you... for you."
Whitney's eyes closed for the final time, but the faint smile that painted her facial expressions remained on her face even as the last of her life seeped out of her body. Ricky placed the blonde-headed girl's body down, noticing the abnormal amount of blood covering his hands, but remained kneeled in the position he had been situated in. His heart ached, his body trembled, and despite the words she had left him with, he didn't want to go on.
What's left to say, what's left to say, what's left to say
What's left to say?
'Cause life's too short to spend alone in misery.
Everybody's gone... and even if I kill Calvert and Varella... even if I win, even if I go back home... nothing will ever bring them back. Even if I survive the game, I'll have to live with the fact that they're all gone for the rest of my life. I don't think I can do that. As much as I'd love to go home, to see my family, to live a normal life, I don't think I'll ever know what normal is again. I don't want to go on without them... nobody can ever replace them... nobody can ever fill the void. I just... I don't wanna do it anymore.
"I'm sorry, Whit..." Ricky voiced through choked-up sobs, "I thought we could win it... I guess I was wrong."
With shaky hands, Ricky held up the pistol that remained in his hands. All of a sudden, a device that had done nothing but wreak destruction and havoc on the island seemed like a shining glimmer of hope. Ricky felt like he'd lost all hope at ever redeeming himself in life. When Whitney died, he had lost the last thing that he had sworn to protect, and now, he was nothing except a hollow shell, waiting for someone to take him out of this world. The gun the held in his hands would help him do that much himself.
This path is like a loaded gun, but what's said is done. You don't have to say a word.
This path is like a loaded gun, but what's said is done. You don't have to say a word.
This path is like a loaded gun, but what's said is done. You don't have to say a word.
You don't have to say a word.
"I know you want me to win, Whit... but I can't. I'm sorry..."
He brought the pistol up to his face, staring at the small device intently. He had no other choice but to do this, it was his only way out of the private hell that Danya had put him in. Strangely, he wasn't scared, he had made his peace with the world the moment he decided he would end himself at the end of the game. More than anything, he felt sad and full of regret at the fact that he couldn't keep the promises he had made to his friends, and to her.
Ricky placed the gun to his temple, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger.
I'm so afraid to ask
I'll turn my back forget teh past, find me something true that is intact.
I'm so afraid to ask, this silence never seems to last
I turn away as the sunshine fades to black.
One second later, his lifeless corpse fell over, crossing the body of Whitney Acosta.
FEMALE STUDENT NO. 23 - WHITNEY ACOSTA - DECEASED
MALE STUDENT NO. 27 - RICKY CALLAHAN - DECEASED
This path is like a loaded gun, but what's said is done, you don't have to say a word.
TWO STUDENTS REMAIN...
Redemption
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Bryan thought about it as he made his way toward the crook in the hallway. The light from the windows couldn't quite make it around the corner; this had been like a clearing in a dense forest, or the eye of the storm maybe. He was heading back into the dark again, because as unappealing as it was it still couldn't compare to the awful feeling he got from the tragic scene behind him. The feeling of betrayal from some unknown higher power lingered, but his doubt that one existed was diminishing. This was a cruel joke. Some malevolent all-seeing (probably multifaceted for aesthetic effect) puppetmaster was getting a kick out of this sudden drop off of a cliff that his whole world had taken. Thanks, asshole. Thanks a fuckload.
There was a gunshot from behind him. Bryan started and turned hastily, raising the SPAS-12 as it finally registered that he hadn't been hit. His head spun; had the other boy snapped in anger and decided to go against the girl's request, or had it all been an act to throw him offguard? The lone shot had been all though, and after a moment of silence a third notion crossed his mind. He quickly made his way toward them, his suspicions confirmed as he got close enough to make out the aftermath of the other boy's suicide. The girl was dead, too. Bryan stood silently over the two, needing a moment to take it all in. He felt as if he was missing something painfully obvious. If only he could think straight...
And then it was like a sudden drop of cold water in the middle of his forehead, the tiny bit of clarity amid all the confusion and exhaustion and borderline starvation. The sudden realization that he and Mari were the only ones left.
There was a gunshot from behind him. Bryan started and turned hastily, raising the SPAS-12 as it finally registered that he hadn't been hit. His head spun; had the other boy snapped in anger and decided to go against the girl's request, or had it all been an act to throw him offguard? The lone shot had been all though, and after a moment of silence a third notion crossed his mind. He quickly made his way toward them, his suspicions confirmed as he got close enough to make out the aftermath of the other boy's suicide. The girl was dead, too. Bryan stood silently over the two, needing a moment to take it all in. He felt as if he was missing something painfully obvious. If only he could think straight...
And then it was like a sudden drop of cold water in the middle of his forehead, the tiny bit of clarity amid all the confusion and exhaustion and borderline starvation. The sudden realization that he and Mari were the only ones left.
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The shot that rang out from behind Bryan Calvert was almost immediately followed by a voice that almost mocked him in his confusion. It was a voice that seemed to cut clearly through all of the agony, the starvation-induced paranoia, and the hell that the kids'd all been put through the last couple of days.
It was, of course, the voice of Mariavel Varella.
After falling down through the floor and dragging herself immediately out of harm's way, Mari had felt a sense of an almost anger towards Bryan. Though it hadn't been his fault that she'd fallen through the floor, and the action had almost surely saved her life, she couldn't help but feel as though he were catching all of the breaks. He hadn't fallen down through any floors. He'd just come at her like a raving lunatic, all indignant because she'd killed someone dear to him.
So hypocritical, and in such a big way...
She'd dragged herself up the stairs, making so much noise that she had thought that Bryan himself would come busting in and end it all before she even managed to make it halfway up. But somehow, someway, the flight of stairs was an obstacle that she'd conquered, and now she had to move on to Bryan Calvert and the rest of them still remaining.
As she'd gotten to the doors, she'd heard a loud gunshot, and had instinctively thrown herself to the floor, pistol withdrawn, ready for the gunfight that might inevitably stray out into the stairs. But when the rest of the gunshots never came, Mari slowly opened the door and peered into the hallway beyond her. The light level was slightly higher due to it being closer to the morning that she cared to admit (so much time without sleep was liable to drive a person crazy) so she was able to make out the bald-headed form standing over what looked to be a pair of bodies.
So that's it. Good ol' Bry killed them both, and he got the wrong girl...HAH!
Coming as silently as she could behind Bryan, who stood looking at the corpses, she took as true an aim as she could, and fired, aiming for the large turned back of Bryan Calvert. As soon as she fired off a round, she didn't wait for the impact to launch another verbal assault.
"Way to go, Bryan! You really did it this time! Of all the sweet little girls that I'm sure you wanted to get your grubby hands on and choke the life out of, you had a fifty-fifty shot at getting the right one! And looks like you sure made a mess out of things, didn't you!? Well Bry, it's down to just me and you, and once again, you prove that most big dumb bald men are suckers for pretty girls. You failed again, Bryan. Tori would be oh-so-unhappy with you right now. She might even give you a scolding! Oooh!"
Mari grinned a wicked grin at Bryan; it was quite clear - at this point, through all of the pain and emotional distress, Mariavel Varella was losing what little shreds of sanity which remained in her fragile state of mind.
It was, of course, the voice of Mariavel Varella.
After falling down through the floor and dragging herself immediately out of harm's way, Mari had felt a sense of an almost anger towards Bryan. Though it hadn't been his fault that she'd fallen through the floor, and the action had almost surely saved her life, she couldn't help but feel as though he were catching all of the breaks. He hadn't fallen down through any floors. He'd just come at her like a raving lunatic, all indignant because she'd killed someone dear to him.
So hypocritical, and in such a big way...
She'd dragged herself up the stairs, making so much noise that she had thought that Bryan himself would come busting in and end it all before she even managed to make it halfway up. But somehow, someway, the flight of stairs was an obstacle that she'd conquered, and now she had to move on to Bryan Calvert and the rest of them still remaining.
As she'd gotten to the doors, she'd heard a loud gunshot, and had instinctively thrown herself to the floor, pistol withdrawn, ready for the gunfight that might inevitably stray out into the stairs. But when the rest of the gunshots never came, Mari slowly opened the door and peered into the hallway beyond her. The light level was slightly higher due to it being closer to the morning that she cared to admit (so much time without sleep was liable to drive a person crazy) so she was able to make out the bald-headed form standing over what looked to be a pair of bodies.
So that's it. Good ol' Bry killed them both, and he got the wrong girl...HAH!
Coming as silently as she could behind Bryan, who stood looking at the corpses, she took as true an aim as she could, and fired, aiming for the large turned back of Bryan Calvert. As soon as she fired off a round, she didn't wait for the impact to launch another verbal assault.
"Way to go, Bryan! You really did it this time! Of all the sweet little girls that I'm sure you wanted to get your grubby hands on and choke the life out of, you had a fifty-fifty shot at getting the right one! And looks like you sure made a mess out of things, didn't you!? Well Bry, it's down to just me and you, and once again, you prove that most big dumb bald men are suckers for pretty girls. You failed again, Bryan. Tori would be oh-so-unhappy with you right now. She might even give you a scolding! Oooh!"
Mari grinned a wicked grin at Bryan; it was quite clear - at this point, through all of the pain and emotional distress, Mariavel Varella was losing what little shreds of sanity which remained in her fragile state of mind.
Another shot rang out behind him, but this time it was accompanied by a sudden blinding pain high on his back near his left shoulder. He cried out loudly and dropped the SPAS-12, twitching and clawing at the air over his shoulder as if touching the hard-to-reach gunshot wound would do anything but provide more uneccesary sensory evidence that he'd been shot. He fell forward, first onto his knees, and then his stomach, and then pushing himself clumsily back up with his right arm. There was no confusion this time, not when it could only have been Mariavel, but all the same the awful sensation was accompanied by an uncertainty as to whether he would be getting up or not.
He'd spent a solid week preparing himself mentally for the difficult task of committing suicide (truth be told the Walther showing up had been a bit of a relief given what he'd had to work with before). He'd fought time and time again the dark selfish thoughts that had kept telling him to play for himself. He'd been ready to sacrifice his life just getting revenge after there was no fucking obligation whatsoever to die for anyone anymore. But he desperately wanted to live now. It was true that this sadistic, malicious God character stuck in Bryan's mind was waiting on the other side for him with a million ideas of how to torture him for personal entertainment, and that of course was assuming he didn't vanish into nothing forever as the increasingly-appealing alternative theory dictated. Death was the giant, terrifying abyss in front of him that he'd been wrong to assume he could ever prepare for, yes. But what stopped him from laying down and dying next to these two strangers he'd accidentally fucked sideways was the idea of that psychotic killer shell-of-a-human Mariavel Varella going home.
'You were right, Seth...why didn't I see it?' What seperated Mari from Bryan, or Harry, or Felix, or anyone else on this island who'd played the game, was that Mari played out of the league.
"--urk!"
'Come on over then, finish the job...like before.' They'd never spoken of it since. He'd always wanted to forget, but now he would've given anything to have seen Mariavel kill nine other sons of bitches the way she did just to get the odds. One for one was all he had to go with. This wasn't exactly the same situation either; there hadn't been any guns before. It made little difference though that this time no one was standing silently in the background with his arms crossed, not daring to try and stop her.
He felt a growing black spot behind his eyes threatening to take him to sweet unconsciousness, but Mari's taunting was fuel enough to keep the fire burning. Stay awake, he could do that. Nevermind the shotgun (which had come to rest a few feet away), in fact don't even make a move toward it; that would be game over, no question. Cross your fingers, because the only chance you have now is that little green double-zero. That ace to reach 21. One fucking dot on a die.
Bryan planted his other hand on the ground to hold himself up, trying desperately to ignore the agonizing pain in his shoulder. His other hand inched slowly toward the hammer at his side, blocked from view by his frame and hopefully not the centre of Mari's attention.
He'd spent a solid week preparing himself mentally for the difficult task of committing suicide (truth be told the Walther showing up had been a bit of a relief given what he'd had to work with before). He'd fought time and time again the dark selfish thoughts that had kept telling him to play for himself. He'd been ready to sacrifice his life just getting revenge after there was no fucking obligation whatsoever to die for anyone anymore. But he desperately wanted to live now. It was true that this sadistic, malicious God character stuck in Bryan's mind was waiting on the other side for him with a million ideas of how to torture him for personal entertainment, and that of course was assuming he didn't vanish into nothing forever as the increasingly-appealing alternative theory dictated. Death was the giant, terrifying abyss in front of him that he'd been wrong to assume he could ever prepare for, yes. But what stopped him from laying down and dying next to these two strangers he'd accidentally fucked sideways was the idea of that psychotic killer shell-of-a-human Mariavel Varella going home.
'You were right, Seth...why didn't I see it?' What seperated Mari from Bryan, or Harry, or Felix, or anyone else on this island who'd played the game, was that Mari played out of the league.
"--urk!"
'Come on over then, finish the job...like before.' They'd never spoken of it since. He'd always wanted to forget, but now he would've given anything to have seen Mariavel kill nine other sons of bitches the way she did just to get the odds. One for one was all he had to go with. This wasn't exactly the same situation either; there hadn't been any guns before. It made little difference though that this time no one was standing silently in the background with his arms crossed, not daring to try and stop her.
He felt a growing black spot behind his eyes threatening to take him to sweet unconsciousness, but Mari's taunting was fuel enough to keep the fire burning. Stay awake, he could do that. Nevermind the shotgun (which had come to rest a few feet away), in fact don't even make a move toward it; that would be game over, no question. Cross your fingers, because the only chance you have now is that little green double-zero. That ace to reach 21. One fucking dot on a die.
Bryan planted his other hand on the ground to hold himself up, trying desperately to ignore the agonizing pain in his shoulder. His other hand inched slowly toward the hammer at his side, blocked from view by his frame and hopefully not the centre of Mari's attention.
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As soon as Bryan went down, and hard, Mariavel felt an odd sense of glee manifest itself all over her body. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or even the lack of sleep; the emotional distress that she'd been forced to bear for the last few days, or even the shred of her that was basically nuts before she even got here, but a tingly sense of happiness flooded through her. Bryan was down. The invincible, the so-called heroic avenger, Bryan Calvert had been wounded, and she'd scored what could be a crucial blow.
"Well, well, well. Not such a bad-ass anymore, now are we? Did you forget, Bryan, that we're playing with people's lives? Did you forget that as much effort that you spent on protecting Tori - and failing, I might add, that you aren't made of steel yourself? You're no Superman, hun, and you certainly don't shrug off bullets very well."
Moving quickly towards him, Mariavel launched a kick towards Bryan's face from the ground. She figured that the only thing to do now would be to disable him enough to put a bullet in him once and for all.
And then...and then it'll all be over. For me, for him...for everyone.
((Sorry for the short, craptacular post, I've been so damn busy that I've neglected this here...and I'm getting used to a new keyboard. But I wanted to get something up.))
"Well, well, well. Not such a bad-ass anymore, now are we? Did you forget, Bryan, that we're playing with people's lives? Did you forget that as much effort that you spent on protecting Tori - and failing, I might add, that you aren't made of steel yourself? You're no Superman, hun, and you certainly don't shrug off bullets very well."
Moving quickly towards him, Mariavel launched a kick towards Bryan's face from the ground. She figured that the only thing to do now would be to disable him enough to put a bullet in him once and for all.
And then...and then it'll all be over. For me, for him...for everyone.
((Sorry for the short, craptacular post, I've been so damn busy that I've neglected this here...and I'm getting used to a new keyboard. But I wanted to get something up.))
Mari kept the verbal abuse coming, which stung but at least gave some vague indication that she was confident enough not to plug him right away. Comforting as that was, it guaranteed nothing. His ace in the hole was total shit. He doubted it would work.
She was quick to approach him, and unfortunately his grip wasn't right on the hammer. Mari kicked him in the face hard, sending another heavy shot of pain through his nose and lip. Bryan grunted and rolled sideways with a pained gurgling sound, ending up back on his front with the taste of blood in his mouth and his now-bad shoulder uncomfortably planted on the floor.
He pried his tearing eyes open, catching a glimpse of shimmering blonde hair and shining metal as Mari had moved into the glow of the moonlight. Without a second thought Bryan scrambled quickly to his knees and swung the hammer (thankfully he hadn't dropped it) forcefully at Mari's gunhand in an oblique upward arc. He hoped it would hurt. Actually, he hoped it would connect.
She was quick to approach him, and unfortunately his grip wasn't right on the hammer. Mari kicked him in the face hard, sending another heavy shot of pain through his nose and lip. Bryan grunted and rolled sideways with a pained gurgling sound, ending up back on his front with the taste of blood in his mouth and his now-bad shoulder uncomfortably planted on the floor.
He pried his tearing eyes open, catching a glimpse of shimmering blonde hair and shining metal as Mari had moved into the glow of the moonlight. Without a second thought Bryan scrambled quickly to his knees and swung the hammer (thankfully he hadn't dropped it) forcefully at Mari's gunhand in an oblique upward arc. He hoped it would hurt. Actually, he hoped it would connect.
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.
((Okay so, Dodd's slammed with some RL stuff right now, so he's given me permission to take over Mari for the remainder of Endgame. I apologize for the awful post I'm about to give you, expect them to get better as I get into the swing of this, 'cause considering I'm entering in mid-fight, this might be a bit of a bitch.))
For just a moment, Mariavel Varella felt invincible. Her foot connected with a loud crack against Bryan's face, and she grinned maliciously as the sickening noise echoed out throughout the desolate school building. She relished in the pained gurgle that escaped from Bryan's lips as he rolled over into an awkward position on the ground. From his position now, it seemed so easy to just point the gun and pull the trigger. She only needed two more bullets. One for him, one for her.
"Well now..." Mariavel cooed, "How does it feel, hun? How does it feel to know that in a matter of seconds, you're going to die? Is your worthless, pathetic little life flashing before your eyes, Bryan? Is it? Do you remember... the time we killed that guy? You were there with me, how could you possibly forget it? We used to be so close, Bryan. What ever happened to all that...?"
The crazed, disillusioned gleam in her eye was still there as she lurked toward him, slowly moving into the moonlight that shown brightly through the windows. It was just the two of them now, and he was down. This was Mari's opportunity to end everything once and for all, and it was an opportunity she would gladly take. She moved her hand to point the gun at Bryan, only to look perplexedly down at the ground to find that he was no longer there. Another sickening crack breached the silence of the building, this time, followed by Mariavel's own pained scream.
Her gun accidentally discharged up into the air before sailing completely out of her hands and flying somewhere behind her, but all Mariavel could think about was the almost unbearable pain that was reverberating from her right hand. She brought it down in front of her, noticing to her horror that the fingers that Bryan's hammer had connected with were bent back in an awful and unnatural shape. She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes, but the pain was starting to cloud over her senses.
"My hand!" Mariavel screamed in agony, "Oh, my hand, my hand! Look at what you did, you bastard!"
It didn't matter anymore. She didn't need the gun. She didn't need anything. She'd end his life if she had to gouge out his eyes and strangle him to do it. Enraged, Mariavel charged at Bryan, attempting to tackle him to the ground in hopes of gaining some sort of leverage on him. In her crazed state, she barely realized that Calvert still honed the hammer in his hand, and, in truth, she didn't care.
For just a moment, Mariavel Varella felt invincible. Her foot connected with a loud crack against Bryan's face, and she grinned maliciously as the sickening noise echoed out throughout the desolate school building. She relished in the pained gurgle that escaped from Bryan's lips as he rolled over into an awkward position on the ground. From his position now, it seemed so easy to just point the gun and pull the trigger. She only needed two more bullets. One for him, one for her.
"Well now..." Mariavel cooed, "How does it feel, hun? How does it feel to know that in a matter of seconds, you're going to die? Is your worthless, pathetic little life flashing before your eyes, Bryan? Is it? Do you remember... the time we killed that guy? You were there with me, how could you possibly forget it? We used to be so close, Bryan. What ever happened to all that...?"
The crazed, disillusioned gleam in her eye was still there as she lurked toward him, slowly moving into the moonlight that shown brightly through the windows. It was just the two of them now, and he was down. This was Mari's opportunity to end everything once and for all, and it was an opportunity she would gladly take. She moved her hand to point the gun at Bryan, only to look perplexedly down at the ground to find that he was no longer there. Another sickening crack breached the silence of the building, this time, followed by Mariavel's own pained scream.
Her gun accidentally discharged up into the air before sailing completely out of her hands and flying somewhere behind her, but all Mariavel could think about was the almost unbearable pain that was reverberating from her right hand. She brought it down in front of her, noticing to her horror that the fingers that Bryan's hammer had connected with were bent back in an awful and unnatural shape. She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes, but the pain was starting to cloud over her senses.
"My hand!" Mariavel screamed in agony, "Oh, my hand, my hand! Look at what you did, you bastard!"
It didn't matter anymore. She didn't need the gun. She didn't need anything. She'd end his life if she had to gouge out his eyes and strangle him to do it. Enraged, Mariavel charged at Bryan, attempting to tackle him to the ground in hopes of gaining some sort of leverage on him. In her crazed state, she barely realized that Calvert still honed the hammer in his hand, and, in truth, she didn't care.
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Bryan didn't stop to marvel that his trump card had worked, although since he hadn't figured it would he had no further strategy. He raised the hammer but Mari charged him screaming like a banshee and he abandoned the attack halfway through. She was so fucking fast. She'd always been. He'd never had to go toe-to-toe against her though.
She plowed into his belly, but fortunately he was quick to throw his legs back before she could get a hold of them and pitch his weight downward on top of her. He grabbed her around the waist as best he could (given he was still gripping the hammer tightly) and poured a generous helping of vengeful anger into the knee strikes he began drilling into her shoulders and head.
"Gotcha bitch, gotcha you piece of shit!!"
Given that knees were kind of his thing anyway it would probably only take a couple of them, but he'd keep going well after she stopped moving and then some.
She plowed into his belly, but fortunately he was quick to throw his legs back before she could get a hold of them and pitch his weight downward on top of her. He grabbed her around the waist as best he could (given he was still gripping the hammer tightly) and poured a generous helping of vengeful anger into the knee strikes he began drilling into her shoulders and head.
"Gotcha bitch, gotcha you piece of shit!!"
Given that knees were kind of his thing anyway it would probably only take a couple of them, but he'd keep going well after she stopped moving and then some.
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The next few moments left Mariavel dazed and confused. She had charged blindly at Bryan, hoping to spear him to the ground with the sheer momentum she put behind her run. She hadn't expected him to counterattack, so when he had she had been completely unprepared for it. She barely knew what happened next, until she felt the painful sensations all around her upper body.
Her bright blue eyes widened drastically at that moment, and she realized that she was in trouble. It was then that she violently swung her head to the side in an attempt to dodge Bryan's attacks, only to be hit directly in the face by another knee. She let out a pained yelp as blood started to pour from her nose.
She had to get away from him. She had to regroup herself. If she didn't, it was over for her, and this wasn't the ending she had wanted. She had taken more punishment in this fight alone than perhaps any other time in the duration of the game, and her body was trembling from the sheer amount of pain she was in.
Gotta get away... gotta get away... gotta make him stop.
She knew what she had to do, she simply didn't know how. She wasn't thinking rationally... then again, perhaps she hadn't been thinking clearly throughout the entirety of the game. Maybe Mariavel Varella had never thought clearly in her life.
It can't end like this. I've gotta get him off me... for you, Grant. I've gotta win it for you, I've gotta settle one final score before I get to see you. I've gotta come home a winner.
"Does it make you feel good to hit girls?" Mariavel shrieked before thrusting her good hand up in an attempt to gouge out Bryan's left eye. Even if her attack didn't work, hopefully, it would stun him long enough for her to get away from him and retrieve her handgun. If it didn't... if she could only free her arms up a little more, she still had one more trick up her sleeve.
Her bright blue eyes widened drastically at that moment, and she realized that she was in trouble. It was then that she violently swung her head to the side in an attempt to dodge Bryan's attacks, only to be hit directly in the face by another knee. She let out a pained yelp as blood started to pour from her nose.
She had to get away from him. She had to regroup herself. If she didn't, it was over for her, and this wasn't the ending she had wanted. She had taken more punishment in this fight alone than perhaps any other time in the duration of the game, and her body was trembling from the sheer amount of pain she was in.
Gotta get away... gotta get away... gotta make him stop.
She knew what she had to do, she simply didn't know how. She wasn't thinking rationally... then again, perhaps she hadn't been thinking clearly throughout the entirety of the game. Maybe Mariavel Varella had never thought clearly in her life.
It can't end like this. I've gotta get him off me... for you, Grant. I've gotta win it for you, I've gotta settle one final score before I get to see you. I've gotta come home a winner.
"Does it make you feel good to hit girls?" Mariavel shrieked before thrusting her good hand up in an attempt to gouge out Bryan's left eye. Even if her attack didn't work, hopefully, it would stun him long enough for her to get away from him and retrieve her handgun. If it didn't... if she could only free her arms up a little more, she still had one more trick up her sleeve.
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It was funny Mari asked, because regardless of how he'd felt about hitting girls before Bryan couldn't begin to describe how absolutely justified this felt. There wasn't a mite of conflict in his head about it. Mari had fucking killed Tori, damn right he was hitting her. He'd kill her. He'd make her pay for it. He would make her pay for cheating Tori out of her ticket home. Unlike the both of them, Tori had deserved it. She was the one.
That was how it was supposed to be! God-fucking-dammit, why had it turned out this way? Tori was supposed to go home and see her family again and always remember him as someone who had given everything to protect her. Always know how important she was, how special. The only one. That was how it should've been...
Tears blurred his vision again; it hurt so much to think about her. He wanted Mari to hurt as much as he did. He wanted everyone to hurt as much as he did. "You don't talk!! You die! You fucking die now bitch--!!"
She thrust a hand up to his face, her mangled fingers clawing savagely at his eyes. Bryan struggled to pull his head away without giving up his dominant position but after two of the unwelcome digits suddenly began putting an enormous amount of pressure on his eyeball, the awful pain won out over his reckless abandon. He released his already shit-lousy grasp around Mari's waist, batting her fingers out of his eyes frantically and shielding himself there with his free hand. The other (still clutching the hammer tightly) he hastily planted in the small of her back to keep her pinned down. Fucking bitch wasn't going anywhere. He'd failed to protect Tori, but he would not fail to avenge her.
That was how it was supposed to be! God-fucking-dammit, why had it turned out this way? Tori was supposed to go home and see her family again and always remember him as someone who had given everything to protect her. Always know how important she was, how special. The only one. That was how it should've been...
Tears blurred his vision again; it hurt so much to think about her. He wanted Mari to hurt as much as he did. He wanted everyone to hurt as much as he did. "You don't talk!! You die! You fucking die now bitch--!!"
She thrust a hand up to his face, her mangled fingers clawing savagely at his eyes. Bryan struggled to pull his head away without giving up his dominant position but after two of the unwelcome digits suddenly began putting an enormous amount of pressure on his eyeball, the awful pain won out over his reckless abandon. He released his already shit-lousy grasp around Mari's waist, batting her fingers out of his eyes frantically and shielding himself there with his free hand. The other (still clutching the hammer tightly) he hastily planted in the small of her back to keep her pinned down. Fucking bitch wasn't going anywhere. He'd failed to protect Tori, but he would not fail to avenge her.
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.
((Sorry for the holdup, I'm rarely home on Tuesday nights. I hope this post makes up for it!))
Despite the fact that Bryan still seemed to hold the advantage over her, she could easily see the tears welling up in his eyes, and it almost brought laughter to her lips. Was he thinking of that dead girl again? What a pathetic waste of time. Didn't he know that love wasn't something to be found in a place like Survival of the Fittest? How could he have been so naive to think that he could take her all the way to the end? The only way to win this game was to look out for oneself, and Bryan hadn't been doing that since the beginning of the game. He'd changed so very much from the member of the Bloody Fists she used to know.
He'd become weak and useless.
She was almost surprised when her half-baked eye gouge worked, causing Bryan to release his grasp if only to salvage his vision. She let out a loud yelp as his hammer thrust itself into the small of her back in a futile attempt to keep her pinned down, but if Bryan had been smart, he wouldn't have been worrying about keeping her pinned down, he'd have been worried about the fact that from the position she was now in, she had full use of both arms, and that had been her goal all along.
"You idiot."
She uttered the words coldly and harshly as her hands raced down to her awkwardly positioned leg and into her sock. A moment later, her final weapon, a small knife she'd had since the beginning of the game, was retracted. Through all the fighting and the dirty deeds that the Bloody Fists had been involved in, she would have thought that someone like Bryan would have been much smarter about fighting than he was. Of course he knew all his technical mumbo-jumbo about his stupid kickboxing, but he seemed to have lost any sense of street smarts he had ever had.
"Ya know the funny thing...?" Mariavel sputtered out as she concealed the weapon from him, "We could have all escaped. Me an' you, and Seth... he had the brains, we had the manpower between the two of us... just like always, Calvert. We always did all the work, and got none of the credit. But it didn't matter, because we were a family. Me, you, Seth, Risch, Kingston, Darcy. We were all a family. And we could've gone back to that..."
She suddenly felt like crying. It had never crossed her mind that during what could potentially be her final moments on the island, that she would be thinking about the old days with the Bloody Fists. The thing was, that was the only real family Mariavel had ever known. They had been the only people who had ever cared about her and not ridiculed her in school. They had accepted her into their family with open arms, and now, just like everything else in her life, her chance to return to her family had been taken away from her as well.
"But because of you..." she spat angrily, "Because you were too worried about chasing some piece of tail around the island, you destroyed that for all of us, and now... we can never be a family again. You ruined it all... over some girl. And yet here you are, preaching to me about what a bad person I am and how I ruined everything for you... but you can't even begin to understand what you took away from me. Everything I had... the only reason I ever had to go home... it's all gone. Over some girl."
She felt like taking that knife and stabbing it right into his jugular.
"And how are you any different? You killed Seth," she stated slowly, emphasising every word of the last sentence, "You did it. Seth is dead, and it's your fault. Eye for an eye, Bryan... that's how the real gangs do it, right? You took one of ours away, you betrayed us... and so, I did what I was supposed to do, and I took one of yours away. It wouldn't matter if I won or lost here, I can't ever bring Seth back. Nobody will ever want you back... you're the one who destroyed our family. So who cares about your little broad? You sealed your fate when you met up with her and abandoned us."
Maybe she didn't know what she was talking about. Maybe that little shred of sanity that had been left inside her had finally snapped and her imagination had gone out of control with accusations and misplaced hatred, but that was how Mariavel saw things now. To her, Bryan Calvert was potentially the biggest villain in the entire game. Someone she used to consider so close to her had robbed her of everything, and now, it was a matter of vengeance against him. And then, she wouldn't go back, because now, there was nothing except a broken family to go back to.
"You brought it on yourself, hun."
With that, Mariavel swung the knife around deftly, hoping to do some sort of damage to Bryan. It didn't matter what. She wanted to sever all of his fingers, she wanted to jam it into an artery, she wanted it to hurt. He had been foolish for not thinking that all her tricks were gone, and now that they were, now that she had played her trump card, she was hoping beyond all hope that he hadn't suspected it coming. She was hoping his words brought him so much anger and anguish that her attack would completely take him offguard. If it didn't... it was probably the end for her.
Despite the fact that Bryan still seemed to hold the advantage over her, she could easily see the tears welling up in his eyes, and it almost brought laughter to her lips. Was he thinking of that dead girl again? What a pathetic waste of time. Didn't he know that love wasn't something to be found in a place like Survival of the Fittest? How could he have been so naive to think that he could take her all the way to the end? The only way to win this game was to look out for oneself, and Bryan hadn't been doing that since the beginning of the game. He'd changed so very much from the member of the Bloody Fists she used to know.
He'd become weak and useless.
She was almost surprised when her half-baked eye gouge worked, causing Bryan to release his grasp if only to salvage his vision. She let out a loud yelp as his hammer thrust itself into the small of her back in a futile attempt to keep her pinned down, but if Bryan had been smart, he wouldn't have been worrying about keeping her pinned down, he'd have been worried about the fact that from the position she was now in, she had full use of both arms, and that had been her goal all along.
"You idiot."
She uttered the words coldly and harshly as her hands raced down to her awkwardly positioned leg and into her sock. A moment later, her final weapon, a small knife she'd had since the beginning of the game, was retracted. Through all the fighting and the dirty deeds that the Bloody Fists had been involved in, she would have thought that someone like Bryan would have been much smarter about fighting than he was. Of course he knew all his technical mumbo-jumbo about his stupid kickboxing, but he seemed to have lost any sense of street smarts he had ever had.
"Ya know the funny thing...?" Mariavel sputtered out as she concealed the weapon from him, "We could have all escaped. Me an' you, and Seth... he had the brains, we had the manpower between the two of us... just like always, Calvert. We always did all the work, and got none of the credit. But it didn't matter, because we were a family. Me, you, Seth, Risch, Kingston, Darcy. We were all a family. And we could've gone back to that..."
She suddenly felt like crying. It had never crossed her mind that during what could potentially be her final moments on the island, that she would be thinking about the old days with the Bloody Fists. The thing was, that was the only real family Mariavel had ever known. They had been the only people who had ever cared about her and not ridiculed her in school. They had accepted her into their family with open arms, and now, just like everything else in her life, her chance to return to her family had been taken away from her as well.
"But because of you..." she spat angrily, "Because you were too worried about chasing some piece of tail around the island, you destroyed that for all of us, and now... we can never be a family again. You ruined it all... over some girl. And yet here you are, preaching to me about what a bad person I am and how I ruined everything for you... but you can't even begin to understand what you took away from me. Everything I had... the only reason I ever had to go home... it's all gone. Over some girl."
She felt like taking that knife and stabbing it right into his jugular.
"And how are you any different? You killed Seth," she stated slowly, emphasising every word of the last sentence, "You did it. Seth is dead, and it's your fault. Eye for an eye, Bryan... that's how the real gangs do it, right? You took one of ours away, you betrayed us... and so, I did what I was supposed to do, and I took one of yours away. It wouldn't matter if I won or lost here, I can't ever bring Seth back. Nobody will ever want you back... you're the one who destroyed our family. So who cares about your little broad? You sealed your fate when you met up with her and abandoned us."
Maybe she didn't know what she was talking about. Maybe that little shred of sanity that had been left inside her had finally snapped and her imagination had gone out of control with accusations and misplaced hatred, but that was how Mariavel saw things now. To her, Bryan Calvert was potentially the biggest villain in the entire game. Someone she used to consider so close to her had robbed her of everything, and now, it was a matter of vengeance against him. And then, she wouldn't go back, because now, there was nothing except a broken family to go back to.
"You brought it on yourself, hun."
With that, Mariavel swung the knife around deftly, hoping to do some sort of damage to Bryan. It didn't matter what. She wanted to sever all of his fingers, she wanted to jam it into an artery, she wanted it to hurt. He had been foolish for not thinking that all her tricks were gone, and now that they were, now that she had played her trump card, she was hoping beyond all hope that he hadn't suspected it coming. She was hoping his words brought him so much anger and anguish that her attack would completely take him offguard. If it didn't... it was probably the end for her.
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Bryan would have spat when Mari rattled off her delusional idea of what could have been, but his mouth was dry. Also he had a headache. Starving. There was a slug buried somewhere he couldn't see or even reach. For all he knew if he tried to gather any saliva he might just swallow his tongue. "Bullshit," he choked instead, but it was true that Seth had acted like a brother to him. Mari had been almost like a sister, at least until she'd shown her true psychobitch colours. Either way, he'd realized it too late.
Just remembering how close they had once been brought about a nasty sting with Mari's next words. He knew she was fucked up in the head and she didn't understand shit about it, but there was some truth in what she said. Bryan had decided the moment he'd found Tori to play against everyone else for her sake. He'd turned down the notion of attempting to escape because he'd only wanted to save one person.
"Over some girl." Bryan's grip on the hammer turned his knuckles white as Mari drove that point home. That girl had been his only reason not to go home. Why did everything always have to come around full-circle like that?
"Real tough chick," he snarled when she finally finished. It had occurred to him a few times to explain how Seth had died, but there was no way she would've believed him. All the same there was something he didn't understand, something that would've made all the difference. "Could've at least had the balls to come after me instead, stupid bitch!"
Mari suddenly struck out at him with a knife. He figured it was a knife anyway, because while he barely saw anything at all he did feel something sharp embed itself in his upper leg, just below the hip. He should've seen it coming, knowing her, but he didn't. Idiot. She was right. Fuckin' idiot. Bryan cursed in pain and darted his left hand to his right leg hoping to catch her before she could stab him again. It also clicked to raise the hammer with his other arm and drive it down on her to at least accomplish something.
Just remembering how close they had once been brought about a nasty sting with Mari's next words. He knew she was fucked up in the head and she didn't understand shit about it, but there was some truth in what she said. Bryan had decided the moment he'd found Tori to play against everyone else for her sake. He'd turned down the notion of attempting to escape because he'd only wanted to save one person.
"Over some girl." Bryan's grip on the hammer turned his knuckles white as Mari drove that point home. That girl had been his only reason not to go home. Why did everything always have to come around full-circle like that?
"Real tough chick," he snarled when she finally finished. It had occurred to him a few times to explain how Seth had died, but there was no way she would've believed him. All the same there was something he didn't understand, something that would've made all the difference. "Could've at least had the balls to come after me instead, stupid bitch!"
Mari suddenly struck out at him with a knife. He figured it was a knife anyway, because while he barely saw anything at all he did feel something sharp embed itself in his upper leg, just below the hip. He should've seen it coming, knowing her, but he didn't. Idiot. She was right. Fuckin' idiot. Bryan cursed in pain and darted his left hand to his right leg hoping to catch her before she could stab him again. It also clicked to raise the hammer with his other arm and drive it down on her to at least accomplish something.
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.
((Any and all GMing in this post has been approved by Cyco for the sake of time.))
Bryan's taunts didn't even phase her. "Stupid". "Bitch". She'd been called those names more times than she could ever recall, and she'd been called things much, much worse. It should have hurt deep down to know that the actions she'd taken throughout the game had created such a drastic rift between her and someone she once considered part of her "family", but in her current mental state, nothing affected Mariavel anymore. Not emotionally, anyway.
Physically, she could feel every bump, every bruise, every landed punch and successful attack. Her body was in so much pain that it was mind-numbing, and yet, she couldn't back down from this fight, because she wasn't letting either one of them go home. Not now. A mischevious and crazed grin spread across her features as she felt the knife dig deep into flesh. It had only been his thigh, but it didn't matter. She'd scored another blow against him, and now, he was bleeding even more.
Mariavel reeled back again, feeling the adrenaline from a successful attack, and attempted to stab at Bryan again. Bryan, though, attempted to counter the attack by wheeling his arm back and attempting to slam the hammer into her once again. Mariavel swiftly spun out of the way of the hammer, rising all the way to her feet as she did so. She had him now. She'd spin around behind him and slit his throat, and that would be that.
"Just lay down and die!" she shouted as she attempted another stab at Bryan.
Just as she screamed out though, Bryan grabbed her wrist, effectively disabling her. Mariavel whined out in annoyance and launched her other arm toward Bryan. Bryan countered, grabbing her as well, and the two struggled back and forth for superiority. Mariavel could feel Bryan winning, he was much bigger than her, after all. She struggled to keep him from overpowering her, but as the two fought, she could feel herself being pushed backward, toward the wall.
Or at least, she thought it was the wall.
In the next instant, she was up against the "wall", only, it was cold to the touch. Mariavel's eyes grew wide as she felt the large glass window cracking under the combined force of both her and Bryan,and in the next instant, the glass shattered, sending Mariavel and Bryan both flying down from the drop. Mariavel let out a primal scream as she landed on the concrete nearby. She was completely stunned, in such immense pain that she couldn't will her body to move. She looked around frantically, trying to locate Bryan.
Bryan's taunts didn't even phase her. "Stupid". "Bitch". She'd been called those names more times than she could ever recall, and she'd been called things much, much worse. It should have hurt deep down to know that the actions she'd taken throughout the game had created such a drastic rift between her and someone she once considered part of her "family", but in her current mental state, nothing affected Mariavel anymore. Not emotionally, anyway.
Physically, she could feel every bump, every bruise, every landed punch and successful attack. Her body was in so much pain that it was mind-numbing, and yet, she couldn't back down from this fight, because she wasn't letting either one of them go home. Not now. A mischevious and crazed grin spread across her features as she felt the knife dig deep into flesh. It had only been his thigh, but it didn't matter. She'd scored another blow against him, and now, he was bleeding even more.
Mariavel reeled back again, feeling the adrenaline from a successful attack, and attempted to stab at Bryan again. Bryan, though, attempted to counter the attack by wheeling his arm back and attempting to slam the hammer into her once again. Mariavel swiftly spun out of the way of the hammer, rising all the way to her feet as she did so. She had him now. She'd spin around behind him and slit his throat, and that would be that.
"Just lay down and die!" she shouted as she attempted another stab at Bryan.
Just as she screamed out though, Bryan grabbed her wrist, effectively disabling her. Mariavel whined out in annoyance and launched her other arm toward Bryan. Bryan countered, grabbing her as well, and the two struggled back and forth for superiority. Mariavel could feel Bryan winning, he was much bigger than her, after all. She struggled to keep him from overpowering her, but as the two fought, she could feel herself being pushed backward, toward the wall.
Or at least, she thought it was the wall.
In the next instant, she was up against the "wall", only, it was cold to the touch. Mariavel's eyes grew wide as she felt the large glass window cracking under the combined force of both her and Bryan,and in the next instant, the glass shattered, sending Mariavel and Bryan both flying down from the drop. Mariavel let out a primal scream as she landed on the concrete nearby. She was completely stunned, in such immense pain that she couldn't will her body to move. She looked around frantically, trying to locate Bryan.
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Another shot of pain, this one in his side, informed Bryan that he'd been stabbed again. Oww. This time though he was able to successfully grab her wrist though, and although the hammer had missed he grabbed ahold of her with his arm as she got up. They struggled. Exhausted as he was it didn't take long to get the upper hand, although Mari was fast and he was sure she'd slip out of his grasp to get him somewhere lethal.
"Just lay down and die!"
He pushed her back forcefully into one of the large windows and a moment later felt the glass beginning to crack. It was anyones guess as to how many seconds it would hold the weight being pressed against it.
'Fuck it.'
"After you," he mumbled through gritted teeth. Good enough last words, he decided. It sounded really cool in his head, probably he'd heard it in an action movie, but it was cut off abruptly by the sound of shattering glass. He was jerked suddenly forward as Mari still had a hold on him and the two of them tumbled out into the night air. Somewhere between the window and the ground outside he lost Mari, and a half-second later he was on his back (thankfully not his head as he'd predicted) in the grass with the wind very thoroughly knocked out of him. The fresh stabwounds leaked red and hurt like shit, but they weren't very deep and really couldn't compare to the pain behind his shoulder anyway. He wheezed and opened his eyes, and as he shifted on the ground trying to recover his hand brushed the edge of a concrete slab jutting up just beyond his head. That was lucky.
He'd dropped the hammer, as he quickly realized when he felt nothing in his right hand. Quickly he scanned to his right to find Mari and if neccessary his weapon. He hoped she'd landed badly. The hammer was close by, near his feet. He turned his head and looked the other way. Nothing. Nothing in front of him either. Yeah, he was out of it but process of elimination still registered just fine.
"Just lay down and die!"
He pushed her back forcefully into one of the large windows and a moment later felt the glass beginning to crack. It was anyones guess as to how many seconds it would hold the weight being pressed against it.
'Fuck it.'
"After you," he mumbled through gritted teeth. Good enough last words, he decided. It sounded really cool in his head, probably he'd heard it in an action movie, but it was cut off abruptly by the sound of shattering glass. He was jerked suddenly forward as Mari still had a hold on him and the two of them tumbled out into the night air. Somewhere between the window and the ground outside he lost Mari, and a half-second later he was on his back (thankfully not his head as he'd predicted) in the grass with the wind very thoroughly knocked out of him. The fresh stabwounds leaked red and hurt like shit, but they weren't very deep and really couldn't compare to the pain behind his shoulder anyway. He wheezed and opened his eyes, and as he shifted on the ground trying to recover his hand brushed the edge of a concrete slab jutting up just beyond his head. That was lucky.
He'd dropped the hammer, as he quickly realized when he felt nothing in his right hand. Quickly he scanned to his right to find Mari and if neccessary his weapon. He hoped she'd landed badly. The hammer was close by, near his feet. He turned his head and looked the other way. Nothing. Nothing in front of him either. Yeah, he was out of it but process of elimination still registered just fine.
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.
((Sorry for taking so long with this. Real life had me bogged down this week.))
White.
For a moment, it was all Mariavel Varella could see. The noises around her were muffled and dulled, and the black, cloudless night sky had been replaced by a dim white light. Slowly, though, the color faded away and eroded into gray, and then back into black. The muffled sounds suddenly resounded in her ears like drums, and an intense pain overtook her entire body. The fall from the window above hadn't been all that high, but the painful and awkward landing she had suffered on the concrete below had taken its toll on her.
The euphoric feeling that graced her fatigued body for just a moment suddenly gave way to unyielding agony, and Mariavel found herself unable to move. Something wasn't right. Her whole lower body, from the torso down, ached and throbbed as though it had been run through a meat grinder and her head, which she had been smart enough to wrap her arms around on the way down to cushion the fall somewhat, was pounding intensely.
Several moments passed by before she was able to move. Her vision refocused itself and Mariavel shook her head in a vain attempt to get rid of the cobwebs that clouded her mind. She looked around frantically for her opponent, who had to have landed somewhere nearby, but much to her dismay, he was nowhere to be seen. She secretly hoped he had broken his neck, but Lady Luck hadn't been a kind mistress to her so far.
She forced herself up into a sitting position, only to receive the same mind-numbing shock of pain as she'd been feeling a moment ago. That was when she noticed it. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers as she stared down at her leg -- a matted, mangled mess of scraped flesh and crimson. Perhaps more horrifying than the exterior of the wound was the large white lump that seemed to be poking into her skin, threatening to break it and slide out at any given moment.
It was only when Mariavel saw the severity of the injury that the pain truly kicked in.
A horrified, anguished scream erupted from her lips as she grasped the broken limb tightly in her hands. Throughout the entire course of the game, Mariavel had managed to get away with hardly a scratch on her, but now, the intensity of the injury she'd just suffered made up for every time she had gotten off easily. She fought back the bile piling up in her throat, but the sight of the injury made her sick. It was all she could do to keep from vomiting, and she couldn't stop the tears that ran freely down her face.
She'd never felt such a horrible, intense pain in her life.
"Dammit," Mariavel choked out in between pained sobs, "Dammit, dammit, dammit."
She didn't care if Bryan heard her. She could barely move, barely think. She couldn't stand, she couldn't do anything. As if this game hadn't been hard enough on her both physically and mentally up until this point -- now she was all but screwed. The only way she could survive now was to strike the final blow before he got the chance. But, how was she supposed to do that when she couldn't even stand up and walk? She could hear shuffling in the distance, a tell-tale sign that Bryan had landed somewhere nearby.
Quietly -- at least, as quiet as she could be through the muffled sobs that wouldn't cease -- Mariavel lay down on her stomach and pushed forward with her hands. Dirt and grime buried themselves underneath her fingernails as she slid her way off the sidewalk and across the still half-damp grass of the old school's campus. She held the knife she'd used to stab Bryan with in her hand as she slid. When she found him, she'd only have one chance left to end him before he did her in first. She'd only have one more chance to seize victory from the jaws of defeat, and this was it.
White.
For a moment, it was all Mariavel Varella could see. The noises around her were muffled and dulled, and the black, cloudless night sky had been replaced by a dim white light. Slowly, though, the color faded away and eroded into gray, and then back into black. The muffled sounds suddenly resounded in her ears like drums, and an intense pain overtook her entire body. The fall from the window above hadn't been all that high, but the painful and awkward landing she had suffered on the concrete below had taken its toll on her.
The euphoric feeling that graced her fatigued body for just a moment suddenly gave way to unyielding agony, and Mariavel found herself unable to move. Something wasn't right. Her whole lower body, from the torso down, ached and throbbed as though it had been run through a meat grinder and her head, which she had been smart enough to wrap her arms around on the way down to cushion the fall somewhat, was pounding intensely.
Several moments passed by before she was able to move. Her vision refocused itself and Mariavel shook her head in a vain attempt to get rid of the cobwebs that clouded her mind. She looked around frantically for her opponent, who had to have landed somewhere nearby, but much to her dismay, he was nowhere to be seen. She secretly hoped he had broken his neck, but Lady Luck hadn't been a kind mistress to her so far.
She forced herself up into a sitting position, only to receive the same mind-numbing shock of pain as she'd been feeling a moment ago. That was when she noticed it. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers as she stared down at her leg -- a matted, mangled mess of scraped flesh and crimson. Perhaps more horrifying than the exterior of the wound was the large white lump that seemed to be poking into her skin, threatening to break it and slide out at any given moment.
It was only when Mariavel saw the severity of the injury that the pain truly kicked in.
A horrified, anguished scream erupted from her lips as she grasped the broken limb tightly in her hands. Throughout the entire course of the game, Mariavel had managed to get away with hardly a scratch on her, but now, the intensity of the injury she'd just suffered made up for every time she had gotten off easily. She fought back the bile piling up in her throat, but the sight of the injury made her sick. It was all she could do to keep from vomiting, and she couldn't stop the tears that ran freely down her face.
She'd never felt such a horrible, intense pain in her life.
"Dammit," Mariavel choked out in between pained sobs, "Dammit, dammit, dammit."
She didn't care if Bryan heard her. She could barely move, barely think. She couldn't stand, she couldn't do anything. As if this game hadn't been hard enough on her both physically and mentally up until this point -- now she was all but screwed. The only way she could survive now was to strike the final blow before he got the chance. But, how was she supposed to do that when she couldn't even stand up and walk? She could hear shuffling in the distance, a tell-tale sign that Bryan had landed somewhere nearby.
Quietly -- at least, as quiet as she could be through the muffled sobs that wouldn't cease -- Mariavel lay down on her stomach and pushed forward with her hands. Dirt and grime buried themselves underneath her fingernails as she slid her way off the sidewalk and across the still half-damp grass of the old school's campus. She held the knife she'd used to stab Bryan with in her hand as she slid. When she found him, she'd only have one chance left to end him before he did her in first. She'd only have one more chance to seize victory from the jaws of defeat, and this was it.
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