Everyone outside hollered back, told them… basically everything Charelle needed to know, really. It was kinda enough to make her wanna open the door and let everybody in by itself. She wasn’t gonna lie in the fact that Kitty Kat might still have some beef with her when she and Kayla memed all over her music video and she sorta knew that Demetri was like, the supreme fuckboi, but she imagined they’d be like, chill/low-key about things. It’d be kinda dumb to really be salty here. She imagined that being in SotF would kinda leave most other things in the dust.
Wouldn’t stop some of the people on this island from being as dumb as she was, but hey, Charelle was willing to believe that all the other people were cool dudes. She opened the door.
“Alright. It’s me and Felix in here. Come on in.”
LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BOYZ WHERE WE DROPPIN’
CRACK ((PRIVATE)) A COLD ONE ITS TEAM UNITY TUESDAY TWO OF US WERE HOME BOUND TWO OF US WENT TO TOM CRUISE CON IN REPLACE OF FUR CON THEY WERE OUT THERE TO BIG TABLE WITH JUSTIN AND HAFU AND THEIR SIGNIFICANT OTHERS DINING ON FINE DINE CUSINE WE'RE READY TO BRING SOME DOPAMINE RIGHT TO YOUR FRONTAL CORTEX SIP IT UP BOYZ
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
Felix stood up, slowly, as the people outside identified themselves. It was a small thing, but he felt like him sitting on the floor wasn't the best version of himself he could present. So he got on his two feet as Charelle opened the door, letting him see the faces of his classmates.
"Hey, y'all," Felix said, as he stepped back.
Thank god that these three were being civil about this whole encounter. It was a low bar that was set by Sierra pointing a stun gun at the two of them (well, mostly Charelle), sure, but it was still a welcome change. Felix liked it better when things were civil. He realized that his decision to leave the gun in the back had been the correct one.
Well, the correct one for now, anyway.
"We saw... uh..." Felix started, "Sierra, and..."
Felix blanked on the other girl's name. He knew it, he was pretty sure, he was familiar enough with his classmates that he should have been able to name the other girl, but at that moment, nothing came. He turned to Charelle for help.
"Hey, y'all," Felix said, as he stepped back.
Thank god that these three were being civil about this whole encounter. It was a low bar that was set by Sierra pointing a stun gun at the two of them (well, mostly Charelle), sure, but it was still a welcome change. Felix liked it better when things were civil. He realized that his decision to leave the gun in the back had been the correct one.
Well, the correct one for now, anyway.
"We saw... uh..." Felix started, "Sierra, and..."
Felix blanked on the other girl's name. He knew it, he was pretty sure, he was familiar enough with his classmates that he should have been able to name the other girl, but at that moment, nothing came. He turned to Charelle for help.
The people inside gave them the okay. Yuko relaxed for a moment; her instincts had been right, they'd found some friendly folks. But then she remembered that, for all she knew, they had guns and were prepared to shoot the second she opened the door. Yuko looked over her allies again. She thought over Katrina's question.
"Well..." she whispered, turning the doorknob "One way to find out."
Yuko took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She stepped into the house; it was pretty much what she expected. A clean, suburban home. It turned out that the people who called them in were Charelle and Felix. Charelle was good people, Yuko knew her from GSA. She knew Felix less well, but he seemed alright.
"Hey, guys. Thanks for letting us in."
Felix mentioned that they'd run into Sierra and some other girl whose name he couldn't remember. Yuko tried not to get her hopes up as he fumbled for a name. It most likely wasn't her sister, unless Felix somehow didn't know they were related, but it could have been one of the other girls they were looking for. Maybe
"Anything'll help."
"Well..." she whispered, turning the doorknob "One way to find out."
Yuko took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She stepped into the house; it was pretty much what she expected. A clean, suburban home. It turned out that the people who called them in were Charelle and Felix. Charelle was good people, Yuko knew her from GSA. She knew Felix less well, but he seemed alright.
"Hey, guys. Thanks for letting us in."
Felix mentioned that they'd run into Sierra and some other girl whose name he couldn't remember. Yuko tried not to get her hopes up as he fumbled for a name. It most likely wasn't her sister, unless Felix somehow didn't know they were related, but it could have been one of the other girls they were looking for. Maybe
"Anything'll help."
"Yo." Demetri nodded at Felix, entering right on Yuko's heels. They'd hung out before, Felix was pretty alright. Hopefully not in the same sense of 'alright' as Zach, as in suddenly become completely dead to the world or whatever it was sewing Zach's lips shut tighter than Langley's lips around Carter dick.
To be fair to Zach in hindsight, there was probably a pretty good reason to lose one's sense of humor 'round these parts.
"Sierra?" Demetri didn't really, like, directly interrupt the conversation's flow. He was interjecting a bit quietly, and speaking more to himself than anyone. Even his next question:
"What did she do, exactly?"
wasn't really intended for an audience. Or if it was, it was only in a super beta, passive aggressive way of speaking up. Demetri knew the whole story between Sierra and Faith, he'd always dismissed it as petty girl drama, but maybe the whole thing had like, unconsciously biased him against Sierra. He could imagine her doing something violent, he guessed. In an abstract, news action report kind of way. 'Sierra Cook arrested after shootout with local police; also coming up, what can you do to protect your home from cicada invasions? All this and more on the hour.'
It still wasn't really resonating with him, the idea that any of this was actually happening, that he wasn't going to get to complain about how lame it'd all gone down after the fact.
To be fair to Zach in hindsight, there was probably a pretty good reason to lose one's sense of humor 'round these parts.
"Sierra?" Demetri didn't really, like, directly interrupt the conversation's flow. He was interjecting a bit quietly, and speaking more to himself than anyone. Even his next question:
"What did she do, exactly?"
wasn't really intended for an audience. Or if it was, it was only in a super beta, passive aggressive way of speaking up. Demetri knew the whole story between Sierra and Faith, he'd always dismissed it as petty girl drama, but maybe the whole thing had like, unconsciously biased him against Sierra. He could imagine her doing something violent, he guessed. In an abstract, news action report kind of way. 'Sierra Cook arrested after shootout with local police; also coming up, what can you do to protect your home from cicada invasions? All this and more on the hour.'
It still wasn't really resonating with him, the idea that any of this was actually happening, that he wasn't going to get to complain about how lame it'd all gone down after the fact.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Katrina nervously followed the other two into the house. She could still feel the sword shaking in her hands, although they steadied once she walked in. There was a really tall guy who Katrina didn't really know that well. The other was Charelle. Katrina raised an eyebrow. She didn't expect to see one of the actresses from her music videos to be here. Sure, it was weird that Charelle and her friend interrupted the video shoot, but Katrina got over that. Mostly because Charelle was cool helping out with the video, and also because the music video for "Kate" was one of her best rated videos to date. She couldn't say that that was because of Charelle, considering Charelle wasn't doing the heavy lifting, but it didn't mean the girl hurt her channel's status.
Katrina shifted the sword to one hand and waved.
"Hello. Hey Charelle," she said to both Charelle and Felix.
It sounded like the one person the duo had seen was Sierra. Katrina didn't know Sierra that well, but she knew of her reputation. Demetri sounded more upset about Sierra, making Katrina curious, but she didn't want to press it. There was a second girl who was here.
"Do you remember what she looked like? The other girl, that is."
Katrina shifted the sword to one hand and waved.
"Hello. Hey Charelle," she said to both Charelle and Felix.
It sounded like the one person the duo had seen was Sierra. Katrina didn't know Sierra that well, but she knew of her reputation. Demetri sounded more upset about Sierra, making Katrina curious, but she didn't want to press it. There was a second girl who was here.
"Do you remember what she looked like? The other girl, that is."
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Yugikun
- Posts: 950
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:48 am
- Location: in a place where this joke is funny
- Contact:
“Willow? I think? Just appeared and then, like, stopped appearing, and stuff.”
Did that make sense out of Willow? Like, okay, maybe Charelle’s memory was beginning to go decay and shit (rip) but she’d just been kinda… there? Like, Sierra had been there and Sierra had been on and off the verge of turning fucko and honestly what she’d been doing had high-key been more attention grabbing than whatever Willow had been doing. Like,Willow hadn’t been the one who threatened to stun gun her ass for no fuckin’ reason — but she supposed there wasn’t much she could say good either? Charelle didn’t know. It was confusing enough questioning whether she could call Sierra a fucko yet or not. Other people were like way, way out of the ballpark.
Well. Except these four dudes around her. They seemed pretty solid.
“She looked like… iunno. Willowy? Super thin. Brown hair. Prolly not someone you’d see around?”
She felt weird talking about this. NGL she wasn’t really sure whether this line of questioning (and whether being super distrustful in general, whoops) was really gonna help out the whole situation, so…
“How are you three guys holding up, by the way?” She asked. “Like, y’think you’ve like, adjusted, or anything?”
Quick pause. Charelle kinda needed to think.
“Sorry I phrased that weird. Just, uh, don’t really know the proper way to ask that question.”
Did that make sense out of Willow? Like, okay, maybe Charelle’s memory was beginning to go decay and shit (rip) but she’d just been kinda… there? Like, Sierra had been there and Sierra had been on and off the verge of turning fucko and honestly what she’d been doing had high-key been more attention grabbing than whatever Willow had been doing. Like,Willow hadn’t been the one who threatened to stun gun her ass for no fuckin’ reason — but she supposed there wasn’t much she could say good either? Charelle didn’t know. It was confusing enough questioning whether she could call Sierra a fucko yet or not. Other people were like way, way out of the ballpark.
Well. Except these four dudes around her. They seemed pretty solid.
“She looked like… iunno. Willowy? Super thin. Brown hair. Prolly not someone you’d see around?”
She felt weird talking about this. NGL she wasn’t really sure whether this line of questioning (and whether being super distrustful in general, whoops) was really gonna help out the whole situation, so…
“How are you three guys holding up, by the way?” She asked. “Like, y’think you’ve like, adjusted, or anything?”
Quick pause. Charelle kinda needed to think.
“Sorry I phrased that weird. Just, uh, don’t really know the proper way to ask that question.”
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CondorTalon
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Wed Sep 05, 2018 6:17 am
Yeah, that was it. That must have been it, right? Well, that sounded right, so he'd roll with it.
Charelle followed up with a question of her own, which Felix had to really think about. Well, that had really kinda been hard up until now, when his mind was clouded up with the gas. He knew she hadn't directed the question at him, but really...
"Not really sure it'd be this quick before they... before anyone adjusted, or whatever, ya know?" he said idly, "This whole situation, people yellin' at each other, people hearin' gunshots, it's not really the type o' thing you get used to easily."
Charelle followed up with a question of her own, which Felix had to really think about. Well, that had really kinda been hard up until now, when his mind was clouded up with the gas. He knew she hadn't directed the question at him, but really...
"Not really sure it'd be this quick before they... before anyone adjusted, or whatever, ya know?" he said idly, "This whole situation, people yellin' at each other, people hearin' gunshots, it's not really the type o' thing you get used to easily."
Ah. Yuki and Yuko hadn't been here, and neither had any of the other people they were looking for. Yuko knew it was dumb to get upset, the actual chances of running into them so early were... very very low, probably. But she still couldn't help but be a little disappointed. Yuko plopped into a nearby armchair, dropping her back next to her.
"Ah, thanks anyway. We just have to keep looking" she said "We've been... we've been doing okay."
Yuko wondered if maybe she should invite the two of them into the group. Would more people make them safer, or make the group harder to manage? Hell, she didn't know. But she definetely didn't like the idea of just leaving them undefended without at least telling them what was going on. Giving 'em a chance.
"We're trying to find some friends. We think that if we get a group group together and protect each other long enough we might be able to wait it out 'till some sorta rescue."
"Ah, thanks anyway. We just have to keep looking" she said "We've been... we've been doing okay."
Yuko wondered if maybe she should invite the two of them into the group. Would more people make them safer, or make the group harder to manage? Hell, she didn't know. But she definetely didn't like the idea of just leaving them undefended without at least telling them what was going on. Giving 'em a chance.
"We're trying to find some friends. We think that if we get a group group together and protect each other long enough we might be able to wait it out 'till some sorta rescue."
Yup, he'd been totally ignored.
Anyways, all the stuff everyone else was going on about sounded good too he guessed.
------
Demetri was only being quiet because it was starting to feel a bit too much like school all over again. In an odd way that made Demetri want to glance over his shoulder to double check that nobody with a knife was hiding there, everything was like... too normal. A bunch of high school students sharing a room. Hopefully with less dicks coming out of pants this time around- but seriously, nothing happening at all. Some chatting and shit, like they were all the furthest distance possible from an abandoned island in the middle of some unknown sea.
Funny that things felt so normal that, essentially, he was reduced to feeling awkward trying to speak when the estrogen ratios were too damn high. Demetri on the cusp of dying like a bitch and all the greatness he could bring himself to live up to amounted to occasionally glancing at one of the girls in the room before glancing away, a close shave of moments prior to the disaster of actually meeting one of their gazes.
In more, like, actually relevant news: they were an official alliance. As a group they'd decided to hold out for a while, and Demetri didn't know if the slow option would really have satisfied Yuko, maybe she was still impatient or something. But Charelle had the bad leg, Felix was still not recovering the most steady from the knock out drugs, and anyways they'd eventually figured staying near the houses would increase the chances of people looking for shelter finding them- friends finding them. Hopefully friends. Lest Demetri and the rest of the goons be gunned down to a man by, like, 21st century schizoid Caroline or whoever else was inevitably going to snap.
The house itself was a decent two room with some space for all of them to chill wherever they wanted and awkwardly wait to die with some amount of creature comforts. Too many windows to really feel safe, but they were all curtained and grimed over. They'd pilfered the house for anything useful.
That left, like a small stack of paper towels sitting on the kitchen's dingy little table to share. For whatever purpose... toilet paper, maybe? That happened to be important. TP was a classic- add one more P and maybe the globalist spirits of McAllister and Conman could be summoned to save them from the chinks. Yuko BTFO by the neolibs.
"Hey, check this one out. We fucking wish, right?"
Demetri flashed the card in question. He'd forgotten he'd taken this deck from Magic Club's head... Alana, or something like that. She'd been cute and hadn't overtly hated him, so he probably should have talked with her more, but that was a LULW from the chat. He was sorry for taking her cards, he guessed. It probably wasn't a good deck anyways. He picked through the cards idly. He adjusted his manspreading, made sure the sack wasn't too sticky and shit. He'd consigned himself to the floor.
Anyways, all the stuff everyone else was going on about sounded good too he guessed.
------
Demetri was only being quiet because it was starting to feel a bit too much like school all over again. In an odd way that made Demetri want to glance over his shoulder to double check that nobody with a knife was hiding there, everything was like... too normal. A bunch of high school students sharing a room. Hopefully with less dicks coming out of pants this time around- but seriously, nothing happening at all. Some chatting and shit, like they were all the furthest distance possible from an abandoned island in the middle of some unknown sea.
Funny that things felt so normal that, essentially, he was reduced to feeling awkward trying to speak when the estrogen ratios were too damn high. Demetri on the cusp of dying like a bitch and all the greatness he could bring himself to live up to amounted to occasionally glancing at one of the girls in the room before glancing away, a close shave of moments prior to the disaster of actually meeting one of their gazes.
In more, like, actually relevant news: they were an official alliance. As a group they'd decided to hold out for a while, and Demetri didn't know if the slow option would really have satisfied Yuko, maybe she was still impatient or something. But Charelle had the bad leg, Felix was still not recovering the most steady from the knock out drugs, and anyways they'd eventually figured staying near the houses would increase the chances of people looking for shelter finding them- friends finding them. Hopefully friends. Lest Demetri and the rest of the goons be gunned down to a man by, like, 21st century schizoid Caroline or whoever else was inevitably going to snap.
The house itself was a decent two room with some space for all of them to chill wherever they wanted and awkwardly wait to die with some amount of creature comforts. Too many windows to really feel safe, but they were all curtained and grimed over. They'd pilfered the house for anything useful.
That left, like a small stack of paper towels sitting on the kitchen's dingy little table to share. For whatever purpose... toilet paper, maybe? That happened to be important. TP was a classic- add one more P and maybe the globalist spirits of McAllister and Conman could be summoned to save them from the chinks. Yuko BTFO by the neolibs.
"Hey, check this one out. We fucking wish, right?"
Demetri flashed the card in question. He'd forgotten he'd taken this deck from Magic Club's head... Alana, or something like that. She'd been cute and hadn't overtly hated him, so he probably should have talked with her more, but that was a LULW from the chat. He was sorry for taking her cards, he guessed. It probably wasn't a good deck anyways. He picked through the cards idly. He adjusted his manspreading, made sure the sack wasn't too sticky and shit. He'd consigned himself to the floor.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
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Yugikun
- Posts: 950
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:48 am
- Location: in a place where this joke is funny
- Contact:
Charelle gave ‘em all a shrug.
“Works with me,” she said. “I ain’t got any reserved seats in here or anythin’.”
Well, course there was the dream meme team in Forrest and Mikki and maybe a couple other people but hey, not like she’d kick these dudes out for those dudes; that’d be pretty rude and being rude was kinda not Charelle’s thing. At this rate she’d probably just have to like, figure out how hard it was gonna be to have like, a 10 man sitcom. Didn’t seem like things would go too bad there the way she was thinking things — so long as nobody came in and was like “yo I’m gonna kill you all” she was pretty sure most of the people in this family would be pretty chill — but really it was just kinda a question for someone smarter than her to figure out. She knew these people, she was pretty sure nobody here would become a total fucko, but…
Well. It was something for later. Ain’t no point treating this game the way it wanted to be treated, that was for sure.
Living the chill life didn’t seem like it was gonna be that hard.
The moon was up. Charelle and Yuko (sry, Yuko and Charelle) were hangin’ out in a room at the back, sometimes lookin’ out the back window but for the most part just kinda lookin’ round and staying silent. Wasn’t really because Yuko sucked or anything — hey, she was pretty badass — there just… wasn’t really a lot to talk about. Just didn’t seem like a time to talk about shit. Maybe once time had passed and it became clear that nobody was gonna try and Solid Snake she could try and become the life of the party (even if she didn’t have any of her ZOOTOPIA shit; thanks, Oscar) but until then… eh, best she took this seriously. Best she did her best to make sure nobody tried to kill anyone in here, or anything.
...Kinda boring though, ngl. Hopefully she could stop doing this soon because for the record, this kinda majorly blew.
Well, everything did, really. Just this part in particular. Apparently getting kidnapped and placed in a game where the aim was to kill your classmates or die was way less interesting than school. Like, least there were lunchtimes there. This place didn’t even have lunches.
“Works with me,” she said. “I ain’t got any reserved seats in here or anythin’.”
Well, course there was the dream meme team in Forrest and Mikki and maybe a couple other people but hey, not like she’d kick these dudes out for those dudes; that’d be pretty rude and being rude was kinda not Charelle’s thing. At this rate she’d probably just have to like, figure out how hard it was gonna be to have like, a 10 man sitcom. Didn’t seem like things would go too bad there the way she was thinking things — so long as nobody came in and was like “yo I’m gonna kill you all” she was pretty sure most of the people in this family would be pretty chill — but really it was just kinda a question for someone smarter than her to figure out. She knew these people, she was pretty sure nobody here would become a total fucko, but…
Well. It was something for later. Ain’t no point treating this game the way it wanted to be treated, that was for sure.
Living the chill life didn’t seem like it was gonna be that hard.
The moon was up. Charelle and Yuko (sry, Yuko and Charelle) were hangin’ out in a room at the back, sometimes lookin’ out the back window but for the most part just kinda lookin’ round and staying silent. Wasn’t really because Yuko sucked or anything — hey, she was pretty badass — there just… wasn’t really a lot to talk about. Just didn’t seem like a time to talk about shit. Maybe once time had passed and it became clear that nobody was gonna try and Solid Snake she could try and become the life of the party (even if she didn’t have any of her ZOOTOPIA shit; thanks, Oscar) but until then… eh, best she took this seriously. Best she did her best to make sure nobody tried to kill anyone in here, or anything.
...Kinda boring though, ngl. Hopefully she could stop doing this soon because for the record, this kinda majorly blew.
Well, everything did, really. Just this part in particular. Apparently getting kidnapped and placed in a game where the aim was to kill your classmates or die was way less interesting than school. Like, least there were lunchtimes there. This place didn’t even have lunches.
The light of the day bled into the evening as Ty fled the Pier, half-running and half-stumbling his way to whatever safe place he could find. By this point he had to have lost his pursuers, if they'd even been chasing him down in the first place. He had no idea if they'd stopped to help their friend. He wasn't sure if there was any way to even try.
It was hard to believe a person could bleed that much that quickly. It had just been an impulse, a desperate act to free himself. All he had done was act on instinct, without thinking. Now as the taste of blood lingered in his mouth and with the sensation of tearing still-living flesh with his teeth fresh in his mind, he found it increasingly difficult to stop thinking about it.
I only did what I knew how to do - save myself. She'll have to understand. She knows me. She has to understand. It was going to be her or the rest of us in the end, anyways. Why should it matter how that happens?
"She'll understand. She has to... she has to…”
Ty felt his strength waver, as he tripped over the uneven ground and rolled to his side once again. As his shoulder slammed into the dirt, he cried out in pain and frustration. It hadn’t stopped hurting since Chris had taken him down. If he hadn't acted when he did, she would have snapped it. The pain he felt should have been a reminder of how necessary his actions had been. It should be something to use, not to fear. He was too inured to violence to be this weak, this cowed by pain and suffering.
"Get up! Get the fuck up!"
Venting his self-hatred through gritted teeth, Ty willed himself back to his feet and continued onward. The village he had so intentionally encircled before was now his only viable option. The game had changed for him, and Ty knew what had to come next. Willpower alone wasn't enough, not to walk the road that he’d now been forced upon. After the announcements, things would only escalate. He had to survive that escalation long enough to make this all worth it, and that meant finding somewhere to rest and recuperate.
"No. Not gonna suffer for no reason. It has to... has to be worth it."
All he needed were a few moments of peace to think through everything that had happened. Clean himself up enough that it left some doubt as to what might've happened to him. Bandage his feet and hands; at the very least he’d covered enough ground to have a few ideas as to where to hide, and which paths to avoid. It might end up having been worth the blisters.
There were no doubt some who wouldn’t trust the reports of what had occurred, who’d still give him the benefit of the doubt out of some misplaced sense of justice. They would be outnumbered by those who had a far more pragmatic attitude, of this he had no doubt. It was the reason he’d spared Claude; Chris’ death was going to paint a target on his back.
For all he’d wanted to defy the terrorists and the expectations of his peers, they would have their monster. The list of the day’s dead would tell him enough about what his priorities were from then on out. If by the morning he discovered someone had robbed him of the only shred of purpose he had left - he’d play the part.
Ty staggered towards the first house he saw, and opened the door.
((Tyrell Lahti continued from before the day is done, my prince is gonna come))
His hands left bloody smears across the faded and chipping paint of the front door. Ty leaned up against it, taking stock of his appearance as he caught his breath. His face must have been drenched in blood from the nose down, and it had stained most of the top half of his shirt. Beads of sweat carved tiny paths through Chris' blood across his still-glistening skin.
Ty idly slid the duffel bag off of his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. His eyes darted to different points in the dimly lit room, startled as he realized not only was he not alone, he was severely outnumbered. His forearm quivered as he produced the crowbar from the bag slowly, his other hand up in an open gesture of deference. Ty’s composure rapidly crumbled as he attempted in vain to account for his appearance, unable to meet the gaze of any of the three people now stood before him.
"I - I was just attacked. I panicked. Chris, and her friends. They were going to kill me. I made a choice. Was afraid I was gonna die. I can't be afraid, not again. I can't let that happen. Not yet, not alone. I just wanted to live. Someone's counting on me to live. She... she'll hate me for this. I had to do it. I just need somewhere to stay. Please."
He took an uneasy breath, and met their eyes for the first time. Would they believe him? Tyrell wasn't sure he believed himself. Though he didn't feel remorse for ending Chris’ life - it was already forfeit given where they had all found themselves - the consequences of his actions terrified him. All he could hope for was that these people wouldn't realize what it was in particular that had elicited such fear.
Words now escaped him, and all he could offer the group was a look of desperation and terror.
It was hard to believe a person could bleed that much that quickly. It had just been an impulse, a desperate act to free himself. All he had done was act on instinct, without thinking. Now as the taste of blood lingered in his mouth and with the sensation of tearing still-living flesh with his teeth fresh in his mind, he found it increasingly difficult to stop thinking about it.
I only did what I knew how to do - save myself. She'll have to understand. She knows me. She has to understand. It was going to be her or the rest of us in the end, anyways. Why should it matter how that happens?
"She'll understand. She has to... she has to…”
Ty felt his strength waver, as he tripped over the uneven ground and rolled to his side once again. As his shoulder slammed into the dirt, he cried out in pain and frustration. It hadn’t stopped hurting since Chris had taken him down. If he hadn't acted when he did, she would have snapped it. The pain he felt should have been a reminder of how necessary his actions had been. It should be something to use, not to fear. He was too inured to violence to be this weak, this cowed by pain and suffering.
"Get up! Get the fuck up!"
Venting his self-hatred through gritted teeth, Ty willed himself back to his feet and continued onward. The village he had so intentionally encircled before was now his only viable option. The game had changed for him, and Ty knew what had to come next. Willpower alone wasn't enough, not to walk the road that he’d now been forced upon. After the announcements, things would only escalate. He had to survive that escalation long enough to make this all worth it, and that meant finding somewhere to rest and recuperate.
"No. Not gonna suffer for no reason. It has to... has to be worth it."
All he needed were a few moments of peace to think through everything that had happened. Clean himself up enough that it left some doubt as to what might've happened to him. Bandage his feet and hands; at the very least he’d covered enough ground to have a few ideas as to where to hide, and which paths to avoid. It might end up having been worth the blisters.
There were no doubt some who wouldn’t trust the reports of what had occurred, who’d still give him the benefit of the doubt out of some misplaced sense of justice. They would be outnumbered by those who had a far more pragmatic attitude, of this he had no doubt. It was the reason he’d spared Claude; Chris’ death was going to paint a target on his back.
For all he’d wanted to defy the terrorists and the expectations of his peers, they would have their monster. The list of the day’s dead would tell him enough about what his priorities were from then on out. If by the morning he discovered someone had robbed him of the only shred of purpose he had left - he’d play the part.
Ty staggered towards the first house he saw, and opened the door.
((Tyrell Lahti continued from before the day is done, my prince is gonna come))
His hands left bloody smears across the faded and chipping paint of the front door. Ty leaned up against it, taking stock of his appearance as he caught his breath. His face must have been drenched in blood from the nose down, and it had stained most of the top half of his shirt. Beads of sweat carved tiny paths through Chris' blood across his still-glistening skin.
Ty idly slid the duffel bag off of his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. His eyes darted to different points in the dimly lit room, startled as he realized not only was he not alone, he was severely outnumbered. His forearm quivered as he produced the crowbar from the bag slowly, his other hand up in an open gesture of deference. Ty’s composure rapidly crumbled as he attempted in vain to account for his appearance, unable to meet the gaze of any of the three people now stood before him.
"I - I was just attacked. I panicked. Chris, and her friends. They were going to kill me. I made a choice. Was afraid I was gonna die. I can't be afraid, not again. I can't let that happen. Not yet, not alone. I just wanted to live. Someone's counting on me to live. She... she'll hate me for this. I had to do it. I just need somewhere to stay. Please."
He took an uneasy breath, and met their eyes for the first time. Would they believe him? Tyrell wasn't sure he believed himself. Though he didn't feel remorse for ending Chris’ life - it was already forfeit given where they had all found themselves - the consequences of his actions terrified him. All he could hope for was that these people wouldn't realize what it was in particular that had elicited such fear.
Words now escaped him, and all he could offer the group was a look of desperation and terror.
Katrina sighed another breath of relief. Felix and Charelle had been extremely accommodating to her and the others, and that meant that the five of them could just sit in the house peacefully. It didn’t take Katrina entirely out of the situation, but it meant she could at least push it back for a bit. They were five strong, and that would hopefully dissuade anyone from trying to mess with them.
The break had not only allowed Katrina to relax a bit, but also gave her a chance to see what else she had in her bags. She found the paper calling her sword a “nodachi,” something she didn’t realize was a word. But considering she had mentally been calling her traveling companion the wrong name, she figured it would be good to get the name of her weapon right. The issued-supplies didn’t matter much to her, but it was the personal items she took stock of.
To her dismay, her ukulele was gone. She needed to fix a string, but if the terrorists had it, it was probably gone forever. She doubted any of those monsters would know how to play the ukulele enough to fix it, so maybe it was best it got tossed away. She still had a lot of her souvenirs, such as her Kennedy Center clothes and jewelry. They thankfully left her makeup bag for her, allowing her to fix her face after she ruined it with all her blubbering. She even still had the bag of carrot chips she brought for the bus in her bag. It was good to see she still had some of the pleasures of the real world with her, even if they only brought a slight bit of comfort.
Katrina mostly sat on the floor, cross-legged and chatting with the others. She started to wish that the entire experience would be like this. Just a few decent people sitting in solitude, refusing to play the game. Maybe then they’d all have a better chance of surviving. Maybe then rescue would show with them barely having done anything.
Of course, that was until a bloody phantom came bursting into the house. She quickly yelped and jumped to her feet, putting her back against the wall and clutching the nodachi. That was way too much blood to be on a normal person. Katrina could feel the sword shaking in her hand. The guy was muttering something about being attacked by someone named Chris, and how he had to kill them or he would die.
Katrina didn’t even know if she could believe him. The fact that he ran in without even giving them the chance to react and launched into some spiel about a self-defense killing rang false to her. She didn’t see why she should believe him, and even if she did, it sounded like Chris was with some people who also wanted him dead. It had only been a day, and already people were dying or ganging up to kill people? The thought terrified her.
Katrina quickly slipped the nodachi out of the sheath and raised it to the intruder, keeping her distance from him.
“P-please,” she said. “I-if you’re here to cause trouble, don’t. Please just go away.”
Katrina couldn’t believe this was happening. She had enough time to realize her freakout at the lighthouse was a bit much, but now that this bloody, murderous guy was here, she was already prepared to drive someone away with threats of violence. Granted, she had very little reason to trust someone covered in that much blood, so she wasn't going to take that chance. He could kill her and everyone there, and that was something she didn't want to happen at all.
“We don’t need trouble here. So please leave now.”
The break had not only allowed Katrina to relax a bit, but also gave her a chance to see what else she had in her bags. She found the paper calling her sword a “nodachi,” something she didn’t realize was a word. But considering she had mentally been calling her traveling companion the wrong name, she figured it would be good to get the name of her weapon right. The issued-supplies didn’t matter much to her, but it was the personal items she took stock of.
To her dismay, her ukulele was gone. She needed to fix a string, but if the terrorists had it, it was probably gone forever. She doubted any of those monsters would know how to play the ukulele enough to fix it, so maybe it was best it got tossed away. She still had a lot of her souvenirs, such as her Kennedy Center clothes and jewelry. They thankfully left her makeup bag for her, allowing her to fix her face after she ruined it with all her blubbering. She even still had the bag of carrot chips she brought for the bus in her bag. It was good to see she still had some of the pleasures of the real world with her, even if they only brought a slight bit of comfort.
Katrina mostly sat on the floor, cross-legged and chatting with the others. She started to wish that the entire experience would be like this. Just a few decent people sitting in solitude, refusing to play the game. Maybe then they’d all have a better chance of surviving. Maybe then rescue would show with them barely having done anything.
Of course, that was until a bloody phantom came bursting into the house. She quickly yelped and jumped to her feet, putting her back against the wall and clutching the nodachi. That was way too much blood to be on a normal person. Katrina could feel the sword shaking in her hand. The guy was muttering something about being attacked by someone named Chris, and how he had to kill them or he would die.
Katrina didn’t even know if she could believe him. The fact that he ran in without even giving them the chance to react and launched into some spiel about a self-defense killing rang false to her. She didn’t see why she should believe him, and even if she did, it sounded like Chris was with some people who also wanted him dead. It had only been a day, and already people were dying or ganging up to kill people? The thought terrified her.
Katrina quickly slipped the nodachi out of the sheath and raised it to the intruder, keeping her distance from him.
“P-please,” she said. “I-if you’re here to cause trouble, don’t. Please just go away.”
Katrina couldn’t believe this was happening. She had enough time to realize her freakout at the lighthouse was a bit much, but now that this bloody, murderous guy was here, she was already prepared to drive someone away with threats of violence. Granted, she had very little reason to trust someone covered in that much blood, so she wasn't going to take that chance. He could kill her and everyone there, and that was something she didn't want to happen at all.
“We don’t need trouble here. So please leave now.”
-
CondorTalon
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And so their temporary(?) alliance had been formed. There wasn't much else to say about it, really. The five of them were in a good position to hold out, and that, apparently, became the plan.
Whatever, it was a good plan. Felix wasn't really feeling like wandering around anyway.
Felix never considered himself a popular guy, but he was pretty sure he was good enough at small gatherings like these. Even if the circumstances were unusual, it didn't stop him from trying to keep the atmosphere light, even if the task was made harder by the lingering wooziness and the fact that these people weren't his usual social clique. Circumstance brought them together, but he could try.
Perhaps, in a sense, it was good that he was here with people he was more unfamiliar with. That meant he could ask more questions, learn new things. Familiarizing himself with his fellow students that he didn't hang out with as much was, in a weird way, one upside to this whole thing.
Felix leaned in as Demetri flashed the Magic card. Oh, that one was, well. He'd seen it played by a few people in Angel tribal decks. It could set up a few wacky combos, like with Avacyn or Iona, but it's cost was too high to make it efficient unless you were bringing something beefy back. Still, though, good card.
Before he could say anything in response though, the door chose that particular moment to burst open. One look at the newcomer that appeared was enough to send Felix's mind racing. Katrina suddenly unsheathing the sword didn't help matters at all.
Felix shuffled back on the floor. Their facade of normality had been broken in an instant, and Felix had to suddenly think about how to deal with this person. He hoped that they'd leave quietly, but if not...
Felix gulped as his thoughts went to the gun in his bag.
Whatever, it was a good plan. Felix wasn't really feeling like wandering around anyway.
Felix never considered himself a popular guy, but he was pretty sure he was good enough at small gatherings like these. Even if the circumstances were unusual, it didn't stop him from trying to keep the atmosphere light, even if the task was made harder by the lingering wooziness and the fact that these people weren't his usual social clique. Circumstance brought them together, but he could try.
Perhaps, in a sense, it was good that he was here with people he was more unfamiliar with. That meant he could ask more questions, learn new things. Familiarizing himself with his fellow students that he didn't hang out with as much was, in a weird way, one upside to this whole thing.
Felix leaned in as Demetri flashed the Magic card. Oh, that one was, well. He'd seen it played by a few people in Angel tribal decks. It could set up a few wacky combos, like with Avacyn or Iona, but it's cost was too high to make it efficient unless you were bringing something beefy back. Still, though, good card.
Before he could say anything in response though, the door chose that particular moment to burst open. One look at the newcomer that appeared was enough to send Felix's mind racing. Katrina suddenly unsheathing the sword didn't help matters at all.
Felix shuffled back on the floor. Their facade of normality had been broken in an instant, and Felix had to suddenly think about how to deal with this person. He hoped that they'd leave quietly, but if not...
Felix gulped as his thoughts went to the gun in his bag.
He’d been planning, to like, stare at Katrina in intervals of half-seconds and eventually meekly ask her if she’d share a few of the carrot chips. Those plans fell out of hand. Same with the entire deck of Magic cards, all fluttering to the floor in a haphazard waterfall.
Demetri, for a moment, was pretty legitimately scared. Wet his pants on the highlight reels levels of scared. His lungs briefly refused to work, wound up a bit too tight, because the blood looked and smelled way too real, this close and personal. Demetri was the closest one in the room- only Katrina was any closer, she who sleeps with blades, she who had made him a bit uncomfortable, the way she’d casually kept it on herself like she’d been ready to Naruto run her sword up their asses in the non-euphemistic sense.
Demetri, in reminding himself of the anime-caliber of threats he was dealing with, was able to relax. A bit. He could lose the diaper. Bravado. Manliness, all that shit. Maybe his ego speaking, maybe he was the only one in the room who could deescalate. Maybe the adrenaline in his veins was as sweet on the tongue as alcohol.
He stood his ground.
“Alright then.”
Well he was still trembling some- and that was like, a little bit of a half step he took backwards, but Demetri was actually standing up to him. Tyrell. The dude who was, with maybe the Carters as honorary mention, the uncontested winner of the GHHS ‘most likely to kill someone on SOTF’ award. An award-winning about half a foot taller than him, a height difference that Demetri was staring down (up) with at least some amount of bravery… puffing his lower lip out, or something, not like Demetri actually knew how to properly put on a brave face.
“Sounds about right, doesn’t it? You killed someone, like literally everyone expected you to the moment they woke up.” Demetri shook his head. “You know, somehow I don’t buy it.”
Demetri was aggressively not going to take this seriously- because? The alternative was fucking bullshit.
Just had to be. It was like, come the fuck on, Tyrell wasn’t that bad a dude- he dated Erika and she was pretty cool. She was someone Demetri knew, at least a little. Knew enough. Tyrell’s whole temper thing just had to be something testosterone-y.
The overall thing was, Demetri had spent this entire time assuming. Along the lines of: no one was actually going to do it. They were going to die because of the terrorists- not in spite of them, see. That important word choice difference- by god, Demetri could actually do clever things with the English language.
Demetri was pretty sure of this shit- see, it wasn’t like GHHS was rat’s ass podunk town, Arizona or Seattle liberals half burned out on Mary Jane or whatever fuck shit had caused the previous versions to spiral out of control. He knew these people. Sure they ragged on him and made his old day-to-day life annoyingly vapid and bland, but that was just the petty shit. They were better than this, even the Lorenzos and the Myleses of this world. Worst case scenario, they were all cucks and losers and they’d never really… do that. They’d posture and whine and piss themselves some. But that was it- exactly. There was just no way these people, these faces Demetri knew, would really go so far as to do the one thing that they could never, ever take back.
And Demetri was standing by that- the most beta of his thoughts ever. He was, for once, the right one. Morally, actually, in all the possible ways. Crazy shit- like, imagine that- believing in his peers for once. This was way too basic. No killing, no becoming a murderer. Save that shit for the Minecraft private server. Even they couldn’t fuck this up.
The blood had to be fake. This had to be a ploy of some sort.
“Chris? Dude- you’re fucking with me! I know she’s like, libtard ‘there are three-thousand genders dude’ supreme, but she wouldn’t just like, attack anyone. And neither would you,” Demetri concluded with a damn firm emphasis even he didn’t know he had in him. “So whatever you’re up to with all this fake out shit, just drop it. This isn’t funny, dude.” And that definitely meant something, coming from Mr. Copypasta ‘300 confirmed shitposts’ himself.
“I bet you don’t even have a legit weapon to back it up. Katrina’s right- if you’re not here to do anything productive, just go. She’s got a sword and she might even know how to use it.”
See, that was that ultimatum-style of negotiations. Bluff hard enough and everything would resolve itself out. An Art of the Deal classic.
Demetri, for a moment, was pretty legitimately scared. Wet his pants on the highlight reels levels of scared. His lungs briefly refused to work, wound up a bit too tight, because the blood looked and smelled way too real, this close and personal. Demetri was the closest one in the room- only Katrina was any closer, she who sleeps with blades, she who had made him a bit uncomfortable, the way she’d casually kept it on herself like she’d been ready to Naruto run her sword up their asses in the non-euphemistic sense.
Demetri, in reminding himself of the anime-caliber of threats he was dealing with, was able to relax. A bit. He could lose the diaper. Bravado. Manliness, all that shit. Maybe his ego speaking, maybe he was the only one in the room who could deescalate. Maybe the adrenaline in his veins was as sweet on the tongue as alcohol.
He stood his ground.
“Alright then.”
Well he was still trembling some- and that was like, a little bit of a half step he took backwards, but Demetri was actually standing up to him. Tyrell. The dude who was, with maybe the Carters as honorary mention, the uncontested winner of the GHHS ‘most likely to kill someone on SOTF’ award. An award-winning about half a foot taller than him, a height difference that Demetri was staring down (up) with at least some amount of bravery… puffing his lower lip out, or something, not like Demetri actually knew how to properly put on a brave face.
“Sounds about right, doesn’t it? You killed someone, like literally everyone expected you to the moment they woke up.” Demetri shook his head. “You know, somehow I don’t buy it.”
Demetri was aggressively not going to take this seriously- because? The alternative was fucking bullshit.
Just had to be. It was like, come the fuck on, Tyrell wasn’t that bad a dude- he dated Erika and she was pretty cool. She was someone Demetri knew, at least a little. Knew enough. Tyrell’s whole temper thing just had to be something testosterone-y.
The overall thing was, Demetri had spent this entire time assuming. Along the lines of: no one was actually going to do it. They were going to die because of the terrorists- not in spite of them, see. That important word choice difference- by god, Demetri could actually do clever things with the English language.
Demetri was pretty sure of this shit- see, it wasn’t like GHHS was rat’s ass podunk town, Arizona or Seattle liberals half burned out on Mary Jane or whatever fuck shit had caused the previous versions to spiral out of control. He knew these people. Sure they ragged on him and made his old day-to-day life annoyingly vapid and bland, but that was just the petty shit. They were better than this, even the Lorenzos and the Myleses of this world. Worst case scenario, they were all cucks and losers and they’d never really… do that. They’d posture and whine and piss themselves some. But that was it- exactly. There was just no way these people, these faces Demetri knew, would really go so far as to do the one thing that they could never, ever take back.
And Demetri was standing by that- the most beta of his thoughts ever. He was, for once, the right one. Morally, actually, in all the possible ways. Crazy shit- like, imagine that- believing in his peers for once. This was way too basic. No killing, no becoming a murderer. Save that shit for the Minecraft private server. Even they couldn’t fuck this up.
The blood had to be fake. This had to be a ploy of some sort.
“Chris? Dude- you’re fucking with me! I know she’s like, libtard ‘there are three-thousand genders dude’ supreme, but she wouldn’t just like, attack anyone. And neither would you,” Demetri concluded with a damn firm emphasis even he didn’t know he had in him. “So whatever you’re up to with all this fake out shit, just drop it. This isn’t funny, dude.” And that definitely meant something, coming from Mr. Copypasta ‘300 confirmed shitposts’ himself.
“I bet you don’t even have a legit weapon to back it up. Katrina’s right- if you’re not here to do anything productive, just go. She’s got a sword and she might even know how to use it.”
See, that was that ultimatum-style of negotiations. Bluff hard enough and everything would resolve itself out. An Art of the Deal classic.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
He wasn't one for begging and pleading, but he had done so nonetheless. There was no time to be proud when everything hurt and he had mere hours until the die was cast, and everyone was going to try and kill him.
Except, as his eyes gradually fixed on the gleam of the impressive sword before him, he realized that hoping even for a few hours was far too optimistic. If he couldn't get Katrina to back down, there was only one way this was going to go. It was altogether too easy to imagine the kind of damage that sword could do to him, even in the hands of someone her size.
He shook his head, standing tall in front of the door. It might as well have been a solid wall, given how much Ty was intent to not go back out there. The darkness reminded him of what dying had felt like.
"I can't leave! Everywhere I went, people have tried to kill me. I'm not going to hurt anyone, I just need to stop for a fucking moment. I can't walk around like this, I can't-"
Someone else took a step towards him. Ty recognized Demetri immediately. The kid was a walking repository of the very worst kind of alt-right garbage. It wasn’t even appreciably hateable like the Nazi-lite douche-bags who walked around in ill-fitting khakis wielding tiki torches. No, Demetri's bullshit was the kind that simultaneously seemed to value individual responsibility while also excusing any kind of accountability for his own deficiencies. Of which, there were too many to give have given a shit about him up until this point.
If he’d spent any time thinking about him before now, he might’ve expected Demetri to have gone off the rails and start purifying the island of all of its “Chads” and "Cucks" or some shit like that. Of course the guy had picked this very moment to grow a pair.
Ty listened to his tirade, wincing at Demetri’s mention of how everyone had expected Ty to act.
He knew it hadn’t just been some garbage thought playing over and over in his head. He’d been right the whole time. Part of him wanted to agree with Demetri, to claim it had all been a joke in incredibly poor taste. As he felt a drop of bloody sweat run down his neck, he could barely stifle a grim snicker.
Demetri might have been detached from reality, but Ty wasn’t. He gesticulated with the crowbar in the other boy's direction the blood on his hands and the cold steel proving as much of a point as he tried to with his words.
“If you want to come over here and see for yourself, be my guest. Judge me all you want. Tell me I’m wrong to have defended myself. I don’t give a shit. But don’t accuse me of being a liar. I’m telling the truth.”
He looked back to Katrina.
“And don’t fucking threaten me. I’m not leaving. That is not an option. Not tonight, and not after what I’ve seen and done.”
Except, as his eyes gradually fixed on the gleam of the impressive sword before him, he realized that hoping even for a few hours was far too optimistic. If he couldn't get Katrina to back down, there was only one way this was going to go. It was altogether too easy to imagine the kind of damage that sword could do to him, even in the hands of someone her size.
He shook his head, standing tall in front of the door. It might as well have been a solid wall, given how much Ty was intent to not go back out there. The darkness reminded him of what dying had felt like.
"I can't leave! Everywhere I went, people have tried to kill me. I'm not going to hurt anyone, I just need to stop for a fucking moment. I can't walk around like this, I can't-"
Someone else took a step towards him. Ty recognized Demetri immediately. The kid was a walking repository of the very worst kind of alt-right garbage. It wasn’t even appreciably hateable like the Nazi-lite douche-bags who walked around in ill-fitting khakis wielding tiki torches. No, Demetri's bullshit was the kind that simultaneously seemed to value individual responsibility while also excusing any kind of accountability for his own deficiencies. Of which, there were too many to give have given a shit about him up until this point.
If he’d spent any time thinking about him before now, he might’ve expected Demetri to have gone off the rails and start purifying the island of all of its “Chads” and "Cucks" or some shit like that. Of course the guy had picked this very moment to grow a pair.
Ty listened to his tirade, wincing at Demetri’s mention of how everyone had expected Ty to act.
He knew it hadn’t just been some garbage thought playing over and over in his head. He’d been right the whole time. Part of him wanted to agree with Demetri, to claim it had all been a joke in incredibly poor taste. As he felt a drop of bloody sweat run down his neck, he could barely stifle a grim snicker.
Demetri might have been detached from reality, but Ty wasn’t. He gesticulated with the crowbar in the other boy's direction the blood on his hands and the cold steel proving as much of a point as he tried to with his words.
“If you want to come over here and see for yourself, be my guest. Judge me all you want. Tell me I’m wrong to have defended myself. I don’t give a shit. But don’t accuse me of being a liar. I’m telling the truth.”
He looked back to Katrina.
“And don’t fucking threaten me. I’m not leaving. That is not an option. Not tonight, and not after what I’ve seen and done.”