Zach now had a destination in mind. First thing in the morning, he’d travel to the village and camp out in one of the small houses. However, with that in mind, Zach had factor in any human element that would impede his journey.
Suppose he ran into someone with killing intent. Just about anyone could step on him. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself with his can of lube. If only he didn’t have such a shitty weapon. There was also the fact that he was carrying a book bag and duffel bag, so he probably wouldn’t be able to run away quickly enough. Maybe not joining Demetri and the two girls was such a good idea.
Zach looked over at Sven. He was bigger than Zach, for sure, but he had a pretty useless weapon. Still, if push came to shove, Sven could prove useful.
“So Sven,” Zach said, “I’m thinking of traveling to this nearby village tomorrow morning. Wanna come?”
Just keep breathin' and breathin' and breathin'
(Open)
B018: Ned Jackson- 
G039: Yuki Hayashibara- 
B034: Zachary Beck- -
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The offer probably stemmed from the best intentions, Sven told himself. He had no reason to think otherwise. This boy seemed angry, a rolling twister of emotion and energy, but none of it had been directed at Sven. If anything, he was in this moment being rather calm, and he was inviting Sven to be part of something. This was a pretty uncommon situation, and it was probably not wise to shoot it down out of hand.
"I'm fine here," Sven said, "but thanks."
There were many different types of wisdom, he told himself. There was wisdom in the overall, prolonging-one's-survival sense, but there was also a type of wisdom in knowing one's limits and preferences. Sometimes these even aligned, and overcame the wisdom of spreading one's social wings. Perhaps the village would be safer, though he doubted it quite strongly. If there was anything there worth experiencing, it would most likely be shelter and supplies, which would in turn prove highly appealing to the vast throngs of desperate classmates. That meant more company, which meant more conflict. That in turn would turn the village into a crucible of death and destruction.
This little thing Sven didn't circulate widely among his peers was that he actually had an alarmingly comprehensive knowledge and understanding of past versions of SOTF. Really, when did that sort of thing come up in polite conversation? Never. It wasn't like he was a fan or anything. It wasn't like he'd watched the bad stuff. He'd never seen a clip of somebody getting killed—whoops, correction, that was true before the briefing—but he had read the entire Wikipedia summaries of each version top to bottom, multiple times. He'd followed the links that branched out, had read about major movers and shakers, survivors and killers. He'd tracked down articles and summaries and discussions from when they had been ongoing. He'd read a firsthand account of the events of a decade ago. His family and his therapists had quietly suggested that this was perhaps not the best use of his time and mental energy. Really, that was an argument he would've been okay losing, but it sure was proving potentially valuable now.
Anyways, residential areas were almost invariably hotspots of activity, which in turn transformed them into centers of violence. It wasn't that Sven was exactly afraid, per se, and more that he had wrangled at least a temporary reprieve from any need to go roaming about. This old, drafty ruin would pique the curiosity of some, but in all likelihood they would leave when they discovered there was nothing of interest here. Just like this guy was planning to do.
"You know," Sven said, "this will probably be the safer place to stay."
"I'm fine here," Sven said, "but thanks."
There were many different types of wisdom, he told himself. There was wisdom in the overall, prolonging-one's-survival sense, but there was also a type of wisdom in knowing one's limits and preferences. Sometimes these even aligned, and overcame the wisdom of spreading one's social wings. Perhaps the village would be safer, though he doubted it quite strongly. If there was anything there worth experiencing, it would most likely be shelter and supplies, which would in turn prove highly appealing to the vast throngs of desperate classmates. That meant more company, which meant more conflict. That in turn would turn the village into a crucible of death and destruction.
This little thing Sven didn't circulate widely among his peers was that he actually had an alarmingly comprehensive knowledge and understanding of past versions of SOTF. Really, when did that sort of thing come up in polite conversation? Never. It wasn't like he was a fan or anything. It wasn't like he'd watched the bad stuff. He'd never seen a clip of somebody getting killed—whoops, correction, that was true before the briefing—but he had read the entire Wikipedia summaries of each version top to bottom, multiple times. He'd followed the links that branched out, had read about major movers and shakers, survivors and killers. He'd tracked down articles and summaries and discussions from when they had been ongoing. He'd read a firsthand account of the events of a decade ago. His family and his therapists had quietly suggested that this was perhaps not the best use of his time and mental energy. Really, that was an argument he would've been okay losing, but it sure was proving potentially valuable now.
Anyways, residential areas were almost invariably hotspots of activity, which in turn transformed them into centers of violence. It wasn't that Sven was exactly afraid, per se, and more that he had wrangled at least a temporary reprieve from any need to go roaming about. This old, drafty ruin would pique the curiosity of some, but in all likelihood they would leave when they discovered there was nothing of interest here. Just like this guy was planning to do.
"You know," Sven said, "this will probably be the safer place to stay."
“Are you sure?,” Zach asked, a bit condescendingly.
Figures Sven would reject Zach’s offer to find a better shelter. Still, it’s a little understandable. This was the first hiding place Sven could find, so he wouldn’t be willing to give it up so easily. It doesn’t change the fact that the place was completely run down. Zach had to take a different approach.
“What if there’s a storm?,” Zach asked, “I doubt this place would protect you against the elements. This place doesn’t even have a roof.”
Zach tried to present a worst case scenario to not just convince Sven, but also himself, that setting out for the village was a good idea. He then thought back on the rules of this game.
“Plus, you never know,” Zach continued, “this place could become a danger zone tomorrow morning. And these fucking leashes they got on us will burst!”
Zach felt a chill in his spine when he said that last part. Pushing that thought back, he made his conclusion.
“I don’t want to take that risk.”
Figures Sven would reject Zach’s offer to find a better shelter. Still, it’s a little understandable. This was the first hiding place Sven could find, so he wouldn’t be willing to give it up so easily. It doesn’t change the fact that the place was completely run down. Zach had to take a different approach.
“What if there’s a storm?,” Zach asked, “I doubt this place would protect you against the elements. This place doesn’t even have a roof.”
Zach tried to present a worst case scenario to not just convince Sven, but also himself, that setting out for the village was a good idea. He then thought back on the rules of this game.
“Plus, you never know,” Zach continued, “this place could become a danger zone tomorrow morning. And these fucking leashes they got on us will burst!”
Zach felt a chill in his spine when he said that last part. Pushing that thought back, he made his conclusion.
“I don’t want to take that risk.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Danger Zones can turn up anywhere," Sven said, "but most commonly are used either to herd students into central locations or to shake up overly-fortified groups. In any event, we'd have plenty of time to leave. The point is to force people to move, not to kill them."
Was that a little too much direct information about the finer details of the theory underlying their predicament? Quite possibly. Sven took a deep breath, one that sounded slightly wet to him.
"...or so I've heard."
Perfect recovery.
He of course hadn't touched on this guy's other points. There was a measure of sense to them. If it rained, Sven would get wet here, even if he tried to fabricate some sort of lean-to with the emergency blanket included in the first aid supplies. His comfort would be dictated by the weather, the temperature rising and falling with that of the ambient environment. There might well be bugs.
And yet, on the other hand, while the ruin would no doubt draw some degree of attention by virtue of its being noted specifically on the map and being a structure in an area otherwise devoid thereof, it felt better to him. He hadn't wanted to leave in the first place, and he had found a way to claw back his sanctuary, at least for a time.
Was that a little too much direct information about the finer details of the theory underlying their predicament? Quite possibly. Sven took a deep breath, one that sounded slightly wet to him.
"...or so I've heard."
Perfect recovery.
He of course hadn't touched on this guy's other points. There was a measure of sense to them. If it rained, Sven would get wet here, even if he tried to fabricate some sort of lean-to with the emergency blanket included in the first aid supplies. His comfort would be dictated by the weather, the temperature rising and falling with that of the ambient environment. There might well be bugs.
And yet, on the other hand, while the ruin would no doubt draw some degree of attention by virtue of its being noted specifically on the map and being a structure in an area otherwise devoid thereof, it felt better to him. He hadn't wanted to leave in the first place, and he had found a way to claw back his sanctuary, at least for a time.
How could Sven be so certain about how the danger zones function? Almost sounded as if he knew for a fact that’s how they worked. Zach wondered if Sven had done research about SOTF before. He himself hadn’t looked into the specifics of SOTF, didn’t seem like something any normal person would research. He figured only people with morbid curiosity or psychopaths would be interested in that kind of shit.
“Okay,” Zach said, taking in what Sven said, “You seem to what you’re talking about. But I still think there’s better shelter in the village.”
Zach finished up his protein bar. He grimaced at the taste. The aftertaste was even worse. Zach then thought about what Sven said about danger zones shaking up fortified groups. What if the village had a ton of students there already? The area could become a danger zone and send a bunch of students scattering throughout the island. If he was going to lay low, Zach would have to pick somewhere inconspicuous. Zach looked at the map and his eyes skimmed towards the cliffside.
“If the village doesn’t work out,” Zach continued, “there is a temple by the cliffs. It’ll take longer to get there though.”
“Okay,” Zach said, taking in what Sven said, “You seem to what you’re talking about. But I still think there’s better shelter in the village.”
Zach finished up his protein bar. He grimaced at the taste. The aftertaste was even worse. Zach then thought about what Sven said about danger zones shaking up fortified groups. What if the village had a ton of students there already? The area could become a danger zone and send a bunch of students scattering throughout the island. If he was going to lay low, Zach would have to pick somewhere inconspicuous. Zach looked at the map and his eyes skimmed towards the cliffside.
“If the village doesn’t work out,” Zach continued, “there is a temple by the cliffs. It’ll take longer to get there though.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Mm," Sven said, "maybe."
Watching the other boy eat made him briefly pause and try to take conscious stock of his own physical needs. Was he hungry? Not really. Maybe it was due to having only woken up somewhat recently, or maybe this whole situation had just severed the tethers that normally connected him to concerns like not starving to death. Though of course, nobody here would be starving; that took a very long time indeed and unless there was some sort of further medical complication, diabetes or the like, they would all be dead of other causes far before it could take effect. Even setting aside the violent ends they were likely to come to, there were concerns about disease, water supply, exhaustion.
Exposure.
Really, what was the point of seeking shelter so far in advance? The walls here kept the wind manageable. The obvious desolation discouraged guests. Weather could become a factor, but would do so for everyone simultaneously, forcing all those with the same idea to contend against each other in a cluster of tension awaiting the strike of a match. Was that more hazardous than sitting in the rain?
And as to a temple, well, Sven had absolutely no intention of having anything to do with that. No, that would be tempting fate (or the divine, or its infernal opposite) in a direct way indeed. There was a lot here worth being afraid of, but in this moment at least there was little Sven truly, viscerally feared. Poking around in an abandoned temple was one of those things, and the presence of this guy hanging out with him, with his blunt and likely-blasphemous demeanor would do little indeed to mitigate that.
"It can be tempting to move around if there's nothing else obvious to do," Sven said, "but I," and there his confidence and ease started to sizzle and turn to vapor, and his speech faltered.
"I, well, I think," he said, and then he gave a shrug. "We should think before we act."
There was more to say, about people running around pell-mell for no reason, and in so doing exposing themselves to danger and throwing away what advantages they had in favor of illusory hope. But really, what did it matter? The end would be more or less the same for him, and, he so strongly suspected, for the boy sharing his current habitat.
Watching the other boy eat made him briefly pause and try to take conscious stock of his own physical needs. Was he hungry? Not really. Maybe it was due to having only woken up somewhat recently, or maybe this whole situation had just severed the tethers that normally connected him to concerns like not starving to death. Though of course, nobody here would be starving; that took a very long time indeed and unless there was some sort of further medical complication, diabetes or the like, they would all be dead of other causes far before it could take effect. Even setting aside the violent ends they were likely to come to, there were concerns about disease, water supply, exhaustion.
Exposure.
Really, what was the point of seeking shelter so far in advance? The walls here kept the wind manageable. The obvious desolation discouraged guests. Weather could become a factor, but would do so for everyone simultaneously, forcing all those with the same idea to contend against each other in a cluster of tension awaiting the strike of a match. Was that more hazardous than sitting in the rain?
And as to a temple, well, Sven had absolutely no intention of having anything to do with that. No, that would be tempting fate (or the divine, or its infernal opposite) in a direct way indeed. There was a lot here worth being afraid of, but in this moment at least there was little Sven truly, viscerally feared. Poking around in an abandoned temple was one of those things, and the presence of this guy hanging out with him, with his blunt and likely-blasphemous demeanor would do little indeed to mitigate that.
"It can be tempting to move around if there's nothing else obvious to do," Sven said, "but I," and there his confidence and ease started to sizzle and turn to vapor, and his speech faltered.
"I, well, I think," he said, and then he gave a shrug. "We should think before we act."
There was more to say, about people running around pell-mell for no reason, and in so doing exposing themselves to danger and throwing away what advantages they had in favor of illusory hope. But really, what did it matter? The end would be more or less the same for him, and, he so strongly suspected, for the boy sharing his current habitat.
“I am thinking,” Zach said back in a sour tone, “Thinking of the best places to hide, in case I need to keep moving.”
That’s what Zach’s strategy came down to. He thought if he kept moving he’d stay out of trouble. If he could do that, maybe he would be able outlast most of the other students. Still, there was one more thing Zach needed to address. The fact that if he didn’t kill anyone, he’d have to play this fucking game again.
Zach went into deep thought on this. How would he even commit murder? He was tiny. He could definitely be seen as an easy target. A majority of the students are bigger than him. Compared to them, he was a goldfish in a shark tank. Also, he had a shit weapon. Other students may have gotten a gun or a sword like Katrina, what could a can of lubricant do against that?
Also, if he committed murder, what would his parents think? He wouldn’t be able to face them. They would disown him most likely. Being the parent of a known killer would reflect poorly on their image. Not that his parents were rich or had a high social standing or anything, but it would be a heavy toll to bare.
There was also his dream career to think about. He wanted to be an internet sensation turned TV star. His own prank show like the Carbonaro Effect or Impractical Jokers. Would anyone even want a TV series starring a known killer?
Zach had to think long term possibilities. Suppose the amount of students dwindled to the point where there were only a few people left, he might be able to make a move by that point. Less competition equals a higher chance for survival. Until then, he’d have to lay low. Sneak around, going from place to place, avoiding unnecessary conflict. As for food, hopefully he could find friends he trusted and convince them to share their rations. And perhaps form an alliance.
After a long pause, he spoke again.
“I’d rather not wait around in one place. You can stay here if you want, but that’s not my style.”
That’s what Zach’s strategy came down to. He thought if he kept moving he’d stay out of trouble. If he could do that, maybe he would be able outlast most of the other students. Still, there was one more thing Zach needed to address. The fact that if he didn’t kill anyone, he’d have to play this fucking game again.
Zach went into deep thought on this. How would he even commit murder? He was tiny. He could definitely be seen as an easy target. A majority of the students are bigger than him. Compared to them, he was a goldfish in a shark tank. Also, he had a shit weapon. Other students may have gotten a gun or a sword like Katrina, what could a can of lubricant do against that?
Also, if he committed murder, what would his parents think? He wouldn’t be able to face them. They would disown him most likely. Being the parent of a known killer would reflect poorly on their image. Not that his parents were rich or had a high social standing or anything, but it would be a heavy toll to bare.
There was also his dream career to think about. He wanted to be an internet sensation turned TV star. His own prank show like the Carbonaro Effect or Impractical Jokers. Would anyone even want a TV series starring a known killer?
Zach had to think long term possibilities. Suppose the amount of students dwindled to the point where there were only a few people left, he might be able to make a move by that point. Less competition equals a higher chance for survival. Until then, he’d have to lay low. Sneak around, going from place to place, avoiding unnecessary conflict. As for food, hopefully he could find friends he trusted and convince them to share their rations. And perhaps form an alliance.
After a long pause, he spoke again.
“I’d rather not wait around in one place. You can stay here if you want, but that’s not my style.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Mm," Sven said, "fair enough."
His interest in and energy for arguing this guy off his ill-considered stance were evaporating with great alacrity. Sven knew the score, but he also could make no practical use of it. Or, more precisely, he could use it selfishly but only to a point. He was doomed, and knew this. There was no cause to fight it. He could increase his comfort and minimize his suffering over the next few days, to a certain degree, assuming that things didn't take a turn for the worse and that he could keep a grip. Maybe in some other world, he could be a resource for somebody else, feed the fires and hone the steel and help them make it home since he couldn't. But then again, he'd probably just fail, and did he care enough about anyone to put in the effort? What if he picked someone horrid?
Sven pulled his bag around and opened it up and took out one of the bars. He looked at it, turned it over a few times, read its caloric information and ingredients. He started to tug at the wrapping, then changed his mind and put it back in the bag and instead took out a water bottle and took a long drink.
The water tasted like plastic. It tasted like oil and chemicals, and Sven hated it. He preferred tap water at home, never drank bottled water ever even if he liked how the Fiji brand had that square bottle, and he wondered how the various other types of water to be found here on the island might taste. If it rained, that could be nice and relatively safe. If he had to make use of lakes or streams, well, he would probably die of something else before the giardia got him.
His interest in and energy for arguing this guy off his ill-considered stance were evaporating with great alacrity. Sven knew the score, but he also could make no practical use of it. Or, more precisely, he could use it selfishly but only to a point. He was doomed, and knew this. There was no cause to fight it. He could increase his comfort and minimize his suffering over the next few days, to a certain degree, assuming that things didn't take a turn for the worse and that he could keep a grip. Maybe in some other world, he could be a resource for somebody else, feed the fires and hone the steel and help them make it home since he couldn't. But then again, he'd probably just fail, and did he care enough about anyone to put in the effort? What if he picked someone horrid?
Sven pulled his bag around and opened it up and took out one of the bars. He looked at it, turned it over a few times, read its caloric information and ingredients. He started to tug at the wrapping, then changed his mind and put it back in the bag and instead took out a water bottle and took a long drink.
The water tasted like plastic. It tasted like oil and chemicals, and Sven hated it. He preferred tap water at home, never drank bottled water ever even if he liked how the Fiji brand had that square bottle, and he wondered how the various other types of water to be found here on the island might taste. If it rained, that could be nice and relatively safe. If he had to make use of lakes or streams, well, he would probably die of something else before the giardia got him.
Based on Sven’s response, Zach managed to get his point across, but he was not sure if it was enough to persuade him to leave with him. But, Zach meant what he said. If Sven wanted to stick around here in this rundown lighthouse, that’s on him. Zach would rather take his chances finding better cover elsewhere.
Zach looked over the map again. He looked towards the Inner Circle, where the Manor House and Leadership houses were located. After hitting up the village, he could check out that area next. Maybe there would be better comforts in one of those buildings. Like beds, that would be nice.
“I think,” Zach said, “I miss my bed the most. I shouldn’t have taken it for granted.”
Zach looked over the map again. He looked towards the Inner Circle, where the Manor House and Leadership houses were located. After hitting up the village, he could check out that area next. Maybe there would be better comforts in one of those buildings. Like beds, that would be nice.
“I think,” Zach said, “I miss my bed the most. I shouldn’t have taken it for granted.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"That's good to be aware of," Sven said.
He hadn't expected that sort of introspection from his companion, granted it was decidedly a small step on a grand scale. Still, the boy now understood something that most people passed large chunks of their lives unaware of: simple, everyday parts of life could be stripped from you at a moment's notice, by the random hand of chance or by your own poor decisions.
Sven missed seeing clearly. He missed painting and having it come out like he wanted. He missed quiet. He missed his face. He missed being nobody. He missed driving, kind of. He missed his own ignorance and lack of perspective. He missed a clarity he wasn't sure he'd ever possessed.
None of this was new, though, not to him. These thoughts had followed him for a long time, on and off, and there was a certain degree to which they were useful, but another to which they caused great and lasting harm. The next step to such a realization was not protracted mourning, and it was not self-pity. Sven knew this, though he struggled greatly with it. In the world as it was now, though, with them doomed in such imminent terms, it was oddly easier to conceptualize and practice what he'd always hoped to. Maybe it was for launching him down this path of contemplation that his disposition towards his companion brightened.
Sven reached down and scraped up a little pinch of dirt. He let it fall into his palm, held it up, looked at it for a moment, and then blew on it, scattering the grains back to the floor.
"The next step," he said, "is to realize what you're still taking for granted. Then appreciate it."
He hadn't expected that sort of introspection from his companion, granted it was decidedly a small step on a grand scale. Still, the boy now understood something that most people passed large chunks of their lives unaware of: simple, everyday parts of life could be stripped from you at a moment's notice, by the random hand of chance or by your own poor decisions.
Sven missed seeing clearly. He missed painting and having it come out like he wanted. He missed quiet. He missed his face. He missed being nobody. He missed driving, kind of. He missed his own ignorance and lack of perspective. He missed a clarity he wasn't sure he'd ever possessed.
None of this was new, though, not to him. These thoughts had followed him for a long time, on and off, and there was a certain degree to which they were useful, but another to which they caused great and lasting harm. The next step to such a realization was not protracted mourning, and it was not self-pity. Sven knew this, though he struggled greatly with it. In the world as it was now, though, with them doomed in such imminent terms, it was oddly easier to conceptualize and practice what he'd always hoped to. Maybe it was for launching him down this path of contemplation that his disposition towards his companion brightened.
Sven reached down and scraped up a little pinch of dirt. He let it fall into his palm, held it up, looked at it for a moment, and then blew on it, scattering the grains back to the floor.
"The next step," he said, "is to realize what you're still taking for granted. Then appreciate it."
What could Zach still be taking for granted? Well, his phone, for starters. His life in rectangular shape. It allowed him communication with his friends, family, and fans. Zach wondered how his fans and subscribers would react when they realized he had been kidnapped. Would they send condolences throughout social media or make tribute videos on YouTube? It’s a nice thought, perhaps, since it meant they cared for someone who gave them content they found enjoyable.
Another thing Zach missed was some decent food. These protein bars were fucking gross and crackers were probably as stale as a dry turd. What Zach wouldn’t do for a burger from McDonalds or Birger King and the like. He especially missed his mother’s baked goods. She could make a damn good brownie. Zach began to get a little misty eyed at the thought of not seeing his mother’s smiling face as he bit into her sweet treats.
But what good was remembering all that stuff gonna do for him in his current situation. Zach pushed those thoughts back for the moment and refocused on his strategy. If he was going to get back to civilization, he’d have to find a way to play the game in a way that was advantageous to him.
“Okay. If you want,” Zach said, “I could keep ya company until I find a better spot to hide.”
Another thing Zach missed was some decent food. These protein bars were fucking gross and crackers were probably as stale as a dry turd. What Zach wouldn’t do for a burger from McDonalds or Birger King and the like. He especially missed his mother’s baked goods. She could make a damn good brownie. Zach began to get a little misty eyed at the thought of not seeing his mother’s smiling face as he bit into her sweet treats.
But what good was remembering all that stuff gonna do for him in his current situation. Zach pushed those thoughts back for the moment and refocused on his strategy. If he was going to get back to civilization, he’d have to find a way to play the game in a way that was advantageous to him.
“Okay. If you want,” Zach said, “I could keep ya company until I find a better spot to hide.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"I suppose," Sven said, "that would be nice."
And so the teacher became the student. He wasn't entirely sure that his companion had fully comprehended the tangles of nuance and possibility in what he'd said. Sven was trying to take his own advice, and appreciate being (comparatively) uninjured, not so hungry yet, not so cold. He was alive, and that was something. It was something that he soon would not be, for better or worse or neither, so enjoy it while it lasted, yes?
But also, just for right now, he wasn't alone. He'd been reminded of that, and while Sven often preferred his own company (or lack thereof) to the presence of others, how many more opportunities would he really get to be in this sort of generally-pleasant situation? This guy was loud and brash in his way, pushy and picky and yet he felt real and whole and uncorrupted. They would have never been friends at school, and Sven would not deem them such even now, but they were here together for whatever reason, and nobody else was.
He thought, for just a moment, about leaving it there, but he was putting in a little effort now, at least. If they were to be here, together, sharing some of their last moments, why not stretch a bit? He could always lapse back into silence.
"How was the trip for you?" Sven asked. "Did you like DC?"
And so the teacher became the student. He wasn't entirely sure that his companion had fully comprehended the tangles of nuance and possibility in what he'd said. Sven was trying to take his own advice, and appreciate being (comparatively) uninjured, not so hungry yet, not so cold. He was alive, and that was something. It was something that he soon would not be, for better or worse or neither, so enjoy it while it lasted, yes?
But also, just for right now, he wasn't alone. He'd been reminded of that, and while Sven often preferred his own company (or lack thereof) to the presence of others, how many more opportunities would he really get to be in this sort of generally-pleasant situation? This guy was loud and brash in his way, pushy and picky and yet he felt real and whole and uncorrupted. They would have never been friends at school, and Sven would not deem them such even now, but they were here together for whatever reason, and nobody else was.
He thought, for just a moment, about leaving it there, but he was putting in a little effort now, at least. If they were to be here, together, sharing some of their last moments, why not stretch a bit? He could always lapse back into silence.
"How was the trip for you?" Sven asked. "Did you like DC?"
Was he really asking how the trip went? Did he forget what has happened? Oh well, may as well humor him.
“Well, for starters,” Zach began, “I was roomed with a couple of tools in need of some fucking anger management. Then I got chased out of the room by Johnny Ruiz and forgot my room key. If it wasn’t for the teacher I wouldn’t have gotten back in. So yeah, that was a great start.”
That last sentence dripped with sarcasm.
“I hung out at the mall a good amount of time though,” he continued, “Did some vlogging and showed my fans what I was up to. I even pranked some guy by pouring salt into his drink. The expression he made was priceless.”
Zach chuckled a bit when looking back on that moment.
“Still, I had to sleep with one eye open,” Zach continued again, “what with the tension between me and my roommates being rougher than sex with a dog.”
Zach chuckled again. Talking to someone like normal made him feel a bit relaxed. Still, Zach wasn’t completely so, as he was mindful of the location.
“But then I got kidnapped by terrorists to play a fucked up game with my classmates, so it went back to sucking!”, Zach finished.
“Well, for starters,” Zach began, “I was roomed with a couple of tools in need of some fucking anger management. Then I got chased out of the room by Johnny Ruiz and forgot my room key. If it wasn’t for the teacher I wouldn’t have gotten back in. So yeah, that was a great start.”
That last sentence dripped with sarcasm.
“I hung out at the mall a good amount of time though,” he continued, “Did some vlogging and showed my fans what I was up to. I even pranked some guy by pouring salt into his drink. The expression he made was priceless.”
Zach chuckled a bit when looking back on that moment.
“Still, I had to sleep with one eye open,” Zach continued again, “what with the tension between me and my roommates being rougher than sex with a dog.”
Zach chuckled again. Talking to someone like normal made him feel a bit relaxed. Still, Zach wasn’t completely so, as he was mindful of the location.
“But then I got kidnapped by terrorists to play a fucked up game with my classmates, so it went back to sucking!”, Zach finished.
She ran.
She ran with blood dripping from the meaty cut in her palm. She ran with a slash of pain in between her shoulder blades where the whip had found her. She ran with her heart pounding and her head full of terror.
She ran.
(Terra Johnson continued from LMAO they made Fortnite into a real thing!)
It wasn't possible. Someone she knew had been holding a girl up for her stuff. Reuben. Reuben had held up a girl: Reuben had tried to kill her. He wasn't even alone: there was the other girl, whose whip had found Terra's back. How could it have gone wrong so fast?
No one is righteous, no, not one
She'd known there were countless sinners among the ranks of her classmates; she'd known how easily corrupted they were, and how rarely they sought God. But she had never imagined they could resort to this, and so swiftly.
Her hand ached.
There were other noises in her frantic run: shouts from here, the roar of a gunshot from here, cries and laughter here. She could not stop. She would not stop. All thoughts of rage and defiance had left her. Now there was only flight.
There was a battered ruin of a tower near the island's edge, and Terra's breathing was hard in her chest, and her hand ached terribly, and her back ached terribly, and her heart ached terribly. She was going to die. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing she could do to save her classmates. Nothing she could do to save herself.
Energy left her. All that was left was pain and fear. She collapsed into the doorway to the rickety structure, clutched at her bloody hand, and sobbed.
She ran with blood dripping from the meaty cut in her palm. She ran with a slash of pain in between her shoulder blades where the whip had found her. She ran with her heart pounding and her head full of terror.
She ran.
(Terra Johnson continued from LMAO they made Fortnite into a real thing!)
It wasn't possible. Someone she knew had been holding a girl up for her stuff. Reuben. Reuben had held up a girl: Reuben had tried to kill her. He wasn't even alone: there was the other girl, whose whip had found Terra's back. How could it have gone wrong so fast?
No one is righteous, no, not one
She'd known there were countless sinners among the ranks of her classmates; she'd known how easily corrupted they were, and how rarely they sought God. But she had never imagined they could resort to this, and so swiftly.
Her hand ached.
There were other noises in her frantic run: shouts from here, the roar of a gunshot from here, cries and laughter here. She could not stop. She would not stop. All thoughts of rage and defiance had left her. Now there was only flight.
There was a battered ruin of a tower near the island's edge, and Terra's breathing was hard in her chest, and her hand ached terribly, and her back ached terribly, and her heart ached terribly. She was going to die. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing she could do to save her classmates. Nothing she could do to save herself.
Energy left her. All that was left was pain and fear. She collapsed into the doorway to the rickety structure, clutched at her bloody hand, and sobbed.
Those Whose Time Has Come]
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
Terra Johnson (female student no. 73, DECEASED): Oh...duh...Abel's...dead...the one who...lives is...
Tom Swift (male student no. 60): It didn't matter what he wanted anymore.
Daria Bhatia (female student no. 56): "I pity you, and everyone who knows you. Because if you can live with this, I don't...I don't think you're human anymore.”
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"My rooming situation was also subopti—uh, it was... it was a little tense."
That seemed to be just about that. What else to say, to the combination of obviousness and sarcasm on display? And yet, it taught Sven things, things that came close to starting to interest him. This boy, then, was an entertainer. He had a video channel, and fans. Real fans, or younger siblings and distant cousins who commented on how very clever indeed he was? It didn't matter. He had potential, Sven thought. He spoke easily and brought an arc not just to his words, but to his very delivery. Had this not been his fate, he could've actually been something, probably, eventually.
Had the guy yet realized he was on film one last time? If not, what exactly would his reaction to that revelation be? Sven had this moment of utterly faulty intuition, a vague imagining of the boy embracing his newfound role as killer, live-blogging his murders for the masses with a cheery, bloodstained grin. Had that happened before? Echoes of something he'd read, an amateur filmmaker, a sniper rifle, tape.
He was spared further reflection by a thump against the door. It turned out, the latch was no longer particularly firm, perhaps as a consequence of the slamming it had received, and perhaps simply due to age and wear and the sandpaper effect of time. Whatever the case, the door flew open, inwards, its arc fortunately missing Sven as he'd not moved since pulling himself forward to clear the path earlier. The suddenness of the sound made him start and glance over his shoulder, the unflappability with which he'd greeted his current associate vanished into the ether, at least momentarily.
There was a girl. She was small, slender, with a ponytail and glasses, She looked normal, which was a relief. She was bleeding and sobbing, but that was the new normal, most likely, or would be soon; what was unusual was this bastion of calm and inaction into which she was intruding. It was only natural for that state of affairs to be shaken like this, though Sven had to admit he had been hoping it might take just a little bit longer for everything to come tumbling down around their heads the way the old ruined walls threatened to at any moment.
"Welcome," he said to the girl, and his voice did not betray any uncertainty. "Come in. We were just having a chat."
He nodded vaguely at the floor. Any place would do. She could even stay there in the doorway, wailing and cowering, if she really wanted to.
That seemed to be just about that. What else to say, to the combination of obviousness and sarcasm on display? And yet, it taught Sven things, things that came close to starting to interest him. This boy, then, was an entertainer. He had a video channel, and fans. Real fans, or younger siblings and distant cousins who commented on how very clever indeed he was? It didn't matter. He had potential, Sven thought. He spoke easily and brought an arc not just to his words, but to his very delivery. Had this not been his fate, he could've actually been something, probably, eventually.
Had the guy yet realized he was on film one last time? If not, what exactly would his reaction to that revelation be? Sven had this moment of utterly faulty intuition, a vague imagining of the boy embracing his newfound role as killer, live-blogging his murders for the masses with a cheery, bloodstained grin. Had that happened before? Echoes of something he'd read, an amateur filmmaker, a sniper rifle, tape.
He was spared further reflection by a thump against the door. It turned out, the latch was no longer particularly firm, perhaps as a consequence of the slamming it had received, and perhaps simply due to age and wear and the sandpaper effect of time. Whatever the case, the door flew open, inwards, its arc fortunately missing Sven as he'd not moved since pulling himself forward to clear the path earlier. The suddenness of the sound made him start and glance over his shoulder, the unflappability with which he'd greeted his current associate vanished into the ether, at least momentarily.
There was a girl. She was small, slender, with a ponytail and glasses, She looked normal, which was a relief. She was bleeding and sobbing, but that was the new normal, most likely, or would be soon; what was unusual was this bastion of calm and inaction into which she was intruding. It was only natural for that state of affairs to be shaken like this, though Sven had to admit he had been hoping it might take just a little bit longer for everything to come tumbling down around their heads the way the old ruined walls threatened to at any moment.
"Welcome," he said to the girl, and his voice did not betray any uncertainty. "Come in. We were just having a chat."
He nodded vaguely at the floor. Any place would do. She could even stay there in the doorway, wailing and cowering, if she really wanted to.