[[RD4: RENARD, DANIEL START]]
Ah, fuck.
“Ahhh, FUCK!”
Mr. Daniel Renard isn’t the one to shy away from swearing when he’s under pressure. Or just because he can. Swearing helps keep the body relaxed or something, he looked it up on the internet. And he found it hilarious when people were angry about it when he tried to put it in his music. Swearing is for rap and rap only. Yeah. Whatever. Well, seeing as he now had a very high chance of dying in the next few days, he thought that he might as well do stuff that he would never do again. Like swearing.
“God-fucking-damn it.”
For example, now he is swearing at the fact that he is on a bed in a hotel room. The window outside shows million dollar views, and the bar fridge has already been raided of all food, thanks to the team at SOTF headquarters. Grasping his bandanna with one clenched hand, he walked around, checking out all the areas in the room. Bed. Kitchen. Toilet. The usual. Well, better than what other seasons was going for. This place was actually useable instead of the jungle. Camping out here would be a breeze.
“Wait. Fuck.”
Dangerzones would stop camping. Fuck that shit. Shaking his head, Daniel ran his fingers through his long black hair, trying to work out what to do. Survival of the Fittest. Simple premise. Last man standing wins. This game was different though, they were in teams, last team standing wins. If his team killed everyone for him or something like that while he hid, he’d still get off. But chances were that his team could be killed off and he be the last member of his team and then he’d be fucked. Yeah. Fuck. Looking at the red cloth, he sighed and tied it around his wrist, showing it to the camera in the top corner.
“Daniel Renard, Team Red, bandana fucking on.”
Finding his bag, he went through the items. Coke. Jerky. First –Aid kit. Shirts, shirts, pants… wait, Daft Punk jacket? What the fuck- anyway… that was it except for the weapon… weapon? No weapon. Widening his eyes and unzipping the rest of the pockets, he sighed as he pulled out a bulky GPS. Turning it on, he frowned as locations and dots showed on the screen. This was useful. Not a gun, but perfect for him. He could just hide from people that showed near him... running away could be a useful strategy after all.
“Holy shit. Let’s see what’s in this hotel.”
…Him. That was him in the middle.
And... two others?
Oh boy.
Hotel California
-
CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
Hotel California
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(Start, Kevin Fielding. Blah, short post, sorry. Suddenly really tired.)
Insanity. That summed all this up perfectly. Pure, utter insanity. Kill his classmates to survive? Team versus team? Bollocks, everyone'd gone mad. Of course, the whole world had been mad for years, hadn't it? It had just caught up to the Academy now, one of the schools that was supposed to be a refuge for proper people. Completely, totally insane; did they really think SDA alumni would stand for this? That they'd really buy into it all? Though, there was that other school, no doubt full of degenerates who'd jump right into the festivities...
The front door crashed open as he rammed into it with his shoulder, hurtling into the lobby. Unnecessary, perhaps, but he'd approached the hotel at a run and hadn't felt like stopping. He somehow suspected slowing down would have been a bad - perhaps fatally bad - idea. The door swung closed behind him, and... nobody waited for him inside. Hm. Well, at least the place looked comfortable enough.
Wait a moment. Did someone just swear at him? He was pretty sure someone had. A couple steps further into the lobby, and there it was again. Wasn't a voice he recognised, either. Someone from that other school, perhaps? Or an SDA student he'd never seen before. It sounded like they were on his level of the building, though, so he kept moving forwards. At least it was cooler in here.
"Anyone in here? I can hear you cursing me out."
Insanity. That summed all this up perfectly. Pure, utter insanity. Kill his classmates to survive? Team versus team? Bollocks, everyone'd gone mad. Of course, the whole world had been mad for years, hadn't it? It had just caught up to the Academy now, one of the schools that was supposed to be a refuge for proper people. Completely, totally insane; did they really think SDA alumni would stand for this? That they'd really buy into it all? Though, there was that other school, no doubt full of degenerates who'd jump right into the festivities...
The front door crashed open as he rammed into it with his shoulder, hurtling into the lobby. Unnecessary, perhaps, but he'd approached the hotel at a run and hadn't felt like stopping. He somehow suspected slowing down would have been a bad - perhaps fatally bad - idea. The door swung closed behind him, and... nobody waited for him inside. Hm. Well, at least the place looked comfortable enough.
Wait a moment. Did someone just swear at him? He was pretty sure someone had. A couple steps further into the lobby, and there it was again. Wasn't a voice he recognised, either. Someone from that other school, perhaps? Or an SDA student he'd never seen before. It sounded like they were on his level of the building, though, so he kept moving forwards. At least it was cooler in here.
"Anyone in here? I can hear you cursing me out."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
[Guess I'll be number two then.]
[Enter BRN3: Eloise Winterburn]
FUCK!
Eloise awoke with a start, shooting up to her feet, looking around. She didn't quite remember falling asleep, and yet here she was waking up to the sound of someone else screaming profanities. Better yet, she was waking up somewhere she didn't recognise. It didn't take long to take inventory of the contents of the room; shelves, lockers, lots of cleaning equipment, a camera... she was in a janitor's closet.
Wait. A camera?
Why in God's name would there be a security camera in a tiny inconsequential room like this? Worried someone's going to steal the mops? The thought of it was absurd. More absurd than Eloise being asleep in there, even.
So why was she there, and why was it being monitored? Eventually memories pieced themselves together, and it all became clear. She'd been on the tennis court, practising her return, when a few men dressed in SWAT gear and armed to the teeth showed up. Didn't take long for her to realise what they wanted, and decide to just go quietly.
Then there had been a briefing, which Eloise had seen so many times before, but never from the perspective of a contestant. There was the added twist of teams, and then there was the customary gas. And that was why she'd woken up in a closet in her tennis whites, with the ubiquitous collar around her neck and an out-of-place looking backpack on one of the nearby shelves, with a long handle sticking out of its zipper. First order of business, investigate what you have to work with.
At first, Eloise tried to lift the bag all together. Being a short distance above her head and apparently absurdly heavy, that wasn't going to happen. Instead, she grabbed it by the mysterious handle, and tugged it down 90 degrees, then slid it carefully into the cradle of her forearms. And even then, she had to bend considerably at the knees to compensate for the sudden addition of weight. From there, she lowered it to the floor, and commenced rooting through it for useful stuff.
The handle belonged to a hefty sledgehammer. Obviously her weapon. Could be worse, but she doubted it would be much use in any normal fight. As for the rest, the standard rations of heavily branded food and drinks, a somewhat pointless condom, a first aid kit - nothing that could be used as an improvised weapon, but still handy - a map and compass, a flashlight, a brown tank-top, a generic t-shirt and... oh dear lord.
Well, it could've been worse. For her third set of clothes, Eloise had been given a red and black motley jumpsuit, a black eye-mask, a jester's hat and... a tub of white face-paint?. It didn't take long for her to identify what it was supposed to be, and groan at the reference. Harley Quinn. Really. Eloise stuffed the jester outfit back into the bag, figuring she'd keep it as a very last resort - better to dress ridiculously than not at all.
Last order of business, the bandanna, apparently had to be worn or you get your head blown up. Didn't take long to decide to tie it around her neck, over the collar. Of the two, the checked brown cloth was considerable less unsightly.
Right on cue, as if they'd been waiting for her to finish, somebody crashed through a door nearby. Said something, but with how far away they were, it was too muffled for Eloise to make sense of. Only one way to find out what they wanted, then. She opened the door and left the closet, backpack on her back, sledgehammer in her right hand, gripped just under the head, hopefully unthreateningly; Eloise had no intention of getting into a fight first thing, with the most unwieldy weapon on the planet no less.
It didn't take long to locate the main lobby of what was apparently a hotel. And, of course, there stood the source of the door-related crashing, a boy she'd never seen before. Built like a house, too, definitely not one to piss off. What do you say to someone like that, in a situation like this? Simple.
"Hey, enjoying the vacation so far?"
Sarcasm. Never fails to break the ice, one way or another.
[Enter BRN3: Eloise Winterburn]
FUCK!
Eloise awoke with a start, shooting up to her feet, looking around. She didn't quite remember falling asleep, and yet here she was waking up to the sound of someone else screaming profanities. Better yet, she was waking up somewhere she didn't recognise. It didn't take long to take inventory of the contents of the room; shelves, lockers, lots of cleaning equipment, a camera... she was in a janitor's closet.
Wait. A camera?
Why in God's name would there be a security camera in a tiny inconsequential room like this? Worried someone's going to steal the mops? The thought of it was absurd. More absurd than Eloise being asleep in there, even.
So why was she there, and why was it being monitored? Eventually memories pieced themselves together, and it all became clear. She'd been on the tennis court, practising her return, when a few men dressed in SWAT gear and armed to the teeth showed up. Didn't take long for her to realise what they wanted, and decide to just go quietly.
Then there had been a briefing, which Eloise had seen so many times before, but never from the perspective of a contestant. There was the added twist of teams, and then there was the customary gas. And that was why she'd woken up in a closet in her tennis whites, with the ubiquitous collar around her neck and an out-of-place looking backpack on one of the nearby shelves, with a long handle sticking out of its zipper. First order of business, investigate what you have to work with.
At first, Eloise tried to lift the bag all together. Being a short distance above her head and apparently absurdly heavy, that wasn't going to happen. Instead, she grabbed it by the mysterious handle, and tugged it down 90 degrees, then slid it carefully into the cradle of her forearms. And even then, she had to bend considerably at the knees to compensate for the sudden addition of weight. From there, she lowered it to the floor, and commenced rooting through it for useful stuff.
The handle belonged to a hefty sledgehammer. Obviously her weapon. Could be worse, but she doubted it would be much use in any normal fight. As for the rest, the standard rations of heavily branded food and drinks, a somewhat pointless condom, a first aid kit - nothing that could be used as an improvised weapon, but still handy - a map and compass, a flashlight, a brown tank-top, a generic t-shirt and... oh dear lord.
Well, it could've been worse. For her third set of clothes, Eloise had been given a red and black motley jumpsuit, a black eye-mask, a jester's hat and... a tub of white face-paint?. It didn't take long for her to identify what it was supposed to be, and groan at the reference. Harley Quinn. Really. Eloise stuffed the jester outfit back into the bag, figuring she'd keep it as a very last resort - better to dress ridiculously than not at all.
Last order of business, the bandanna, apparently had to be worn or you get your head blown up. Didn't take long to decide to tie it around her neck, over the collar. Of the two, the checked brown cloth was considerable less unsightly.
Right on cue, as if they'd been waiting for her to finish, somebody crashed through a door nearby. Said something, but with how far away they were, it was too muffled for Eloise to make sense of. Only one way to find out what they wanted, then. She opened the door and left the closet, backpack on her back, sledgehammer in her right hand, gripped just under the head, hopefully unthreateningly; Eloise had no intention of getting into a fight first thing, with the most unwieldy weapon on the planet no less.
It didn't take long to locate the main lobby of what was apparently a hotel. And, of course, there stood the source of the door-related crashing, a boy she'd never seen before. Built like a house, too, definitely not one to piss off. What do you say to someone like that, in a situation like this? Simple.
"Hey, enjoying the vacation so far?"
Sarcasm. Never fails to break the ice, one way or another.
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(Enter W05: Mason Ross)
They had showed up in the middle of a Spurs game, a cardinal sin as far as Mason was concerned. Didn't help that they were coming back from a 30 point deficit at the half, and he was deep into the game. He was off school today. His parents were still at work.
The SWAT team had kicked in the front door of his family's home, swarmed in with rifles cocked and locked while he still sat on the couch, watching the 60-inch plasma and screaming. It took him a minute to notice the men, and when he did, he was just a bit crestfallen.
Mason looked up at the men, mouth slightly open, as he the barrels of their guns were pointed unwavering in his direction.
"You guys here to fix the plumbing?"
The main guy didn't seem to respond to that, just went on with what Mason figured was what he had prepared. "You've been chosen for SOTF-TV kid. It's time to be a star."
"Do I get a trailer and spring water straight from the French mountain springs?"
The man again didn't respond, just gestured with the gun for Mason to get up. The teen complied, but kept his eyes on the TV. Antonio Jackson, one of his favorite players, was driving past the opposing defense, hard. He was about to make a big move, spinning around a blocker effortlessly as he slid into the paint.
"Let's go." The main SWAT guy said.
"Wait. Wait. Check this shit out." Mason said, jerking his head toward the TV. The main SWAT guy got closer, pushed the barrel of the gun into Mason's ribs.
"Now."
"Just a...just a second..." Antonio was almost to the rim and Mason could see his legs power him up. Antonio was about to drop a beast of a dunk.
"Fucking kids." SWAT guy said.
Antonio slammed the ball home right as SWAT guy put Mason to sleep with a hard right hand to the jaw.
- - -
Mason rubbed the purpling patch of skin where that SWAT asshole had punched him. It was tender, of course. His head still ached a little from being knocked out, then being gassed and knocked out again. What did these TV assholes have against consciousness?
He had woken up a little while earlier, and after the customary "Holy fucking SHIT I'm on this show" he had taken inventory of what he'd been given. Food and water, of which he ate and drank a little bit. A bandanna and clothes with his 'team' on it, which he stuck in his back pocket. A first aid kit.
The weapon had been a point of contention for him. It wasn't that he'd been given a bad one. Not in the least. A sleek handgun that the manual told him was a Beretta 92F, a nine millimeter with a 3-round burst setting. Guaranteed to put a few holes in someone. But was he going to use it?
Survey said, maybe. He couldn't get back to his life if he was laid up, dying on this island. Maybe he'd just burn that bridge when he came to it. He didn't have to think about it right now.
The extra outfit they gave him was a load of bullshit too. His surprise when he pulled it out was near-palpable. football pads, a jersey, football pants. He had found the nearest camera, held up the outfit, and screamed "WRONG SPORT, ASSHOLES!" before tossing it all on the ground.
In all, it had been an uneventful morning for the aspiring b-baller. That might've been likely to change as his wanderings had taken him to the hotel he had seen on the provided map. Suddenly taking a rest seemed like a good idea, at least until he had his senses back.
Mason pushed open the front glass door, Beretta ready in case someone thought they'd get him out early.
Tch. Get me out. What is this, dodgeball?
They had showed up in the middle of a Spurs game, a cardinal sin as far as Mason was concerned. Didn't help that they were coming back from a 30 point deficit at the half, and he was deep into the game. He was off school today. His parents were still at work.
The SWAT team had kicked in the front door of his family's home, swarmed in with rifles cocked and locked while he still sat on the couch, watching the 60-inch plasma and screaming. It took him a minute to notice the men, and when he did, he was just a bit crestfallen.
Mason looked up at the men, mouth slightly open, as he the barrels of their guns were pointed unwavering in his direction.
"You guys here to fix the plumbing?"
The main guy didn't seem to respond to that, just went on with what Mason figured was what he had prepared. "You've been chosen for SOTF-TV kid. It's time to be a star."
"Do I get a trailer and spring water straight from the French mountain springs?"
The man again didn't respond, just gestured with the gun for Mason to get up. The teen complied, but kept his eyes on the TV. Antonio Jackson, one of his favorite players, was driving past the opposing defense, hard. He was about to make a big move, spinning around a blocker effortlessly as he slid into the paint.
"Let's go." The main SWAT guy said.
"Wait. Wait. Check this shit out." Mason said, jerking his head toward the TV. The main SWAT guy got closer, pushed the barrel of the gun into Mason's ribs.
"Now."
"Just a...just a second..." Antonio was almost to the rim and Mason could see his legs power him up. Antonio was about to drop a beast of a dunk.
"Fucking kids." SWAT guy said.
Antonio slammed the ball home right as SWAT guy put Mason to sleep with a hard right hand to the jaw.
- - -
Mason rubbed the purpling patch of skin where that SWAT asshole had punched him. It was tender, of course. His head still ached a little from being knocked out, then being gassed and knocked out again. What did these TV assholes have against consciousness?
He had woken up a little while earlier, and after the customary "Holy fucking SHIT I'm on this show" he had taken inventory of what he'd been given. Food and water, of which he ate and drank a little bit. A bandanna and clothes with his 'team' on it, which he stuck in his back pocket. A first aid kit.
The weapon had been a point of contention for him. It wasn't that he'd been given a bad one. Not in the least. A sleek handgun that the manual told him was a Beretta 92F, a nine millimeter with a 3-round burst setting. Guaranteed to put a few holes in someone. But was he going to use it?
Survey said, maybe. He couldn't get back to his life if he was laid up, dying on this island. Maybe he'd just burn that bridge when he came to it. He didn't have to think about it right now.
The extra outfit they gave him was a load of bullshit too. His surprise when he pulled it out was near-palpable. football pads, a jersey, football pants. He had found the nearest camera, held up the outfit, and screamed "WRONG SPORT, ASSHOLES!" before tossing it all on the ground.
In all, it had been an uneventful morning for the aspiring b-baller. That might've been likely to change as his wanderings had taken him to the hotel he had seen on the provided map. Suddenly taking a rest seemed like a good idea, at least until he had his senses back.
Mason pushed open the front glass door, Beretta ready in case someone thought they'd get him out early.
Tch. Get me out. What is this, dodgeball?
...Hullo there.
The voice clearly didn't belong to whomever he'd been searching for, but he hadn't quite expected to find a woman standing there when he turned to face the speaker. She wasn't familiar, probably from that other, brutish school, but she certainly looked like she belonged in SDA. Not at all unattractive if one asked him, and while nobody did ask him, his eyes did wander for a brief moment. She was tall for a woman, lean yet ample in figure, something added to by her soft features. Perhaps a smaller man would be intimidated by the height and muscle, but right now he was just glad the first person he found wasn't swinging a weapon at him right away.
Not that he'd been staring, of course not. That would just be low. He was simply examining the newcomer, not ogling her like some disgusting commoner. Just a quick tactical analysis. The hammer looked like it could do some damage, though, and her bandanna didn't match the white one he'd placed round his bicep, so caution was probably in order. Not like he even technically had a weapon; the night-vision goggles were still in his pack for now. The attractive woman seemed more interested in talking than violence for now, however, and the sarcastic question drew a smirk out of him.
"Would you believe I paid first-class and they put me in the cabin?" Eye contact and good posture. Always a good start, showed respect. Not a threat, but you would be one if the other pushed things. Was he above taking that hammer and using it on her, if needed? ...Probably not. Attractive or no, who was this girl compared to him? Perhaps they'd find out later.
Now would work, too. "While we're not killing each other, could I trouble you for your name? I don't seem to recognise you."
The front door opened again before he could hear an answer, but this time it was a familiar face. Mason Ross was a classmate he got on fairly well with... and, fortune of fortunes, he had both a handgun and a white bandanna. Not that he'd show his relief beyond a slight widening of his smile from before. That would be improper. Perhaps things weren't totally hopeless, however; if the rest of his team was like Mason...
A thought for another time. "Mason!" He turned away from the woman, but not enough for his eyes to be completely off her, offering a wave to the other SDA student. "Can't say I was hoping to see you here, I'll admit." He noticed the purpling patch and raised an eyebrow. "You all right?"
The voice clearly didn't belong to whomever he'd been searching for, but he hadn't quite expected to find a woman standing there when he turned to face the speaker. She wasn't familiar, probably from that other, brutish school, but she certainly looked like she belonged in SDA. Not at all unattractive if one asked him, and while nobody did ask him, his eyes did wander for a brief moment. She was tall for a woman, lean yet ample in figure, something added to by her soft features. Perhaps a smaller man would be intimidated by the height and muscle, but right now he was just glad the first person he found wasn't swinging a weapon at him right away.
Not that he'd been staring, of course not. That would just be low. He was simply examining the newcomer, not ogling her like some disgusting commoner. Just a quick tactical analysis. The hammer looked like it could do some damage, though, and her bandanna didn't match the white one he'd placed round his bicep, so caution was probably in order. Not like he even technically had a weapon; the night-vision goggles were still in his pack for now. The attractive woman seemed more interested in talking than violence for now, however, and the sarcastic question drew a smirk out of him.
"Would you believe I paid first-class and they put me in the cabin?" Eye contact and good posture. Always a good start, showed respect. Not a threat, but you would be one if the other pushed things. Was he above taking that hammer and using it on her, if needed? ...Probably not. Attractive or no, who was this girl compared to him? Perhaps they'd find out later.
Now would work, too. "While we're not killing each other, could I trouble you for your name? I don't seem to recognise you."
The front door opened again before he could hear an answer, but this time it was a familiar face. Mason Ross was a classmate he got on fairly well with... and, fortune of fortunes, he had both a handgun and a white bandanna. Not that he'd show his relief beyond a slight widening of his smile from before. That would be improper. Perhaps things weren't totally hopeless, however; if the rest of his team was like Mason...
A thought for another time. "Mason!" He turned away from the woman, but not enough for his eyes to be completely off her, offering a wave to the other SDA student. "Can't say I was hoping to see you here, I'll admit." He noticed the purpling patch and raised an eyebrow. "You all right?"
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-
CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
And more dots. And more dots. And someone talking to him. And someone misinterpreting that for them.
"Oh come on."
Daniel stuffed everything back into his bag, hefting it onto his shoulder and frowning. The window actually could be a good escape, they were only on the ground floor or first floor, and he'd jumped higher at home. Sliding it open, he poked at the mesh. Probably wouldn't be able to go through it without alerting everyone to his presence. And then there was the obvious problem of knowing whether they were actually people he knew or were teamed up with. He seriously doubted that the teams were split into schools, so he'd probably wouldn't know any of them. Fuck.
OK, so here's what we're going to do. We're going to try to see what colour bandana the people are wearing, then if it's not red flip the fuck out and jump out the window. Right. That's a perfect plan. Wait, so what happens if one of them is red? Run over to them screaming 'I'm red, I'm red, don't shoot'? And what about the others, could they have a gun and the two reds not? No, fuck. Now he was overthinking everything. You NEVER did that. Act on instinct. That's right. Just go with the flow. Do your thing.
Slowly, he opened the door into the corridor. Jogging down, he eyed the numbers. Yeah, he knew this area. This should be easy. Number 13. Number 11. Keep going. Looking out, he grinned as he saw the lobby, and quickly lost it when he saw people in it.
He looked left. Brown, sledgehammer. Eloise? Holy shit familiar face. "Oh, hey El!"
He looked right. White, muscle. White, gun. Didn't know.
Wait. Gun.
"Oh. I'll be in my room, bye!"
He promptly scampered back up the corridor. Wait. You're leaving El behind? Pity. She was a nice girl. She's not on our team though, so she should defend for herself.
Fuck, this was the worst game.
"Oh come on."
Daniel stuffed everything back into his bag, hefting it onto his shoulder and frowning. The window actually could be a good escape, they were only on the ground floor or first floor, and he'd jumped higher at home. Sliding it open, he poked at the mesh. Probably wouldn't be able to go through it without alerting everyone to his presence. And then there was the obvious problem of knowing whether they were actually people he knew or were teamed up with. He seriously doubted that the teams were split into schools, so he'd probably wouldn't know any of them. Fuck.
OK, so here's what we're going to do. We're going to try to see what colour bandana the people are wearing, then if it's not red flip the fuck out and jump out the window. Right. That's a perfect plan. Wait, so what happens if one of them is red? Run over to them screaming 'I'm red, I'm red, don't shoot'? And what about the others, could they have a gun and the two reds not? No, fuck. Now he was overthinking everything. You NEVER did that. Act on instinct. That's right. Just go with the flow. Do your thing.
Slowly, he opened the door into the corridor. Jogging down, he eyed the numbers. Yeah, he knew this area. This should be easy. Number 13. Number 11. Keep going. Looking out, he grinned as he saw the lobby, and quickly lost it when he saw people in it.
He looked left. Brown, sledgehammer. Eloise? Holy shit familiar face. "Oh, hey El!"
He looked right. White, muscle. White, gun. Didn't know.
Wait. Gun.
"Oh. I'll be in my room, bye!"
He promptly scampered back up the corridor. Wait. You're leaving El behind? Pity. She was a nice girl. She's not on our team though, so she should defend for herself.
Fuck, this was the worst game.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler CorruptDropbear. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
"Would you believe I paid first-class and they put me in the cabin?"
Oh good, he was playing along. Make a little light conversation here, ease the 'What if she tries to break my head with that hammer?' tension there, you're on your way to a good, non-hostile environment for everyone. And once you've got one of those? Breaking heads with a sledgehammer becomes a lot easier to do, for one. Better to wait for a more opportune moment, though. Not to mention how ridiculously uncool it is to make the first kill.
And that whole killing someone part, that'd be something difficult to get around. Because while Eloise realised how much of a good idea it was to get in the game quickly and accumulate some decent (read, better than a giant hammer) gear, smashing her peers' skulls did come across as a rather unsavoury prospect.
"While we're not killing each other, could I trouble you for your name? I don't seem to recognise you."
Okay, playing along a little too well. Then again, SDA, that's 'Silver Dragon Academy'. Any school that calls itself an Academy is liable to have more than its fair share of upper class twits, come to think of it. So the prim and proper diction was, after all, something she should've expected. Eloise was about to answer, maybe even with a slightly mocking impression of the way Kevin had been talking so far. She was going to, but someone else appeared.
Two other people, in fact. First came a voice from behind her, familiar somehow, but only hearing it for a few seconds and not getting a look at the source, she couldn't put a name or a face to it. He clearly knew her, though.
"Oh, hey El!"
Not well enough to know "El" wasn't a nickname she'd ever had, because it sounded completely stupid. But well enough to recognise her, at least. Good prospect for a short-term ally, there. But then he, and she herself, caught sight of the second newcomer. A newcomer that had a gun. And the same team colours as the as-yet-unidentified Kevin. Fuck.
"Oh. I'll be in my room, bye!"
Oh how Eloise wished fleeing was a legitimate course of action for her, too. But at this point, she still gave a damn about keeping up appearances. So she checked killing any of the three boys off of her list of potential courses of action, and started looking around for good places to dive for cover, if new SDA boy decided to open fire.
Apparently the two Texans knew each other, though. Conversation started. Focus no longer on her 100%. Eloise began to backpedal slowly, casually enough to hopefully evade notice, fast enough to cut some of the distance between her and the corridor that familiar voice had come from. If the boy it belonged to was the coward he appeared to be, he'd probably be a good person to hide with for the time being, should it come to that. Cowards generally didn't start killing early.
Right?
Oh good, he was playing along. Make a little light conversation here, ease the 'What if she tries to break my head with that hammer?' tension there, you're on your way to a good, non-hostile environment for everyone. And once you've got one of those? Breaking heads with a sledgehammer becomes a lot easier to do, for one. Better to wait for a more opportune moment, though. Not to mention how ridiculously uncool it is to make the first kill.
And that whole killing someone part, that'd be something difficult to get around. Because while Eloise realised how much of a good idea it was to get in the game quickly and accumulate some decent (read, better than a giant hammer) gear, smashing her peers' skulls did come across as a rather unsavoury prospect.
"While we're not killing each other, could I trouble you for your name? I don't seem to recognise you."
Okay, playing along a little too well. Then again, SDA, that's 'Silver Dragon Academy'. Any school that calls itself an Academy is liable to have more than its fair share of upper class twits, come to think of it. So the prim and proper diction was, after all, something she should've expected. Eloise was about to answer, maybe even with a slightly mocking impression of the way Kevin had been talking so far. She was going to, but someone else appeared.
Two other people, in fact. First came a voice from behind her, familiar somehow, but only hearing it for a few seconds and not getting a look at the source, she couldn't put a name or a face to it. He clearly knew her, though.
"Oh, hey El!"
Not well enough to know "El" wasn't a nickname she'd ever had, because it sounded completely stupid. But well enough to recognise her, at least. Good prospect for a short-term ally, there. But then he, and she herself, caught sight of the second newcomer. A newcomer that had a gun. And the same team colours as the as-yet-unidentified Kevin. Fuck.
"Oh. I'll be in my room, bye!"
Oh how Eloise wished fleeing was a legitimate course of action for her, too. But at this point, she still gave a damn about keeping up appearances. So she checked killing any of the three boys off of her list of potential courses of action, and started looking around for good places to dive for cover, if new SDA boy decided to open fire.
Apparently the two Texans knew each other, though. Conversation started. Focus no longer on her 100%. Eloise began to backpedal slowly, casually enough to hopefully evade notice, fast enough to cut some of the distance between her and the corridor that familiar voice had come from. If the boy it belonged to was the coward he appeared to be, he'd probably be a good person to hide with for the time being, should it come to that. Cowards generally didn't start killing early.
Right?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
(Madelyn Conner continued from Rock the Boat Baby.)
Madelyn and Mikaela had made it to the hotel. It wasn't that it was a long ways, but in this game getting from place to place alive was an accomplishment. It was made of brick and had more floors then Madelyn had time to count. They had approach from behind and had found a door that was unlock. Madelyn opened it (thankfully it's hinges had been oiled recently, because it was silent) and poked her head in, and saw no one.
Madelyn motioned for Mikaela to follow as she went in. The hall was long and doorless, and pale carpeting. When she got to the end she poked her head around the corner and saw a girl with a sledgehammer Madelyn never seen before backing away from two boys she did recognize. Kevin Fielding and Mason Ross. The later of which had a gun. Madelyn turned back to Mikaela and pointed to where they came from. To many people were already here, and shit was starting. It was time to slip back out and find somewhere else.
Madelyn and Mikaela had made it to the hotel. It wasn't that it was a long ways, but in this game getting from place to place alive was an accomplishment. It was made of brick and had more floors then Madelyn had time to count. They had approach from behind and had found a door that was unlock. Madelyn opened it (thankfully it's hinges had been oiled recently, because it was silent) and poked her head in, and saw no one.
Madelyn motioned for Mikaela to follow as she went in. The hall was long and doorless, and pale carpeting. When she got to the end she poked her head around the corner and saw a girl with a sledgehammer Madelyn never seen before backing away from two boys she did recognize. Kevin Fielding and Mason Ross. The later of which had a gun. Madelyn turned back to Mikaela and pointed to where they came from. To many people were already here, and shit was starting. It was time to slip back out and find somewhere else.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Acidic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Maybe Mason was going to have a run of good luck. It seemed that way. He got a gun. He walked into a building without immediately getting attacked. He ran into a classmate, a classmate he knew was built like a sack of bricks, who he was fairly friendly with, and was apparently on his team.
If it kept going this way, next he'd be running into hot chicks with Playboy bunny costumes on. TV was turning out just goddamn great.
"Back at you, man. We definitely fell into a pile of shit here." Kevin asked him about the bruise. "Oh, I tried to show one of those SWAT guys the Spurs at their finest." He rubbed the sore spot on his cheek. "I don't think he liked basketball. Seemed like a boxing fan."
"What you get, Kev?" Mason held up his prize from the bag, finger outside the trigger guard and barrel pointed toward the ceiling. "Hell of a draw on my end."
If it kept going this way, next he'd be running into hot chicks with Playboy bunny costumes on. TV was turning out just goddamn great.
"Back at you, man. We definitely fell into a pile of shit here." Kevin asked him about the bruise. "Oh, I tried to show one of those SWAT guys the Spurs at their finest." He rubbed the sore spot on his cheek. "I don't think he liked basketball. Seemed like a boxing fan."
"What you get, Kev?" Mason held up his prize from the bag, finger outside the trigger guard and barrel pointed toward the ceiling. "Hell of a draw on my end."
(Mikaela Warner also continued from Rock the Boat, Baby.)
The walk to the hotel had been... distressingly uneventful. Weird as that sounded, the sheer lack of encounters or visible activity had Mikaela jumping a little at every noise on the way. Not that she was complaining about not running into any killers or anything, but when you were risking your life just by moving from Point A to Point B, there was a tendency to get a bit on edge. By the time the two women reached the hotel's back entrance, Mikaela was almost hoping someone'd just jump out with a gun and get it over with. She was that close to chewing her nails.
Nothing happened, though. Incredibly enough, and probably due in part to the game having just started, they reached the building in perfect safety. The air in the hotel was rather cooler, and she let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding as they slipped inside. Nobody seemed to be around to greet them at first, without even any doors in the corridor they walked through, but shelter was shelter, and from what she'd heard of SOTF running into people was a mixed blessing at best. When you put a bunch of kids in an arena and told them they had to kill everyone in sight if they wanted to live, at least some would take that to heart.
That didn't mean just abandoning everyone you'd known, though. It couldn't, at least if you asked her. How could a person just throw all their old friends to the wolves like that? You were truly lost to the game if you were willing to do that. The corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly, until Maddy reached the end and looked round the corner into the lobby. It seemed she didn't like what she saw, though, as she quickly turned back to Mikaela and gestured to the way they'd come in. The aspiring doctor raised an eyebrow briefly. Seriously? They'd just got here.
...She didn't say anything, though, because it quickly dawned on her that arguing probably wasn't a good idea. When was the last time she'd seen Maddy back down from something? If she was saying they had to leave now, things were probably about to get bad very, very quickly in here. Mikaela nodded, then her legs moved without input from her brain, leading the two of them back down the corridor and out of the hotel. Looked like that had been a complete waste of time.
"You know, we could've just gone upstairs, taken a room away from the lobby." Once they were out, she relaxed against the wall, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Guess that was a bust, though; where to next?"
The walk to the hotel had been... distressingly uneventful. Weird as that sounded, the sheer lack of encounters or visible activity had Mikaela jumping a little at every noise on the way. Not that she was complaining about not running into any killers or anything, but when you were risking your life just by moving from Point A to Point B, there was a tendency to get a bit on edge. By the time the two women reached the hotel's back entrance, Mikaela was almost hoping someone'd just jump out with a gun and get it over with. She was that close to chewing her nails.
Nothing happened, though. Incredibly enough, and probably due in part to the game having just started, they reached the building in perfect safety. The air in the hotel was rather cooler, and she let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding as they slipped inside. Nobody seemed to be around to greet them at first, without even any doors in the corridor they walked through, but shelter was shelter, and from what she'd heard of SOTF running into people was a mixed blessing at best. When you put a bunch of kids in an arena and told them they had to kill everyone in sight if they wanted to live, at least some would take that to heart.
That didn't mean just abandoning everyone you'd known, though. It couldn't, at least if you asked her. How could a person just throw all their old friends to the wolves like that? You were truly lost to the game if you were willing to do that. The corridor seemed to stretch on endlessly, until Maddy reached the end and looked round the corner into the lobby. It seemed she didn't like what she saw, though, as she quickly turned back to Mikaela and gestured to the way they'd come in. The aspiring doctor raised an eyebrow briefly. Seriously? They'd just got here.
...She didn't say anything, though, because it quickly dawned on her that arguing probably wasn't a good idea. When was the last time she'd seen Maddy back down from something? If she was saying they had to leave now, things were probably about to get bad very, very quickly in here. Mikaela nodded, then her legs moved without input from her brain, leading the two of them back down the corridor and out of the hotel. Looked like that had been a complete waste of time.
"You know, we could've just gone upstairs, taken a room away from the lobby." Once they were out, she relaxed against the wall, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Guess that was a bust, though; where to next?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
[We probably ought to establish a proper posting order here, it seems a little... chaotic, right now.]
Suddenly everything was starting to seem a little more... sinister. Eloise did not like it. Not at all. Two guys she didn't know, who definitely wouldn't miss her, calmly talking about their shiny new weapons and how they tried to fight the 'recruitment' people. Two guys who didn't seem like they'd have any qualms about just shooting her then and there, and going on with their day as if nothing had happened. Maybe not sociopaths before now, but the game does things to one's head, and from where Eloise was standing, it looked like they'd already succumbed to the spirit of the competition.
Or she might just be overreacting like mad. One or the other, really. Not giving a fuck who dies is, of course, only one of the things the island can do to a person's head. The other is immense paranoia, which always seems so much more reasonable to the person suffering it.
Either way, being in a room with two of her assigned enemies didn't seem like the greatest situation Eloise could be in, so she continued her retreat, turning and bolting as soon as she was sure she was close enough to the doorway. Now which way did that Detroit boy go? Eloise took a guess - fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, really - and carried on at a jog, hoping to whatever powers that may or may not be that nobody was following her, and that Daniel wasn't about to ambush her anyway. Was that too much to ask for? Probably.
Suddenly everything was starting to seem a little more... sinister. Eloise did not like it. Not at all. Two guys she didn't know, who definitely wouldn't miss her, calmly talking about their shiny new weapons and how they tried to fight the 'recruitment' people. Two guys who didn't seem like they'd have any qualms about just shooting her then and there, and going on with their day as if nothing had happened. Maybe not sociopaths before now, but the game does things to one's head, and from where Eloise was standing, it looked like they'd already succumbed to the spirit of the competition.
Or she might just be overreacting like mad. One or the other, really. Not giving a fuck who dies is, of course, only one of the things the island can do to a person's head. The other is immense paranoia, which always seems so much more reasonable to the person suffering it.
Either way, being in a room with two of her assigned enemies didn't seem like the greatest situation Eloise could be in, so she continued her retreat, turning and bolting as soon as she was sure she was close enough to the doorway. Now which way did that Detroit boy go? Eloise took a guess - fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, really - and carried on at a jog, hoping to whatever powers that may or may not be that nobody was following her, and that Daniel wasn't about to ambush her anyway. Was that too much to ask for? Probably.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((I'm going to get Mad out of here, and make the post order that much easier. It was Dropbear, Slayer, Chib, and then Outfoxd before I came. So I guess Outfox is next.))
When Madelyn got out of the hotel the first thing she did was get her map out again. While she was looking Mikaela said something about stairs. Madelyn must of missed them, and upwards seemed like a good way to get trapped to her.
She let the issue go from her head when Mikaela asked where they should go next. After a few seconds she figured it out.
"The forest. Plenty of cover there, and maybe we can hit the lakes to see if there's any cabins." She bit her lip as she thought about it a bit more. It was a lot of moving and area to cover, but she couldn't think of better idea.
Madelyn started walking and turned to her friend,
"What do you think?" inviting Mikaela to give some input while they walked away.
((Madelyn Conner and Mikaela Warner continued in Breathless))
((GM'ing approved by Slayer, again))
When Madelyn got out of the hotel the first thing she did was get her map out again. While she was looking Mikaela said something about stairs. Madelyn must of missed them, and upwards seemed like a good way to get trapped to her.
She let the issue go from her head when Mikaela asked where they should go next. After a few seconds she figured it out.
"The forest. Plenty of cover there, and maybe we can hit the lakes to see if there's any cabins." She bit her lip as she thought about it a bit more. It was a lot of moving and area to cover, but she couldn't think of better idea.
Madelyn started walking and turned to her friend,
"What do you think?" inviting Mikaela to give some input while they walked away.
((Madelyn Conner and Mikaela Warner continued in Breathless))
((GM'ing approved by Slayer, again))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Acidic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
(Post order can wait. Tossing in a quick Kevin post to give John something to reply to. SUCKAAAAAAAAAAAA!)
That voice had intruded again, but the speaker was gone when Kevin looked. He was starting to get a bit annoyed, honestly. Who in Heaven's name was that guy? Probably some bloody peasant too ignorant of the situation not to mess around. Speaking of messing around, it seemed that woman - El, was it? - had left rather abruptly. Well, whatever, wasn't Mason asking him something?
Ah, yes. Weaponry. Not that he'd technically got anything, grumble grumble... "They gave me night-vision goggles," he replied, shrugging broad shoulders as if he were discussing a homework assignment instead of the potential resources in a death game. "At least one of us has something we can actually use if someone attacks us, then."
That was a useful-looking gun. Perhaps he'd have to find a way to get his hands on it. Not until he found something to give his teammate, though; what kind of idiot would leave their team members unarmed for their own sake. "Speaking of attacks, you haven't run into anyone out there, have you?"
That voice had intruded again, but the speaker was gone when Kevin looked. He was starting to get a bit annoyed, honestly. Who in Heaven's name was that guy? Probably some bloody peasant too ignorant of the situation not to mess around. Speaking of messing around, it seemed that woman - El, was it? - had left rather abruptly. Well, whatever, wasn't Mason asking him something?
Ah, yes. Weaponry. Not that he'd technically got anything, grumble grumble... "They gave me night-vision goggles," he replied, shrugging broad shoulders as if he were discussing a homework assignment instead of the potential resources in a death game. "At least one of us has something we can actually use if someone attacks us, then."
That was a useful-looking gun. Perhaps he'd have to find a way to get his hands on it. Not until he found something to give his teammate, though; what kind of idiot would leave their team members unarmed for their own sake. "Speaking of attacks, you haven't run into anyone out there, have you?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Mason let the gun drop, the barrel pointing to the ground as he held it in his right hand. He raised the other hand up, palm out, and shook his head.
"Nobody. You'd be the first."
Mason looked around, caught sight of a camera up in the east corner by the ceiling.
"Guess I'm pretty boring viewing for everybody watching at home. I mean, I could've done something for them if they gave me a ball and a court. Always figured if I'd be on TV it'd be because I finally made it onto the Spurs, y'know?"
Mason looked around the hotel lobby. The girl that Kevin had been talking to had apparently bolted. Not that he blamed her. Kevin was pretty damned intimidating, and he guessed his own presence as a teammate to him didn't help matters.
"Wouldn't happen to have a plan, would you? Mine pretty much involved hiding like a scared rabbit for...oh, the next few days."
((Chib, don't know if GM'ed you out of the room or not. If I did, lemme know and I'll throw this an edit.))
"Nobody. You'd be the first."
Mason looked around, caught sight of a camera up in the east corner by the ceiling.
"Guess I'm pretty boring viewing for everybody watching at home. I mean, I could've done something for them if they gave me a ball and a court. Always figured if I'd be on TV it'd be because I finally made it onto the Spurs, y'know?"
Mason looked around the hotel lobby. The girl that Kevin had been talking to had apparently bolted. Not that he blamed her. Kevin was pretty damned intimidating, and he guessed his own presence as a teammate to him didn't help matters.
"Wouldn't happen to have a plan, would you? Mine pretty much involved hiding like a scared rabbit for...oh, the next few days."
((Chib, don't know if GM'ed you out of the room or not. If I did, lemme know and I'll throw this an edit.))
-
shining knight*
- Posts: 65
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:13 am
Harold Smythe continued from Lucidity
Harold had run from the beach almost out of breath. He needed a breathing space in order to change his outfit and weigh up his situation. He spotted a downstairs room and shattered the glass with his gun then crawled in cutting himself in the process. The shut in who used to surf the net and be bullied all the time died as soon as those executives stuck him here. The blue must go…
He stripped down to his boxers being careful to keep the team band in his arm at all times and then looked at the clothes inside his backpack. He looked at the joke outfit and grinned. It is perfect for his new mission. To save all those school kids like him who are fighting for their lives. But for now he was starved. He took one of the rations and carefully bit into it.
“I wonder if that assassin followed me here…I wonder if I can get this person to help me save people,”
He continued to eat while resting up before he moved on and began his mission.
(continued in the mission)
Harold had run from the beach almost out of breath. He needed a breathing space in order to change his outfit and weigh up his situation. He spotted a downstairs room and shattered the glass with his gun then crawled in cutting himself in the process. The shut in who used to surf the net and be bullied all the time died as soon as those executives stuck him here. The blue must go…
He stripped down to his boxers being careful to keep the team band in his arm at all times and then looked at the clothes inside his backpack. He looked at the joke outfit and grinned. It is perfect for his new mission. To save all those school kids like him who are fighting for their lives. But for now he was starved. He took one of the rations and carefully bit into it.
“I wonder if that assassin followed me here…I wonder if I can get this person to help me save people,”
He continued to eat while resting up before he moved on and began his mission.
(continued in the mission)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler shining knight. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.