((Amber Lyons continued from The Bagman's Gambit))
Can't stop. Must keep moving. Can't stop. Must keep moving. Can't stop. Must keep...
Amber and Odile were still running by the time they reached the hotel, neither of them willing to stop in case Shawn was still in pursuit. The usually friendly boy had made it very clear back at the ship that he fully intended on gunning both of them down, not that Amber could really blame him. However, as the hotel came into sight, the two girls gradually slowed down to a walk as they neared the eerie building that lay ahead of them.
An announcement had played out during the time they spent fleeing the ship. A couple more people Amber knew had been killed,including a certain Skyler Thsani. She and Skye always got along fairly well, although he got the impression that he liked her far more than she liked him back. That said, it was disappointing to hear that he had passed away, but at that moment in time Amber was more concerned with the fact that her friend Eloise had died as well. Hearing that someone you knew had died was one thing, and witnessing the death of someone you cared about was another. But hearing that someone who was one of your closest friends had died without you ever getting the chance to see them again?
If it weren't for the fact that Amber was already in the process of breaking down, she'd of fallen to her knees and burst into tears right there and then.
But as they arrived at the hotel, it was virtually impossible to tell how Amber was feeling just by looking her in the face. Ever since she and Odile had left the ship, the usually talkative girl hadn't said so much as a single word. There was something oddly melancholy about her demeanour, and whilst Odile was moving cautiously with her gun at the ready, Amber just trod on in a detached way with an almost emotionless look on her face.
Inside her head, there were a thousand thoughts spiralling about. Memories of the good times she had spent with her now deceased friends. When she had killed someone for the first time. The time when she had left Bobby to die at Karen's hands. How embarrassed she felt when her mentor interrupted her private moment with Sterling. Images of her sisters relentlessly heckling her every action. Jaszmine's lifeless corpse. Cesar's headless corpse.
And of course, the fateful moment when she took the life of one of the few friends she still had left.
First Anthony. Then Cesar. Then Bobby. And now Eloise and Skylar...
...Who's going to be next?
Inner Demons
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Inner Demons
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
((Odile Jones continued from The Bagman's Gambit))
In the worst show that Odile had ever done, a rope had broken, and her ankle had followed. Even amongst the frustration, the disappointment, even the despair; there had been a certain feeling liberation, a freedom that came from not caring, from knowing that, as cliche as it might sound, things couldn't get any worse.
If Odile's time on the island had taught her anything, it was that things could always get worse.
Now Jake was dead, and Amber seemed like she might as well have been. Odile didn't know what she was meant to be fucking doing, and the kids they'd left behind on the boat had a gun, and more than a few good reasons to introduce her to the business end of it.
Things were bad, and they'd get a lot worse if the hippie kid caught up with them. Odile wanted badly to give up; to lie down, hold Amber, tell her everything would be okay and wait for Shawn to come and take the revenge that he most probably deserved. She wanted to not have to fight anymore, to not have to run, or be afraid, or be hated. She wanted to be able to stop second-guessing every action she made, every word she spoke, trying to figure out whether that would help the show that had put her in this position, or titillate the psychos and perverts who empowered it. Odile had finally begun to accept that she'd probably die on this fucking island, and she wanted to not be terrified of that any more: to have the freedom of not caring as a substitute for the real, tangible freedom that had been taken from her.
She just wanted it all to be over.
More than that, though, she wanted Amber to be okay. Odile's friend seemed resigned and defeated; her face blank, her eyes unfocused. She was running with no real sense of purpose, simply following the taller girl as she pulled her along. Odile could hear it in her friends raspy breathing and increasingly uneven footfalls that she needed a break, but she needed to not be shot even more, and the only way to guarantee that was to get as far away from the ship as possible. It killed her not to be able to comfort her friend, but all considered; comfort was a luxury the pair of them couldn't really afford any more.
They'd stopped running, having reached a building: the hotel from early. As scary as the place had been when they'd fled here earlier, the eerie silence that now enveloped it was nearly as bad. It made sense, of course: if anyone has survived the massacre before, they were hardly likely to stick around: if the lobby full of dead kids didn't chase them off, the idea of some of their friends out for payback might. Odile didn't blame them, the place was freaky as shit.
She removed the gun, returned to her by Amber, from her waistband, and held it in a ready-ish position as she looked around. There was nobody to be seen, but that didn't mean much. She couldn't imagine that anyone would be trying to be spotted by a couple of confirmed killers, and with the vast array of potential hiding places that the hotel had to offer, that really was the only way they'd come in contact with someone.
Until it's too late jeered the pessimist in Odile: a side of her so unfamiliar, so alien, that she found herself verbally responding to it, under her breath.
"Well then that's what the gun's for, isn't it."
Odile'd had her share of killing, and had enough of it. She wanted no more. The two-man team of herself and Amber, though, was an area toward which Odile's newfound pacifism applied with incredible and specific strength: while of course no one should die, she felt that the two of especially shouldn't, and was more than prepared to engage in a little hypocrisy to ensure that. As tired as she was; of the show, of the fighting, of her every deed enabling some hollywood fatcats to abduct the next generation of innocents; Odile was not (as Uncle Q had once said of a pedestrian who'd nearly stepped out in front of their car) tired of life. She knew what needed to be done to survive, knew more than probably anyone, and she also knew that she'd hate herself for it, but if there was anything that Cesar's family had taught her, it was that dying a martyr only impressed a bunch of crusty spanish people.
Living with yourself was a fair price to pay for getting to live.
Odile tightened her hand on the gun. The two of them weren't looking for trouble, but any that they found would be repaid with interest.
In the worst show that Odile had ever done, a rope had broken, and her ankle had followed. Even amongst the frustration, the disappointment, even the despair; there had been a certain feeling liberation, a freedom that came from not caring, from knowing that, as cliche as it might sound, things couldn't get any worse.
If Odile's time on the island had taught her anything, it was that things could always get worse.
Now Jake was dead, and Amber seemed like she might as well have been. Odile didn't know what she was meant to be fucking doing, and the kids they'd left behind on the boat had a gun, and more than a few good reasons to introduce her to the business end of it.
Things were bad, and they'd get a lot worse if the hippie kid caught up with them. Odile wanted badly to give up; to lie down, hold Amber, tell her everything would be okay and wait for Shawn to come and take the revenge that he most probably deserved. She wanted to not have to fight anymore, to not have to run, or be afraid, or be hated. She wanted to be able to stop second-guessing every action she made, every word she spoke, trying to figure out whether that would help the show that had put her in this position, or titillate the psychos and perverts who empowered it. Odile had finally begun to accept that she'd probably die on this fucking island, and she wanted to not be terrified of that any more: to have the freedom of not caring as a substitute for the real, tangible freedom that had been taken from her.
She just wanted it all to be over.
More than that, though, she wanted Amber to be okay. Odile's friend seemed resigned and defeated; her face blank, her eyes unfocused. She was running with no real sense of purpose, simply following the taller girl as she pulled her along. Odile could hear it in her friends raspy breathing and increasingly uneven footfalls that she needed a break, but she needed to not be shot even more, and the only way to guarantee that was to get as far away from the ship as possible. It killed her not to be able to comfort her friend, but all considered; comfort was a luxury the pair of them couldn't really afford any more.
They'd stopped running, having reached a building: the hotel from early. As scary as the place had been when they'd fled here earlier, the eerie silence that now enveloped it was nearly as bad. It made sense, of course: if anyone has survived the massacre before, they were hardly likely to stick around: if the lobby full of dead kids didn't chase them off, the idea of some of their friends out for payback might. Odile didn't blame them, the place was freaky as shit.
She removed the gun, returned to her by Amber, from her waistband, and held it in a ready-ish position as she looked around. There was nobody to be seen, but that didn't mean much. She couldn't imagine that anyone would be trying to be spotted by a couple of confirmed killers, and with the vast array of potential hiding places that the hotel had to offer, that really was the only way they'd come in contact with someone.
Until it's too late jeered the pessimist in Odile: a side of her so unfamiliar, so alien, that she found herself verbally responding to it, under her breath.
"Well then that's what the gun's for, isn't it."
Odile'd had her share of killing, and had enough of it. She wanted no more. The two-man team of herself and Amber, though, was an area toward which Odile's newfound pacifism applied with incredible and specific strength: while of course no one should die, she felt that the two of especially shouldn't, and was more than prepared to engage in a little hypocrisy to ensure that. As tired as she was; of the show, of the fighting, of her every deed enabling some hollywood fatcats to abduct the next generation of innocents; Odile was not (as Uncle Q had once said of a pedestrian who'd nearly stepped out in front of their car) tired of life. She knew what needed to be done to survive, knew more than probably anyone, and she also knew that she'd hate herself for it, but if there was anything that Cesar's family had taught her, it was that dying a martyr only impressed a bunch of crusty spanish people.
Living with yourself was a fair price to pay for getting to live.
Odile tightened her hand on the gun. The two of them weren't looking for trouble, but any that they found would be repaid with interest.
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Odile entered the building first, cautiously making sure that the coast was clear.
Whilst it was fairly obvious that there had been a struggle of some description, from the looks of things the hotel had been deserted for quite some time now. There wasn't any obvious signs as to whether or not Sterling or the others had gotten away, but the distinctive stench of death was enough to convince them that things had not ended peacefully after they had left. Not that Amber particularly noticed as she shambled inside and sat down at a nearby seat, staring off into the distance as Odile went about making sure that there was definitely no one else around.
Time and space seemed to almost stop for Amber as she just sat there, her face looking noticeably pale and emotionless. She didn't seem to react to any sounds around her, almost as if her mind was completely blank.But of course, this was far from the truth, because deep down all Amber could now think about was what she had done to Bobby. How she had practically murdered him in cold blood. Killing Lou had been one thing. She barely knew the guy, and she had absolutely no reasons to feel sorry for the guy. Bobby on the other hand had been her friend. One her closest friends in fact. There was no way she or anyone else on the island, or even back home for that matter, could forgive her for what she had done. She was a murderer. A murderer who had killed someone for entirely selfish reasons.
...No, she had to do it, right? Bobby had given her an ultimatum: Kill him, or let him kill Odile? And there was no way she could have even let him harm her, let alone kill her. Bobby hadn't given her any other choice.
Suddenly, she began to feel sick. As if any second now she could empty the contents of her stomach all over the floor. Her vision started to become hazy as well, and an overwhelming sense of dizziness began to overcome her. She wanted desperately to get to the nearest bathroom as fast as she could before she could embarrass herself in front of Odile, seeing as she was almost certain that she couldn't avoid what was coming...
"I... I need to go to the bathroom for a second." she said, sounding almost robotic as she got up and stumbled down a nearby hallway towards the bathroom.
The empty hotel corridor was a truly haunting sight to behold. It reminded Amber a lot of the hallways from an old horror movie she saw. She couldn't remember the name of the movie, but she did recall it causing her to become afraid of the dark for an entire week or so. She stumbled for a moment, nearly falling flat on her face before she was able to get back onto her feet. Her dizziness was beginning to get worse with each passing second, to the point where she was beginning to be afraid that she might pass out at any moment.
By the time she reached the bathroom, Amber was barely able to stay standing as she practically slumped into a cubicle and emptied the contents of her stomach into the nearest toilet. The stench was foul, but by this point anything was better then the smell of corpses rotting. She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, vomiting over and over as tears were finally beginning to flow down her cheeks, but at a guess she was probably there for at least ten minutes before finally getting up and moving up to the sink to wash herself.
The cold water felt refreshing against her face, reminding her of the morning after she had killed Lou when she took a swim in the lake. This time however, there was no way she could relax. Not after what she had just done. Especially not when she began to consider what would happen next. Would Shawn go after her and Odile for killing Bobby? What about the other killers on this island? Had she made herself an even bigger target? Where was all this madness leading too?
Did she even want to find out?
Whilst it was fairly obvious that there had been a struggle of some description, from the looks of things the hotel had been deserted for quite some time now. There wasn't any obvious signs as to whether or not Sterling or the others had gotten away, but the distinctive stench of death was enough to convince them that things had not ended peacefully after they had left. Not that Amber particularly noticed as she shambled inside and sat down at a nearby seat, staring off into the distance as Odile went about making sure that there was definitely no one else around.
Time and space seemed to almost stop for Amber as she just sat there, her face looking noticeably pale and emotionless. She didn't seem to react to any sounds around her, almost as if her mind was completely blank.But of course, this was far from the truth, because deep down all Amber could now think about was what she had done to Bobby. How she had practically murdered him in cold blood. Killing Lou had been one thing. She barely knew the guy, and she had absolutely no reasons to feel sorry for the guy. Bobby on the other hand had been her friend. One her closest friends in fact. There was no way she or anyone else on the island, or even back home for that matter, could forgive her for what she had done. She was a murderer. A murderer who had killed someone for entirely selfish reasons.
...No, she had to do it, right? Bobby had given her an ultimatum: Kill him, or let him kill Odile? And there was no way she could have even let him harm her, let alone kill her. Bobby hadn't given her any other choice.
Suddenly, she began to feel sick. As if any second now she could empty the contents of her stomach all over the floor. Her vision started to become hazy as well, and an overwhelming sense of dizziness began to overcome her. She wanted desperately to get to the nearest bathroom as fast as she could before she could embarrass herself in front of Odile, seeing as she was almost certain that she couldn't avoid what was coming...
"I... I need to go to the bathroom for a second." she said, sounding almost robotic as she got up and stumbled down a nearby hallway towards the bathroom.
The empty hotel corridor was a truly haunting sight to behold. It reminded Amber a lot of the hallways from an old horror movie she saw. She couldn't remember the name of the movie, but she did recall it causing her to become afraid of the dark for an entire week or so. She stumbled for a moment, nearly falling flat on her face before she was able to get back onto her feet. Her dizziness was beginning to get worse with each passing second, to the point where she was beginning to be afraid that she might pass out at any moment.
By the time she reached the bathroom, Amber was barely able to stay standing as she practically slumped into a cubicle and emptied the contents of her stomach into the nearest toilet. The stench was foul, but by this point anything was better then the smell of corpses rotting. She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, vomiting over and over as tears were finally beginning to flow down her cheeks, but at a guess she was probably there for at least ten minutes before finally getting up and moving up to the sink to wash herself.
The cold water felt refreshing against her face, reminding her of the morning after she had killed Lou when she took a swim in the lake. This time however, there was no way she could relax. Not after what she had just done. Especially not when she began to consider what would happen next. Would Shawn go after her and Odile for killing Bobby? What about the other killers on this island? Had she made herself an even bigger target? Where was all this madness leading too?
Did she even want to find out?
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
Odile'd seen Amber hurting before, after a bad day, a break up, whatever. She'd put her arm around, say what she'd want to hear, they'd get a few drinks, have a gossip, and everything would get better. It'd all seemed so easy.
Nothing seemed easy anymore.
Right now, it didn't take much observation to see that Amber was hurting bad. As she sorta should be, of course, being that she'd just skewered a guy, and her friend at that. All considered, it would be a greater cause for concern if Amber wasn't hurting, but that didn't make it any easier for Odile to see her friend in pain. She wanted so much to put an arm 'round her friend, to lie, to tell her everything would be okay. But then, she also wanted to put two arms about her friend and to kiss her, like they had before. Was that wrong? Would it be taking advantage of a lost, confused girl? Should she even be thinking that, with Cesar so soon in the ground? For another part of her wanted nothing more than to have him back.
And another part of her, one that she tried not to acknowledge, let alone listen to, insisted that Amber was at fault, here; asked what she had to be so sad about, anyway; pointed out that it was Odile who had just lost Cesar, Odile who'd had the exact same ordeal with a loved one much more loved, and Odile who was deserving of the comfort, of the pity. Sex with Amber would be taking advantage of a girl in pain? She was the one in pain! She deserved a little something, at least.
For the moment, at least, that part of herself was easy to ignore. She'd been thrown onto an island and ordered to kill her friends to survive. The fuck did fairness and desert have to do with anything? She'd get Amber out of here, keep her alive, figure out some way off the place.
And maybe then, the worst part of Odile, which she'd failed to repress, suggested; they would fuck.
She shook her head imperceptibly, banishing the thought, and motioned for Amber to sit down while she made sure that there weren't any psycho's within stabbing distance. However fucked up Amber was at the moment would become fairly moot if she got an axe through the head, and Odile was determined to see to it that nothing like that happened. Long term, they'd find somewhere safe to hole up, where danger couldn't get to them, but for now, with Amber practically catatonic, barely able to find her way about on her own, let alone defend herself, the only recourse Odile really had was not letting her friend out of her sight, even for a second.
It seemed... not safe, certainly, but there seemed to be a lack of immediate danger. As hard as she listened, all Odile could hear was Amber's ragged breathing, and every sign she saw pointed to the place being abandoned not long after the girls themselves had left. Those former occupants of the hotel who had been permanently checked out were definitely still about, and the smell from their corpses, along with the cloying heat and unsettling silence of the building all served to give it a sinister, oppressive feel. No one would choose to stay here. No one sane, at any rate, and thinking back to all the nutjobs she'd met here so far, stealth hadn't ever seemed to be a priority for any of them, let alone a skill.
Still, it couldn't hurt to get out of this place as soon as possible. If nothing else, it was giving Odile the creeps.
...And Amber needed to pee. It was inconvenient, sure, but Odile was relieved just to hear her friend talk. She nodded assent, mumbling for Amber to be careful, and stationed herself by the hotel's entrance, her gun firmly in hand. The last thing they needed was an unexpected guest.
Nothing seemed easy anymore.
Right now, it didn't take much observation to see that Amber was hurting bad. As she sorta should be, of course, being that she'd just skewered a guy, and her friend at that. All considered, it would be a greater cause for concern if Amber wasn't hurting, but that didn't make it any easier for Odile to see her friend in pain. She wanted so much to put an arm 'round her friend, to lie, to tell her everything would be okay. But then, she also wanted to put two arms about her friend and to kiss her, like they had before. Was that wrong? Would it be taking advantage of a lost, confused girl? Should she even be thinking that, with Cesar so soon in the ground? For another part of her wanted nothing more than to have him back.
And another part of her, one that she tried not to acknowledge, let alone listen to, insisted that Amber was at fault, here; asked what she had to be so sad about, anyway; pointed out that it was Odile who had just lost Cesar, Odile who'd had the exact same ordeal with a loved one much more loved, and Odile who was deserving of the comfort, of the pity. Sex with Amber would be taking advantage of a girl in pain? She was the one in pain! She deserved a little something, at least.
For the moment, at least, that part of herself was easy to ignore. She'd been thrown onto an island and ordered to kill her friends to survive. The fuck did fairness and desert have to do with anything? She'd get Amber out of here, keep her alive, figure out some way off the place.
And maybe then, the worst part of Odile, which she'd failed to repress, suggested; they would fuck.
She shook her head imperceptibly, banishing the thought, and motioned for Amber to sit down while she made sure that there weren't any psycho's within stabbing distance. However fucked up Amber was at the moment would become fairly moot if she got an axe through the head, and Odile was determined to see to it that nothing like that happened. Long term, they'd find somewhere safe to hole up, where danger couldn't get to them, but for now, with Amber practically catatonic, barely able to find her way about on her own, let alone defend herself, the only recourse Odile really had was not letting her friend out of her sight, even for a second.
It seemed... not safe, certainly, but there seemed to be a lack of immediate danger. As hard as she listened, all Odile could hear was Amber's ragged breathing, and every sign she saw pointed to the place being abandoned not long after the girls themselves had left. Those former occupants of the hotel who had been permanently checked out were definitely still about, and the smell from their corpses, along with the cloying heat and unsettling silence of the building all served to give it a sinister, oppressive feel. No one would choose to stay here. No one sane, at any rate, and thinking back to all the nutjobs she'd met here so far, stealth hadn't ever seemed to be a priority for any of them, let alone a skill.
Still, it couldn't hurt to get out of this place as soon as possible. If nothing else, it was giving Odile the creeps.
...And Amber needed to pee. It was inconvenient, sure, but Odile was relieved just to hear her friend talk. She nodded assent, mumbling for Amber to be careful, and stationed herself by the hotel's entrance, her gun firmly in hand. The last thing they needed was an unexpected guest.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Kitten. 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.
"Hello, to everybody that's still around to hear the sound of my voice!"
Oh for fuck's sake, not again...
Of all the times for there to be another announcement, why did it have to be now? She wasn't in any mood to hear about what awful things had happened to her friends, or how that backstabbing bitch Karen had slaughtered even more of her own classmates. Amber already had enough reasons to be depressed without the announcement's help. But regardless of this, she still listened with great intensity. After all, she had to know who was still alive, right? So as much as she didn't want to hear it, she couldn't afford to block her ears.
However, by the time the announcement was over, Amber wished that she hadn't heard a single word.
The first thing that got her was the revelation that there were only fifteen people left, herself and Odile included. Fifteen people. FIFTEEN people. Out of the sixty or so students who started out, she and fourteen others were the only ones left. Just thinking about it was beginning to make her sick again.
The next piece of shocking news was that her friend Anna had been killed, by that thug Vincent Sulliven no less. She was one of the few other people on this island apart from Odile and Eloise who Amber had wanted to find, even if it was just to say goodbye one last time. Out of all her friends, Anna had always been one of the friendliest. And not to mention one of the more innocent, compared to Amber and the rest of her friends anyway. She was always fun to have around, and Amber had been desperate to tell her how much Anthony had wanted to see her again before being tragically gunned down. Sure, it might of been an exaggeration. Amber didn't recall Anthony mentioning Anna that much when they had met. But then again, he probably didn't expect to be the first one to go either. In any case, now that both of them were gone, Amber could only take comfort in the fact that perhaps the two of them were now finally together again. Even if it was just in a spiritual sense.
But whilst this piece of news had brought Amber to tears once again, the next piece of news was by far the absolute worst.
"Oh, and speaking of Karen Ruiz, you don't need to worry about her anymore..."
Huh? Is she...
"Oh no, she isn't dead."
Amber's face tensed, and her eyes widened.
No, she couldn't have?!?
"She's on a helicopter somewhere over Florida right now, if I had to guess. That's right, she's our ten kill winner, and she's on her way home right now."
For a moment, Amber couldn't believe what she was hearing.
No way. That can't be right. That SHOULDN'T be right. Karen Ruiz, the one human being in the world whom Amber genuinely wanted to see suffer in this game, had been taken off the island. She had been saved. Karen Ruiz had been rescued.
And this, more than anything else, was the reason why Amber screamed at the top of her lungs.
No, no, this isn't fucking right! Why is Karen getting a free ticket out of here?!? That traitorous BITCH! She should be flayed alive for what she has done, not fucking awarded for it!
Amber couldn't think of a single time when she had ever been so enraged in her entire life. Actually, she couldn't really think straight at all right now. All the hatred she had been saving for the moment when Karen would be at her mercy had now all exploded in one violent outrage as she learnt that she would never get her chance for vengeance. Anthony had died just so that SHE could be let free.
Why?!? Why is it that all her friends had to die one by one, but Karen was allowed to live? The one person Amber wanted to die... No, the one person Amber actually WANTED to kill was set free. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It wasn't... justice.
And to make matters worse, her mentor had actually saved her life! Karen COULD have died at Jhamel's hands. Sure, Amber would still be disappointed that she didn't do it herself, but at least the bitch would be dead. But no, Jared Clayton had to protect his favourite player, didn't he? Amber betted that he had probably been telling her the whole time what a good job she was doing. She was his little sociopathic angel, and Amber? Amber was nothing to him.
Cheating bastard. I wish he had fucking died on that island...
Amber was leaning against the sink, her fingernails digging into the wooden counter as she stared herself in the face. The emotionless visage that had been there just moments ago was now gone, replace by a look of pure unadulterated hatred.
"This... Entire game... Is total BULLSHIT! Fuck this game! Fuck this island! Fuck Karen! Fuck Vincent! Fuck....."
She screamed again, and smashed her fist against the glass mirror, causing it to crack as she retracted her hand in agony. She began clawing at her hand as she fell to her knee's, screaming obscenities at the top of her voice.
And for a while, she seemed to stay this way, shouting and screaming about how unfair this entire game had been for what felt like a good ten minutes or so until she finally began to calm down. And for a while, she began to cry again instead, tears flowing down her cheeks like a open waterfall.
However, at that point, Amber began to do something which she hadn't done for a long, long time.
She began to laugh.
What started out as a simple giggle slowly but surely began to increase with intensity, and within minutes Amber's tears of sorrow had been replaced with tears of laughter. But not the soft kind of laugh that one would usually expect from Amber. This time, there was something distinctly off-key about it. It was more hysterical than it was joyful, with little to no genuine happiness to be found within it.
Hehe, stupid Amber. Well DUH, of course it's unfair! Life's always unfair, right? Surely you of all people should have learnt that by now! All nice guys and gals always end up dying in SOTF, remember? It's only the monsters like Karen and Jared who ever stand any real chance of survival. That's why they do it in the first place!
Because that's the only way to WIN!
Oh for fuck's sake, not again...
Of all the times for there to be another announcement, why did it have to be now? She wasn't in any mood to hear about what awful things had happened to her friends, or how that backstabbing bitch Karen had slaughtered even more of her own classmates. Amber already had enough reasons to be depressed without the announcement's help. But regardless of this, she still listened with great intensity. After all, she had to know who was still alive, right? So as much as she didn't want to hear it, she couldn't afford to block her ears.
However, by the time the announcement was over, Amber wished that she hadn't heard a single word.
The first thing that got her was the revelation that there were only fifteen people left, herself and Odile included. Fifteen people. FIFTEEN people. Out of the sixty or so students who started out, she and fourteen others were the only ones left. Just thinking about it was beginning to make her sick again.
The next piece of shocking news was that her friend Anna had been killed, by that thug Vincent Sulliven no less. She was one of the few other people on this island apart from Odile and Eloise who Amber had wanted to find, even if it was just to say goodbye one last time. Out of all her friends, Anna had always been one of the friendliest. And not to mention one of the more innocent, compared to Amber and the rest of her friends anyway. She was always fun to have around, and Amber had been desperate to tell her how much Anthony had wanted to see her again before being tragically gunned down. Sure, it might of been an exaggeration. Amber didn't recall Anthony mentioning Anna that much when they had met. But then again, he probably didn't expect to be the first one to go either. In any case, now that both of them were gone, Amber could only take comfort in the fact that perhaps the two of them were now finally together again. Even if it was just in a spiritual sense.
But whilst this piece of news had brought Amber to tears once again, the next piece of news was by far the absolute worst.
"Oh, and speaking of Karen Ruiz, you don't need to worry about her anymore..."
Huh? Is she...
"Oh no, she isn't dead."
Amber's face tensed, and her eyes widened.
No, she couldn't have?!?
"She's on a helicopter somewhere over Florida right now, if I had to guess. That's right, she's our ten kill winner, and she's on her way home right now."
For a moment, Amber couldn't believe what she was hearing.
No way. That can't be right. That SHOULDN'T be right. Karen Ruiz, the one human being in the world whom Amber genuinely wanted to see suffer in this game, had been taken off the island. She had been saved. Karen Ruiz had been rescued.
And this, more than anything else, was the reason why Amber screamed at the top of her lungs.
No, no, this isn't fucking right! Why is Karen getting a free ticket out of here?!? That traitorous BITCH! She should be flayed alive for what she has done, not fucking awarded for it!
Amber couldn't think of a single time when she had ever been so enraged in her entire life. Actually, she couldn't really think straight at all right now. All the hatred she had been saving for the moment when Karen would be at her mercy had now all exploded in one violent outrage as she learnt that she would never get her chance for vengeance. Anthony had died just so that SHE could be let free.
Why?!? Why is it that all her friends had to die one by one, but Karen was allowed to live? The one person Amber wanted to die... No, the one person Amber actually WANTED to kill was set free. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It wasn't... justice.
And to make matters worse, her mentor had actually saved her life! Karen COULD have died at Jhamel's hands. Sure, Amber would still be disappointed that she didn't do it herself, but at least the bitch would be dead. But no, Jared Clayton had to protect his favourite player, didn't he? Amber betted that he had probably been telling her the whole time what a good job she was doing. She was his little sociopathic angel, and Amber? Amber was nothing to him.
Cheating bastard. I wish he had fucking died on that island...
Amber was leaning against the sink, her fingernails digging into the wooden counter as she stared herself in the face. The emotionless visage that had been there just moments ago was now gone, replace by a look of pure unadulterated hatred.
"This... Entire game... Is total BULLSHIT! Fuck this game! Fuck this island! Fuck Karen! Fuck Vincent! Fuck....."
She screamed again, and smashed her fist against the glass mirror, causing it to crack as she retracted her hand in agony. She began clawing at her hand as she fell to her knee's, screaming obscenities at the top of her voice.
And for a while, she seemed to stay this way, shouting and screaming about how unfair this entire game had been for what felt like a good ten minutes or so until she finally began to calm down. And for a while, she began to cry again instead, tears flowing down her cheeks like a open waterfall.
However, at that point, Amber began to do something which she hadn't done for a long, long time.
She began to laugh.
What started out as a simple giggle slowly but surely began to increase with intensity, and within minutes Amber's tears of sorrow had been replaced with tears of laughter. But not the soft kind of laugh that one would usually expect from Amber. This time, there was something distinctly off-key about it. It was more hysterical than it was joyful, with little to no genuine happiness to be found within it.
Hehe, stupid Amber. Well DUH, of course it's unfair! Life's always unfair, right? Surely you of all people should have learnt that by now! All nice guys and gals always end up dying in SOTF, remember? It's only the monsters like Karen and Jared who ever stand any real chance of survival. That's why they do it in the first place!
Because that's the only way to WIN!
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
Before coming to the island, Odile had been on the radio once before. She hadn't spoken, had barely been mentioned on a tiny local show about acts worth checking out, but she had still been happy, and proud. The broadcast went out while she was out school, but Uncle Q had gotten a tape of it, she wasn't sure how, and had it waiting for her when she got home. It was the briefest of name-drops, but Odile had still listened to it 10, 15 times, loving the feeling of minor, local celebrity.
Here, that feeling was starting to grow stale.
The upside of this latest broadcast, she supposed, was that it could have been a lot worse. The downside was that the worst moment of her life had been repackaged as exploitative, populist drivel and used to make a fortune for a bunch of amoral corporate fucks, but at least the whole "mercy" situation was brought up, so the chance of anyone coming after her out of revenge was pretty low, she guessed. Still, with only 15 people left, the likelihood of anyone needing justifications like that would be getting low, too. With the end so near in sight, Odile was well aware of how easily all of those inconvenient "qualms" and "ethics" would start to melt away, as desperation and self preservation took their place.
Tired, lonely, frightened teenagers were easily influenced at the best of times, especially by themselves. Surrounded by the bodies of their classmates, Odile couldn't imagine it would be hard for her peers to persuade themselves that killing their way out of this mess was appropriate. Escaping an island on the backs of 60 corpses seemed abhorrent, but 15 was manageable, especially compared with the 50 or so that were dead already. Factor in that the 15 survivors were probably all killers (she hadn't been keeping great track, but couldn't imagine that anyone could get this far without blood on their hands) and Odile could see how taking the traditional route out might start to look desirable.
That was bullshit, though. No matter how understandable, even noble, the motive; playing the game implicitly legitimized it. If you were killing to save a friend, or killing to save yourself, or killing because you were a psycho like Karen or even just killing to put your dying boyfriend out of his misery, those kills were racking up views, those views were racking up dollars and those dollars would be spent taking more children and ruining them forever.
And if you weren't willing to kill? Well that was fine, because all those other baby Bundies wandering about were more than happy to make you a victim. The show's producers had made a situation where literally the only choices their contestants had were to comply or die, and it'd taken them sickeningly little effort to do so. Take sixty people, add hormones and weaponry, season with idiot "mentors" to taste and then sit to simmer for a few days. Hey presto! You'd just turned mass murder into TV gold.
Odile's mouth went dry. She fished her last bottle of water out of her bag and took a swig, feeling physically sick at the thought of this whole situation. How were other people coping with it? How was anyone coping with it? How had she even coped with it? Since becoming disillusioned about her situation, the only way Odile had managed to avoid thinking about it was to keep busy, and when she inevitably ran out of things to be busy with, the nature and implications of what had been busying her made everything that extra bit worse.
Still, she'd come this far. It'd cost her more than anyone should ever have to pay, but the end of the game was in spitting distance, and Odile would be damned if she and Amber had gone through all that they'd been through just to become another notch on some whacko's gunbarrel.
Things were quiet, now, but Odile doubted they'd stay that way for long. There was always some freak around the corner, just waiting to show up and give evidence to Darwinism. Odile wasn't looking for a fight, but when one came knocking, she was more than prepared to give a quick and painful lesson in why Odile Jones was not to fucked with, 101.
Having finished railing against the system that entrapped her and psyching herself up for potential violence, Odile was actually kinda bored. What the shit was taking Amber so long? She snickered, the little pun having being unintended. Would it be alright if she went in there? Amber had never been the sort to do anything stupid, but then again, she'd also never been forced to kill her way off an island full of her classmates before. Odile wasn't really sure what she was capable of. that being said, things were weird enough between them without Odile walking in on her friend doing who knows what. Should she just check up on her? Maybe call out?
Or maybe she should do something about those footsteps she heard, coming from the back of the hotel.
Here, that feeling was starting to grow stale.
The upside of this latest broadcast, she supposed, was that it could have been a lot worse. The downside was that the worst moment of her life had been repackaged as exploitative, populist drivel and used to make a fortune for a bunch of amoral corporate fucks, but at least the whole "mercy" situation was brought up, so the chance of anyone coming after her out of revenge was pretty low, she guessed. Still, with only 15 people left, the likelihood of anyone needing justifications like that would be getting low, too. With the end so near in sight, Odile was well aware of how easily all of those inconvenient "qualms" and "ethics" would start to melt away, as desperation and self preservation took their place.
Tired, lonely, frightened teenagers were easily influenced at the best of times, especially by themselves. Surrounded by the bodies of their classmates, Odile couldn't imagine it would be hard for her peers to persuade themselves that killing their way out of this mess was appropriate. Escaping an island on the backs of 60 corpses seemed abhorrent, but 15 was manageable, especially compared with the 50 or so that were dead already. Factor in that the 15 survivors were probably all killers (she hadn't been keeping great track, but couldn't imagine that anyone could get this far without blood on their hands) and Odile could see how taking the traditional route out might start to look desirable.
That was bullshit, though. No matter how understandable, even noble, the motive; playing the game implicitly legitimized it. If you were killing to save a friend, or killing to save yourself, or killing because you were a psycho like Karen or even just killing to put your dying boyfriend out of his misery, those kills were racking up views, those views were racking up dollars and those dollars would be spent taking more children and ruining them forever.
And if you weren't willing to kill? Well that was fine, because all those other baby Bundies wandering about were more than happy to make you a victim. The show's producers had made a situation where literally the only choices their contestants had were to comply or die, and it'd taken them sickeningly little effort to do so. Take sixty people, add hormones and weaponry, season with idiot "mentors" to taste and then sit to simmer for a few days. Hey presto! You'd just turned mass murder into TV gold.
Odile's mouth went dry. She fished her last bottle of water out of her bag and took a swig, feeling physically sick at the thought of this whole situation. How were other people coping with it? How was anyone coping with it? How had she even coped with it? Since becoming disillusioned about her situation, the only way Odile had managed to avoid thinking about it was to keep busy, and when she inevitably ran out of things to be busy with, the nature and implications of what had been busying her made everything that extra bit worse.
Still, she'd come this far. It'd cost her more than anyone should ever have to pay, but the end of the game was in spitting distance, and Odile would be damned if she and Amber had gone through all that they'd been through just to become another notch on some whacko's gunbarrel.
Things were quiet, now, but Odile doubted they'd stay that way for long. There was always some freak around the corner, just waiting to show up and give evidence to Darwinism. Odile wasn't looking for a fight, but when one came knocking, she was more than prepared to give a quick and painful lesson in why Odile Jones was not to fucked with, 101.
Having finished railing against the system that entrapped her and psyching herself up for potential violence, Odile was actually kinda bored. What the shit was taking Amber so long? She snickered, the little pun having being unintended. Would it be alright if she went in there? Amber had never been the sort to do anything stupid, but then again, she'd also never been forced to kill her way off an island full of her classmates before. Odile wasn't really sure what she was capable of. that being said, things were weird enough between them without Odile walking in on her friend doing who knows what. Should she just check up on her? Maybe call out?
Or maybe she should do something about those footsteps she heard, coming from the back of the hotel.
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CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
[[Continued from Electronic Fox - The Right]]
And now, Daniel Renard was right back where he started. This would probably annoy him to no end, but fuck it, for the first time in ages, he had actually found someone on his GPS. People were actually inside the place, which in hindsight was pretty smart; it was a pretty good area to keep cover, actually nap with locks on the doors. While he went bush, these people were probably living it up in here. Probably shot anyone who opened the front door as well. Renard shivered at that thought before going around the outside, the announcement blaring out over the island. Geez, that kill was… not that long ago. That can’t be right. Shaking his head, he frowned as the rest of the announcements poured in. Karen. The bookworm finally got her killer ending. Well, least someone from Detroit was going home, although a small point in his head yelled out that most of those kills were not in self-defence and therefore she was a dirty player who didn’t deserve it.
Fuck. He was in two minds about all this shit. Well, kinda. First off, there is zero chance of him getting out without making another kill. Well, unless his teammates were useful, which they have proven to not been right now. But secondly, he felt like if he supported Karen going off the island, he was supporting… her playing. Which he didn’t. He didn’t support players at all. Players were people who killed just to get ahead of the game. He wasn’t a player. It was all self-defence. Self-defence. Such a lovely word. Survival of the Defenciest. That’s what they should have called this.
Watching the GPS again, he rolled around to the back entrance, his crossbow loosely in hand and loaded. He wouldn’t need to use it. Nope. Why would he? Two people together couldn’t possibly be players. Of course, that meant they were a team, maybe. Fuck, there were still teams he had to think about. Two on one was stupid, even for him. Why would he even consider walking in there? Why the hell was he walking up to the bathroom stall, hearing cold empty laughter from some girl in there who’s finally cracked? Shouldn’t he, ya know, run away from the scary laughter.
Fuck it. This game was already lost anyway, they were dead the second they were on that stage in a drugged up high, and all of this shit is how millionaires make two hundred thousand grand an hour. Fuck it. He should have suicided. He fucking should have suicided. Fuck people calling him a fag, he should have fucking blown his collar day one. Should have seen Tristan and worked it out then. He knew. But it was too late for Renard, he’d already done two people. Suicide wouldn’t cut it, wouldn’t bring the show to a halt or anything. He needed to do something… big. The only way to affect the game would be from the outside. That would be the only way he could think of. But did he actually deserve to get off the island?
Fuck no. Nobody deserves to get off the island.
Fuck it. He swallowed before opening his mouth, saying in a loud and clear voice so that the bathroom occupants could hear him.
“Stay in the bathroom. Not looking for kills. Are you Red Team?”
And now, Daniel Renard was right back where he started. This would probably annoy him to no end, but fuck it, for the first time in ages, he had actually found someone on his GPS. People were actually inside the place, which in hindsight was pretty smart; it was a pretty good area to keep cover, actually nap with locks on the doors. While he went bush, these people were probably living it up in here. Probably shot anyone who opened the front door as well. Renard shivered at that thought before going around the outside, the announcement blaring out over the island. Geez, that kill was… not that long ago. That can’t be right. Shaking his head, he frowned as the rest of the announcements poured in. Karen. The bookworm finally got her killer ending. Well, least someone from Detroit was going home, although a small point in his head yelled out that most of those kills were not in self-defence and therefore she was a dirty player who didn’t deserve it.
Fuck. He was in two minds about all this shit. Well, kinda. First off, there is zero chance of him getting out without making another kill. Well, unless his teammates were useful, which they have proven to not been right now. But secondly, he felt like if he supported Karen going off the island, he was supporting… her playing. Which he didn’t. He didn’t support players at all. Players were people who killed just to get ahead of the game. He wasn’t a player. It was all self-defence. Self-defence. Such a lovely word. Survival of the Defenciest. That’s what they should have called this.
Watching the GPS again, he rolled around to the back entrance, his crossbow loosely in hand and loaded. He wouldn’t need to use it. Nope. Why would he? Two people together couldn’t possibly be players. Of course, that meant they were a team, maybe. Fuck, there were still teams he had to think about. Two on one was stupid, even for him. Why would he even consider walking in there? Why the hell was he walking up to the bathroom stall, hearing cold empty laughter from some girl in there who’s finally cracked? Shouldn’t he, ya know, run away from the scary laughter.
Fuck it. This game was already lost anyway, they were dead the second they were on that stage in a drugged up high, and all of this shit is how millionaires make two hundred thousand grand an hour. Fuck it. He should have suicided. He fucking should have suicided. Fuck people calling him a fag, he should have fucking blown his collar day one. Should have seen Tristan and worked it out then. He knew. But it was too late for Renard, he’d already done two people. Suicide wouldn’t cut it, wouldn’t bring the show to a halt or anything. He needed to do something… big. The only way to affect the game would be from the outside. That would be the only way he could think of. But did he actually deserve to get off the island?
Fuck no. Nobody deserves to get off the island.
Fuck it. He swallowed before opening his mouth, saying in a loud and clear voice so that the bathroom occupants could hear him.
“Stay in the bathroom. Not looking for kills. Are you Red Team?”
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A voice echoes quietly from Daniel's collar...
"Careful Renard. Stay on guard at all times. You're on enemy territory now."
"Careful Renard. Stay on guard at all times. You're on enemy territory now."
A voice echoes from Odile's collar...
"You look rather bored. Maybe you could talk about how much you wish you had your Verizon Android right about now? Keep it up. Verizon wishes you the best of luck on your future endeavors."
"You look rather bored. Maybe you could talk about how much you wish you had your Verizon Android right about now? Keep it up. Verizon wishes you the best of luck on your future endeavors."
What the fuck was that?!?
Amber's laughter stopped the moment someone on the other side of the bathroom door started talking.
She imediately grabbed her machete and flung herself against the wall, inching alongside it towards the door so that she could hear the person on the other side more clearly. She recognised the voice from somewhere... Jhamel? No, couldn't be, he was already dead. Isaac? Nope, he was dead too.
Wait a sec... Now I remember! That voice belongs to that guy, whatshisname... David Renard? Something like that.
In all honestly, Amber knew virtually nothing about Renard. He always struck her as being too introverted to hang out with, and as far as she could recall neither of them even shared any classes. He wasn't even particularly cute. Heck, Amber was pretty sure that neither of them had ever even had an actual conversation before. He was a complete and utter stranger who Amber never had any reason to speak to.
Well, until now anyway. Whilst Amber didn't particularly care about Renard back home, now that he had gotten a name for himself as a player she was very interested in meeting him. Especially seeing as one of the people whom Renard had killed happened to be Skye. Now, earlier Amber would have probably overlooked that and try to view thing from his perspective. After all, maybe it was an accident? Maybe it was self-defence? Who knows, right? Jumping to conclusions wouldn't solve anything, even if he was 100% guilty of murdering her classmates. In any case, if Amber was in a better state of mind, her main intention would be to act diplomatically about this.
But at that very moment in time, Amber was anything BUT diplomatic. In fact, she was slowly beginning to get very, very angry. At this point in the game, she honestly couldn't care less what the hell his reasons had been. Renard had killed several people, including someone she actually kinda liked. He was dangerous. He was a threat. And furthermore, he was on one of the opposing teams.
Quite frankly, Amber had absolutely no reason to be 'diplomatic' about this.
Fucking Renard, I know why you're here... You want to kill me and Odile, don't you? Remove the competition so that you and the rest of your Red team buddies could make it off this island scott free. Well, you know what, fuck you. Fuck you and whoever's left on your shitty team. I'm not going to just sit back and let you do whatever the hell you want. Oh no, I'm gonna make sure that you'll NEVER be able to harm another living person ever again...
It was at that point that, with fire in her eyes, that Amber swung the door open and charged at Renard with her machete brandished.
Amber's laughter stopped the moment someone on the other side of the bathroom door started talking.
She imediately grabbed her machete and flung herself against the wall, inching alongside it towards the door so that she could hear the person on the other side more clearly. She recognised the voice from somewhere... Jhamel? No, couldn't be, he was already dead. Isaac? Nope, he was dead too.
Wait a sec... Now I remember! That voice belongs to that guy, whatshisname... David Renard? Something like that.
In all honestly, Amber knew virtually nothing about Renard. He always struck her as being too introverted to hang out with, and as far as she could recall neither of them even shared any classes. He wasn't even particularly cute. Heck, Amber was pretty sure that neither of them had ever even had an actual conversation before. He was a complete and utter stranger who Amber never had any reason to speak to.
Well, until now anyway. Whilst Amber didn't particularly care about Renard back home, now that he had gotten a name for himself as a player she was very interested in meeting him. Especially seeing as one of the people whom Renard had killed happened to be Skye. Now, earlier Amber would have probably overlooked that and try to view thing from his perspective. After all, maybe it was an accident? Maybe it was self-defence? Who knows, right? Jumping to conclusions wouldn't solve anything, even if he was 100% guilty of murdering her classmates. In any case, if Amber was in a better state of mind, her main intention would be to act diplomatically about this.
But at that very moment in time, Amber was anything BUT diplomatic. In fact, she was slowly beginning to get very, very angry. At this point in the game, she honestly couldn't care less what the hell his reasons had been. Renard had killed several people, including someone she actually kinda liked. He was dangerous. He was a threat. And furthermore, he was on one of the opposing teams.
Quite frankly, Amber had absolutely no reason to be 'diplomatic' about this.
Fucking Renard, I know why you're here... You want to kill me and Odile, don't you? Remove the competition so that you and the rest of your Red team buddies could make it off this island scott free. Well, you know what, fuck you. Fuck you and whoever's left on your shitty team. I'm not going to just sit back and let you do whatever the hell you want. Oh no, I'm gonna make sure that you'll NEVER be able to harm another living person ever again...
It was at that point that, with fire in her eyes, that Amber swung the door open and charged at Renard with her machete brandished.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
Shit shit shit shit shitshitshit.
Odile didn't know how this guy had gotten into the place, or how close he was to Amber. She didn't even know who he was, only that the voice she heard instructing Amber to stay put sounded vaguely familiar. Back home, Odile could have told you a thousand things from those few overheard words: plans, intentions, sexual inclinations. As tired, confused, and all-round fucked-up as she was at the moment, she counted it as a victory she could even identify the guys gender.
He was talking, at least, which meant the guy hadn't been trying to sneak up on them. Odile didn't want to start shit with a potential ally, not with so few to spare, and not when it might put Amber danger, but if her friend ended up hurt anyway? Talky-boy would be feeling all kinds of regretful.
At least, briefly.
Keeping low, Odile advanced toward the source of the noise. A female toilet sign glowed dimly, next to an arrow pointed the way she was heading. Amber.
"Fuck!" Odile swore, then instantly covered her mouth. What was she thinking? If anything would set this guy on edge, it'd be knowing that there was someone sneaking around behind him, and friendly or not, an edgy, maybe-armed kid all up in Amber's space was the last thing Odile needed.
She stopped moving altogether, standing dead still and listening intently.
Nothing.
Maybe he hadn't heard? She'd just keep going, get close enough to see what his deal was, maybe encourage him to change that deal if it turned out to be objectionable, maybe at gunpoint. Still no reaction: her cursing must have gone unnoticed. Now all to do was to carry on, hoping that she remained-
And her idiot mentor opened his idiot mouth.
"Fuck. Off." Odile hissed, grabbing the collar and pulling it close to her mouth to make sure the mic picked up every word.
"I am not bored, you humongous, amoral, dickhead. I am trapped on an island full of people you've turned into murderers, who, true to form, are trying to murder me. And yeah, I do wish I had a phone, so I could tell the people back home who care that I'm okay, that I'm still alive, that I feel horrible about what's happened and to ask them not to hate me, but I fucking don't, so they'll have to watch this shit, and see me kill my friends, and be weak, and fuck up, and have my retarded excuse for a "mentor" get me to do fucking product placement."
She located the nearest camera and gave it the finger, for punctuation.
"And if you're watching, Q, I'm sorry for what I've done here, and I'm sorry for what you're probably going through, and I love you, and I miss you, and I just..." she ran out of words, descending into choked breaths. Her gun hang loosely from limp fingers, the stranger in the hotel forgotten.
"I just want this to be over."
Odile didn't know how this guy had gotten into the place, or how close he was to Amber. She didn't even know who he was, only that the voice she heard instructing Amber to stay put sounded vaguely familiar. Back home, Odile could have told you a thousand things from those few overheard words: plans, intentions, sexual inclinations. As tired, confused, and all-round fucked-up as she was at the moment, she counted it as a victory she could even identify the guys gender.
He was talking, at least, which meant the guy hadn't been trying to sneak up on them. Odile didn't want to start shit with a potential ally, not with so few to spare, and not when it might put Amber danger, but if her friend ended up hurt anyway? Talky-boy would be feeling all kinds of regretful.
At least, briefly.
Keeping low, Odile advanced toward the source of the noise. A female toilet sign glowed dimly, next to an arrow pointed the way she was heading. Amber.
"Fuck!" Odile swore, then instantly covered her mouth. What was she thinking? If anything would set this guy on edge, it'd be knowing that there was someone sneaking around behind him, and friendly or not, an edgy, maybe-armed kid all up in Amber's space was the last thing Odile needed.
She stopped moving altogether, standing dead still and listening intently.
Nothing.
Maybe he hadn't heard? She'd just keep going, get close enough to see what his deal was, maybe encourage him to change that deal if it turned out to be objectionable, maybe at gunpoint. Still no reaction: her cursing must have gone unnoticed. Now all to do was to carry on, hoping that she remained-
And her idiot mentor opened his idiot mouth.
"Fuck. Off." Odile hissed, grabbing the collar and pulling it close to her mouth to make sure the mic picked up every word.
"I am not bored, you humongous, amoral, dickhead. I am trapped on an island full of people you've turned into murderers, who, true to form, are trying to murder me. And yeah, I do wish I had a phone, so I could tell the people back home who care that I'm okay, that I'm still alive, that I feel horrible about what's happened and to ask them not to hate me, but I fucking don't, so they'll have to watch this shit, and see me kill my friends, and be weak, and fuck up, and have my retarded excuse for a "mentor" get me to do fucking product placement."
She located the nearest camera and gave it the finger, for punctuation.
"And if you're watching, Q, I'm sorry for what I've done here, and I'm sorry for what you're probably going through, and I love you, and I miss you, and I just..." she ran out of words, descending into choked breaths. Her gun hang loosely from limp fingers, the stranger in the hotel forgotten.
"I just want this to be over."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Kitten. 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.
-
CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
And then Daniel heard two lines that made him immediately aim at the door.
“You're on enemy territory now." Not Red team at all. He was never going to find anyone anyway, everyone was dead probably, goddamnit. But that didn’t really matter right now, because the next line was the most annoying.
“Verizon wishes you the best of luck on your future endeavours." Fuck that mentor. Seriously. She had fucked up his plan before, it wasn’t going to happen again. So it was yellow team he was facing, and chances are they could probably be looking out for a revenge kill. Maybe. Probably not, actually as they didn’t know that the guy he killed- in self-defence- was yellow in the announcements, but…
Anything’s possible.
Including someone opening the door. Too fast for his eyes to identify who it was, but fuck it, they didn’t stay in there. Bitch better be actually smarter than the others or he’d have to actually do something. Most likely run away. But if he had to fire, he wasn’t going to sweat it. Didn’t take a genius to know that having an arrow in your chest probably was a good deterrent to get the fuck away.
"I told you to STAY."
Renard raised an eyebrow. Oh hey. It was Amber. That girl. The drama girl, very talkative when drunk. Funny how that suddenly came into his mind at a moment like this. This felt different. He could fire now. He could do it. Perfect aim, no way you could miss. Fire. She probably deserves it. Kill her. You have to do it. It’s you or her. Only one of you is getting off of this island. You have to get off this island. You can win this. You can do it. Do it and you will see your family again. Do it and you will survive. Do it. Fucking do it. She doesn’t deserve to win. You deserve to win.
Kill her.
Renard blinked.
Nobody deserves to win.
And then she ran forward and sliced. Cut from upper right arm, going through skin and muscle up to shoulder in an uppercut slash, before finishing at his collar, slicing through the metal and setting off the explosive removal device. Neck and the lower part of his head instantly destroyed, his body falling to the ground, the pack filled with two people’s worth of gear falling down on his back with him.
Daniel Renard had finally won.
He didn’t fire.
RD4: RENARD, DANIEL DECEASED
“You're on enemy territory now." Not Red team at all. He was never going to find anyone anyway, everyone was dead probably, goddamnit. But that didn’t really matter right now, because the next line was the most annoying.
“Verizon wishes you the best of luck on your future endeavours." Fuck that mentor. Seriously. She had fucked up his plan before, it wasn’t going to happen again. So it was yellow team he was facing, and chances are they could probably be looking out for a revenge kill. Maybe. Probably not, actually as they didn’t know that the guy he killed- in self-defence- was yellow in the announcements, but…
Anything’s possible.
Including someone opening the door. Too fast for his eyes to identify who it was, but fuck it, they didn’t stay in there. Bitch better be actually smarter than the others or he’d have to actually do something. Most likely run away. But if he had to fire, he wasn’t going to sweat it. Didn’t take a genius to know that having an arrow in your chest probably was a good deterrent to get the fuck away.
"I told you to STAY."
Renard raised an eyebrow. Oh hey. It was Amber. That girl. The drama girl, very talkative when drunk. Funny how that suddenly came into his mind at a moment like this. This felt different. He could fire now. He could do it. Perfect aim, no way you could miss. Fire. She probably deserves it. Kill her. You have to do it. It’s you or her. Only one of you is getting off of this island. You have to get off this island. You can win this. You can do it. Do it and you will see your family again. Do it and you will survive. Do it. Fucking do it. She doesn’t deserve to win. You deserve to win.
Kill her.
Renard blinked.
Nobody deserves to win.
And then she ran forward and sliced. Cut from upper right arm, going through skin and muscle up to shoulder in an uppercut slash, before finishing at his collar, slicing through the metal and setting off the explosive removal device. Neck and the lower part of his head instantly destroyed, his body falling to the ground, the pack filled with two people’s worth of gear falling down on his back with him.
Daniel Renard had finally won.
He didn’t fire.
RD4: RENARD, DANIEL DECEASED
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.
Amber barely noticed that her first strike had caused Renard's collar to go off. Nor did she take any notice of any the blood that splattered her as she continued to hack away at his lifeless body.
All she could hear was the mocking laughter of everyone who had ever harmed her and her friends. All she could see were their faces, smirking and laughing at her. They were all there. From people she had encountered on the island like Karen and Lou to people who had screwed her over back home, such as that gang of foul Philipinos who tried to assault her back in Detroit. And of course, right there on the front line were her dear sisters. Calling her names. Taunting her about how her biggest achievement on the island was having sex with someone on camera. Reminding her of how she had failed to prevent the deaths of all her friends, even going as far as killing one of them herself.
And it made Amber mad. Madder than she'd ever been before in her entire life. All the stress that had been building up from the moment she left her home back in Detroit had exploded in one fiery outburst, one that was now causing her to repeatedly hack at Renard's headless corpse in sheer blind fury. Any inch of common sense that Amber once had was gone, replaced instead with an incurable rage that just seemed to increase with each passing second.
That is, however, until a familiar voice brought her back to reality. Or, to be more precise, brought her to a slightly more stable state of mind. She turned her head in the direction of the voice to find none other than Odile on her knees, her pistol firmly gripped in her right hand and a stunned expression on her face. If Amber was in a fit state of mind, she would have realised how frightened she was of her. How horrified she was with what Amber had just done to another living being.
But in her current state of mind, all Amber saw was an invitation.
With adrenaline still flowing through her veins, Amber ran towards the other girl and wrapped her arms around her, roughly kissing her on the lips. The kiss was deep and passionate, her hands painfully gripping Odile's hair and back with pincer-like intensity as her tongue invaded the other girl's mouth.
She hardly even seemed to acknowledge the fact that she was covered head to toe in Renard's blood.
Eventually, she was forced to pull back when Odile pushed her away. Amber briefly frowned, confused as to why Odile was rejecting her advances when she seemed so eager before, but this was quickly replaced by an eerily cheerful smile as she blissfully ignored the questions Odile was beginning to ask.
"I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I think I kinda love you, y'know?" she said, her voice disturbing chirpy given the situation.
"I was worried you know. That maybe someone like Karen would have gotten to you first or something. I'd been searching AAALLL over the island for you, looking under every rock, searching every little hidey hole. For a while, I thought I'd never see you again..."
At that point, Amber's head began to tilt ever so slightly to the left.
"But now that I've found you, we can be together forever, can't we?"
There was something about Amber's eyes at that particular moment in time. Something not quite right. There wasn't the usual look of bubbly happiness behind them, or even the more recent look of sadness that had become so common for her on the island. There was something distinctly unhinged about them. Something that indicated that this was not the same Amber Lyons who mere hours ago was trying to comfort the very same terrified girl whom she was currently talking to.
She noticed Odile's attention drifting elsewhere, causing Amber to turn her head for a brief second to see that she was looking at the bloody dead body who lay behind her.
"Oh, don't mind him. He was going to try to hurt me. Told me so himself. So I decided to get him first. You remember Renard, right? The weird kid back at school? He killed Skylar you know. AND John Benson. I was afraid that if I didn't do something, that he'd try to hurt you as well. I've already lost most of my friends. Anthony, Eloise, Bobby, Anna. All dead. I don't know where Sterling is. From all I know, he could be lying in a ditch somewhere slowly bleeding to death. So it's just you and me..."
At that moment, Amber leant forward in an attempt to give Odile another kiss, only for the other girl to back off and ask her why she was actings so weirdly.
"Well, it just occurred to me... If none of our friends are left, why bother trying to avoid playing the game? We've gotten this far already, right? The only people left are the players and the people lucky enough to avoid getting themselves killed. Neither of us have any friends left other than each other, so we may as well go all-out, right? I mean, together, we'd be unstoppable! I've got my machete, you've got your brains at that big gun of yours. Heck, you'd easily be able to win all by yourself! But together? Together we could easily kill EVERYONE on this fucking rock without any trouble whatsoever! Nobody would be able to stop us! Not Vincent, or Karen, or Shawn, or Jared, or Hayley, or Mandy or anyone!"
She paused for a moment, allowing her proposal to sink in before it suddenly occurred to Amber that she had almost forgotten something.
"Oh! Wait a sec, I just remembered something..." she said before turning around and rushing over to Renard's body to pick up the crossbow that lay abandoned on the floor.
"We could use this as well, can't we? A good old fashioned crossbow plus the weapons we already have should be a big enough arsenal to win this..."
She inspected the weapon for a while, testing out it's weight and trying to aim it before she put it back onto the floor and stared directly ahead of her.
"You know, I always wanted to be star. To have my face on the front cover of every magazine, to become the biggest and most famous girl on the entire planet. That's why I took drama class, so I could become an actress or something. Heck, thats also part of the reason I fell for you in the first place. Your shows were always so mysterious and unpredictable. Like, I could never predict what crazy stuff was going to happen next, and I loved every second of it. Your stuff in particular was always awesome to watch. And in a way, it kinda made me feel that... Well, maybe someday I could be awesome like you."
Despite the grin that was stuck on her face, a small tear rolled down the side of Amber's cheek.
"For a while, I thought I'd never be famous. At least, not in the way I'd hoped. Mandy and Hayley always went on about how much of a slut I was, and how I was destined to become the next No1 pornstar in America. Fucking hypocrites. But for a while, a part of me was beginning to wonder whether or not they were actually right. Hell, when I arrived on this island one of the first things I did was fuck Sterling in some rundown cabin. Jesus Christ, I can only imagine how many sick bastards out there must be jerking off to that very same clip right this second."
She wiped the tear from her eye and began to giggle a little, her attention still entirely focused on the body that lay before her.
"But none of that matters now! I don't know why it never occurred to me sooner, but right now I AM a star! We're all stars! I know there must be people out there watching me, wondering what I'm going to do next, arguing on forums over whether or not I'm the hottest girl on the island and stuff you know? Heck, we're both stars, aren't we? Once we get off this island, we'll be famous! Virtually celebrities! It wouldn't surprise me if we both had our own wiki pages! Just think about it for a second... Amber and Odile: The sexy two-girl team who single-handedly won their freedom! We would become a part of SOTF history. Icons to be looked up to at and respected by future contestants."
Amber didn't even try to suppress her tears as she slowly began to turn her head back towards Odile.
"And for the first time in my life, I'll finally be-"
She was instantly cut off by a loud gunshot that echoed throughout the entire building.
The last thing Amber saw before being blinded by a white flash of light was the muzzle of Odile's gun.
Then, everything went black almost instantly.
PRP2: Amber Lyons - DECEASED
7 students remain
All she could hear was the mocking laughter of everyone who had ever harmed her and her friends. All she could see were their faces, smirking and laughing at her. They were all there. From people she had encountered on the island like Karen and Lou to people who had screwed her over back home, such as that gang of foul Philipinos who tried to assault her back in Detroit. And of course, right there on the front line were her dear sisters. Calling her names. Taunting her about how her biggest achievement on the island was having sex with someone on camera. Reminding her of how she had failed to prevent the deaths of all her friends, even going as far as killing one of them herself.
And it made Amber mad. Madder than she'd ever been before in her entire life. All the stress that had been building up from the moment she left her home back in Detroit had exploded in one fiery outburst, one that was now causing her to repeatedly hack at Renard's headless corpse in sheer blind fury. Any inch of common sense that Amber once had was gone, replaced instead with an incurable rage that just seemed to increase with each passing second.
That is, however, until a familiar voice brought her back to reality. Or, to be more precise, brought her to a slightly more stable state of mind. She turned her head in the direction of the voice to find none other than Odile on her knees, her pistol firmly gripped in her right hand and a stunned expression on her face. If Amber was in a fit state of mind, she would have realised how frightened she was of her. How horrified she was with what Amber had just done to another living being.
But in her current state of mind, all Amber saw was an invitation.
With adrenaline still flowing through her veins, Amber ran towards the other girl and wrapped her arms around her, roughly kissing her on the lips. The kiss was deep and passionate, her hands painfully gripping Odile's hair and back with pincer-like intensity as her tongue invaded the other girl's mouth.
She hardly even seemed to acknowledge the fact that she was covered head to toe in Renard's blood.
Eventually, she was forced to pull back when Odile pushed her away. Amber briefly frowned, confused as to why Odile was rejecting her advances when she seemed so eager before, but this was quickly replaced by an eerily cheerful smile as she blissfully ignored the questions Odile was beginning to ask.
"I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I think I kinda love you, y'know?" she said, her voice disturbing chirpy given the situation.
"I was worried you know. That maybe someone like Karen would have gotten to you first or something. I'd been searching AAALLL over the island for you, looking under every rock, searching every little hidey hole. For a while, I thought I'd never see you again..."
At that point, Amber's head began to tilt ever so slightly to the left.
"But now that I've found you, we can be together forever, can't we?"
There was something about Amber's eyes at that particular moment in time. Something not quite right. There wasn't the usual look of bubbly happiness behind them, or even the more recent look of sadness that had become so common for her on the island. There was something distinctly unhinged about them. Something that indicated that this was not the same Amber Lyons who mere hours ago was trying to comfort the very same terrified girl whom she was currently talking to.
She noticed Odile's attention drifting elsewhere, causing Amber to turn her head for a brief second to see that she was looking at the bloody dead body who lay behind her.
"Oh, don't mind him. He was going to try to hurt me. Told me so himself. So I decided to get him first. You remember Renard, right? The weird kid back at school? He killed Skylar you know. AND John Benson. I was afraid that if I didn't do something, that he'd try to hurt you as well. I've already lost most of my friends. Anthony, Eloise, Bobby, Anna. All dead. I don't know where Sterling is. From all I know, he could be lying in a ditch somewhere slowly bleeding to death. So it's just you and me..."
At that moment, Amber leant forward in an attempt to give Odile another kiss, only for the other girl to back off and ask her why she was actings so weirdly.
"Well, it just occurred to me... If none of our friends are left, why bother trying to avoid playing the game? We've gotten this far already, right? The only people left are the players and the people lucky enough to avoid getting themselves killed. Neither of us have any friends left other than each other, so we may as well go all-out, right? I mean, together, we'd be unstoppable! I've got my machete, you've got your brains at that big gun of yours. Heck, you'd easily be able to win all by yourself! But together? Together we could easily kill EVERYONE on this fucking rock without any trouble whatsoever! Nobody would be able to stop us! Not Vincent, or Karen, or Shawn, or Jared, or Hayley, or Mandy or anyone!"
She paused for a moment, allowing her proposal to sink in before it suddenly occurred to Amber that she had almost forgotten something.
"Oh! Wait a sec, I just remembered something..." she said before turning around and rushing over to Renard's body to pick up the crossbow that lay abandoned on the floor.
"We could use this as well, can't we? A good old fashioned crossbow plus the weapons we already have should be a big enough arsenal to win this..."
She inspected the weapon for a while, testing out it's weight and trying to aim it before she put it back onto the floor and stared directly ahead of her.
"You know, I always wanted to be star. To have my face on the front cover of every magazine, to become the biggest and most famous girl on the entire planet. That's why I took drama class, so I could become an actress or something. Heck, thats also part of the reason I fell for you in the first place. Your shows were always so mysterious and unpredictable. Like, I could never predict what crazy stuff was going to happen next, and I loved every second of it. Your stuff in particular was always awesome to watch. And in a way, it kinda made me feel that... Well, maybe someday I could be awesome like you."
Despite the grin that was stuck on her face, a small tear rolled down the side of Amber's cheek.
"For a while, I thought I'd never be famous. At least, not in the way I'd hoped. Mandy and Hayley always went on about how much of a slut I was, and how I was destined to become the next No1 pornstar in America. Fucking hypocrites. But for a while, a part of me was beginning to wonder whether or not they were actually right. Hell, when I arrived on this island one of the first things I did was fuck Sterling in some rundown cabin. Jesus Christ, I can only imagine how many sick bastards out there must be jerking off to that very same clip right this second."
She wiped the tear from her eye and began to giggle a little, her attention still entirely focused on the body that lay before her.
"But none of that matters now! I don't know why it never occurred to me sooner, but right now I AM a star! We're all stars! I know there must be people out there watching me, wondering what I'm going to do next, arguing on forums over whether or not I'm the hottest girl on the island and stuff you know? Heck, we're both stars, aren't we? Once we get off this island, we'll be famous! Virtually celebrities! It wouldn't surprise me if we both had our own wiki pages! Just think about it for a second... Amber and Odile: The sexy two-girl team who single-handedly won their freedom! We would become a part of SOTF history. Icons to be looked up to at and respected by future contestants."
Amber didn't even try to suppress her tears as she slowly began to turn her head back towards Odile.
"And for the first time in my life, I'll finally be-"
She was instantly cut off by a loud gunshot that echoed throughout the entire building.
The last thing Amber saw before being blinded by a white flash of light was the muzzle of Odile's gun.
Then, everything went black almost instantly.
PRP2: Amber Lyons - DECEASED
7 students remain
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
Sound from the bathroom shook Odile from her reverie. Talking. Running. A bang... Oh god, a bang.
Amber hadn't had a gun.
Odile sprinted.
Amber was alive, Odile was relieved to see. Her friend was soaked in blood, but Odile couldn't spot any wounds, and she didn't appear hurt. More likely, it belonged to body on the floor, which was more than a few quarts short, even accounting all the red which pooled on the ground and spattered the mirrors and cubicles. It wasn't even clear who it was, any more, with the head lying unrecognizably disfigured some few feet from the neck, and only a singed scrap of red bandana left to give any clue to the corpse's identity. Odile felt bile rising in her stomach, and looked away, back to Amber.
She looked... fine. Odile knew she should be relieved that her friend was alright, that she was coping, but she couldn't help herself recoiling. She'd been prepared to comfort Amber, to console her, to nurse her, even to mourn her and avenge her, but Odile hadn't been prepared for this... nothing. Amber's seemed utterly unfazed at what she'd done, unaffected by the act of reducing a human being to meat, even as the very sight of her actions threatened to bring Odile to the point of vomiting.
Staring, with gun raised, Odile began to back away. No one could be okay with that, surely, Amber least of all. This was a girl Odile had known for years, had grown up with. Amber, who'd once cried a whole night, after hitting a dog with her car, seemed not only indifferent to the life she'd taken, but happy, even elated. It was like she was a different person, and not just from the broken, defeated girl whom Odile had dragged from the cruise ship. Amber wouldn't act like this. Amber couldn't act like this.
Odile's thoughts were thrown into further turmoil as Amber grabbed her, forcing her tongue into her mouth, her hands wrapped so tight in her hair that pain shot through Odile's scalp. After a beat's shocked silence she began to protest, first softly, then shouting, pushing Amber away from her face, pulling the girl's arms off of her back, her neck, as they clung to her with shocking strength.
"What are you... what are you doing?!" Odile shoved Amber away, staggering backwards.
"What's wrong with you?! God, how can you even stand to be in here, with that?" she gestured toward the body, with the hand that wasn't holding a gun. Odile was beginning to feel frightened, a sensation she was neither used to, no comfortable with. She backed off further, making sure she was out of machete range. Amber would never hurt her, of course, but...
But this wasn't Amber.
It was freeing just to think it. Horrible, in a way, but also relieving. Her friend was gone. Maybe the boy on the ground had done something to her, or her killing him had done something, or maybe however many days of nightmare had simply caught up with her, but the fact was that the Amber Lyons Odile had known was no more. It was all logic, really: Amber would never, could never kill; this girl had, therefore, Q.E.D., ipso facto patronus this girl wasn't Amber.
Not-Amber's words washed over Odile, a nauseating wave of sickly-sweet crazy. It seemed little more than a rationalization: "Oh, it was okay that I killed my friend, she wasn't herself any more," but as she looked into Amber's eyes and saw absolutely nothing of the girl she'd known and loved in there, Odile knew it to be true. Everything that had made Amber Amber, everything that Odile had loved in her, that everyone had loved in her, was gone. Odile had met Amber's mother, a couple of times. She hadn't made much of an impression, but had seemed a nice enough lady.
She shouldn't have to see this.
Amber had friends back home: who didn't like Amber? They'd be watching this, believing in their friend. They didn't need to see this.
Odile had never had much, never needed much, but Amber had been all she had left. Now she too was gone, replaced by some psycho who wore her skin and spoke with her tongue, but was nothing like the Amber Odile had known. She shuddered, thinking how perfect she herself would have thought this arrangement, before she'd come here: someone to order around, to kill for her, to fuck. Totally obedient, utterly willing. She'd always used people: here was a person who was asking for it, who wanted to be used. Even now, she considered it; turning over possibilities and plans, figuring out what good Amber would be to her. There couldn't be more than ten people left in the place, and with an ally, the odds were halved. They'd decent weapons, were in okay shape, it would be...
But they weren't in okay shape, were they? Amber was gone. She'd disappeared, and this frankenstein's pornstar had taken her place, bathed in blood, gibbering nonsensically. Odile had to stop herself from shooting, when Not-Amber went for the crossbow.
She was dangerous. Not just to Odile, who had been hurt enough for danger to lose it's scariness, but to herself, to her family, to anyone her knew her. They shouldn't see this. They couldn't see this.
Her first instinct was just to leave. To walk away, abandon Amber in the stall, never look back. Odile knew it was wrong, repellent, as soon as she thought entered her head, and yet it was so much easier than the alternative. But no, that would be cruel. The girl might not be Amber any more, but she wouldn't deserve whatever might happen to her if Odile left. Tortured? Worse? No one deserved that, and no one's mother deserved to have to watch it. Odile had paid the same kindness to Cesar, when he had needed it, and there was a certain beauty in having ended the game for both of her friends.
It gave her a purpose.
Odile didn't listen to what Amber was saying. She didn't allow herself any time for second thought, for hesitation. No weakness. No turning back. Was it the right thing to do? She was set upon her course of action, and for better or worse, that question would have to be answered after the action was completed.
Odile fired, and Amber crumpled to the ground.
It was right. It had been necessary. She hadn't had a choice.
Right?
Amber hadn't had a gun.
Odile sprinted.
Amber was alive, Odile was relieved to see. Her friend was soaked in blood, but Odile couldn't spot any wounds, and she didn't appear hurt. More likely, it belonged to body on the floor, which was more than a few quarts short, even accounting all the red which pooled on the ground and spattered the mirrors and cubicles. It wasn't even clear who it was, any more, with the head lying unrecognizably disfigured some few feet from the neck, and only a singed scrap of red bandana left to give any clue to the corpse's identity. Odile felt bile rising in her stomach, and looked away, back to Amber.
She looked... fine. Odile knew she should be relieved that her friend was alright, that she was coping, but she couldn't help herself recoiling. She'd been prepared to comfort Amber, to console her, to nurse her, even to mourn her and avenge her, but Odile hadn't been prepared for this... nothing. Amber's seemed utterly unfazed at what she'd done, unaffected by the act of reducing a human being to meat, even as the very sight of her actions threatened to bring Odile to the point of vomiting.
Staring, with gun raised, Odile began to back away. No one could be okay with that, surely, Amber least of all. This was a girl Odile had known for years, had grown up with. Amber, who'd once cried a whole night, after hitting a dog with her car, seemed not only indifferent to the life she'd taken, but happy, even elated. It was like she was a different person, and not just from the broken, defeated girl whom Odile had dragged from the cruise ship. Amber wouldn't act like this. Amber couldn't act like this.
Odile's thoughts were thrown into further turmoil as Amber grabbed her, forcing her tongue into her mouth, her hands wrapped so tight in her hair that pain shot through Odile's scalp. After a beat's shocked silence she began to protest, first softly, then shouting, pushing Amber away from her face, pulling the girl's arms off of her back, her neck, as they clung to her with shocking strength.
"What are you... what are you doing?!" Odile shoved Amber away, staggering backwards.
"What's wrong with you?! God, how can you even stand to be in here, with that?" she gestured toward the body, with the hand that wasn't holding a gun. Odile was beginning to feel frightened, a sensation she was neither used to, no comfortable with. She backed off further, making sure she was out of machete range. Amber would never hurt her, of course, but...
But this wasn't Amber.
It was freeing just to think it. Horrible, in a way, but also relieving. Her friend was gone. Maybe the boy on the ground had done something to her, or her killing him had done something, or maybe however many days of nightmare had simply caught up with her, but the fact was that the Amber Lyons Odile had known was no more. It was all logic, really: Amber would never, could never kill; this girl had, therefore, Q.E.D., ipso facto patronus this girl wasn't Amber.
Not-Amber's words washed over Odile, a nauseating wave of sickly-sweet crazy. It seemed little more than a rationalization: "Oh, it was okay that I killed my friend, she wasn't herself any more," but as she looked into Amber's eyes and saw absolutely nothing of the girl she'd known and loved in there, Odile knew it to be true. Everything that had made Amber Amber, everything that Odile had loved in her, that everyone had loved in her, was gone. Odile had met Amber's mother, a couple of times. She hadn't made much of an impression, but had seemed a nice enough lady.
She shouldn't have to see this.
Amber had friends back home: who didn't like Amber? They'd be watching this, believing in their friend. They didn't need to see this.
Odile had never had much, never needed much, but Amber had been all she had left. Now she too was gone, replaced by some psycho who wore her skin and spoke with her tongue, but was nothing like the Amber Odile had known. She shuddered, thinking how perfect she herself would have thought this arrangement, before she'd come here: someone to order around, to kill for her, to fuck. Totally obedient, utterly willing. She'd always used people: here was a person who was asking for it, who wanted to be used. Even now, she considered it; turning over possibilities and plans, figuring out what good Amber would be to her. There couldn't be more than ten people left in the place, and with an ally, the odds were halved. They'd decent weapons, were in okay shape, it would be...
But they weren't in okay shape, were they? Amber was gone. She'd disappeared, and this frankenstein's pornstar had taken her place, bathed in blood, gibbering nonsensically. Odile had to stop herself from shooting, when Not-Amber went for the crossbow.
She was dangerous. Not just to Odile, who had been hurt enough for danger to lose it's scariness, but to herself, to her family, to anyone her knew her. They shouldn't see this. They couldn't see this.
Her first instinct was just to leave. To walk away, abandon Amber in the stall, never look back. Odile knew it was wrong, repellent, as soon as she thought entered her head, and yet it was so much easier than the alternative. But no, that would be cruel. The girl might not be Amber any more, but she wouldn't deserve whatever might happen to her if Odile left. Tortured? Worse? No one deserved that, and no one's mother deserved to have to watch it. Odile had paid the same kindness to Cesar, when he had needed it, and there was a certain beauty in having ended the game for both of her friends.
It gave her a purpose.
Odile didn't listen to what Amber was saying. She didn't allow herself any time for second thought, for hesitation. No weakness. No turning back. Was it the right thing to do? She was set upon her course of action, and for better or worse, that question would have to be answered after the action was completed.
Odile fired, and Amber crumpled to the ground.
It was right. It had been necessary. She hadn't had a choice.
Right?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Kitten. 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.
Odile fell to the ground, crying. The gun dropped from her hand.
Odile Jones continued in Oracular Spectacular.
Odile Jones continued in Oracular Spectacular.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Kitten. 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.