(ORA1 Vincent Sullivan continued from Set My World On Fire)
It occurred to Vincent, as he arrived at the Inland Lake and spotted the familiar wood cabins and small dock, that he had never revisited a location so far in the game once he had left it. Sure he had walked across the area known as the Open Plains several times, but he had never revisited any specific location before; it was a strange feeling.
Since he and Brennan were arriving from the Tar Pits instead of from the Resort Beach – plus a little detour at the start which had taken them slightly north until they corrected themselves – they arrived at the opposite end of the lake that he and Tiffany had arrived at over a day earlier. It seemed as if someone had been here since then; a burned out campfire could be seen in the open area between the cabins and the lake and the doors to a couple of the cabins were now open where Vincent was sure they had all been closed when he left.
“Brennan, stay here”
Raising his shotgun Vincent stalked towards the first open cabin. He considered crouching down as he walked but his first attempt caused a burst of pain in his chest and he abandoned the idea.
The first cabin was unoccupied and showed nothing of interest; he assumed that the person who had set the fire had at least opened the door, but aside from that he couldn’t tell anything. Leaving the door open Vincent left and moved to the next cabin as well, only to flinch away as he got close enough to smell what was coming from inside.
That’s where I put Tiffany
Hurrying forward he grabbed the door handle in one hand and pulled the door closed, pausing for a second before letting go and walking back towards the former campfire. If anyone had been here they were probably gone now, though Vincent would keep an eye out just in case.
“Stay away from that cabin”
The sun was still rising on the horizon, so if they wanted to get some sleep it would have to be soon, before the sun got bright enough to keep them awake. The first cabin that Vincent had looked at would be good enough for that, though once again he didn’t exactly relish the idea of falling into a vulnerable sleep on this island, necessary as it may be.
Last time he had done this back at the Resort Beach he had trusted Tiffany to look out for him, this time he had Brennan to look out for him, though that statement provided noticeably less comfort to him. Looking at him Brennan looked to be pretty tired as well; Vincent didn’t like the idea of both of them sleeping at the same time though. He’d probably have to bully the smaller boy into taking first watch.
Familiarity
Open; but step quietly, we're sleeping
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Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
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- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
((Brennan O’Brian continued from Set My World on Fire))
Brennan’s new found resolve had taken a serious dent the moment he and Vincent had arrived at the lake. The whole place was just... unsettling, and had an air of menace to it. It wasn’t just the water; although, of course, that was a major factor. There was the burned out campfire, for starters. That obviously meant that someone had been here recently. But the question was, were they still here? Were they even still alive?
Brennan wasn’t sure which was worse: there being someone waiting, hiding in one of the cabins, or there being a recently deceased classmate in one. Maybe it’s Brenda, or Sterling, or Simon. What if they’re de- No! Stop. Thinking. Like. That. E-everything’s... they’re okay...
Brennan tried to change his train of thoughts by thinking of the other thing that was worrying him at the moment; the lake and its surroundings. The dock, with no boats except for kayaks and coracles. Brennan had a horrible image of sailing boats sinking in the middle of the lake, taking its crew down with it...
Brennan fell to his knees, feeling like he was about to burst into tears and throw up at the same time. Everything was falling apart. His thoughts were slowly driving him insane. He needed sleep. He needed to stop thinking for now. Needed to stop... caring?
He heard Vincent talking to him, telling him to stay where he was. That was fine with Brennan. He could see Vincent was going towards the cabins. That also meant going closer to the water. Brennan didn’t want to do that, not if they were simply looking around the cabins, and not actually going in them. He slowly let himself fall backwards onto the ground, looking up at the sky. It reminded him of the last time he’d been near the water, at the docks. With Bobby, Cesar, Simon... Odile... he hoped they were all alright... even Odile...
Just... stop thinking about those things. Deal with them when your mind’s working properly. Just close your eyes... close your eyes and-
“Stay away from that cabin.”
... damn.
Brennan opened his eyes. He had been so close to falling asleep, but when he saw Vincent standing next to a cabin, and realised just where he’d been lying, he felt ridiculously foolish. Right in the open, with Vincent investigating cabins. He’d been a clear, easy target. Brennan shuddered slightly at the thought.
He stood up, realising just how much it ached, and walked slowly over to Vincent. Once again, he had questions to ask. “So... uh...” Brennan stammered, partially due to fatigue, partially due to fear. “H-have you found somewhere for us to, um, sleep yet?”
Brennan’s new found resolve had taken a serious dent the moment he and Vincent had arrived at the lake. The whole place was just... unsettling, and had an air of menace to it. It wasn’t just the water; although, of course, that was a major factor. There was the burned out campfire, for starters. That obviously meant that someone had been here recently. But the question was, were they still here? Were they even still alive?
Brennan wasn’t sure which was worse: there being someone waiting, hiding in one of the cabins, or there being a recently deceased classmate in one. Maybe it’s Brenda, or Sterling, or Simon. What if they’re de- No! Stop. Thinking. Like. That. E-everything’s... they’re okay...
Brennan tried to change his train of thoughts by thinking of the other thing that was worrying him at the moment; the lake and its surroundings. The dock, with no boats except for kayaks and coracles. Brennan had a horrible image of sailing boats sinking in the middle of the lake, taking its crew down with it...
Brennan fell to his knees, feeling like he was about to burst into tears and throw up at the same time. Everything was falling apart. His thoughts were slowly driving him insane. He needed sleep. He needed to stop thinking for now. Needed to stop... caring?
He heard Vincent talking to him, telling him to stay where he was. That was fine with Brennan. He could see Vincent was going towards the cabins. That also meant going closer to the water. Brennan didn’t want to do that, not if they were simply looking around the cabins, and not actually going in them. He slowly let himself fall backwards onto the ground, looking up at the sky. It reminded him of the last time he’d been near the water, at the docks. With Bobby, Cesar, Simon... Odile... he hoped they were all alright... even Odile...
Just... stop thinking about those things. Deal with them when your mind’s working properly. Just close your eyes... close your eyes and-
“Stay away from that cabin.”
... damn.
Brennan opened his eyes. He had been so close to falling asleep, but when he saw Vincent standing next to a cabin, and realised just where he’d been lying, he felt ridiculously foolish. Right in the open, with Vincent investigating cabins. He’d been a clear, easy target. Brennan shuddered slightly at the thought.
He stood up, realising just how much it ached, and walked slowly over to Vincent. Once again, he had questions to ask. “So... uh...” Brennan stammered, partially due to fatigue, partially due to fear. “H-have you found somewhere for us to, um, sleep yet?”
“H-have you found somewhere for us to, um, sleep yet?”
“The cabin I looked at is fine. I’m pretty sure most of them are empty but just to be safe stay away from them”, Vincent turned and walked away again, back towards the cabins and hoping that Brennan would just follow after him.
“I don’t know who set that fire but I think they’re gone. We’ll take turns sleeping just to be safe though”, reaching the cabin that Vincent had visited before he stepped up to the door and looked inside again. It was modestly furnished but then as long as it had everything they needed Vincent wasn’t going to complain, it had a bed and that was good enough; though to be honest at this point he would had settled for a particularly soft patch of dirt if it meant he could get some sleep.
That brought them onto the next issue though; who was taking first watch? Vincent had planned on making Brennan take first watch while he slept, but taking a look at the boy now it didn’t look like he could stay awake that much longer. While Vincent was definitely physically tired and in quite a bit of pain he felt like he could stay awake for a while longer still; plus he had a few things to think about and he could use a couple hours alone to do it. He walked into the cabin towards the table and grabbed the wooden chair that sat next to it, dragging it outside before planting it on the ground just outside the front door.
“I’ll take first watch, you go get some sleep”
“The cabin I looked at is fine. I’m pretty sure most of them are empty but just to be safe stay away from them”, Vincent turned and walked away again, back towards the cabins and hoping that Brennan would just follow after him.
“I don’t know who set that fire but I think they’re gone. We’ll take turns sleeping just to be safe though”, reaching the cabin that Vincent had visited before he stepped up to the door and looked inside again. It was modestly furnished but then as long as it had everything they needed Vincent wasn’t going to complain, it had a bed and that was good enough; though to be honest at this point he would had settled for a particularly soft patch of dirt if it meant he could get some sleep.
That brought them onto the next issue though; who was taking first watch? Vincent had planned on making Brennan take first watch while he slept, but taking a look at the boy now it didn’t look like he could stay awake that much longer. While Vincent was definitely physically tired and in quite a bit of pain he felt like he could stay awake for a while longer still; plus he had a few things to think about and he could use a couple hours alone to do it. He walked into the cabin towards the table and grabbed the wooden chair that sat next to it, dragging it outside before planting it on the ground just outside the front door.
“I’ll take first watch, you go get some sleep”
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CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
[[Daniel Renard continued from Two A.M.]]
You would have thought finding one person on an island would have been easy. Fuck no. Not one single human being for the last day. It was almost as if people actively avoided him or something. Actually... that probably was true. He was on the announcements as a killer. That never was a good thing to have on your head. Although at this day in the game it probably didn't matter: either you were playing or you were dead. The last time someone who hadn't killed had made it in the top 10 was... uhh...
Well, he wasn't that big a fan to remember that. It was a long time ago, he was pretty sure.
Oh, and he almost ran into a lake. That was another highlight of the evening. Seeing absolutely nothing in the dark, he had somehow mistaken the water to be a footpath and tried to do the Jesus walk on water. On the plus side, it was only his left shoe making an annoying squelch, and it would probably dry right off.
Peering around, he saw signs of life. On any other day he would be pleased, especially with the no contact from other people thing, but the chances of them being his team was too slim. Some leader he was, not even being able to find his group. Fuck, they were probably dead by now. That would be...
"Fuck it. Tell me where my fucking teammates are. I have searched every fucking bit of this island and I can not find them."
Come on, mentor. Gimmie your wisdom.
You would have thought finding one person on an island would have been easy. Fuck no. Not one single human being for the last day. It was almost as if people actively avoided him or something. Actually... that probably was true. He was on the announcements as a killer. That never was a good thing to have on your head. Although at this day in the game it probably didn't matter: either you were playing or you were dead. The last time someone who hadn't killed had made it in the top 10 was... uhh...
Well, he wasn't that big a fan to remember that. It was a long time ago, he was pretty sure.
Oh, and he almost ran into a lake. That was another highlight of the evening. Seeing absolutely nothing in the dark, he had somehow mistaken the water to be a footpath and tried to do the Jesus walk on water. On the plus side, it was only his left shoe making an annoying squelch, and it would probably dry right off.
Peering around, he saw signs of life. On any other day he would be pleased, especially with the no contact from other people thing, but the chances of them being his team was too slim. Some leader he was, not even being able to find his group. Fuck, they were probably dead by now. That would be...
"Fuck it. Tell me where my fucking teammates are. I have searched every fucking bit of this island and I can not find them."
Come on, mentor. Gimmie your wisdom.
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.
(OOC: Since Pippin is absent I’ll just have to GM Brennan to get him out of the way. If there is a problem with the way I portrayed him I can try and edit something when she comes back)
Brennan turned away from the lake sharply as Vincent put the chair on the ground; he had been looking at the water with a worried look but now it changed to confusion as he saw the chair. When Vincent told him to go get some sleep he seemed to understand and just nodded, walking into the cabin, presumably to sleep, a moment later.
Letting out a sigh Vincent sat on the chair, shifting his weight as it wobbled on the uneven ground until it settled. He removed the shotgun’s strap from his shoulder and laid the weapon across his lap where it would be easier to handle should the need to fire it arise. He’d let Brennan get a few hours sleep before waking the smaller boy up for his turn on watch; or until Vincent got too tired to keep his eyes open, whichever came first.
He sat for a while like that, just sitting and waiting; hand resting on the shotgun ready to whip the weapon up and fire it if he saw any movement hiding in whatever darkness still remained as the sun continued to rise. After a while his mind started to drift; looking out over the lake, over at the pier he couldn’t help but let his mind drift to the last time he had been here.
Vincent was still his overconfident self, even more so due to the fact he had found his first teammate – one with a gun at that – and had just beaten up some guy at the beach. They had a plan, they were armed and he was certain things would keep improving. Then Karen had happened.
He didn’t even feel angry about that anymore. Well, not much, not at Karen at least; he couldn’t blame her for killing his teammate – either of them – not when he had killed four people himself, not when they had already established they were both just killing to survive. The fact that he suspected they were probably more than a little alike also dulled his vengeful side, while also vexing him immensely.
No, he would still try to kill Karen if given half a chance, but there was much less malice behind the thought as there was before.
Instead he just regretted Tiffany’s death; feeling the loss of a valuable ally, feeling anger at both himself for letting it happen and anger at being thrown onto this damn show to begin with.
He wondered how things would have gone if Karen hadn’t of been there, or if they had driven her off instead? With Tiffany alive would they have found more of their teammates quicker, would Kathy be alive as well? Would they still have gone to the Coastal Lake and fought Lynn? If that last one was a no Vincent would probably be dead without his bulletproof vest right now.
Vincent leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his eyes to try and salve his growing headache. Trying to think about all these ‘what ifs’ was painful, futile and tiring. Maybe having time to himself to think wasn’t such a good idea.
Brennan turned away from the lake sharply as Vincent put the chair on the ground; he had been looking at the water with a worried look but now it changed to confusion as he saw the chair. When Vincent told him to go get some sleep he seemed to understand and just nodded, walking into the cabin, presumably to sleep, a moment later.
Letting out a sigh Vincent sat on the chair, shifting his weight as it wobbled on the uneven ground until it settled. He removed the shotgun’s strap from his shoulder and laid the weapon across his lap where it would be easier to handle should the need to fire it arise. He’d let Brennan get a few hours sleep before waking the smaller boy up for his turn on watch; or until Vincent got too tired to keep his eyes open, whichever came first.
He sat for a while like that, just sitting and waiting; hand resting on the shotgun ready to whip the weapon up and fire it if he saw any movement hiding in whatever darkness still remained as the sun continued to rise. After a while his mind started to drift; looking out over the lake, over at the pier he couldn’t help but let his mind drift to the last time he had been here.
Vincent was still his overconfident self, even more so due to the fact he had found his first teammate – one with a gun at that – and had just beaten up some guy at the beach. They had a plan, they were armed and he was certain things would keep improving. Then Karen had happened.
He didn’t even feel angry about that anymore. Well, not much, not at Karen at least; he couldn’t blame her for killing his teammate – either of them – not when he had killed four people himself, not when they had already established they were both just killing to survive. The fact that he suspected they were probably more than a little alike also dulled his vengeful side, while also vexing him immensely.
No, he would still try to kill Karen if given half a chance, but there was much less malice behind the thought as there was before.
Instead he just regretted Tiffany’s death; feeling the loss of a valuable ally, feeling anger at both himself for letting it happen and anger at being thrown onto this damn show to begin with.
He wondered how things would have gone if Karen hadn’t of been there, or if they had driven her off instead? With Tiffany alive would they have found more of their teammates quicker, would Kathy be alive as well? Would they still have gone to the Coastal Lake and fought Lynn? If that last one was a no Vincent would probably be dead without his bulletproof vest right now.
Vincent leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his eyes to try and salve his growing headache. Trying to think about all these ‘what ifs’ was painful, futile and tiring. Maybe having time to himself to think wasn’t such a good idea.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Brennan was hugely relieved when Vincent revealed that they had somewhere to sleep. The cabin didn’t seem too amazing, but there was a bed, and that was more than enough for Brennan. However, Vincent’s next words brought Brennan plummeting back down to earth.
We’ll take turns sleeping... I... well, I can understand that... but what if someone comes whilst I’m on watch... or I fall asleep, and let Vincent get k-killed?
Whilst he was thinking this, Brennan noticed Vincent had disappeared inside the cabin; presumably, to sleep. Which meant Brennan was keeping watch. He could have cried. He was tired, scared and lost, and he was being forced to stay awake and shoot any intruders? Perfect.
It was then that Vincent returned with a chair. Brennan turned to look at him, a look of confusion on his face.
“I’ll take first watch, you get some sleep.”
And those were the best eight words Brennan had heard since the Resort Beach. He didn’t say anything, though. He was too exhausted for that. Brennan simply nodded, and walked inside the hut. He wanted to get to sleep as soon as possible, but didn’t want to boil to death while sleeping, so using whatever energy he had left, Brennan removed his turtleneck jumper, dumped it on the floor, and collapsed onto the bed.
Brennan had so many thoughts swirling about his head, but goddamnit, was he tired. And slowly but surely, one by one, the thoughts disappeared, as Brennan closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
We’ll take turns sleeping... I... well, I can understand that... but what if someone comes whilst I’m on watch... or I fall asleep, and let Vincent get k-killed?
Whilst he was thinking this, Brennan noticed Vincent had disappeared inside the cabin; presumably, to sleep. Which meant Brennan was keeping watch. He could have cried. He was tired, scared and lost, and he was being forced to stay awake and shoot any intruders? Perfect.
It was then that Vincent returned with a chair. Brennan turned to look at him, a look of confusion on his face.
“I’ll take first watch, you get some sleep.”
And those were the best eight words Brennan had heard since the Resort Beach. He didn’t say anything, though. He was too exhausted for that. Brennan simply nodded, and walked inside the hut. He wanted to get to sleep as soon as possible, but didn’t want to boil to death while sleeping, so using whatever energy he had left, Brennan removed his turtleneck jumper, dumped it on the floor, and collapsed onto the bed.
Brennan had so many thoughts swirling about his head, but goddamnit, was he tired. And slowly but surely, one by one, the thoughts disappeared, as Brennan closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
(Blue #2-Anna Hitchins continued from Reconstruction)
They didn't find the Lost City of Gold or anything cool like that. Anna was ready to scold her African guide for leading her astray, because where they ended up was more like the setting for a hillbilly horror film. The kind with rusty farm implements and unsavory locals full of moonshine and murderous intent. Thankfully, there weren't any hillbillies around. At least, not outside the cabins.
"Mugumba, we have appeared to taken a wrong turn at the pygmy village."
She stopped, planted her feet on the ground, and surveyed the situation. There were a couple docks, and other than the cabins there were no structures. In all honesty, the brave adventurer Oklahoma Hitchins (trademarked) could have used a rest.
"What's say we take a minute to rest?"
One of the cabins had someone sitting up in a chair on the porch, but Anna was too far in her protective fantasy to be attentive. Not yet, anyway.
They didn't find the Lost City of Gold or anything cool like that. Anna was ready to scold her African guide for leading her astray, because where they ended up was more like the setting for a hillbilly horror film. The kind with rusty farm implements and unsavory locals full of moonshine and murderous intent. Thankfully, there weren't any hillbillies around. At least, not outside the cabins.
"Mugumba, we have appeared to taken a wrong turn at the pygmy village."
She stopped, planted her feet on the ground, and surveyed the situation. There were a couple docks, and other than the cabins there were no structures. In all honesty, the brave adventurer Oklahoma Hitchins (trademarked) could have used a rest.
"What's say we take a minute to rest?"
One of the cabins had someone sitting up in a chair on the porch, but Anna was too far in her protective fantasy to be attentive. Not yet, anyway.
At some, undetermined point during his watch, Vincent had fallen asleep; or at least that’s what he assumed happened. All he knew was that when he first heard the voices creep over to him over the quiet of the lake his eyes were closed. Opening them Vincent turned to face the noise, moving slowly in part because he had just woken up and partly because he didn’t want to alert whoever was speaking if they weren’t hostile or hadn’t seen him yet.
Standing not too far away Vincent saw a pair of figures near to one of the other cabins. He couldn’t tell who they were – them being too far away and it being too dark to see properly – but he could tell there was two of them, one kind of short and chubby and the other being about his height. They looked like they might have been facing his way but given how dark it was they might not have noticed him yet.
He couldn’t see any weapons and he didn’t know what team they were on, but better to be safe than sorry. He reached his hand slowly over his lap without taking his eyes of the pair, silently thankful when his hand touched metal that his gun hadn’t slipped onto the ground during his nap.
Besides, this point so late in the game wasn’t the time to be making friends, it was time to start racking up kills and stockpiling supplies for the endgame.
As he tightened his grip on the shotgun still in his lap it never crossed his mind that the larger figure might be their last teammate, he just stood up from his chair suddenly as he raised the SPAS-12 to shoulder height, lined up the larger silhouette with his sights and pulled the trigger.
Standing not too far away Vincent saw a pair of figures near to one of the other cabins. He couldn’t tell who they were – them being too far away and it being too dark to see properly – but he could tell there was two of them, one kind of short and chubby and the other being about his height. They looked like they might have been facing his way but given how dark it was they might not have noticed him yet.
He couldn’t see any weapons and he didn’t know what team they were on, but better to be safe than sorry. He reached his hand slowly over his lap without taking his eyes of the pair, silently thankful when his hand touched metal that his gun hadn’t slipped onto the ground during his nap.
Besides, this point so late in the game wasn’t the time to be making friends, it was time to start racking up kills and stockpiling supplies for the endgame.
As he tightened his grip on the shotgun still in his lap it never crossed his mind that the larger figure might be their last teammate, he just stood up from his chair suddenly as he raised the SPAS-12 to shoulder height, lined up the larger silhouette with his sights and pulled the trigger.
[Yellow #4 - Marcus Walker. Continued from Reconstruction.]
She was getting worse. He didn't know how, and he didn't even think it was possible for a while, but she was getting worse. By the time they got out of that damn rain forest, she was spouting on about the Lost City of Gold again. For his part, Marcus could barely understand her. So he ignored her. Or at least paid as little attention to her as he was allowed to. He just tried to keep up with her and keep her in his sight as best he could. But while she was going on about cities of gold and pygmy villages, Marcus was thinking about Jaszmine. Wondering where she could be. Where her body was. And if they could actually find her.
"Jaszmine..."
He muttered to himself, and almost didn't notice Anna addressing him directly.
"Huh? Oh. Hey, I think they prefer to be called Little People."
Marcus thought about it for a minute. Anna seemed to be in... reasonable spirits, and had plenty of energy. But they hadn't gotten a decent chance to rest in a while. Taking some time out to rest seemed like a good idea. Yeah, they could use the sleep. They could at least use the time off their feet.
"Yeah... a rest sounds good."
He looked around at the cabins. For whatever reason, he was on edge. Looking at the empty cabins. Looking in the dark windows. And at one cabin in particular... with someone sitting outside.
"Anna? I think we should go."
But he never got a chance to leave. To take her away from that place before anything happened. By the time he opened his mouth and said something, he heard the crack of gunfire. Even at this distance it made his ears ring, and brought back bad memories. And before he could do anything, before he could say anything, everything had changed.
"...Anna?"
She was getting worse. He didn't know how, and he didn't even think it was possible for a while, but she was getting worse. By the time they got out of that damn rain forest, she was spouting on about the Lost City of Gold again. For his part, Marcus could barely understand her. So he ignored her. Or at least paid as little attention to her as he was allowed to. He just tried to keep up with her and keep her in his sight as best he could. But while she was going on about cities of gold and pygmy villages, Marcus was thinking about Jaszmine. Wondering where she could be. Where her body was. And if they could actually find her.
"Jaszmine..."
He muttered to himself, and almost didn't notice Anna addressing him directly.
"Huh? Oh. Hey, I think they prefer to be called Little People."
Marcus thought about it for a minute. Anna seemed to be in... reasonable spirits, and had plenty of energy. But they hadn't gotten a decent chance to rest in a while. Taking some time out to rest seemed like a good idea. Yeah, they could use the sleep. They could at least use the time off their feet.
"Yeah... a rest sounds good."
He looked around at the cabins. For whatever reason, he was on edge. Looking at the empty cabins. Looking in the dark windows. And at one cabin in particular... with someone sitting outside.
"Anna? I think we should go."
But he never got a chance to leave. To take her away from that place before anything happened. By the time he opened his mouth and said something, he heard the crack of gunfire. Even at this distance it made his ears ring, and brought back bad memories. And before he could do anything, before he could say anything, everything had changed.
"...Anna?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((sorry about busting up posting order, but I gotta get this done))
There was just enough sun peeking out over the trees to glint off the barrel of the gun as the man in the chair she had previously not seen raised it. Raised it to point at Marcus.
All kinds of things ran through Anna's head, mostly every "Get out of the way he has a gun!" scene from every movie she had ever scene. But when faced with the real thing, it didn't seem as graceful, She only had time to take a few steps in front of Marcus before at least half of the spread took her in the abdomen and lower chest.
She half spun as the nerves in her body gave out, shutting down from the sudden shock to the system. She landed on her side in the dust, and that's when the crimson of her own perforated body spilled out onto the ground. She couldn't have seen as much of herself than if she was looking in a mirror.
She looked up at Marcus, mouth working but no sounds coming out. She wanted to say something dramatic, maybe "Avenge me!" like in Red Dawn, or something poetic, or something profound.
But this wasn't a movie. It was all real, and someone had just went and stole her lines.
She just begged Marcus with her eyes to make it off the island, even before she bled out.
Blue#2-Anna Hitchins: Not Called Back
There was just enough sun peeking out over the trees to glint off the barrel of the gun as the man in the chair she had previously not seen raised it. Raised it to point at Marcus.
All kinds of things ran through Anna's head, mostly every "Get out of the way he has a gun!" scene from every movie she had ever scene. But when faced with the real thing, it didn't seem as graceful, She only had time to take a few steps in front of Marcus before at least half of the spread took her in the abdomen and lower chest.
She half spun as the nerves in her body gave out, shutting down from the sudden shock to the system. She landed on her side in the dust, and that's when the crimson of her own perforated body spilled out onto the ground. She couldn't have seen as much of herself than if she was looking in a mirror.
She looked up at Marcus, mouth working but no sounds coming out. She wanted to say something dramatic, maybe "Avenge me!" like in Red Dawn, or something poetic, or something profound.
But this wasn't a movie. It was all real, and someone had just went and stole her lines.
She just begged Marcus with her eyes to make it off the island, even before she bled out.
Blue#2-Anna Hitchins: Not Called Back
...Anna?
Come on, that's not funny. Get up.
Get up.
Get up!
"Anna?"
When she fell, so did Marcus. Not because he was hurt. There wasn't a scratch on him. But Anna...
"Come on... Get up."
She wouldn't move. She wouldn't do anything but stare up at him. Those eyes... There was no life left in them, but those eyes still stared up at Marcus same as they'd done when they were full of that girls unending, unbearable fire. She was annoying as all hell, and almost never shut up, but in that moment, he would have given anything to hear her bust out a line from a movie. To hear her say anything, funny, annoying, poignant, whatever. He wanted so badly for that light to come back and for everything to stay the same as it had... But she just stared at him. And he stared back.
And nothing would ever be the same as it once was. Nothing would ever be normal. With Anna there in his arms, lifeless eyes staring at the nothing past Marcus' head, he had nothing left. He lost Anthony, Devonte, Jaszmine, Anna... He lost everyone. Everyone!
Get up.
Get up!
His job wasn't done yet... He was... he was supposed to guide her. And protect her. He was supposed to lead her to the lost City of Gold. Not to some damnedable cabin in the fucking woods. Not to some fucking prick with a shotgun. He was supposed to bring her somewhere with gold as far as the eye can see, and banging native chicks, and a way out of this god damn fucking nightmare they got dragged into. Not... not here.
Get up.
He held her hand.
"I can't carry it for you... But I can carry you. Come on, Anna."
He pulled the only quote he could find from his hat and put Anna's limp arm over his shoulder. He didn't carry her like a sack of old potatoes, as he did with Anthony. No, he carried her like a child, cradled in his arms. He carried her like he carried his sister when she would fall asleep in the living room and had to be put back to bed. He carried her because she couldn't get up on her own.
He didn't care about the prick with the shotgun. He didn't care about the fucking cabins, or who was in them. He didn't care about the fucking game. All he cared about now was Anna, and taking her away from it all. All he cared about was finding his friends, and taking them home.
So Marcus carried Anna, and slipped away, behind the buildings, back the way they came. And he looked down at Anna, cradled in his arms. And he looked in those eyes...
And Marcus couldn't stop crying.
[Yellow #4 - Marcus Walker. Continued in A Day on the Water.]
Come on, that's not funny. Get up.
Get up.
Get up!
"Anna?"
When she fell, so did Marcus. Not because he was hurt. There wasn't a scratch on him. But Anna...
"Come on... Get up."
She wouldn't move. She wouldn't do anything but stare up at him. Those eyes... There was no life left in them, but those eyes still stared up at Marcus same as they'd done when they were full of that girls unending, unbearable fire. She was annoying as all hell, and almost never shut up, but in that moment, he would have given anything to hear her bust out a line from a movie. To hear her say anything, funny, annoying, poignant, whatever. He wanted so badly for that light to come back and for everything to stay the same as it had... But she just stared at him. And he stared back.
And nothing would ever be the same as it once was. Nothing would ever be normal. With Anna there in his arms, lifeless eyes staring at the nothing past Marcus' head, he had nothing left. He lost Anthony, Devonte, Jaszmine, Anna... He lost everyone. Everyone!
Get up.
Get up!
His job wasn't done yet... He was... he was supposed to guide her. And protect her. He was supposed to lead her to the lost City of Gold. Not to some damnedable cabin in the fucking woods. Not to some fucking prick with a shotgun. He was supposed to bring her somewhere with gold as far as the eye can see, and banging native chicks, and a way out of this god damn fucking nightmare they got dragged into. Not... not here.
Get up.
He held her hand.
"I can't carry it for you... But I can carry you. Come on, Anna."
He pulled the only quote he could find from his hat and put Anna's limp arm over his shoulder. He didn't carry her like a sack of old potatoes, as he did with Anthony. No, he carried her like a child, cradled in his arms. He carried her like he carried his sister when she would fall asleep in the living room and had to be put back to bed. He carried her because she couldn't get up on her own.
He didn't care about the prick with the shotgun. He didn't care about the fucking cabins, or who was in them. He didn't care about the fucking game. All he cared about now was Anna, and taking her away from it all. All he cared about was finding his friends, and taking them home.
So Marcus carried Anna, and slipped away, behind the buildings, back the way they came. And he looked down at Anna, cradled in his arms. And he looked in those eyes...
And Marcus couldn't stop crying.
[Yellow #4 - Marcus Walker. Continued in A Day on the Water.]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Dr. Nic. 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.
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CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
OK. What the fuck just happened.
Blue bandanna seemed to got shot. No provoking or anything. Just was shot.
And with the thought that these people were not actually playing nicely or even checking for a bandanna, he slowly started to walk backwards.
The kid had quite calmly attacked without even bothering to check that they were on his fucking team.
Daniel Renard started to run.
There was no way in hell he was staying around someone who didn't check for friendly fire.
If that was his team, he'd still be dead.
On the plus side, the girl had taken the trap for him, if you could call it that.
He blinked.
"Sorry, blue bandanna."
Yeah. Sorry, totally going to work.
He kept running.
[[Daniel Renard continued in Electronic Fox - The Right]]
Blue bandanna seemed to got shot. No provoking or anything. Just was shot.
And with the thought that these people were not actually playing nicely or even checking for a bandanna, he slowly started to walk backwards.
The kid had quite calmly attacked without even bothering to check that they were on his fucking team.
Daniel Renard started to run.
There was no way in hell he was staying around someone who didn't check for friendly fire.
If that was his team, he'd still be dead.
On the plus side, the girl had taken the trap for him, if you could call it that.
He blinked.
"Sorry, blue bandanna."
Yeah. Sorry, totally going to work.
He kept running.
[[Daniel Renard continued in Electronic Fox - The Right]]
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.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Brennan opened his eyes.
Instantly, he knew he was dreaming. He knew this partially because of the bright pink sky. But mostly, it was the fact that both his collar and bandana were gone, and he didn’t have a pistol in his pocket. Brennan was kinda disappointed that it was only a dream. But at the same time, it was exactly what he needed; somewhere to simply drift away to, and to forget his problems.
He wasn’t sure where he was exactly. Not that that mattered at the moment. It was a building, and there were corridors but no roof, but, again, that didn’t matter. Brennan started walking, hands in pockets, mind blissfully blank.
He walked for what seemed like five or so minutes, encountering nothing but blank walls and turns. There had been a couple of doors in the walls, but they hadn’t seemed important. Eventually he’d come to a left turn. He followed it, and saw, to his delight, Ali, her back turned to him, but obviously her. No-one else in Detroit had hair like that. Brennan called out to her, although he wasn’t sure what he said; heck, if he said anything at all.
But as Ali turned to face him, Brennan froze where he was, breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it, but Ali had a huge, thin sword stabbed straight through her body, hilt at the back. There was a huge red patch covering most of her body. Her expression was completely blank, and she was holding a shotgun. Brennan opened his mouth, tried to shout, say something, but nothing happened.
The gun fired with a huge *CRACK* noise.
And Brennan opened his eyes again.
He was sitting straight up in bed, breathing heavily. He looked around hurriedly. He was still in the cabin. His jumper was lying on the floor where he’d left it. Things were normal again. No murderous zombie Ali thing. Despite that, Brennan buried his head in his hands. Sleep had seemed like his last hope to put everything that’d happened on the island aside for a moment. Now that he’d had that dream... things just seemed unbearably bleak...
Keep Fighting...
Now that he was up, Brennan decided he should at least do something useful. His fatigue had at least disappeared now. He swivelled around, so his feet were hanging off the side of the bed, and stood up. Walking out of the cabin, he saw Vincent, now stood up, and holding his shotgun. Instinctively, Brennan put his hand to his pocket, feeling the shape of the pistol in it.
“Vincent?” Brennan said, slightly nervous. “Is, uh... did something happen here?”
Instantly, he knew he was dreaming. He knew this partially because of the bright pink sky. But mostly, it was the fact that both his collar and bandana were gone, and he didn’t have a pistol in his pocket. Brennan was kinda disappointed that it was only a dream. But at the same time, it was exactly what he needed; somewhere to simply drift away to, and to forget his problems.
He wasn’t sure where he was exactly. Not that that mattered at the moment. It was a building, and there were corridors but no roof, but, again, that didn’t matter. Brennan started walking, hands in pockets, mind blissfully blank.
He walked for what seemed like five or so minutes, encountering nothing but blank walls and turns. There had been a couple of doors in the walls, but they hadn’t seemed important. Eventually he’d come to a left turn. He followed it, and saw, to his delight, Ali, her back turned to him, but obviously her. No-one else in Detroit had hair like that. Brennan called out to her, although he wasn’t sure what he said; heck, if he said anything at all.
But as Ali turned to face him, Brennan froze where he was, breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it, but Ali had a huge, thin sword stabbed straight through her body, hilt at the back. There was a huge red patch covering most of her body. Her expression was completely blank, and she was holding a shotgun. Brennan opened his mouth, tried to shout, say something, but nothing happened.
The gun fired with a huge *CRACK* noise.
And Brennan opened his eyes again.
He was sitting straight up in bed, breathing heavily. He looked around hurriedly. He was still in the cabin. His jumper was lying on the floor where he’d left it. Things were normal again. No murderous zombie Ali thing. Despite that, Brennan buried his head in his hands. Sleep had seemed like his last hope to put everything that’d happened on the island aside for a moment. Now that he’d had that dream... things just seemed unbearably bleak...
Keep Fighting...
Now that he was up, Brennan decided he should at least do something useful. His fatigue had at least disappeared now. He swivelled around, so his feet were hanging off the side of the bed, and stood up. Walking out of the cabin, he saw Vincent, now stood up, and holding his shotgun. Instinctively, Brennan put his hand to his pocket, feeling the shape of the pistol in it.
“Vincent?” Brennan said, slightly nervous. “Is, uh... did something happen here?”
The girl took the shot.
He’d been aiming for the guy, since Vincent considered the taller and broader of the two to be the bigger threat, only for the girl to dive in front of the shot herself. Judging from the fact that she wasn’t moving it hadn’t stopped him from getting a kill anyway, but the fact she had done that at all surprised Vincent.
Honestly he didn’t care which one he shot first, he was planning on killing them both anyway; or at least he was, before the girl pulled the human shield act for her friend. That kind of took him by surprise, leaving him stunned just long enough for the guy to pick up the body and start running, disappearing out of sight by the time Vincent had pumped the shotgun for a second salvo.
Brennan came out from the cabin, apparently woken by the gunshot. He was reaching into his pocket as well, the same pocket Vincent had seen him put Tiffany’s revolver earlier; that was good, at least he was thinking along the right lines.
The smaller boy asked what was going on but Vincent didn’t answer right away, he was still thinking over what had just happened. He had made the right decision, he was sure of that. It wasn’t self defence like the rest of his kills, he struck first this time. That was fine though; that was how he had been planning to approach things for a while That self defence shit didn’t work anyway, since the other guy always got to shoot first; Vincent had the marks to prove how bad of an idea that was.
“We have one less competitor to worry about”
Vincent lowered the shotgun and held it out with one had to Brennan, the weapon still had seven shots in it and that should be enough to handle whatever came at them. Even if it wasn’t it would only take one to wake him and then he could reload the thing himself.
He was about to head inside and had just taken his first step when a voice spoke out from somewhere nearby.
“Vincent”
At first he thought maybe it was the mentor again, ready to offer up more unhelpful reassurances with smug superiority, but the voice was coming from lower than his neck. Plus the voice sounded different – it wasn’t male for one – it sounded weak, slurred. He doubted the arrogant prick that had spoken last time would speak in a tone like that if he could help it.
No, he had an idea who this was. Karen.
“Don’t die before the announcement”
That was it, the whole cryptic message ended there. He didn’t bother reaching for the walkie-talkie in his pocket; he was in no mood to speak to Karen right now, in no mood to gloat until he had at least a few hours sleep. It didn’t sound like Karen was up for conversation much anyway, what had happened to her to make her voice sound like that? Maybe she’d finally been hurt?
The message itself though: ‘don’t die before the announcement’. Vincent doubted Karen had any desire to actually see him live longer, she should want him dead if for nothing else than because he had stated his intent to kill her should they ever meet. No, she must want him to hear the announcement. She must have thought that something that was going to be said would interest him.
His first thought was that she had killed his last teammate, the private school guy, but if she had why not just come out and say it like she had for Kathy? She had no problem telling him that. It must have been something bigger, something she wanted to keep a surprise and given what he had found out about her in their last conversation he could make a good guess.
The bitch had finally gotten her tenth kill. She was getting a free ride home.
Vincent tried to contemplate this new information, the ramifications the loss of the top killer on the island would have on the remainder of the game, as well as his own feelings on the fact that his personal nemesis had managed to elude him without a proper fight at all occurring.
Then the adrenaline from waking up find the cabin under threat faded and he felt all of his tiredness come back with a vengeance.
“Fuck it, I’m going to sleep. You’re turn on watch”
He’d been aiming for the guy, since Vincent considered the taller and broader of the two to be the bigger threat, only for the girl to dive in front of the shot herself. Judging from the fact that she wasn’t moving it hadn’t stopped him from getting a kill anyway, but the fact she had done that at all surprised Vincent.
Honestly he didn’t care which one he shot first, he was planning on killing them both anyway; or at least he was, before the girl pulled the human shield act for her friend. That kind of took him by surprise, leaving him stunned just long enough for the guy to pick up the body and start running, disappearing out of sight by the time Vincent had pumped the shotgun for a second salvo.
Brennan came out from the cabin, apparently woken by the gunshot. He was reaching into his pocket as well, the same pocket Vincent had seen him put Tiffany’s revolver earlier; that was good, at least he was thinking along the right lines.
The smaller boy asked what was going on but Vincent didn’t answer right away, he was still thinking over what had just happened. He had made the right decision, he was sure of that. It wasn’t self defence like the rest of his kills, he struck first this time. That was fine though; that was how he had been planning to approach things for a while That self defence shit didn’t work anyway, since the other guy always got to shoot first; Vincent had the marks to prove how bad of an idea that was.
“We have one less competitor to worry about”
Vincent lowered the shotgun and held it out with one had to Brennan, the weapon still had seven shots in it and that should be enough to handle whatever came at them. Even if it wasn’t it would only take one to wake him and then he could reload the thing himself.
He was about to head inside and had just taken his first step when a voice spoke out from somewhere nearby.
“Vincent”
At first he thought maybe it was the mentor again, ready to offer up more unhelpful reassurances with smug superiority, but the voice was coming from lower than his neck. Plus the voice sounded different – it wasn’t male for one – it sounded weak, slurred. He doubted the arrogant prick that had spoken last time would speak in a tone like that if he could help it.
No, he had an idea who this was. Karen.
“Don’t die before the announcement”
That was it, the whole cryptic message ended there. He didn’t bother reaching for the walkie-talkie in his pocket; he was in no mood to speak to Karen right now, in no mood to gloat until he had at least a few hours sleep. It didn’t sound like Karen was up for conversation much anyway, what had happened to her to make her voice sound like that? Maybe she’d finally been hurt?
The message itself though: ‘don’t die before the announcement’. Vincent doubted Karen had any desire to actually see him live longer, she should want him dead if for nothing else than because he had stated his intent to kill her should they ever meet. No, she must want him to hear the announcement. She must have thought that something that was going to be said would interest him.
His first thought was that she had killed his last teammate, the private school guy, but if she had why not just come out and say it like she had for Kathy? She had no problem telling him that. It must have been something bigger, something she wanted to keep a surprise and given what he had found out about her in their last conversation he could make a good guess.
The bitch had finally gotten her tenth kill. She was getting a free ride home.
Vincent tried to contemplate this new information, the ramifications the loss of the top killer on the island would have on the remainder of the game, as well as his own feelings on the fact that his personal nemesis had managed to elude him without a proper fight at all occurring.
Then the adrenaline from waking up find the cabin under threat faded and he felt all of his tiredness come back with a vengeance.
“Fuck it, I’m going to sleep. You’re turn on watch”
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Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Vincent was silent for a moment. Brennan didn’t pursue the question; he was still unsure as to how Vincent would react to things. So there was nothing but silence at the lakeside for a few moments. Brennan’s hand was still hovering around his pocket. Almost anything could have happened here. Vincent could have shot someone; someone could have shot Vincent and run off; someone could have shot at Vincent and was still hiding nearby. This last thought caused Brennan to nervously look round, to see if he could catch a glimpse of someone.
“We have one less competitor to worry about.”
Brennan slowly turned to look at the larger boy. For a second, he simply looked at him, a look of slight bewilderment on his face. Then the realisation hit him, and Brennan let out a soft “Oh.” He had guessed that that was the case, really. There were a couple of questions Brennan wanted to ask; namely, Who was it that you shot? and Where’s the body then?
But again, Brennan stayed silent. Partially due to the whole issue with Vincent’s unpredictability, but mostly due to the fact that Brennan just didn’t want to know right at that moment.
Although... I’m going to find out at the next announcement, aren’t I? There’s no putting it off forever.
Brennan realised that Vincent was holding his shotgun out. Just like last time he’d been offered a gun, Brennan was momentarily stunned, but then he realised that it was his turn to keep watch. He took the gun and nodded, then quickly grabbed the shotgun with his other hand. It was a Franchi SPAS-12 shotgun, and much heavier than Brennan had first thought. He wasn’t sure that he’d even be able to stop himself from falling over if he pulled the trigger.
Vincent was heading inside now, and Brennan was about to take a seat on the chair outside the door, when he heard a voice, a voice he recognised. Karen. Karen Ruiz the killer. Why is Karen talking to Vincent? And more importantly... how?
Karen’s message was short, and cryptic. Brennan wanted to know exactly what it meant, but he had a feeling Vincent didn’t know either. Vincent was heading into the cabin now; there wasn’t too much time left to ask his questions.
“Vincent, wh-“ Brennan started, before his thoughts put hold to his speech. There was time after Vincent had slept. The questions could wait until then. He could protect Vincent for a couple of hours.
“Forget it... go and, uh, get some sleep.”
Again, Vincent and Brennan were silent. Again, Brennan had questions to ask. And again, Brennan said nothing. Brennan sighed, took a seat on the chair, and moved the shotgun about until it was in a comfortable position.
So many questions. So few answers. For now though, Brennan could do nothing but sit and wait.
“We have one less competitor to worry about.”
Brennan slowly turned to look at the larger boy. For a second, he simply looked at him, a look of slight bewilderment on his face. Then the realisation hit him, and Brennan let out a soft “Oh.” He had guessed that that was the case, really. There were a couple of questions Brennan wanted to ask; namely, Who was it that you shot? and Where’s the body then?
But again, Brennan stayed silent. Partially due to the whole issue with Vincent’s unpredictability, but mostly due to the fact that Brennan just didn’t want to know right at that moment.
Although... I’m going to find out at the next announcement, aren’t I? There’s no putting it off forever.
Brennan realised that Vincent was holding his shotgun out. Just like last time he’d been offered a gun, Brennan was momentarily stunned, but then he realised that it was his turn to keep watch. He took the gun and nodded, then quickly grabbed the shotgun with his other hand. It was a Franchi SPAS-12 shotgun, and much heavier than Brennan had first thought. He wasn’t sure that he’d even be able to stop himself from falling over if he pulled the trigger.
Vincent was heading inside now, and Brennan was about to take a seat on the chair outside the door, when he heard a voice, a voice he recognised. Karen. Karen Ruiz the killer. Why is Karen talking to Vincent? And more importantly... how?
Karen’s message was short, and cryptic. Brennan wanted to know exactly what it meant, but he had a feeling Vincent didn’t know either. Vincent was heading into the cabin now; there wasn’t too much time left to ask his questions.
“Vincent, wh-“ Brennan started, before his thoughts put hold to his speech. There was time after Vincent had slept. The questions could wait until then. He could protect Vincent for a couple of hours.
“Forget it... go and, uh, get some sleep.”
Again, Vincent and Brennan were silent. Again, Brennan had questions to ask. And again, Brennan said nothing. Brennan sighed, took a seat on the chair, and moved the shotgun about until it was in a comfortable position.
So many questions. So few answers. For now though, Brennan could do nothing but sit and wait.