He groaned. Loud. Not really a groan of pain, which he was in, but a groan of confusion. He felt hard, tiled floor on his back, shifting a bit to keep a bit of debris from digging into his back. He opened his eyes to the sight of burnt-out ceiling lights and tiles. He groggily got up and looked around.
Connor Bromwell was alone in the empty building, surrounded by silence. Only beams of light filtered in from the windows. He tried to stand up from his sitting position, only to topple back onto his behind, due to a massive head rush. He dug his fingers into his dreadlocks and put his head between his legs, gritting his teeth to the massive headache making itself known in the front of his head. Holy shit, he thought, who the hell punched me to give me a headache like this?
Suddenly, it all came back to him. The cell. The chair. He remembered them sticking something in his arm. Turning his arm, he saw the puncture with the six smaller circles around it. Then he remembered the mysterious man with the coat and the gas mask. What did he say? Something about powers? Sounds like little kid bullshit. he mused grimly.
"Wait... There was something else..."
And then, he realized. He remembered being strapped to a chair and that sketchy guy was talking about how he had to kill other people, and... Oh god... That kid was shot! You couldn't stage that! He began to pant, looking up at his surroundings. "He said something... something about a daypack..."
Looking across the floor, he saw the bag, barely four feet away. He got up and stumbled towards it, getting down on his knees and zipping it open. The first thing to catch his attention was the handgun, sitting atop the jumble of contents like it was the only one important. He picked it out of the bag and carefully set it beside him on the floor. He then took out the loaf of bread. Glad to see there's no hunger problem. he thought, and continued to take inventory of the mysteries of the pack. More food, water, a map and compass, and a first-aid kit. He finally pulled out the knife, sighing heavily. "Well, I guess they weren't joking..." he mumbled to himself.
Picking up the knife, he slipped it into his boot, the handle sticking out. He then looked at the gun, frowning. He carefully picked it up from the floor, checked the safety, and stuck it into the back of his jeans. He frowned as the uncomfortable instrument jabbed against the small of his back. Gotta know the rules to play the game, right? Gotta kill within 24 hours or we all die. I don't like it, but if it comes to that, I may be the one to pull the trigger. Definitely not gonna be the one to bite the bullet. He knelt down to begin putting the contents of the bag back, but then something caught his attention. A piece of paper stuck to the side of the water bottle. He picked it off and read, his mouth forming the words. "Underwater Respiration."
He blinked. Respiration? Like, breathing? He growled, "They gave me the power to breathe water? Goddammit!"
He tore the paper in half, glowering. He grumbled as he shoved the contents back into the pack. He knew that staying in one place too long would be hazardous, so he quickly zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He began walking towards a door, put his hand on it.
The second I open this door, my old life is over. It's kill or be killed, and none of these people know me, let alone care if I die. I need to think the same. To crush your enemies, see them driven before you. That is what's best in life. he thought as he opened the door.
The light flooded, blinding him momentarily. When his eyes adjusted, the first thing he saw was a huge mountain.
"Fuck."
Conan, What is Best in Life?
C15 - Connor "Conan" Bromwell Start
Conan, What is Best in Life?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Egads. 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.
brrzt, click, ding!
It was the same tired routine. Day in, day out, the poor, down-trodden turnstile would swing lazily on it's broken pedestal, it's three horizontal pillars endlessly switching their position on their never-ending circle of life. It had been many years since this poor turnstile had felt the gentle caress of a human pushing their way through the metal pole, that momentary contact being an eternity of comfort and a job well done.
brrzt, click, ding!
These days, it never felt the touch of a living being. Only the gentle touch of the summer breeze, warm, but heartless and unsatisfying. Even so, the hard-working turnstile would obey it's touch, gently turning it's pillar to allow the fleeting breeze access into the hallowed sanctuary it protected.
brrzt, click, ding!
Today was different though. Not more than a few feet from the diligent machine, a strange new creature lay in a state of deep slumber. This creature was human, female, with an alarmingly bright pink head of hair. She had a noticeable amount of fat, but not enough to detract from her appearance. Her prone form began to shift gradually, sitting in an up-right position.
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie Jackson, subject C08, felt like she had the biggest hangover of her life. It was as if someone had taken a baseball bat and bludgeoned her over the head a few times before tossing her off a building and into oncoming traffic. Okay, maybe that was a bit... morbid. But dammit it hurt like hell. The pink-haired girl rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pain in her brain. She subconsciously reached to grab her purse and... wait, this wasn't her purse....
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie was immediately snapped to attention, her most recent memories coming to the forefront of her mind. First she was at a rave.... there was this really cute guy, whom she had gotten a little frisky with on the dance floor... then their little bathroom adventure... getting into his car... then nothing. Nothing until waking up in a strange room filled with a bunch of other strange children, hands tied and mouth taped. She had noticed no one else had had their mouth taped, and wondered why she was singled out as she gingerly removed the adhesive strip from her lips.
brrzt, click, ding!
The girl took a moment to take in her surroundings. She was in some form of roofed enclosure, although there were no walls. The surface she was sitting on was metal, and she could feel the cold surface through her black capris pants. There wasn't much else to see, just what looked to be some form of trolley going up the mountain on the other side of a single turn stile that was oddly moving on it's own. It was kind of creepy.
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie grabbed the bag in her hands, pulling it open. She rummaged through the bag, looking through the food, medical supplies, and the other various objects. Her hand passed on a cool metal surface, and immediately the pink-haired girl removed it from her bag. It was a hand gun, along with a knife that had been sitting snugly underneath it. She gave the items a quizzical look for a moment before zipping up her bag. She recalled that there had been some mention of killing the other kids that had been in the strange room. This suited Ashlie just fine. They were just strangers, meant nothing to her. Her life was more valuable than theirs by a landslide. She did remember seeing a couple of the boys she wouldn't mind sampling before snuffing their life though.
brrzt, click, ding!
Standing up shakily, she nearly broke her ankle when she forgot she had been wearing her “fuck me” heels the night of the rave, and was still wearing them now. It would be a shame to lose them, so the pink-haired girl removed the footwear, putting them in her bag for now. That meant she would have to walk about in her bare feet, but that was of minor importance to her at the moment. Ignoring the cold sting of the metal on the soles of her feet, Ashlie decided her next course of action.
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie looked at the noisy machine, almost as if it had been trying to get her attention. Looking at the trolley on the other side, she shrugged and headed towards the turn stile, wedging herself sideways through the machine. brrzt, click... The annoying contraption had jammed in the middle, painfully jabbing Ashlie in her thigh.
“OW FUCK!” Ashlie yelled, immediately clasping a hand over her mouth. She didn't want to attract unwanted attention. She also noticed her voice sounded... different somehow. She wasn't sure just how to describe it, but it almost sounded like it was.... staticy, like when you're listening to the radio and something interrupts the signal. The pink-haired girl decided to worry about it later. First she needed to get out of her current situation.
After pushing on the metal pole and determining that it wasn't going to move, Ashlie determined she would have to climb over. Placing her bag on the other side of the barrier, she placed her hands on either side of the turn stile, heaving herself up and over. Well, in theory. What actually happened was Ashlie kind of flopped over the turn stile, just barely managing to not hit her head on the ground. During her little tumble, something had caught the bottom of her pants, and tore a hole through the material, leaving about a three inch slit in her left pant leg. As soon as she noticed this, she went off.
“FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT MACHINE!” Ashlie yelled, again noticing something odd in her voice. “FUCKING NEARLY KILL ME AND YOU RIP MY FAVORITE PANTS! FUCK!” Ashlie nearly kicked the machine, but remembered she was in bare feet, and was able to stop herself before she broke her foot. She instead contented herself with glaring at the turn stile. “Fucking piece of shit.” Ashlie said one last time before walking towards the trolley.
...ding!
It was the same tired routine. Day in, day out, the poor, down-trodden turnstile would swing lazily on it's broken pedestal, it's three horizontal pillars endlessly switching their position on their never-ending circle of life. It had been many years since this poor turnstile had felt the gentle caress of a human pushing their way through the metal pole, that momentary contact being an eternity of comfort and a job well done.
brrzt, click, ding!
These days, it never felt the touch of a living being. Only the gentle touch of the summer breeze, warm, but heartless and unsatisfying. Even so, the hard-working turnstile would obey it's touch, gently turning it's pillar to allow the fleeting breeze access into the hallowed sanctuary it protected.
brrzt, click, ding!
Today was different though. Not more than a few feet from the diligent machine, a strange new creature lay in a state of deep slumber. This creature was human, female, with an alarmingly bright pink head of hair. She had a noticeable amount of fat, but not enough to detract from her appearance. Her prone form began to shift gradually, sitting in an up-right position.
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie Jackson, subject C08, felt like she had the biggest hangover of her life. It was as if someone had taken a baseball bat and bludgeoned her over the head a few times before tossing her off a building and into oncoming traffic. Okay, maybe that was a bit... morbid. But dammit it hurt like hell. The pink-haired girl rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pain in her brain. She subconsciously reached to grab her purse and... wait, this wasn't her purse....
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie was immediately snapped to attention, her most recent memories coming to the forefront of her mind. First she was at a rave.... there was this really cute guy, whom she had gotten a little frisky with on the dance floor... then their little bathroom adventure... getting into his car... then nothing. Nothing until waking up in a strange room filled with a bunch of other strange children, hands tied and mouth taped. She had noticed no one else had had their mouth taped, and wondered why she was singled out as she gingerly removed the adhesive strip from her lips.
brrzt, click, ding!
The girl took a moment to take in her surroundings. She was in some form of roofed enclosure, although there were no walls. The surface she was sitting on was metal, and she could feel the cold surface through her black capris pants. There wasn't much else to see, just what looked to be some form of trolley going up the mountain on the other side of a single turn stile that was oddly moving on it's own. It was kind of creepy.
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie grabbed the bag in her hands, pulling it open. She rummaged through the bag, looking through the food, medical supplies, and the other various objects. Her hand passed on a cool metal surface, and immediately the pink-haired girl removed it from her bag. It was a hand gun, along with a knife that had been sitting snugly underneath it. She gave the items a quizzical look for a moment before zipping up her bag. She recalled that there had been some mention of killing the other kids that had been in the strange room. This suited Ashlie just fine. They were just strangers, meant nothing to her. Her life was more valuable than theirs by a landslide. She did remember seeing a couple of the boys she wouldn't mind sampling before snuffing their life though.
brrzt, click, ding!
Standing up shakily, she nearly broke her ankle when she forgot she had been wearing her “fuck me” heels the night of the rave, and was still wearing them now. It would be a shame to lose them, so the pink-haired girl removed the footwear, putting them in her bag for now. That meant she would have to walk about in her bare feet, but that was of minor importance to her at the moment. Ignoring the cold sting of the metal on the soles of her feet, Ashlie decided her next course of action.
brrzt, click, ding!
Ashlie looked at the noisy machine, almost as if it had been trying to get her attention. Looking at the trolley on the other side, she shrugged and headed towards the turn stile, wedging herself sideways through the machine. brrzt, click... The annoying contraption had jammed in the middle, painfully jabbing Ashlie in her thigh.
“OW FUCK!” Ashlie yelled, immediately clasping a hand over her mouth. She didn't want to attract unwanted attention. She also noticed her voice sounded... different somehow. She wasn't sure just how to describe it, but it almost sounded like it was.... staticy, like when you're listening to the radio and something interrupts the signal. The pink-haired girl decided to worry about it later. First she needed to get out of her current situation.
After pushing on the metal pole and determining that it wasn't going to move, Ashlie determined she would have to climb over. Placing her bag on the other side of the barrier, she placed her hands on either side of the turn stile, heaving herself up and over. Well, in theory. What actually happened was Ashlie kind of flopped over the turn stile, just barely managing to not hit her head on the ground. During her little tumble, something had caught the bottom of her pants, and tore a hole through the material, leaving about a three inch slit in her left pant leg. As soon as she noticed this, she went off.
“FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT MACHINE!” Ashlie yelled, again noticing something odd in her voice. “FUCKING NEARLY KILL ME AND YOU RIP MY FAVORITE PANTS! FUCK!” Ashlie nearly kicked the machine, but remembered she was in bare feet, and was able to stop herself before she broke her foot. She instead contented herself with glaring at the turn stile. “Fucking piece of shit.” Ashlie said one last time before walking towards the trolley.
...ding!
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
Connor scanned the area, squinting his eyes. First he started to the left, looking out across the area. Moving his vision in front of him, he saw the massive mountain. Hearing the steady mechanical sound of the turnstile to the right, he looked that way, peeking around the open door. What he saw made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
It was a girl. The one with tape on her mouth. She looked like she just got up. She began peeling the tape off her mouth. He took cover behind the door, pulling the gun from his jeans. No need to take the safety off... yet. Just see if she's a threa-
Suddenly, the most horrible sound that he ever heard in his life came to his ears. He came crashing down to his knees and gritted his teeth, hands flying to his ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Soon, the sound stopped, and he gasped. Standing up on wobbly knees, he stumbled out from the door, shakily holding the gun.
He began to lurch towards her, and was about to call out, when it happened again. The hellish squeal that intruded his head and assaulted his brain. He fell down again, unable to keep his balance. Once it was over, he looked up again, seeing the girl heading towards the trolley. He stood up once more and called out to the figure walking away.
"Hey, you! You better turn around, nice and slow, and keep your hands where they can be seen!"
It was a girl. The one with tape on her mouth. She looked like she just got up. She began peeling the tape off her mouth. He took cover behind the door, pulling the gun from his jeans. No need to take the safety off... yet. Just see if she's a threa-
Suddenly, the most horrible sound that he ever heard in his life came to his ears. He came crashing down to his knees and gritted his teeth, hands flying to his ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Soon, the sound stopped, and he gasped. Standing up on wobbly knees, he stumbled out from the door, shakily holding the gun.
He began to lurch towards her, and was about to call out, when it happened again. The hellish squeal that intruded his head and assaulted his brain. He fell down again, unable to keep his balance. Once it was over, he looked up again, seeing the girl heading towards the trolley. He stood up once more and called out to the figure walking away.
"Hey, you! You better turn around, nice and slow, and keep your hands where they can be seen!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Egads. 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.
Ashlie was just about to get on the trolley when a male voice called out, demanding her to turn around. The pink-haired girl raised an eyebrow, turning her head slightly to see who was talking. Out of the corner of her eyes she was able to see a rather imposing figure holding a gun towards her. She should probably do what he said. Spreading her arms out, she slowly pivoted on her bare feet. The smile on her face widened as she noticed the boy was one of the ones she had been eying in the briefing room.
"Well hey there big boy." Ashlie said, raising her eyebrow again when he began clutching his head, almost looking as if he was about to be sick. The girl just shrugged, assuming that he had probably just hit his head or something. "You wouldn't hurt little old me, would you?" again with the head clutching. It was almost like he wasn't even paying attention to her. Combined with the fact there was a gun being pointed in her direction, it caused her to become slightly agitated. How he could not be paying attention to her, especially with that she was wearing? Didn't all teenaged boys think with their dicks? She should have his undivided attention right now.
"Are you even listening to me?" she nearly yelled, dropping her arms. He was still more concerned with his head, which didn't go over well with the pink-haired girl.
"Well hey there big boy." Ashlie said, raising her eyebrow again when he began clutching his head, almost looking as if he was about to be sick. The girl just shrugged, assuming that he had probably just hit his head or something. "You wouldn't hurt little old me, would you?" again with the head clutching. It was almost like he wasn't even paying attention to her. Combined with the fact there was a gun being pointed in her direction, it caused her to become slightly agitated. How he could not be paying attention to her, especially with that she was wearing? Didn't all teenaged boys think with their dicks? She should have his undivided attention right now.
"Are you even listening to me?" she nearly yelled, dropping her arms. He was still more concerned with his head, which didn't go over well with the pink-haired girl.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
He wished the noise would stop, but it wouldn't. He didn't know where it was coming from, but he knew that girl must have something to do with it. He fell on his knees and clutched his head, dropping his gun. His stomach tied into a tight knot. "F-fu-uck." he moaned as he threw up stomach bile.
He looked up at her, and realized that whenever the sound happened, she opened her mouth. He tried standing up, but fell down, unable to keep his balance. His throat screamed in pain from the bile.
"Just.. just sh... JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he screamed.
He looked up at her, and realized that whenever the sound happened, she opened her mouth. He tried standing up, but fell down, unable to keep his balance. His throat screamed in pain from the bile.
"Just.. just sh... JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he screamed.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Egads. 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.
Ashlie was now visibly pissed off. Did this fucker just tell her to shut up? Did he have no value for his life? Of course, the pink-haired girl was ignoring the fact he was hunched over, puking his guts out, and the fact that he seemed to get worse every time she spoke. To her it was just him ignoring her again, not giving her the attention she deserved to have. The angry girl took a few strides forward, stopping at the infernal machine that ripped her pants.
"Stand up and be a man, ya fucking pussy." Ashlie exclaimed, which would no doubt just send him into another fit, although she still didn't know she was the cause of the problem to begin with. At this point she did decide to shut up, not because he asked her to, but because she was just too pissed off for words at the moment. This would thankfully give the boy to recover from the effects of her voice, and maybe try to calm her down.
"Stand up and be a man, ya fucking pussy." Ashlie exclaimed, which would no doubt just send him into another fit, although she still didn't know she was the cause of the problem to begin with. At this point she did decide to shut up, not because he asked her to, but because she was just too pissed off for words at the moment. This would thankfully give the boy to recover from the effects of her voice, and maybe try to calm her down.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
Emptying the final contents of his stomach, Connor rolled over onto his side, panting heavily. "H-holy shit..." he panted, trying to catch his breath.
The world span, and it didn't feel like it was going to stop any time soon. He coughed more, and then put his hands on the ground, trying to get himself up. He slipped and fell headfirst back down. "Aw, FUCK." he growled.
Trying again, he finally got into a sitting position. He held a hand out, palm facing her, and pleaded, "Please... no more. What... what is with your voice? It's like... every time you said something it hurt me."
He slowly looked up at her, and saw her glaring. Frankly he couldn't care less that he offended her, as she looked, as long as she kept her mouth shut. He sat for a full minute, the nausea fading, but the headache still assailing his brain. He stood up slowly, picking up the gun. He looked at her, "I guess your power is something with your voice, right?"
The world span, and it didn't feel like it was going to stop any time soon. He coughed more, and then put his hands on the ground, trying to get himself up. He slipped and fell headfirst back down. "Aw, FUCK." he growled.
Trying again, he finally got into a sitting position. He held a hand out, palm facing her, and pleaded, "Please... no more. What... what is with your voice? It's like... every time you said something it hurt me."
He slowly looked up at her, and saw her glaring. Frankly he couldn't care less that he offended her, as she looked, as long as she kept her mouth shut. He sat for a full minute, the nausea fading, but the headache still assailing his brain. He stood up slowly, picking up the gun. He looked at her, "I guess your power is something with your voice, right?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Egads. 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.
Ashlie went to open her mouth again, but stopped. If it was her voice that was hurting him so much, then that may explain why he kept falling over every time she tried to talk to him. This didn't help her mood much, as it took away one of her best weapons for gaining other's trust. At the same time, it had turned her voice into a different type of weapon, judging from the violent reactions that the man in front of her was having. So maybe it wasn't all bad. Now she just had to figure out what to do.
Unfortunately, she had no method of communication with Connor. She couldn't talk, and she had no paper, or even a cell phone she could use. She had nothing. This would make things a bit harder for her at the moment. She wasn't afraid to get into a confrontation, but right now it was just too early to pull anything. There was no telling if someone would show up, it was just too open here. She needed to get away from here. Looking around her, she had one of two options. She could either go onto the trolley that was her original destination, or tempt fate with the turn stile again.
She decided to tempt the turn stile again. Hiking her leg over the contraption, she managed to get over it without face planting this time. She took a moment to look over Connor again, determining whether or not it would be worth trying to get him on her side, even if it was just temporary. Maybe use him as a shield... maybe more, who knew? He didn't seem like the type who would be willing to team up, even with the promise of... extra-curriculars. Especially not in this situation. It would be up to him in the end, but Ashlie made sure the gun she had been given was in easy reach.
Unfortunately, she had no method of communication with Connor. She couldn't talk, and she had no paper, or even a cell phone she could use. She had nothing. This would make things a bit harder for her at the moment. She wasn't afraid to get into a confrontation, but right now it was just too early to pull anything. There was no telling if someone would show up, it was just too open here. She needed to get away from here. Looking around her, she had one of two options. She could either go onto the trolley that was her original destination, or tempt fate with the turn stile again.
She decided to tempt the turn stile again. Hiking her leg over the contraption, she managed to get over it without face planting this time. She took a moment to look over Connor again, determining whether or not it would be worth trying to get him on her side, even if it was just temporary. Maybe use him as a shield... maybe more, who knew? He didn't seem like the type who would be willing to team up, even with the promise of... extra-curriculars. Especially not in this situation. It would be up to him in the end, but Ashlie made sure the gun she had been given was in easy reach.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
Connor watched the girl step over the turnstile, and look back at him. He glared for a moment, silently hoping no sound came from her mouth. His ears rang and his esophagus burned like a fire, his head pounding like a drum. Then, he lowered his weapon, seeing she meant no harm... yet.
He turned, and with one last look over his shoulder, stumbled away. After a few steps, his balance slowly returned, giving him more confidence in his walk. He tucked his gun into the back of his pants once more and walked towards the forest.
((Connor Bromwell continued in Lay Your Weary Head To Rest ))
He turned, and with one last look over his shoulder, stumbled away. After a few steps, his balance slowly returned, giving him more confidence in his walk. He tucked his gun into the back of his pants once more and walked towards the forest.
((Connor Bromwell continued in Lay Your Weary Head To Rest ))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Egads. 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.
Ashlie watched as the other person walked away, not moving a muscle. She probably could have finished him quite easily, but now wasn't the time. The pink-haired girl had a feeling they would meet again, and at that time, things would be different. A smile cracked on Ashlie's face. Now, where to next? She scanned the area, determining her course. There was no way she was going to attempt to go over the damned turn stile again, so that left her with one direction to go.
Walking forward, Ashlie took a slightly different direction than Connor into the forest. As much as she would love to see him again, now probably wasn't the time. She would need to find a new target to test her new abilities to their fullest on. She had no doubt it wouldn't be hard to find a... willing subject.
((Ashlie Jackson continued in A Peaceful Walk))
Walking forward, Ashlie took a slightly different direction than Connor into the forest. As much as she would love to see him again, now probably wasn't the time. She would need to find a new target to test her new abilities to their fullest on. She had no doubt it wouldn't be hard to find a... willing subject.
((Ashlie Jackson continued in A Peaceful Walk))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.