It came back to her: she'd been rambling on self-indulgently. To calm the nerves, maybe? Pretty rude of her, whatever an antisocial moment like that counted for on this... wherever they'd taken them.
Jen didn't feel a difference in the way the air stuck to her skin like cling wrap. A token nicety maybe, that they could travel and at some point probably soon find a familiar ocean breeze.
"Makes sense."
In Jen's experience, no amount of information could satisfactorily answer a question this big. But half measures were better than none, right? Hopefully Jen hadn't flubbed that line.
"Let's go then. I'll go retrieve my supplies, and..."
Ah. She'd forgotten.
"They gave me a weapon. It looks like it can shoot as fast as in the movies. I don't know how that factors into your calculations."
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DerArknight
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Jen's comment factored a lot into Fabiano's calculations.
The first step of his real plan was "Get a good weapon." The second step would be "Keep wandering around and if you have to use the weapon or see a good opportunity, then do it."
He would not enjoy hurting or even killing people. But damn, he was not going to croak in this shitty place just so a dirty outsider he didn't even knew could live instead.
But before he could afford to think about how to justify his planned actions, he had to be finish step one in the first place. His smoke bombs were lethal only in very specific situations, and Fabiano didn't like to rely on luck. So he needed a better weapon.
Like the gun Jen just implied to have.
She didn't specify which kind it was, but the part about shooting fast meant it was probably not a small one. Maybe a machine gun. Whatever, it would do the trick. Since Fabiano had no experience in using firearms, he would be equally terrible with any kind. All that was left to do was get Jen out of the picture. Then he could look for her stuff.
"Not at all." He lied. "A weapon would mean we are more secure if someone who plans to play this stupid game appears, right? So lead the way." He said while giving a wave into the direction Jen had appeared from.
The first step of his real plan was "Get a good weapon." The second step would be "Keep wandering around and if you have to use the weapon or see a good opportunity, then do it."
He would not enjoy hurting or even killing people. But damn, he was not going to croak in this shitty place just so a dirty outsider he didn't even knew could live instead.
But before he could afford to think about how to justify his planned actions, he had to be finish step one in the first place. His smoke bombs were lethal only in very specific situations, and Fabiano didn't like to rely on luck. So he needed a better weapon.
Like the gun Jen just implied to have.
She didn't specify which kind it was, but the part about shooting fast meant it was probably not a small one. Maybe a machine gun. Whatever, it would do the trick. Since Fabiano had no experience in using firearms, he would be equally terrible with any kind. All that was left to do was get Jen out of the picture. Then he could look for her stuff.
"Not at all." He lied. "A weapon would mean we are more secure if someone who plans to play this stupid game appears, right? So lead the way." He said while giving a wave into the direction Jen had appeared from.
"Should mean that," she lied. Better to say something like that, as opposed to openly admitting she couldn't guarantee she'd know how to make the weapon work. Not physically, because she imagined that weapons were harder to operate than it looked in action movies.
Not mentally, because she also imagined weapons were way too easy to operate, compared to how it looked in action movies.
She didn't even like action movies. No plot, no intrigue to be had.
"Right down here," Jen indicated with the trajectory of her motion. A quick sidestep and that was about it. The house seemed oddly large, which reminded her a lot of Uncle's back in the States. But it was large in a featureless way, easy to forget where she was and find herself somewhere else.
Standing at the top of the stairs, indicating without turning around for her newfound ally to follow her down.
Not mentally, because she also imagined weapons were way too easy to operate, compared to how it looked in action movies.
She didn't even like action movies. No plot, no intrigue to be had.
"Right down here," Jen indicated with the trajectory of her motion. A quick sidestep and that was about it. The house seemed oddly large, which reminded her a lot of Uncle's back in the States. But it was large in a featureless way, easy to forget where she was and find herself somewhere else.
Standing at the top of the stairs, indicating without turning around for her newfound ally to follow her down.
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DerArknight
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It appeared that fortune was in Fabiano's favor. Not only did Jen buy his "plan", the place she showed him was the basement.
Not many possibilities where the weapon could be. He no longer needed Jen to show him the exact position.
While stepping closer, he noticed something else: the basement had a very sturdy door with a locking mechanism that looked slightly newer than the rest of the house. He wondered if Jack and his crew were behind that just like they were behind the cameras in every room that Fabiano had noticed but not much thought about so far. After all, Jack had told them that messing with them would make their collars explode, so ignoring them seemed like the best option.
Then he stepped right behind Jen, who was standing at the top of the stairs. He almost felt bad for her, who was about to be taken out of the game this quickly. From what he knew about stair-accidents, they could easily end up lethal. But then again, it was him or her, and he had already settled on the him-option.
Fabiano took another step, so that not even ten centimeters seperated him from Jen. Then, in the same moment that Jen could feel his breath in her back, he raised his arms, his palms pointing at her, and pushed.
Not many possibilities where the weapon could be. He no longer needed Jen to show him the exact position.
While stepping closer, he noticed something else: the basement had a very sturdy door with a locking mechanism that looked slightly newer than the rest of the house. He wondered if Jack and his crew were behind that just like they were behind the cameras in every room that Fabiano had noticed but not much thought about so far. After all, Jack had told them that messing with them would make their collars explode, so ignoring them seemed like the best option.
Then he stepped right behind Jen, who was standing at the top of the stairs. He almost felt bad for her, who was about to be taken out of the game this quickly. From what he knew about stair-accidents, they could easily end up lethal. But then again, it was him or her, and he had already settled on the him-option.
Fabiano took another step, so that not even ten centimeters seperated him from Jen. Then, in the same moment that Jen could feel his breath in her back, he raised his arms, his palms pointing at her, and pushed.
She realized he was too close. All she had time to do. She didn't know the reason until it was already breaking her bones.
Maybe broken. She didn't know. One second she was about to take her first step down and one second she was dearly acquainted with the sharpness of the edge of each wooden step kissing her cheeks and her ribs and one second she felt the cold of stone in the most brutal way and heard the crack of something crunchy inside of her. And every one second was the same second.
It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. She didn't have the air left in her lungs to scream in agony, and she didn't have the oxygen left in her brain to perceive it. It was an echo all over her body. Pain and agony and a burning sensation that wrenched at her gut and spilled out of spots on her skin that weren't supposed to be wet like that. She felt like she looked like hell.
Secondarily to that body-consuming sensation she felt something heavy in her hand. Her hand turned into a fist and her crumpled form turned around in the most awkward, spine-twisting angle.
She didn't realize the weight she clamped down on was the trigger until her thoughts caught up with her and told her not to do it. Too late. The dry snap of wood splintering was louder than her instant regret.
Maybe broken. She didn't know. One second she was about to take her first step down and one second she was dearly acquainted with the sharpness of the edge of each wooden step kissing her cheeks and her ribs and one second she felt the cold of stone in the most brutal way and heard the crack of something crunchy inside of her. And every one second was the same second.
It hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. She didn't have the air left in her lungs to scream in agony, and she didn't have the oxygen left in her brain to perceive it. It was an echo all over her body. Pain and agony and a burning sensation that wrenched at her gut and spilled out of spots on her skin that weren't supposed to be wet like that. She felt like she looked like hell.
Secondarily to that body-consuming sensation she felt something heavy in her hand. Her hand turned into a fist and her crumpled form turned around in the most awkward, spine-twisting angle.
She didn't realize the weight she clamped down on was the trigger until her thoughts caught up with her and told her not to do it. Too late. The dry snap of wood splintering was louder than her instant regret.
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DerArknight
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Just as he had hoped, Jen tumbled down the stairs with a lot of noise.
And that was where his stroke of luck came to an abrupt end.
Seeing the groaning Jen at the lower end of the stairs, he was about to go down when he saw something lying right next to her. Something long an dark and-
In a motion that would have looked comically in another context, Jen twisted on the ground and grabbed her assault rifle.
"Oh crap!" He uttered. Then he jumped back just in time for a barrage of shots to start. They weren't even close to hitting him, but the next ones surely would.
Thinking fast, he slammed the door to the basement shut and closed it from the outside. The bullets would probably easily penetrate the wood, but it would still buy him a few seconds, if not minutes. For a short moment he considered throwing a smoke bomb in the basement and trying to wrestle the rifle out of her hands, but then he realized this plan wouldn't work. The stairs were so narrow that Jen would be able to get him by blindly shooting into the smoke once she heard him descending. And judging from how much sound the stairs to the first floor had made, reaching the basement silently would likely be impossible.
So he decided to call this a loss. If he had attacked her in the kitchen, it would have gone differently, but right now there was no way to get Jen's weapon. Time to make a speedy exit.
Fabiano left the farmhouse through the same door that Soraya had taken not too long ago. For a short moment he looked around to see if anyone had heard the shots. The rifle's sound was still ringing in his ears, so they might have carried a long way on this almost open field. When he saw no living person around him, he breathed out in relief.
Leaving Jen trapped in the basement, he started running. Remembering his earlier considerations about every route being bad, he didn't waste more time thinking about where exactly to go. Any direction would suffice.
((Fabiano Vecoli continued in The Illusion of Choice))
And that was where his stroke of luck came to an abrupt end.
Seeing the groaning Jen at the lower end of the stairs, he was about to go down when he saw something lying right next to her. Something long an dark and-
In a motion that would have looked comically in another context, Jen twisted on the ground and grabbed her assault rifle.
"Oh crap!" He uttered. Then he jumped back just in time for a barrage of shots to start. They weren't even close to hitting him, but the next ones surely would.
Thinking fast, he slammed the door to the basement shut and closed it from the outside. The bullets would probably easily penetrate the wood, but it would still buy him a few seconds, if not minutes. For a short moment he considered throwing a smoke bomb in the basement and trying to wrestle the rifle out of her hands, but then he realized this plan wouldn't work. The stairs were so narrow that Jen would be able to get him by blindly shooting into the smoke once she heard him descending. And judging from how much sound the stairs to the first floor had made, reaching the basement silently would likely be impossible.
So he decided to call this a loss. If he had attacked her in the kitchen, it would have gone differently, but right now there was no way to get Jen's weapon. Time to make a speedy exit.
Fabiano left the farmhouse through the same door that Soraya had taken not too long ago. For a short moment he looked around to see if anyone had heard the shots. The rifle's sound was still ringing in his ears, so they might have carried a long way on this almost open field. When he saw no living person around him, he breathed out in relief.
Leaving Jen trapped in the basement, he started running. Remembering his earlier considerations about every route being bad, he didn't waste more time thinking about where exactly to go. Any direction would suffice.
((Fabiano Vecoli continued in The Illusion of Choice))
Her breath began to steady. The disgusting smear of sensation all over her, pouring out of her with the impure malodor of sweat and rusty iron, she was slowly used to it. Seconds passed by, her heartbeat began to steady like a wavering hand inevitably did. The childish and maladaptive sensation of woe was her, the sky was falling, she was going to die, that started to ebb along with her blood pressure.
Bonus, it slowed the bleeding. At some point after the fact she finally managed to be calm. Calm and alright.
She'd need to staunch the wounds, but they already looked bigger and nastier than anything she'd patched up her little siblings for. She stared at a nasty welt, crooked shaped, bruise spilling out further past the open chasm of weeping, bitter and fresh tomato red.
Jen staggered to her feet, trying to take stock. Meditation didn't come easy when it was through the blistering heat of her petty agony, each step up the stairwell a fleeting one that almost sent her flying backwards each time a foot almost gave out underneath. She... wasn't surprised that she didn't remember the weight of the gun, now that she'd dropped it again. She hadn't shot to kill. Hadn't shot to injure, honestly hadn't even shot to fire a shot because she couldn't remember that she'd known she'd had fingers in the split second she'd almost killed Adrian LastName.
What about him? He was still alive, fortunate, but did that mean she had to think about what was going to happen the next time she saw him? It was another thing she didn't really want to consider, to have to commit to evaluating.
She reached the door and it promptly refused to move.
"Is anybody out there?"
She hissed in pain when her crooked-feeling knuckles touched the wood of the door, once, twice, rapidly.
Bonus, it slowed the bleeding. At some point after the fact she finally managed to be calm. Calm and alright.
She'd need to staunch the wounds, but they already looked bigger and nastier than anything she'd patched up her little siblings for. She stared at a nasty welt, crooked shaped, bruise spilling out further past the open chasm of weeping, bitter and fresh tomato red.
Jen staggered to her feet, trying to take stock. Meditation didn't come easy when it was through the blistering heat of her petty agony, each step up the stairwell a fleeting one that almost sent her flying backwards each time a foot almost gave out underneath. She... wasn't surprised that she didn't remember the weight of the gun, now that she'd dropped it again. She hadn't shot to kill. Hadn't shot to injure, honestly hadn't even shot to fire a shot because she couldn't remember that she'd known she'd had fingers in the split second she'd almost killed Adrian LastName.
What about him? He was still alive, fortunate, but did that mean she had to think about what was going to happen the next time she saw him? It was another thing she didn't really want to consider, to have to commit to evaluating.
She reached the door and it promptly refused to move.
"Is anybody out there?"
She hissed in pain when her crooked-feeling knuckles touched the wood of the door, once, twice, rapidly.
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Nobody was, for now. Felt like days had passed in the half a second Jen had been holding her breath. Maybe they had.
She tried the handle of the door again even though she already knew the outcome. A momentary lapse of judgement and waste of time that Jen suddenly lacked the energy to be embarrassed by. Sweatier this time around. Bloodier too. Soon the knob would be so slippery she'd be unable to open the door even if it weren't jammed shut.
She trudged back down the stairs.
She then stared at the shape of her gun just barely peeking out of the bold, heavy font darkness. Like an accidental double space in a draft one just had to suffer the eye noticing it. The heavy arrangement of shapes that lacked any quality organic or friendly...
Jen wasn't sure why she was here. She started to heavily clunk her way back up the stairs, creak and groan following her that might've been her own bruised bones. Wet sounds and dry alike.
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Nobody was, for now. Felt like days had passed in the half a second Jen had been holding her breath. Maybe they had.
She tried the handle of the door again even though she already knew the outcome. A momentary lapse of judgement and waste of time that Jen suddenly lacked the energy to be embarrassed by. Sweatier this time around. Bloodier too. Soon the knob would be so slippery she'd be unable to open the door even if it weren't jammed shut.
She trudged back down the stairs.
She then stared at the shape of her gun just barely peeking out of the bold, heavy font darkness. Like an accidental double space in a draft one just had to suffer the eye noticing it. The heavy arrangement of shapes that lacked any quality organic or friendly...
Jen wasn't sure why she was here. She started to heavily clunk her way back up the stairs, creak and groan following her that might've been her own bruised bones. Wet sounds and dry alike.
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She hadn't made it to the door.
Didn't feel like she'd been here long and at the same time it felt like she'd lived in this little hole all her life. Not a dismal place, by any means. A bit better furnished, compared to the room she'd had back home. Reminded her of one of her friends' basements with it's motley crew of objects that were probably never actually sat on, and never had conversations held around them.
It was missing a door, maybe. One she could see and find and make it to and open, that was something that was supposed to be a part of the picture. But the picture was faded and poorly lit, and the frame holding the picture was skewed to one side, and Jen was dizzy. She groped around in the darkness for a while, breathing as heavy as she dared. Her lungs couldn't quite hold all the breath she wanted them too- always felt like she was missing just a little.
Ah, that's where the stairs were. Felt like she'd forgotten them, unlike the faces of all the friends and family she might never see again. Little voices asking her where she'd gone, but she couldn't answer.
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She hadn't made it to the door.
Didn't feel like she'd been here long and at the same time it felt like she'd lived in this little hole all her life. Not a dismal place, by any means. A bit better furnished, compared to the room she'd had back home. Reminded her of one of her friends' basements with it's motley crew of objects that were probably never actually sat on, and never had conversations held around them.
It was missing a door, maybe. One she could see and find and make it to and open, that was something that was supposed to be a part of the picture. But the picture was faded and poorly lit, and the frame holding the picture was skewed to one side, and Jen was dizzy. She groped around in the darkness for a while, breathing as heavy as she dared. Her lungs couldn't quite hold all the breath she wanted them too- always felt like she was missing just a little.
Ah, that's where the stairs were. Felt like she'd forgotten them, unlike the faces of all the friends and family she might never see again. Little voices asking her where she'd gone, but she couldn't answer.
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It seemed like a lot of time had passed, but to the contrary the light cradling her eyeballs was still the same color and shape.
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Still dizzy.
She'd found somewhere to sit, though she couldn't quite recall how she'd gotten there. At some point her butt had found a cushion and it was now the same shape as the floor. She wasn't sure it was the right time to relax, in the same way that she sometimes wasn't sure if the little ones in her life felt unsure if they had the right to ask her for advice or impose on her time. It bothered her like a tickle or an itch, and she wasn't allowed to move any muscle from the face down. Smiling took less muscles after all, so engaging any more than that wasn't an option.
She was still sure the vague outlines of sofas and tables and lamps surrounding her- the ones she hadn't since knocked over at some indeterminate past point- were overwhelmingly familiar. It was the familiar image burnt into her mind in the shape of an uncapped lens, but it had a significantly lesser amount of her friends, whose names were plentiful enough that she was saying them aloud in a slow and methodical way like a list of groceries. Holding onto them in that way, as she wondered just when the blood on the side of her head had dried, and as she wondered why it still felt fresh despite all the crust.
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Still dizzy.
She'd found somewhere to sit, though she couldn't quite recall how she'd gotten there. At some point her butt had found a cushion and it was now the same shape as the floor. She wasn't sure it was the right time to relax, in the same way that she sometimes wasn't sure if the little ones in her life felt unsure if they had the right to ask her for advice or impose on her time. It bothered her like a tickle or an itch, and she wasn't allowed to move any muscle from the face down. Smiling took less muscles after all, so engaging any more than that wasn't an option.
She was still sure the vague outlines of sofas and tables and lamps surrounding her- the ones she hadn't since knocked over at some indeterminate past point- were overwhelmingly familiar. It was the familiar image burnt into her mind in the shape of an uncapped lens, but it had a significantly lesser amount of her friends, whose names were plentiful enough that she was saying them aloud in a slow and methodical way like a list of groceries. Holding onto them in that way, as she wondered just when the blood on the side of her head had dried, and as she wondered why it still felt fresh despite all the crust.
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MurderWeasel
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((Leander Van Vliet continued from Chupa-Chupa))
It seemed like a lot of time had passed.
And then, upstairs, there was the faint sound of movement, slow and faintly stilted and unnatural. Clearly someone trying to be quiet, but the odd footstep or creaking floorboard was still audible.
It seemed like a lot of time had passed.
And then, upstairs, there was the faint sound of movement, slow and faintly stilted and unnatural. Clearly someone trying to be quiet, but the odd footstep or creaking floorboard was still audible.
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jimmydalad
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((Officially adopting Jen from Cicada.))
How long had she been in this basement? The concept of time became increasingly foreign. Whether it was due to light or the pain, Jen couldn't be sure. As the room came into focus, the pain did as well. The tomato had turned rotten and spread itself over her chest. Every deep breath caused it to cry in pain. It was a struggle to get the air she desperately needed. She did her best to ignore that pain, but the thumping of her head still made its muted presence known to her. It was a relief that the wound had dried, even as she could feel the blood caked on the side of her face. It didn't remove the agony.
Moving was a struggle. Her body rebelled whenever she tried to twist in her seat to get more comfortable. The sharp stings were constant reminders of little luxuries Jen lost. Every intake and shimmy became precious as she was allowed to stew in the mess of her mistakes. She welcomed her situation, as she had always done in the past. She could argue that it was Adrian LastName that pushed her down the stairs, she was the one that followed him blindly.
From that thought, snapshots of Jen's life followed. Moving back to Savusavu due to her father's wishes. The many times she stayed quiet as her eldest brother became a drunk and neglected his responsibilities. Ignoring all the encouragements and warnings from the women and her other brothers to follow her own path while she accepted everything dad threw her way. Her fears of fracturing the family and ruining everything had evolved to the point where her life was in the hands of someone that had no respect for her. All the times she bit her tongue. Every encouragement she gave to her siblings to respect family. Her justifications to give up college and work at the store for the rest of her life.
The pains came back and jostled Jen. Her body stiffened. That only made it worse. She blinked, almost wishing that the subject of her vision would change. Jen slowly sat back in the chair as reality returned to focus. She was surprised at how she allowed herself to wander. The silence had become a blanket and she greeted its embrace. It was only the cries of her body that kept her tethered to the world.
At that moment, more sounds punctured the air around her. A familiar voice haunted her ears and the pangs forced her to listen. Two were dead. A shot of relief washed over her as she didn't hear Adrian LastName or Soraya. Whether it was due to the former being alive or not a killer escaped her. Horror started to make their presence known at the announcement of the danger zones. Jen's head whizzed to the stairs. It was only a matter of time.
Fighting against the screams of her wounds, Jen forced herself up. She couldn't stay here. Though she had no plan, she refused to do nothing. Wincing through the struggle, Jen was about to move when another sound. What would normally be drowned out dominated the silence that had entrapped the basement. Someone was here.
Jen nearly called out before she suddenly bit her tongue. Did he come back? It was possible. What if it was that Fabiano on the announcement?
She quickly found the shape of the gun. Her gun. Jen couldn't stop herself from frowning. She took a deep breath, even as it escaped through a suppressed grimace. She moved silently, but deliberately. She was lucky it wasn't far. When she felt it against her foot, she bent her knees to reach it. Jen clenched her teeth tightly, refusing to let the self-inflicted agony escape her lips. She felt the weight in her hands. It was only insurance. She pushed herself up, clenching her face as her chest clawed from within. It took a second to find her voice as she directed herself at the stairs and yelled.
"Hello? Can you please help me?"
The stabbing pains nearly took her off her feet. Though she wished she could've masked her pain, the coarseness of her voice betrayed her situation.
Please be a friend.
How long had she been in this basement? The concept of time became increasingly foreign. Whether it was due to light or the pain, Jen couldn't be sure. As the room came into focus, the pain did as well. The tomato had turned rotten and spread itself over her chest. Every deep breath caused it to cry in pain. It was a struggle to get the air she desperately needed. She did her best to ignore that pain, but the thumping of her head still made its muted presence known to her. It was a relief that the wound had dried, even as she could feel the blood caked on the side of her face. It didn't remove the agony.
Moving was a struggle. Her body rebelled whenever she tried to twist in her seat to get more comfortable. The sharp stings were constant reminders of little luxuries Jen lost. Every intake and shimmy became precious as she was allowed to stew in the mess of her mistakes. She welcomed her situation, as she had always done in the past. She could argue that it was Adrian LastName that pushed her down the stairs, she was the one that followed him blindly.
From that thought, snapshots of Jen's life followed. Moving back to Savusavu due to her father's wishes. The many times she stayed quiet as her eldest brother became a drunk and neglected his responsibilities. Ignoring all the encouragements and warnings from the women and her other brothers to follow her own path while she accepted everything dad threw her way. Her fears of fracturing the family and ruining everything had evolved to the point where her life was in the hands of someone that had no respect for her. All the times she bit her tongue. Every encouragement she gave to her siblings to respect family. Her justifications to give up college and work at the store for the rest of her life.
The pains came back and jostled Jen. Her body stiffened. That only made it worse. She blinked, almost wishing that the subject of her vision would change. Jen slowly sat back in the chair as reality returned to focus. She was surprised at how she allowed herself to wander. The silence had become a blanket and she greeted its embrace. It was only the cries of her body that kept her tethered to the world.
At that moment, more sounds punctured the air around her. A familiar voice haunted her ears and the pangs forced her to listen. Two were dead. A shot of relief washed over her as she didn't hear Adrian LastName or Soraya. Whether it was due to the former being alive or not a killer escaped her. Horror started to make their presence known at the announcement of the danger zones. Jen's head whizzed to the stairs. It was only a matter of time.
Fighting against the screams of her wounds, Jen forced herself up. She couldn't stay here. Though she had no plan, she refused to do nothing. Wincing through the struggle, Jen was about to move when another sound. What would normally be drowned out dominated the silence that had entrapped the basement. Someone was here.
Jen nearly called out before she suddenly bit her tongue. Did he come back? It was possible. What if it was that Fabiano on the announcement?
She quickly found the shape of the gun. Her gun. Jen couldn't stop herself from frowning. She took a deep breath, even as it escaped through a suppressed grimace. She moved silently, but deliberately. She was lucky it wasn't far. When she felt it against her foot, she bent her knees to reach it. Jen clenched her teeth tightly, refusing to let the self-inflicted agony escape her lips. She felt the weight in her hands. It was only insurance. She pushed herself up, clenching her face as her chest clawed from within. It took a second to find her voice as she directed herself at the stairs and yelled.
"Hello? Can you please help me?"
The stabbing pains nearly took her off her feet. Though she wished she could've masked her pain, the coarseness of her voice betrayed her situation.
Please be a friend.
(Minus accessories)
(Minus accessories)
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
For a long three seconds after Jen called out, everything went silent except the ambient noises of nature and an old building. Raindrops made a beat against the roof far overhead. There was a groaning of wood settling in the humidity, a rustle of wind in the vegetation outside.
Then: footsteps. Soft, still, but now a habitual light step rather than the unnatural gait of somebody trying not to make any noise. The steps came closer, pausing at the door. A clunk of something being set on the floor. Silence, once more, then rattling of the handle, then a scrape of the lock.
The door swung open again, revealing for the first time in hours a world beyond the basement. Nobody was visible, however, just a flashlight sitting right at the top of the stairs, its beam shining blindingly into the darkness below.
"Who's down there?" called a voice from one side—not the voice of the boy from earlier, accent all wrong. "Name. Weaponry. Situation. I'm armed."
Then: footsteps. Soft, still, but now a habitual light step rather than the unnatural gait of somebody trying not to make any noise. The steps came closer, pausing at the door. A clunk of something being set on the floor. Silence, once more, then rattling of the handle, then a scrape of the lock.
The door swung open again, revealing for the first time in hours a world beyond the basement. Nobody was visible, however, just a flashlight sitting right at the top of the stairs, its beam shining blindingly into the darkness below.
"Who's down there?" called a voice from one side—not the voice of the boy from earlier, accent all wrong. "Name. Weaponry. Situation. I'm armed."
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jimmydalad
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:38 pm
Was Jen becoming delusional? Seconds passed with no response. Were the creaks just an illusion? Her eyes never left the stairs. A desperate hope for salvation? Were her minds playing tricks on her? Was she already that far gone? For those three seconds, she could feel hopelessness entrench her soul.
Footsteps.
Immediate relief.
They were coming closer.
The relief began to blossom.
They heard her.
A true grin began to spread across her lips and her heartbeat began to thump in time with her head. The sounds became a symphony that overwhelmed her ears. She could feel tears form but blinked them away. She fought back against the screaming pain and the bubbling emotions that were threatening to overtake her body.
The flash was blinding.
Jen instinctively covered her eyes, the weight of the gun disappearing and a loud thump that interrupted the atmosphere. Her eyes were assaulted and her knees buckled. Jen clutched onto the last vestiges of her strength as her body crumpled to the floor. All that could escape from her mouth was a loud groan. Shapes began to change into objects and colours exploded into the basement. Sitting on her knees, Jen could only squint in the direction of the light. She blinked away more tears, emotions and physical needs blurring together into an incomprehensible mess.
A boy. Not Adrian. Jen was unsure how to feel about that. She could comprehend relief but a twinge of disappointment? No time to linger. Accent hard to place. Not much of a concern to her right now. He was armed but didn't attack. At least for now. She blinked a few more times as she let her eyes adjust to the intrusive light. Her vision flicked to the blood-tinted stairs and back to the light. She really left a mess. She winced in anticipation, taking a few deep, painful breaths. Three more seconds passed.
"Jen Tuiqamea."
Each shout stabbed her body.
"Gun."
A pathetic moan to deal with her chest.
"Pushed down stairs by Adrian from Malta. Trapped for hours."
The last statement was an assumption. Her body was revolting, punishing her for her actions. She couldn't even see the boy, but a voice was enough. Any sign of life was appreciated. Whimpers were escaping as agony dominated her senses. Jen forced her eyes to stay at the light, pushing back the instinct to collapse. She could spare no more energy to prevent the tears.
"Please don't hurt me."
The only sound that came after was the weeping of Jen Mara Tuiqamea.
Footsteps.
Immediate relief.
They were coming closer.
The relief began to blossom.
They heard her.
A true grin began to spread across her lips and her heartbeat began to thump in time with her head. The sounds became a symphony that overwhelmed her ears. She could feel tears form but blinked them away. She fought back against the screaming pain and the bubbling emotions that were threatening to overtake her body.
The flash was blinding.
Jen instinctively covered her eyes, the weight of the gun disappearing and a loud thump that interrupted the atmosphere. Her eyes were assaulted and her knees buckled. Jen clutched onto the last vestiges of her strength as her body crumpled to the floor. All that could escape from her mouth was a loud groan. Shapes began to change into objects and colours exploded into the basement. Sitting on her knees, Jen could only squint in the direction of the light. She blinked away more tears, emotions and physical needs blurring together into an incomprehensible mess.
A boy. Not Adrian. Jen was unsure how to feel about that. She could comprehend relief but a twinge of disappointment? No time to linger. Accent hard to place. Not much of a concern to her right now. He was armed but didn't attack. At least for now. She blinked a few more times as she let her eyes adjust to the intrusive light. Her vision flicked to the blood-tinted stairs and back to the light. She really left a mess. She winced in anticipation, taking a few deep, painful breaths. Three more seconds passed.
"Jen Tuiqamea."
Each shout stabbed her body.
"Gun."
A pathetic moan to deal with her chest.
"Pushed down stairs by Adrian from Malta. Trapped for hours."
The last statement was an assumption. Her body was revolting, punishing her for her actions. She couldn't even see the boy, but a voice was enough. Any sign of life was appreciated. Whimpers were escaping as agony dominated her senses. Jen forced her eyes to stay at the light, pushing back the instinct to collapse. She could spare no more energy to prevent the tears.
"Please don't hurt me."
The only sound that came after was the weeping of Jen Mara Tuiqamea.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3431
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Jen's tears were allowed to continue uninterrupted for several long, slow seconds.
"Alright," the reply finally came. "Not planning to hurt you."
There was some shuffling, a zipper audibly being either zipped or unzipped.
"Why don't you come up and we can talk properly? But with the gun set down, if you would. You can put it next to the flashlight."
A dry chuckle.
"I promise I won't steal it. Don't need any more guns."
"Alright," the reply finally came. "Not planning to hurt you."
There was some shuffling, a zipper audibly being either zipped or unzipped.
"Why don't you come up and we can talk properly? But with the gun set down, if you would. You can put it next to the flashlight."
A dry chuckle.
"I promise I won't steal it. Don't need any more guns."