In the split second after the American boy got shot, Caleb asked himself if it was real. If any of this was real.
All these hours later, he still wasn’t sure.
O21: Caleb Policarpio - START
It all just felt too ridiculous. Getting abducted by a terrorist organization and being forced to kill or be killed sounded like the plot of some edgy movie or video game. And why was he, of all people, supposedly hand-picked to participate? Did they just pick a random school's yearbook, opened it to a random page, and point at a kid with their eyes closed?
This was all Caleb could think about for the ten or twenty minutes he’d been awake. Or rather, it was all Caleb wanted to think about. He didn't want to think about how humid the rainforest he was wandering around in was, for instance. Or the weight of the daypack on his shoulders. Or how badass the sword at his side was, even though he very quickly learned that it wasn't great at cutting through foliage.
It all felt real, but how could he be so sure? He hadn’t seen anyone else around, so there was still a chance this was all just a realistic and weirdly gory dream he was having. In the back of his mind, though, Caleb knew what he would have to do if he came across a real person. He chose not to think about it any further.
Suburbia Overture
Day 1, Open
Moderator: SOTF International Staff
Philia definitely thinks this is quite the bothersome situation, especially since this place was wetter than home, but the temperature was a bit cooler than home. Philia did remember something about 'Survival of the Fittest,' but she really couldn't quite put her finger on what those guys in that really dank, and honestly disturbing, room talked about.
Philia rolled to her chest, and started to ge- what's that weight on her back? She realizes, 'Oh shit, that's a gun.' She doesn't remember picking up a gun but...will she need it?
Who knows. She decided to keep the rifle anyways, despite telling herself she won't use it except for extreme circumstances such as self-defense. And even then...no killing. She couldn't live with herself if she was responsible for someone's death.
Either way, she decided to look for a way out of this rainforest, before realizing she was hopelessly lost. Well, we'd better start walking one direction. Perhaps, downhill?
~~~
Further downhill, unbeknownst to her, it was quite the ruckus she was causing with heavy steps as she wasn't quite acquainted traveling with this weight on her back.
If anyone happened to be nearby, they'd hear footsteps coming downhill. They were slow, probably of someone moving brush out of their way as they walked.
Philia rolled to her chest, and started to ge- what's that weight on her back? She realizes, 'Oh shit, that's a gun.' She doesn't remember picking up a gun but...will she need it?
Who knows. She decided to keep the rifle anyways, despite telling herself she won't use it except for extreme circumstances such as self-defense. And even then...no killing. She couldn't live with herself if she was responsible for someone's death.
Either way, she decided to look for a way out of this rainforest, before realizing she was hopelessly lost. Well, we'd better start walking one direction. Perhaps, downhill?
~~~
Further downhill, unbeknownst to her, it was quite the ruckus she was causing with heavy steps as she wasn't quite acquainted traveling with this weight on her back.
If anyone happened to be nearby, they'd hear footsteps coming downhill. They were slow, probably of someone moving brush out of their way as they walked.
At some point later on in the night, Philia would FINALLY find a way out.
(They exit, having gone downhill they'd now be nearby the camp.)
(They exit, having gone downhill they'd now be nearby the camp.)
-
The Honeless Beard
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((At a distance, the boy with a sword didn't seem like much of a threat.))
But something in the set of the jaw, maybe, the furrowed brow - something spikes fear in you. You pause for a long moment, squinting through the humidity of the forest, the sweat that instantly dampens your cap - Welcome Down - with the dripping trees and sudden... closeness of it all.
You know you spot him before he spots you, but barely so - pink against green isn't the best of cover. So you pull out your - the british boy's - pistol, widen your stance like you've seen in movies and comic books, and aim at him with both hands, putting yourself directly in his way, though at a dozen or so paces away. The point is to call attention, not to show threat.
"Hey," you call, gesturing with your chin at the sword at his side, "you know how to use that?"
But something in the set of the jaw, maybe, the furrowed brow - something spikes fear in you. You pause for a long moment, squinting through the humidity of the forest, the sweat that instantly dampens your cap - Welcome Down - with the dripping trees and sudden... closeness of it all.
You know you spot him before he spots you, but barely so - pink against green isn't the best of cover. So you pull out your - the british boy's - pistol, widen your stance like you've seen in movies and comic books, and aim at him with both hands, putting yourself directly in his way, though at a dozen or so paces away. The point is to call attention, not to show threat.
"Hey," you call, gesturing with your chin at the sword at his side, "you know how to use that?"
This was not good. In fact, it was even worse than not good. Actually, to be completely, 100% accurate, one might even say that it was downright horrible. Not like that would be much of surprise to anyone, but still, well, you know... who the fuck wakes up in the morning and thinks, Oh boy, I can't wait to have some psychopaths kidnap me and throw me into some sort of bizarre death game...?
O05: Clara Micallef - START
Clara's vision began to swim as she trudged aimlessly through the rainforest, her body operating on autopilot as she ruminated on the massive middle finger that life had decided to flip up to her on this most inauspicious of days. Those thoughts felt a little muddier than usual, though whether it was from the humidity, anxiety, or the residual trauma of watching some kid GET HIS GODDAMN HEAD BLOWN OFF just a few hours earlier was anyone's guess. Or rather, it would have been anyone's guess if there actually was somebody interested in analyzing the inner workings of the girl's mind rather than trying to figure out how exactly they were going to make it out of this miserable excuse for a tropical vacation. And by make it out, she meant "alive", not in a body bag or some other sort of monkey's paw type bullshit.
This riveting line of thought was unfortunately snapped closed by the sight of two figures just ahead, the view from her side approach revealing the disturbing scene of what appeared to be some sort of mugging in progress, a scene that her movement had brought her far too close to turn around without being noticed - the colour orange wasn't exactly conducive to stealth, especially not in an area as green as this. With only seconds to consider her next move, the girl's hand slipped beneath her shirt to the pistol that she had tucked securely into her waistband, its slender fingers soon closing around the hard metal grip as she removed the weapon from its makeshift holster. The next few moments were a blur, at the end of which she found herself standing approximately ten metres from the pair, her body instinctively mimicking the pose of the other gun wielder, staring straight forward at what for the moment had become the centre of her attention.
Now, this was probably the point where an action movie hero would come out with some sort of cool one-liner, or at least something reasonably intimidating, but as it turns out thinking up that sort of the dialogue on the fly is a lot more difficult than it looks. The matter was complicated further by the realization that neither of those two likely spoke Maltese, and while Clara wouldn't exactly say that she was bad at stringing together sentences in English, but casual conversations with tourists didn't exactly give her any experience with sounding even the slightest bit badass. Oh, the unfairness of it all! The unwiseness of her current course of action was beginning to become apparent in her mind, but backing down now after already committing was out of the question. Given that, it clearly would be better to say something a little clumsy than remain there pointing a gun in some sort of creepy silence, and so she spoke, her heavily-accented voice quavering slightly as she tried her best to puff her frame up into something that would at least give her words some weight, or so she hoped.
"Hey, I think you should put down that gun, first. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt here, would we?"
O05: Clara Micallef - START
Clara's vision began to swim as she trudged aimlessly through the rainforest, her body operating on autopilot as she ruminated on the massive middle finger that life had decided to flip up to her on this most inauspicious of days. Those thoughts felt a little muddier than usual, though whether it was from the humidity, anxiety, or the residual trauma of watching some kid GET HIS GODDAMN HEAD BLOWN OFF just a few hours earlier was anyone's guess. Or rather, it would have been anyone's guess if there actually was somebody interested in analyzing the inner workings of the girl's mind rather than trying to figure out how exactly they were going to make it out of this miserable excuse for a tropical vacation. And by make it out, she meant "alive", not in a body bag or some other sort of monkey's paw type bullshit.
This riveting line of thought was unfortunately snapped closed by the sight of two figures just ahead, the view from her side approach revealing the disturbing scene of what appeared to be some sort of mugging in progress, a scene that her movement had brought her far too close to turn around without being noticed - the colour orange wasn't exactly conducive to stealth, especially not in an area as green as this. With only seconds to consider her next move, the girl's hand slipped beneath her shirt to the pistol that she had tucked securely into her waistband, its slender fingers soon closing around the hard metal grip as she removed the weapon from its makeshift holster. The next few moments were a blur, at the end of which she found herself standing approximately ten metres from the pair, her body instinctively mimicking the pose of the other gun wielder, staring straight forward at what for the moment had become the centre of her attention.
Now, this was probably the point where an action movie hero would come out with some sort of cool one-liner, or at least something reasonably intimidating, but as it turns out thinking up that sort of the dialogue on the fly is a lot more difficult than it looks. The matter was complicated further by the realization that neither of those two likely spoke Maltese, and while Clara wouldn't exactly say that she was bad at stringing together sentences in English, but casual conversations with tourists didn't exactly give her any experience with sounding even the slightest bit badass. Oh, the unfairness of it all! The unwiseness of her current course of action was beginning to become apparent in her mind, but backing down now after already committing was out of the question. Given that, it clearly would be better to say something a little clumsy than remain there pointing a gun in some sort of creepy silence, and so she spoke, her heavily-accented voice quavering slightly as she tried her best to puff her frame up into something that would at least give her words some weight, or so she hoped.
"Hey, I think you should put down that gun, first. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt here, would we?"
Caleb didn’t exactly shout “Oh fuck!” but it was definitely louder than it should have been.
He whirled around to see a girl. Huh. Caleb hadn’t talked to a girl his age in a long time—there weren’t that many at an all-boys Catholic school, after all. The closest he could think of were the handful of girls in his friend’s Discord server, but that was different. They only ever talked online, for one.
None of them had ever pointed a real-life gun at him, either.
Caleb blinked. The sword was raised on instinct, its tip pointed at the girl. He knew that the gesture didn’t actually do or mean anything, but at the same time he wasn’t about to lower it back down.
Then the girl asked him a question, a kind of question you didn't expect to hear from someone trying to kill you. After the shock wore off, the gears in Caleb's head turned to formulate a reply.
“Um...I think so? Like, it shouldn’t be hard—”
Another voice chimed in, and this time he managed to stifle his yelp. The sword swung around to point at a different girl, this one much less threatening. His chest heaved as his gaze shifted between the two girls, and an ugly thought bubbled up to the surface.
He hoped that the other girl got shot first.
He whirled around to see a girl. Huh. Caleb hadn’t talked to a girl his age in a long time—there weren’t that many at an all-boys Catholic school, after all. The closest he could think of were the handful of girls in his friend’s Discord server, but that was different. They only ever talked online, for one.
None of them had ever pointed a real-life gun at him, either.
Caleb blinked. The sword was raised on instinct, its tip pointed at the girl. He knew that the gesture didn’t actually do or mean anything, but at the same time he wasn’t about to lower it back down.
Then the girl asked him a question, a kind of question you didn't expect to hear from someone trying to kill you. After the shock wore off, the gears in Caleb's head turned to formulate a reply.
“Um...I think so? Like, it shouldn’t be hard—”
Another voice chimed in, and this time he managed to stifle his yelp. The sword swung around to point at a different girl, this one much less threatening. His chest heaved as his gaze shifted between the two girls, and an ugly thought bubbled up to the surface.
He hoped that the other girl got shot first.
-
The Honeless Beard
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Your competitive advantage slipped from your grasp quickly, based on a fact that you hadn't been able to fully think about. You assumed, incorrectly, that people in this situation wouldn't be eager to pull guns or play heroes - you assumed that as far as vultures go, you were in a closed ecosystem.
With the approach of Clara, you are officially wrong on this assumption. Any advantage you could claim washes away as the barrel of her gun goes up to match on par with yours. After Caleb's voice echoed amongst the trees and Clara's notes rose to join it you change targets, the dark circle of your 9mm A1 (according to the manual) directed at the grassy floor, your body tilted towards Clara.
You cock your head to the side.
"No, not anyone," you say in response, "but I've fired my gun today. Getting used to the weight. Can you say the same?"
Your eyes dart to Caleb, and flick to the other girl, twice.
Competitive advantages.
With the approach of Clara, you are officially wrong on this assumption. Any advantage you could claim washes away as the barrel of her gun goes up to match on par with yours. After Caleb's voice echoed amongst the trees and Clara's notes rose to join it you change targets, the dark circle of your 9mm A1 (according to the manual) directed at the grassy floor, your body tilted towards Clara.
You cock your head to the side.
"No, not anyone," you say in response, "but I've fired my gun today. Getting used to the weight. Can you say the same?"
Your eyes dart to Caleb, and flick to the other girl, twice.
Competitive advantages.
Alright, well, at least she wasn't aiming her gun at anyone - that was a plus. That probably would be cause for at least a little relief if the girl in front of her wasn't insistent on sounding so damn creepy. Seriously, who talks like that? Like, yeah, sure, they were all complete strangers who had just been told that they needed to kill each other under threat of their heads going kaboom, but that didn't mean that she had to start talking like some sort of mafia hitman.
Regardless, the other girl's gun was still lowered. Clara reciprocated the pose, her fingers tightly clutching the pistol that was now also pointed at the ground. This whole situation still felt pretty bad, but it wasn't like there was any conceivable way that wouldn't be the case, was there? A bead of sweat slowly slid its way down the back of her neck as she replied in a thickly accented voice, deliberately dodging the question and getting straight to the point.
"Were you planning on firing it again at that boy, then?" Clara quickly glanced over at him, and then back to the girl in front of her. "Or were you just too excited to show off your fancy new toy?"
To be perfectly honest, it was something of a pointless question, but life was just full of those anyway - no reason to back down from adding one more. Maybe being caught in the act would give the boy's would-be attacker some pause, or at least enough of one to let the two of them get away from here. As awesome as it the idea sounded on paper, at the moment Clara wasn't super keen on re-enacting one of those point-blank shootouts that all the cowboys in movies seemed to have as their favourite hobby or something.
Regardless, the other girl's gun was still lowered. Clara reciprocated the pose, her fingers tightly clutching the pistol that was now also pointed at the ground. This whole situation still felt pretty bad, but it wasn't like there was any conceivable way that wouldn't be the case, was there? A bead of sweat slowly slid its way down the back of her neck as she replied in a thickly accented voice, deliberately dodging the question and getting straight to the point.
"Were you planning on firing it again at that boy, then?" Clara quickly glanced over at him, and then back to the girl in front of her. "Or were you just too excited to show off your fancy new toy?"
To be perfectly honest, it was something of a pointless question, but life was just full of those anyway - no reason to back down from adding one more. Maybe being caught in the act would give the boy's would-be attacker some pause, or at least enough of one to let the two of them get away from here. As awesome as it the idea sounded on paper, at the moment Clara wasn't super keen on re-enacting one of those point-blank shootouts that all the cowboys in movies seemed to have as their favourite hobby or something.
The first girl lowered her gun, thank God, but Caleb couldn’t fathom why the other girl was trying to give her a reason to raise it again. He met both of their eyes as they spoke to each other. They were perfect strangers, and under normal circumstances, Caleb would never have known or cared about their existence.
So couldn’t fathom why, in this very moment, he looked at the girl in the orange shirt and wished for her death.
Caleb stayed quiet, content to let the girls work it out between themselves. He took a step back, and hoped neither of them noticed.
So couldn’t fathom why, in this very moment, he looked at the girl in the orange shirt and wished for her death.
Caleb stayed quiet, content to let the girls work it out between themselves. He took a step back, and hoped neither of them noticed.
-
The Honeless Beard
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You're acutely aware that the other girl's question is one you do not need answer. She's standing at a place of self-imposed moral high ground and you resent it, lightly. She seems to need something to grasp onto, seems to be needing to frame you in a specific way, and you feel as though you'd disappoint her if you didn't acquiesce.
"Maybe," you say, shrugging, non-committal, "though I wouldn't say I was excited."
The boy didn't follow your hint, but that was okay. Maybe neither of them were that far along, yet. They'd get there, but right now they're not on your level.
"Maybe you're in more danger than you know," you say, "since you don't know either of us. Maybe you don't see the trap. Maybe I've got your total attention, and he's already creeping up on you."
You turn slowly to show off your second backpack.
"Maybe you're the second catch of the day."
The gun slowly raised again, pointed at Clara. You follow the manual you'd read - pulling the slide back, releasing it so the gun was ready to fire.
"Thoughts?"
"Maybe," you say, shrugging, non-committal, "though I wouldn't say I was excited."
The boy didn't follow your hint, but that was okay. Maybe neither of them were that far along, yet. They'd get there, but right now they're not on your level.
"Maybe you're in more danger than you know," you say, "since you don't know either of us. Maybe you don't see the trap. Maybe I've got your total attention, and he's already creeping up on you."
You turn slowly to show off your second backpack.
"Maybe you're the second catch of the day."
The gun slowly raised again, pointed at Clara. You follow the manual you'd read - pulling the slide back, releasing it so the gun was ready to fire.
"Thoughts?"
Shit.
Clara felt her stomach drop as the other girl yet again raised her weapon and through sheer force of will managed to prevent herself from raising her gun in response before likely getting blown away for her trouble. Her sight remained locked on the girl in front of her as her fingers moved slightly back to the trigger, a gesture more effective at self-reassurance than actual defence, however.
People sometimes say that when one faces death, their life flashes before their eyes, but from this vantage point, Clara would definitely call bullshit on that. In fact, the exact opposite had happened - at the moment nothing seemed to exist beyond this little pocket of space consisting of two girls, two guns, and an excessive amount of greenery. Even the jungle itself felt uncomfortably silent, with the only sound audible to Clara being the faint sound of her quickly beating heart. She gritted her teeth for a moment, before trying her luck with one of the most flimsy of bluffs in the history of deception.
"You don't have any better information on me. How do you know..." She gestured off to the side with her head. "...that I don't have somebody covering me from behind the trees?"
It was a long shot, but if the other girl looked away for even a second, it might create enough of an opening for Clara to at least raise her weapon enough to put them on something of equal footing. Note to self: Don't take your gun off of someone until after you've finished interrogating them!
That boy sure as hell better appreciate what she had put herself through on his behalf...
Clara felt her stomach drop as the other girl yet again raised her weapon and through sheer force of will managed to prevent herself from raising her gun in response before likely getting blown away for her trouble. Her sight remained locked on the girl in front of her as her fingers moved slightly back to the trigger, a gesture more effective at self-reassurance than actual defence, however.
People sometimes say that when one faces death, their life flashes before their eyes, but from this vantage point, Clara would definitely call bullshit on that. In fact, the exact opposite had happened - at the moment nothing seemed to exist beyond this little pocket of space consisting of two girls, two guns, and an excessive amount of greenery. Even the jungle itself felt uncomfortably silent, with the only sound audible to Clara being the faint sound of her quickly beating heart. She gritted her teeth for a moment, before trying her luck with one of the most flimsy of bluffs in the history of deception.
"You don't have any better information on me. How do you know..." She gestured off to the side with her head. "...that I don't have somebody covering me from behind the trees?"
It was a long shot, but if the other girl looked away for even a second, it might create enough of an opening for Clara to at least raise her weapon enough to put them on something of equal footing. Note to self: Don't take your gun off of someone until after you've finished interrogating them!
That boy sure as hell better appreciate what she had put herself through on his behalf...
Wait, was she talking about him?
Caleb's eyes went to the second girl again.
Was that was she wanted him to do?
He could handle the thought of the other girl getting shot, as long as he didn't think too hard about the the bleeding and the gasping and the writing. Slashing or stabbing, though, was messier. Before he could stop it, Caleb imagined himself lunging at the other girl, hearing her piercing shriek turn into a garbled choke. She would crumple to the ground, an impossible amount of bright red blood pouring from the gash in her throat and soaking into his loafers.
As queasy as the thought made him, he knew that it was either her or him in the end--and the thought of it being him scared him way more.
The sword found itself pointed at the girl again, quivering in his grasp. Caleb glanced back at the girl with the gun and raised his chin.
Caleb's eyes went to the second girl again.
Was that was she wanted him to do?
He could handle the thought of the other girl getting shot, as long as he didn't think too hard about the the bleeding and the gasping and the writing. Slashing or stabbing, though, was messier. Before he could stop it, Caleb imagined himself lunging at the other girl, hearing her piercing shriek turn into a garbled choke. She would crumple to the ground, an impossible amount of bright red blood pouring from the gash in her throat and soaking into his loafers.
As queasy as the thought made him, he knew that it was either her or him in the end--and the thought of it being him scared him way more.
The sword found itself pointed at the girl again, quivering in his grasp. Caleb glanced back at the girl with the gun and raised his chin.
-
The Honeless Beard
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"Oh sweetie," you say, your voice laced with sugar, "then you'd better tell them to start shooting."
In your peripheral, the boy raises his sword towards Clara and you almost smile, fighting at the muscle tic in your lips that wants to twitch and bend. Your gun hand wavers slightly as you continue aiming, but your eyes strain with the need to check the treeline. You run the numbers in your head - you woke up before the british kid but not so much earlier that it made much of a difference. You practiced with your gun, which took some time - set up and tear down.
This girl definitely could have made allies in that timeframe, but you doubt it. She was a convincing actress all the same.
"Make it easy on Ian and I," you say, gesturing with a head nod to the boy, "and take off your pack. You can keep the gun - I hear it's dangerous around here."
You wink, and swallow down a stubborn ball of saliva in your throat.
In your peripheral, the boy raises his sword towards Clara and you almost smile, fighting at the muscle tic in your lips that wants to twitch and bend. Your gun hand wavers slightly as you continue aiming, but your eyes strain with the need to check the treeline. You run the numbers in your head - you woke up before the british kid but not so much earlier that it made much of a difference. You practiced with your gun, which took some time - set up and tear down.
This girl definitely could have made allies in that timeframe, but you doubt it. She was a convincing actress all the same.
"Make it easy on Ian and I," you say, gesturing with a head nod to the boy, "and take off your pack. You can keep the gun - I hear it's dangerous around here."
You wink, and swallow down a stubborn ball of saliva in your throat.
Clara exhaled sharply through her teeth as her bluff was called. It was a long shot to begin with, but that hardly did anything to soothe the sting of failure. Maybe her acting wasn't good enough, or maybe this girl just didn't give a shit about anything. After all, the day had barely begun and she had already been robbing and (if she was telling the truth) murdering her way across the island. How somebody like that could possibly function in civilized society was more than a little terrifying, but, as crazy as it may seem, having a gun pointed at one's head doesn't exactly create an environment conducive to pondering the prevalence of heartless bastards lurking within the general population.
The jungle felt eerily silent as Clara stared into the infuriating expression of the person standing before her. Her heart was pounding, both from fear and frustration at the condescension dripping from the mouth of the wannabe teenage bandit. Silence filled the air for several painfully long seconds, as if she was hoping for her hypothetical ally to magically pop into existence and run in, just as she did for the boy currently holding his sword in the air.
Speaking of which, what the hell was he doing? She had initially dismissed the possibility of the two of them working together as just another bluff, but the fact that he was just standing there rather than trying to lend any assistance to the person who just tried to save him. Either he was a collaborator or a gutless coward who was too stupid to realize that the gun would soon be turned on him sooner or later after the altercation between the two girls was over (or both, which was also a likely possibility). Regardless, Clara already knew that she hated him almost as much as she did the young woman standing between them. She had a lot of choice words for what he could go do with that sword, which she would have made him clearly aware of if her attention was not so clearly occupied at the moment.
She swallowed as her eyes looked down to her pack and then back up at her assailant. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to fight, to not let this person win, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that that sort of sentiment was nothing more than a death wish. There were no good options left - she had lost, as much as she hated to admit it. Deciding to cut her losses, Clara slipped off the heavy pack and dropped it on the ground with a thud before making a break for it, weaving in a zig-zag pattern through the trees in hopes that she'd be able to avoid any shots aimed her way.
As she disappeared into the greenery, she turned her head briefly, unable to resist letting out one final juvenile parting shot.
"BITCH!"
((Clara Micallef continued elsewhere))
The jungle felt eerily silent as Clara stared into the infuriating expression of the person standing before her. Her heart was pounding, both from fear and frustration at the condescension dripping from the mouth of the wannabe teenage bandit. Silence filled the air for several painfully long seconds, as if she was hoping for her hypothetical ally to magically pop into existence and run in, just as she did for the boy currently holding his sword in the air.
Speaking of which, what the hell was he doing? She had initially dismissed the possibility of the two of them working together as just another bluff, but the fact that he was just standing there rather than trying to lend any assistance to the person who just tried to save him. Either he was a collaborator or a gutless coward who was too stupid to realize that the gun would soon be turned on him sooner or later after the altercation between the two girls was over (or both, which was also a likely possibility). Regardless, Clara already knew that she hated him almost as much as she did the young woman standing between them. She had a lot of choice words for what he could go do with that sword, which she would have made him clearly aware of if her attention was not so clearly occupied at the moment.
She swallowed as her eyes looked down to her pack and then back up at her assailant. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to fight, to not let this person win, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that that sort of sentiment was nothing more than a death wish. There were no good options left - she had lost, as much as she hated to admit it. Deciding to cut her losses, Clara slipped off the heavy pack and dropped it on the ground with a thud before making a break for it, weaving in a zig-zag pattern through the trees in hopes that she'd be able to avoid any shots aimed her way.
As she disappeared into the greenery, she turned her head briefly, unable to resist letting out one final juvenile parting shot.
"BITCH!"
((Clara Micallef continued elsewhere))
What the hell just happened?
Caleb blinked, and the girl vanished into the trees. The sword fell back to his side as her footsteps were swallowed up by the rustling foliage and distant birdsong.
After a beat, he went over to pick up the girl’s bag with his free hand. Then he straightened up and looked back at the first girl: the one who held him at gunpoint right before roping him into a robbery. She acted like they were working together, but Caleb knew there was nothing stopping her from shooting him in the head where he stood. The only thing keeping him from bolting in the other direction was the second bag weighing him down.
Well, that, and the prospect of an ally.
“So, uh, what now? You wanna split these supplies, or...” He trailed off to clear his throat. God his throat was dry.
Caleb blinked, and the girl vanished into the trees. The sword fell back to his side as her footsteps were swallowed up by the rustling foliage and distant birdsong.
After a beat, he went over to pick up the girl’s bag with his free hand. Then he straightened up and looked back at the first girl: the one who held him at gunpoint right before roping him into a robbery. She acted like they were working together, but Caleb knew there was nothing stopping her from shooting him in the head where he stood. The only thing keeping him from bolting in the other direction was the second bag weighing him down.
Well, that, and the prospect of an ally.
“So, uh, what now? You wanna split these supplies, or...” He trailed off to clear his throat. God his throat was dry.