ES10: AKENO KUDO CONTINUED FROM Sink or Swim
One down, nine to go.
That was the refrain she used. One down, a tenth of the way to her goal; it wasn’t much, she had a long way to go, especially when that one had proven as difficult and as taxing as it did. At least she knew it was possible now; no, she already knew it was possible since it had been done twice already, Akeno just didn’t know if she could do it until now.
She could. She had. The bloody water that circled the drain in front of her was evidence of that.
It ran red as she held the garrotte under the faucet of the tiny sink in the cramped crew quarters bathroom. It gradually turned pink as the partially dried, sticky blood – Maxine’s blood – came free of the wire bit by bit. When it turned clear Akeno turned the faucet off, deeming the weapon in her hands clean enough even though a few stubborn specks of red clung to it.
Dropping it in the sink to dry off, Akeno exited the bathroom and sat on the bed. Returning to the cruise ship, so soon after leaving it behind, had happened mostly by chance as she ran towards the first place she had seen upon leaving the ferry, but it had given her a chance to rest and recover.
She’d taken to opportunity to eat and look through the bag she had taken from Maxine as well as check over her new bruises while she had the chance. She hadn’t slept, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to it she wanted to, but the first announcement had finished not too long ago and Akeno wanted to get back out there once she’d taken some time to prepare. To prepare and to think.
Verity, Carol, Rhonda, Seo-Yun.
Akeno would have to try and remember those names; Verity, Carol, Rhonda and Seo-Yun. They were important. Emmy had already told her about Verity and they had met once already, Seo-Yun was someone she knew to keep an eye on even before the announcement; it was only the other two that she had to revise her opinions of. They were added to the list of people Akeno had to watch out for.
Verity, Carol, Rhonda, Seo-Yun, the group with bag masks and Sergio; they were the confirmed threats. Ivan, Junji, Lucille, Jasper, Lucia and Vasily; if they were here, then they were on the list as well. Anyone with a weapon she couldn’t deal with, realistically speaking. Any of the more athletic students if she was being cautious. Anyone in a group, maybe even anyone in pairs; the ferry had been an exception and she was lucky it played out the way it did.
No need to take more risks than she had to.
Her own name was out there too, now; she needed to keep that in mind. Appearing on an announcement was inevitable and ultimately it didn’t change much, but she needed to be aware of it nonetheless. The way they’d described Maxine’s death mattered too; it changed perceptions and she needed to think of that as well. People would be warier of her from now on but some would be wary of anyone not on their team anyway; it was only an issue if they shot first, metaphorically or otherwise. Some might be motivated by revenge however and that was a bigger issue; Maxine had friends and Akeno knew of at least one who would be after her now.
She’d considered all this before the game; it was accounted for in her choice to aim for the ten. Akeno could remember long conversations with friends, some of whom might be here with her, about how to deal with things like this. It was fine, she could handle it. The announcement where her name was read out for the first time was the turning point, it was the moment when she could no longer back down; up until that point she could still change her mind, try something else, but once that first step was taken she had to commit to it.
Standing from the bed, Akeno grabbed the still damp wire from the sink and her bag from the floor. She left the small crew cabin she had been hiding away in and began to explore the bowels.
I've Passed the Point of no Return
Open; Post-announcement
(Rhonda Rollins continued from this leaves me quite discheesed)
One, two, three, four, five. Five of Rhonda's classmates were dead. Four of her classmates were killers, and Rhonda herself was the fifth. There were four names that she had to commit to memory, four murderers. Four people that she didn't want to meet.
And the worst part was that, for most people, her name would be the fifth on that list.
Rhonda skulked through the interior of the cruise ship, trying to stay away from people as much as possible. The sound of the ocean was already making her feel claustrophobic and disoriented, so she wasn't planning on sticking around long. She had abandoned her initial plan to meet back up with Ivan and Seth at the houseboat. Now that her name was on the announcements, she was a marked woman. Even though the announcement said that her shooting Xander was an accident, she didn't expect that to make people look at her much more kindly. With her name mixed in with the rest of the killers, that carried a stigma that she could definitely do without.
After she left the boardwalk, she struggled with the temptation to throw the shotgun into the ocean and just be rid of it, or at least the shells. But when she thought about parting with it, she couldn't bring herself to do so. She was tough, but being stronger than someone would only get her so far, and that wasn't very far when everyone else was armed. She hated carrying it, and looking at it reminded her of what happened to Xander, but right now she didn't have any other choice. It was either keeping a fighting chance, or resigning herself to death, and she had no intention to let herself die.
Rhonda's new plan was to hide out and lay low. Maybe if she was lucky she could find someone with an escape plan, and if she was even luckier, they would let her join up with them and get out of there instead of shooting her on the spot. That was the best of her options right now. The only other ways she could go were to either be the last team standing, the last one standing, or the ten kill rule. Last one standing would require an insane amount of luck, and she had already killed the only teammate she had met, so she didn't feel confident in being the last team standing either. And as for the ten kill rule, she refused to even consider that as a plan. Aiming for the ten kills was the embodiment of what the producers wanted from her, and she wasn't going to give them that.
Standing in a hall deep within the ship, she loaded a new shell into her shotgun, just to be safe. With a familiar click, the chamber was loaded once more, and that slight increase in weight felt like a bowling ball in her mind. She was one trigger pull away from winding up on the announcements again, but she hoped that it wouldn't come to that. She stood still for a moment to catch her breath and re-center herself before delving through the underbelly of the ship once more, trying to retrace her steps to find her way back out. It was way too eerie, and she didn't like it one bit.
One, two, three, four, five. Five of Rhonda's classmates were dead. Four of her classmates were killers, and Rhonda herself was the fifth. There were four names that she had to commit to memory, four murderers. Four people that she didn't want to meet.
And the worst part was that, for most people, her name would be the fifth on that list.
Rhonda skulked through the interior of the cruise ship, trying to stay away from people as much as possible. The sound of the ocean was already making her feel claustrophobic and disoriented, so she wasn't planning on sticking around long. She had abandoned her initial plan to meet back up with Ivan and Seth at the houseboat. Now that her name was on the announcements, she was a marked woman. Even though the announcement said that her shooting Xander was an accident, she didn't expect that to make people look at her much more kindly. With her name mixed in with the rest of the killers, that carried a stigma that she could definitely do without.
After she left the boardwalk, she struggled with the temptation to throw the shotgun into the ocean and just be rid of it, or at least the shells. But when she thought about parting with it, she couldn't bring herself to do so. She was tough, but being stronger than someone would only get her so far, and that wasn't very far when everyone else was armed. She hated carrying it, and looking at it reminded her of what happened to Xander, but right now she didn't have any other choice. It was either keeping a fighting chance, or resigning herself to death, and she had no intention to let herself die.
Rhonda's new plan was to hide out and lay low. Maybe if she was lucky she could find someone with an escape plan, and if she was even luckier, they would let her join up with them and get out of there instead of shooting her on the spot. That was the best of her options right now. The only other ways she could go were to either be the last team standing, the last one standing, or the ten kill rule. Last one standing would require an insane amount of luck, and she had already killed the only teammate she had met, so she didn't feel confident in being the last team standing either. And as for the ten kill rule, she refused to even consider that as a plan. Aiming for the ten kills was the embodiment of what the producers wanted from her, and she wasn't going to give them that.
Standing in a hall deep within the ship, she loaded a new shell into her shotgun, just to be safe. With a familiar click, the chamber was loaded once more, and that slight increase in weight felt like a bowling ball in her mind. She was one trigger pull away from winding up on the announcements again, but she hoped that it wouldn't come to that. She stood still for a moment to catch her breath and re-center herself before delving through the underbelly of the ship once more, trying to retrace her steps to find her way back out. It was way too eerie, and she didn't like it one bit.
Things sounded different down here. When Akeno had been walking through the upper levels of the cruise ship before she had found the stillness, broken only by the creaking of the ship as it rode the waves, unsettling; it had been enough to make her leave. The bowels had a completely different feel to them, but it wasn’t any better.
The creaking was near-constant and was joined by other noises, all of which were strangely muted and had a different quality to them. Akeno couldn’t hear the waves this far down like she could up above, but at the same time she felt like she could hear the water outside the ship constantly. She wondered if that meant this place was low enough in the ship to be below the water line; something about the ambience suggested she was underwater.
It sucked and she wanted to get out of here as soon as she could.
Akeno continued walking, leaving the crew quarters behind soon finding herself surrounded on all sides by wooden crates. Had she passed through this area on her way down here? It was hard to say. The problem was she hadn’t been paying much attention to where she was going at the time, so she honestly didn’t know which way was out. It certainly didn’t help that whoever had arranged these boxes had apparently done it with the intention of deliberately creating a maze down here.
It didn’t take her long to come to the conclusion that this was not the way she had entered, but by that point she had managed to get herself thoroughly turned around within the labyrinth of cargo containers.
Finding her way out shouldn’t be too hard; if she could just make it to the outer edge of the cargo hold she could follow the wall to a hatch or a door and make her way back up from there. If that failed then she could just follow one wall until it led her to an exit eventually. Right? No way was she going to call up her mentor and waste her one communication just to ask for directions out of this place.
Akeno turned a corner and found herself in a dead end.
She kicked the crate blocking her path.
The creaking was near-constant and was joined by other noises, all of which were strangely muted and had a different quality to them. Akeno couldn’t hear the waves this far down like she could up above, but at the same time she felt like she could hear the water outside the ship constantly. She wondered if that meant this place was low enough in the ship to be below the water line; something about the ambience suggested she was underwater.
It sucked and she wanted to get out of here as soon as she could.
Akeno continued walking, leaving the crew quarters behind soon finding herself surrounded on all sides by wooden crates. Had she passed through this area on her way down here? It was hard to say. The problem was she hadn’t been paying much attention to where she was going at the time, so she honestly didn’t know which way was out. It certainly didn’t help that whoever had arranged these boxes had apparently done it with the intention of deliberately creating a maze down here.
It didn’t take her long to come to the conclusion that this was not the way she had entered, but by that point she had managed to get herself thoroughly turned around within the labyrinth of cargo containers.
Finding her way out shouldn’t be too hard; if she could just make it to the outer edge of the cargo hold she could follow the wall to a hatch or a door and make her way back up from there. If that failed then she could just follow one wall until it led her to an exit eventually. Right? No way was she going to call up her mentor and waste her one communication just to ask for directions out of this place.
Akeno turned a corner and found herself in a dead end.
She kicked the crate blocking her path.
It was almost a different ship down here.
The bare, rusty metal. The pipes that she could almost touch, if she stood on her tiptoes and jumped around a little bit. Her bare foot in the Mary Janes bothered her enough to not do it, though. The oddness of her entire outfit bothered her. The way she is shown to an entire nation's worth of audience bothered her. Everything made her feel uneasy. If she listened close enough, she could almost hear the footsteps, almost feel them. Another place she's never explored before. So many places. So many things she'll never see.
She held took Benny the Dart, just in case. Not that he could do much against an attacker with a gun (she didn't even know if she would fight back,) but the feeling of metal warming under her palm was a reminder that she was here, she was alive, she had something, which was better than nothing.
Verity-Timothy, Carol-Oliver, Rhonda-Xander, Akeno-Maxine, Seo-Abel. She repeated the names without faces out loud, in a hoarse little whisper. Maybe one of them could make it out, race against the clock, count to ten, as the others fall behind.
Maybe it would all be worthless. She didn't care. It wasn't going to be her, anyways. Almost of them will die, anyways. She just wanted to check things off of her bucket list before she kicked the bucket.
The crates are dusty, and the walls are rusty, and the noises get louder and louder with every step that she took, every breath, every second the drumming of water against metal gets more and more unbearable and she wanted to scream, wanted to do something to break this noise up.
She could. She could do anything.
"Thanks, Benny," she murmured, before stabbing her trusty dart friend into a wooden crate, once, twice, blocking noise out with more noise, scratching and rattling, because she could. It wasn't even loud. It sounded like nothing more than scratch, compared to the vibrating, rumbling background noise of this horror movie setting. But it was something that she could focus on.
The wood didn't give way, so she stabbed again, and then a fourth time, And she still couldn't see the peak of it's contents, even as splinters and fibers crowned the thinning, yet still thick walls of the box.
A thud shocked her out of her haze.
"Uh... who's there?"
She held her hand up to her mouth.
Maybe she should have been quiet.
Maybe she should just go.
The bare, rusty metal. The pipes that she could almost touch, if she stood on her tiptoes and jumped around a little bit. Her bare foot in the Mary Janes bothered her enough to not do it, though. The oddness of her entire outfit bothered her. The way she is shown to an entire nation's worth of audience bothered her. Everything made her feel uneasy. If she listened close enough, she could almost hear the footsteps, almost feel them. Another place she's never explored before. So many places. So many things she'll never see.
She held took Benny the Dart, just in case. Not that he could do much against an attacker with a gun (she didn't even know if she would fight back,) but the feeling of metal warming under her palm was a reminder that she was here, she was alive, she had something, which was better than nothing.
Verity-Timothy, Carol-Oliver, Rhonda-Xander, Akeno-Maxine, Seo-Abel. She repeated the names without faces out loud, in a hoarse little whisper. Maybe one of them could make it out, race against the clock, count to ten, as the others fall behind.
Maybe it would all be worthless. She didn't care. It wasn't going to be her, anyways. Almost of them will die, anyways. She just wanted to check things off of her bucket list before she kicked the bucket.
The crates are dusty, and the walls are rusty, and the noises get louder and louder with every step that she took, every breath, every second the drumming of water against metal gets more and more unbearable and she wanted to scream, wanted to do something to break this noise up.
She could. She could do anything.
"Thanks, Benny," she murmured, before stabbing her trusty dart friend into a wooden crate, once, twice, blocking noise out with more noise, scratching and rattling, because she could. It wasn't even loud. It sounded like nothing more than scratch, compared to the vibrating, rumbling background noise of this horror movie setting. But it was something that she could focus on.
The wood didn't give way, so she stabbed again, and then a fourth time, And she still couldn't see the peak of it's contents, even as splinters and fibers crowned the thinning, yet still thick walls of the box.
A thud shocked her out of her haze.
"Uh... who's there?"
She held her hand up to her mouth.
Maybe she should have been quiet.
Maybe she should just go.
Rhonda stepped lightly as she wandered down yet another hallway within the ship. Damn, this place was like a maze. It was starting to make her wish that she had decided to take refuge in the cabin of one of the other boats or something. Sure, it would be easier for people to find her, but at least she wouldn't be in a submerged steel labyrinth. The sounds of the water outside were seriously making her uncomfortable. Was it possible to develop claustrophobia or a fear of water in a span of minutes? She felt like she was seriously testing that hypothesis.
The plainness and silence did nothing to calm her anxiety. The bowels of the ship felt so empty that her imagination was starting to run away from her. For all she knew, she could be the only person who had set foot there since they were placed in the flotilla. Or on the other hand, someone could be lurking around the very next corner with a blood-soaked knife, waiting to jump out at her. The loneliness left her mind to its own devices, and with how stressed she was, the lack of distractions was not being very nice to her.
She wished that she had stuck with Seth and Ivan. Or at the very least, that she hadn't gone off like a jackass and shot Xander. God, so many of her problems wouldn't exist right now if she had just kept her finger off the trigger. Hell, she probably could have just clocked Gisele, either with her gun or her bare fist, and that would've worked better. Xander would still be alive, and Gisele would have a nice little bruise to remind her not to fuck with her again. But instead, Rhonda's own errors would keep finding new life as she was reminded of them over and over.
She was on what may have been her twentieth or so time contemplating the eeriness of the ship when she finally heard something, something very loud. The sound of something clattering against the steel floor... or perhaps wall of one of the corridors sent Rhonda into high alert. She instinctively aimed her gun in what she felt was the direction of the noise, not wanting to be caught off guard. Then a few moments later, she heard a voice. It was a timid, disarming voice, but that might have been what they were going for, trying to get her guard down.
Rhonda pointed her gun down the hall in both directions, the pace of her breathing quickening. She pressed her back against the wall in an attempt to give herself some sense of security as she kept checking both sides of the hall. She wasn't going to let them catch her off guard, no matter who they were.
The plainness and silence did nothing to calm her anxiety. The bowels of the ship felt so empty that her imagination was starting to run away from her. For all she knew, she could be the only person who had set foot there since they were placed in the flotilla. Or on the other hand, someone could be lurking around the very next corner with a blood-soaked knife, waiting to jump out at her. The loneliness left her mind to its own devices, and with how stressed she was, the lack of distractions was not being very nice to her.
She wished that she had stuck with Seth and Ivan. Or at the very least, that she hadn't gone off like a jackass and shot Xander. God, so many of her problems wouldn't exist right now if she had just kept her finger off the trigger. Hell, she probably could have just clocked Gisele, either with her gun or her bare fist, and that would've worked better. Xander would still be alive, and Gisele would have a nice little bruise to remind her not to fuck with her again. But instead, Rhonda's own errors would keep finding new life as she was reminded of them over and over.
She was on what may have been her twentieth or so time contemplating the eeriness of the ship when she finally heard something, something very loud. The sound of something clattering against the steel floor... or perhaps wall of one of the corridors sent Rhonda into high alert. She instinctively aimed her gun in what she felt was the direction of the noise, not wanting to be caught off guard. Then a few moments later, she heard a voice. It was a timid, disarming voice, but that might have been what they were going for, trying to get her guard down.
Rhonda pointed her gun down the hall in both directions, the pace of her breathing quickening. She pressed her back against the wall in an attempt to give herself some sense of security as she kept checking both sides of the hall. She wasn't going to let them catch her off guard, no matter who they were.
-
Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
(Girl BC06 continued from It Matters If We All Live))
Rebecca should have killed her back in the fishing trawler.
It was neither an outburst nor a cold observation, although at one point, the little thought had been both. But it had been so long, and the anger, the feeling she should go back, it was like a star running its natural course. All the hot emotions that itched and burned her tongue had cooled with the night.
And now, names were being…taken from her. She didn’t recognize them, but they were registered as names anyways. Rebecca had managed to put a face to about 2, but she would rather they stay clouded rather then to misframe the other contestants.
She had considered the fact that Jodi would have been announced in the timespan. (It had been a few hours, it was night time currently.)
For an unknown reason, she predicted that if the circumstance occured, she would be feeling unpleasant.
Irrational. Irrational along with fear. As long as an Akeno or a Seo-yun was not in her area, Rebecca was safe. Half-safe. Rebecca wasn’t sure who Akeno was, and there were other rangers shooting for the ten. An ordinary citizen didn’t usually go down this deep, and being only being unordinary citizens for the past day-night cycle meant there was probably some remnants of reluctance left in a few contestants.
It was iron-ic. The lower deck was usually the most dangerous in a ship, barred off from soft passengers. Engines further off used to wheeze and blow smoke in people’s faces like trailer trash, and the rusty dying metals threatened to take unvaccinated survivors down with them. The labyrinth of wood contained metal shrapnel inside.
And Rebecca had to shoot for home with not a gun, but a heavy bag. But of course, this was Survival of the FITTEST. For now, while the atmosphere was more naive and prone to old attachments, it was still alright.
At first, Rebecca had dismissed the noise she heard as wails and protests of a decommissioned ship. She had been leaning on a crate against the wall and sorting her only weapon for a while now, so she thought she would get used to the sounds again.
It became obvious soon enough that the virgin sounds were no sounds Rebecca could be accustomed to. Rebecca straightened. There were nearby abnormal noises. A pitter-patter of feet, a siren’s soft questioning call, and of course. The crash. Deep breaths. The room was difficult to navigate. Stay calm, that was what was important.
Rebecca walked. She was calm. She was calm as she saw a figure upon turning a third corner. There was no sound from her when she rapidly put her back against the crate to hide.
There was sound. From her bag. Not her. No.
No breathing.
Rebecca should have killed her back in the fishing trawler.
It was neither an outburst nor a cold observation, although at one point, the little thought had been both. But it had been so long, and the anger, the feeling she should go back, it was like a star running its natural course. All the hot emotions that itched and burned her tongue had cooled with the night.
And now, names were being…taken from her. She didn’t recognize them, but they were registered as names anyways. Rebecca had managed to put a face to about 2, but she would rather they stay clouded rather then to misframe the other contestants.
She had considered the fact that Jodi would have been announced in the timespan. (It had been a few hours, it was night time currently.)
For an unknown reason, she predicted that if the circumstance occured, she would be feeling unpleasant.
Irrational. Irrational along with fear. As long as an Akeno or a Seo-yun was not in her area, Rebecca was safe. Half-safe. Rebecca wasn’t sure who Akeno was, and there were other rangers shooting for the ten. An ordinary citizen didn’t usually go down this deep, and being only being unordinary citizens for the past day-night cycle meant there was probably some remnants of reluctance left in a few contestants.
It was iron-ic. The lower deck was usually the most dangerous in a ship, barred off from soft passengers. Engines further off used to wheeze and blow smoke in people’s faces like trailer trash, and the rusty dying metals threatened to take unvaccinated survivors down with them. The labyrinth of wood contained metal shrapnel inside.
And Rebecca had to shoot for home with not a gun, but a heavy bag. But of course, this was Survival of the FITTEST. For now, while the atmosphere was more naive and prone to old attachments, it was still alright.
At first, Rebecca had dismissed the noise she heard as wails and protests of a decommissioned ship. She had been leaning on a crate against the wall and sorting her only weapon for a while now, so she thought she would get used to the sounds again.
It became obvious soon enough that the virgin sounds were no sounds Rebecca could be accustomed to. Rebecca straightened. There were nearby abnormal noises. A pitter-patter of feet, a siren’s soft questioning call, and of course. The crash. Deep breaths. The room was difficult to navigate. Stay calm, that was what was important.
Rebecca walked. She was calm. She was calm as she saw a figure upon turning a third corner. There was no sound from her when she rapidly put her back against the crate to hide.
There was sound. From her bag. Not her. No.
No breathing.
She wasn’t the only person down here.
The sounds this deep into the ship could play tricks on you. There had already been a couple times where Akeno had thought she’d heard another person, a footstep or something else, only to realise it was just a creak or a sudden knock from some part of the ship; even her own footsteps echoing back at her in strange ways. More phantoms conjured by her own paranoia.
A voice was unmistakeable however and a voice was what she’d just heard. Taking her frustration out on the crate must have alerted them and they’d called out in surprise or fear, perhaps unconsciously.
Akeno turned in the direction she thought the voice was coming from, which in this case meant staring at the box next to her. Should she follow the voice to its source, or head the other way and try to avoid them? It was hard to say without knowing who they were or what kind of threat they posed and that unknown factor alone should have been enough to make a call; she should leave, because the last thing she wanted to do was risk running into someone with a gun in these narrow hallways.
But she needed another nine kills. Akeno didn’t want to take any risks in getting them, but she also couldn’t afford to pass up any chances that presented themselves. Not when every missed opportunity could mean failing to reach her goal or someone else reaching that goal first.
It was the latter possibility that prevented her from walking away.
Nine more kills, for ten total; it was a high number but not as unachievable as she’d first thought. When the new rule had been announced a couple seasons ago, Akeno had thought that it would be sometime before she saw someone earn their freedom that way. It wasn’t just the fact that ten was an unrealistic number of kills when so few contestants had ever reached double digits in the past; it was the fact that ten represented such a large proportion of the game that so many things had to go right for one person to eliminate a full sixth or seventh of their fellow contestants. Despite her doubts however, Karen had killed a sixth of her game over the next few days and a few months later Jewel had managed a similar feat on her game. Their success was a major reason why she had even considered taking this path in the first place.
But this season was different from theirs. Not because of the number of contestants, or the size of the team or even the unusual arena; no, the biggest difference between this season and the last two was that Karen and Jewel never really had much competition for the early release. In her season Karen snagged two kills before anyone else even got one and while it looked like Zach might pull something off, in the end he wasn’t even close. Meanwhile, nobody was ever in contention of taking the ten-kills away from Jewel.
Akeno had a feeling that this time around the early release would be more hotly contested. As weird as it was to think it her school had some real killers in it, people that she knew would be looking for the same thing as her; maybe even more than she realised, since some of the names on the announcement were ones she didn’t recognise. Some people like Ivan or Junji just gave her that impression, while others like Lucille had as much as said they’d go for the ten during one of their many conversations on the topic. Seo-Yun was someone she’d always wondered about, but her being on the first announcement was enough to convince Akeno she was doing the same.
There would be a lot of competition.
Eighty people were picked this season, that’s what Emmy said, eighty people from which to get her ten kills; one eighth of the competition, which was technically better odds than either Karen or Jewel had to deal with before her, but that number would dwindle over time and it was a little more complicated than just that.
She had to take away ten of those eighty because of her team, then she had to take away all of the people she either wanted to avoid fighting or wanted to spare; friends and threats both, though those lists had a surprising amount of overlap. The number she was left with was far less than eighty, maybe only half of that. If she wanted to play it safe, if she wanted to avoid fighting people she’d rather not fight, she had far less flexibility when it came to who she could or would attack.
Some people would have an easier time getting to ten than her, some would have it harder. Either way she needed to make sure she stayed ahead of the competition, lest she end up losing ground and needing to take more risks in an attempt to catch-up. Her whole approach was based on avoiding as much risk as possible.
With all that in mind, she needed to at least see who it was down here with her before she decided to run away.
Akeno began to move in that direction.
She stopped when she heard a noise behind her.
Was there someone else here, or were the sounds playing tricks on her again?
It didn’t sound like the pipes again, too soft this time, but she couldn’t be certain. Still, better to check and find nothing than miss someone sneaking up behind her.
Akeno turned around and moved briskly towards the next corner of this wooden maze.
She stepped around the crate.
The sounds this deep into the ship could play tricks on you. There had already been a couple times where Akeno had thought she’d heard another person, a footstep or something else, only to realise it was just a creak or a sudden knock from some part of the ship; even her own footsteps echoing back at her in strange ways. More phantoms conjured by her own paranoia.
A voice was unmistakeable however and a voice was what she’d just heard. Taking her frustration out on the crate must have alerted them and they’d called out in surprise or fear, perhaps unconsciously.
Akeno turned in the direction she thought the voice was coming from, which in this case meant staring at the box next to her. Should she follow the voice to its source, or head the other way and try to avoid them? It was hard to say without knowing who they were or what kind of threat they posed and that unknown factor alone should have been enough to make a call; she should leave, because the last thing she wanted to do was risk running into someone with a gun in these narrow hallways.
But she needed another nine kills. Akeno didn’t want to take any risks in getting them, but she also couldn’t afford to pass up any chances that presented themselves. Not when every missed opportunity could mean failing to reach her goal or someone else reaching that goal first.
It was the latter possibility that prevented her from walking away.
Nine more kills, for ten total; it was a high number but not as unachievable as she’d first thought. When the new rule had been announced a couple seasons ago, Akeno had thought that it would be sometime before she saw someone earn their freedom that way. It wasn’t just the fact that ten was an unrealistic number of kills when so few contestants had ever reached double digits in the past; it was the fact that ten represented such a large proportion of the game that so many things had to go right for one person to eliminate a full sixth or seventh of their fellow contestants. Despite her doubts however, Karen had killed a sixth of her game over the next few days and a few months later Jewel had managed a similar feat on her game. Their success was a major reason why she had even considered taking this path in the first place.
But this season was different from theirs. Not because of the number of contestants, or the size of the team or even the unusual arena; no, the biggest difference between this season and the last two was that Karen and Jewel never really had much competition for the early release. In her season Karen snagged two kills before anyone else even got one and while it looked like Zach might pull something off, in the end he wasn’t even close. Meanwhile, nobody was ever in contention of taking the ten-kills away from Jewel.
Akeno had a feeling that this time around the early release would be more hotly contested. As weird as it was to think it her school had some real killers in it, people that she knew would be looking for the same thing as her; maybe even more than she realised, since some of the names on the announcement were ones she didn’t recognise. Some people like Ivan or Junji just gave her that impression, while others like Lucille had as much as said they’d go for the ten during one of their many conversations on the topic. Seo-Yun was someone she’d always wondered about, but her being on the first announcement was enough to convince Akeno she was doing the same.
There would be a lot of competition.
Eighty people were picked this season, that’s what Emmy said, eighty people from which to get her ten kills; one eighth of the competition, which was technically better odds than either Karen or Jewel had to deal with before her, but that number would dwindle over time and it was a little more complicated than just that.
She had to take away ten of those eighty because of her team, then she had to take away all of the people she either wanted to avoid fighting or wanted to spare; friends and threats both, though those lists had a surprising amount of overlap. The number she was left with was far less than eighty, maybe only half of that. If she wanted to play it safe, if she wanted to avoid fighting people she’d rather not fight, she had far less flexibility when it came to who she could or would attack.
Some people would have an easier time getting to ten than her, some would have it harder. Either way she needed to make sure she stayed ahead of the competition, lest she end up losing ground and needing to take more risks in an attempt to catch-up. Her whole approach was based on avoiding as much risk as possible.
With all that in mind, she needed to at least see who it was down here with her before she decided to run away.
Akeno began to move in that direction.
She stopped when she heard a noise behind her.
Was there someone else here, or were the sounds playing tricks on her again?
It didn’t sound like the pipes again, too soft this time, but she couldn’t be certain. Still, better to check and find nothing than miss someone sneaking up behind her.
Akeno turned around and moved briskly towards the next corner of this wooden maze.
She stepped around the crate.
Those were definitely more than just the background rumbling of the ship.
Footsteps.
How many people were in here?
(How many corpses?)
The same aesthetic, the same plot, the same settings- they get old. That was one of the appeals of Survival Of The Fittest, right? Because there weren’t plots and scripts. Just desperate teenagers. There’s just the ending that’s almost all the same.
The deep tremors around her got louder, and she wanted to be somewhere else- she didn't care where, just a place where she could see who was around her and be away from these buzzing, the rumbling, it’s so fucking annoying-
Benny- the dart, shit, she almost forgot it was metal- clanked onto the ground. Silvery and shiny against the rusty metals of the walls around her. A sound rang out, loud and clear, and as Leah scrambled to pick it back up, she realized that she couldn’t hide herself anymore.
If she could hear the other person here, they could hear her, too. Better just give up. Better just admit it. Better just let herself be open. Better to just say everything she wanted to say and let it all out.
She took a risk. She wasn’t very used to taking risks, but she could try. She could try.
“Um… I hear you! I’m safe, I promise. Wasn’t on the announcement!”
Leah hoped that they couldn’t identify her voice.
Or maybe she hoped they really could.
(All she was sure of was that whoever's in here is someone that could kill her.
She'd let them, and that scared her.)
She didn’t know what to think. She hated that. On the rare occasions when she was talking to people, she never had any control- she never knew what they would say, and she never knew how to reply. The other people, they aren’t like stories- they don’t have a plot or a script or a program. Everyone’s different, from their fingerprints to their capacity for love. That was a fear. That was a fear that she needed to conquer.
The sounds seemed to be all around her, the humming fading into the background as Leah tried to pick out any other sounds. She braced herself for footsteps behind her, for the sudden pain to appear, for hands or arms around her neck.
Her eyes weren’t trustworthy anymore. Maybe that was a person. Maybe that wasn’t.
Footsteps.
How many people were in here?
(How many corpses?)
The same aesthetic, the same plot, the same settings- they get old. That was one of the appeals of Survival Of The Fittest, right? Because there weren’t plots and scripts. Just desperate teenagers. There’s just the ending that’s almost all the same.
The deep tremors around her got louder, and she wanted to be somewhere else- she didn't care where, just a place where she could see who was around her and be away from these buzzing, the rumbling, it’s so fucking annoying-
Benny- the dart, shit, she almost forgot it was metal- clanked onto the ground. Silvery and shiny against the rusty metals of the walls around her. A sound rang out, loud and clear, and as Leah scrambled to pick it back up, she realized that she couldn’t hide herself anymore.
If she could hear the other person here, they could hear her, too. Better just give up. Better just admit it. Better just let herself be open. Better to just say everything she wanted to say and let it all out.
She took a risk. She wasn’t very used to taking risks, but she could try. She could try.
“Um… I hear you! I’m safe, I promise. Wasn’t on the announcement!”
Leah hoped that they couldn’t identify her voice.
Or maybe she hoped they really could.
(All she was sure of was that whoever's in here is someone that could kill her.
She'd let them, and that scared her.)
She didn’t know what to think. She hated that. On the rare occasions when she was talking to people, she never had any control- she never knew what they would say, and she never knew how to reply. The other people, they aren’t like stories- they don’t have a plot or a script or a program. Everyone’s different, from their fingerprints to their capacity for love. That was a fear. That was a fear that she needed to conquer.
The sounds seemed to be all around her, the humming fading into the background as Leah tried to pick out any other sounds. She braced herself for footsteps behind her, for the sudden pain to appear, for hands or arms around her neck.
Her eyes weren’t trustworthy anymore. Maybe that was a person. Maybe that wasn’t.
There was more noise. That voice spoke again. She wasn't alone. She sidled along the wall, moving closer to the corner as she kept her ears open for anything else that may reach them.
Rhonda was heavily questioning the motives of the girl who kept talking. She knew it was a girl due to the voice, but she couldn't put a name to it. For her to be broadcasting her presence in the dank, cramped underbelly of a ship, there could only be two possibilities as far as Rhonda was concerned. First, it could be a trap, trying to sound innocent before pulling a weapon on the first poor sod that finds her. Second, she could just be really, really dumb and not see how she was putting herself in danger by letting everyone know that she was there. And in this confusing steel maze, anything that put her in danger was endangering Rhonda as well. Who's to say that someone down here wouldn't be hunting that girl, but find Rhonda instead?
Damn it, she had to get out. The longer she stayed down here, the more she put herself at risk. She kept moving as quietly as she could, glancing back and forth every few seconds and expecting to see someone standing there each time she turned around. That was another reason she had to get out, the atmosphere was making her paranoid.
She reached the next corner and took a moment to steel herself. She took a few deep breaths, then looked back one more time to make sure that no one had crept up behind her. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she turned the corner, pointing her gun straight down the next hall.
Rhonda was heavily questioning the motives of the girl who kept talking. She knew it was a girl due to the voice, but she couldn't put a name to it. For her to be broadcasting her presence in the dank, cramped underbelly of a ship, there could only be two possibilities as far as Rhonda was concerned. First, it could be a trap, trying to sound innocent before pulling a weapon on the first poor sod that finds her. Second, she could just be really, really dumb and not see how she was putting herself in danger by letting everyone know that she was there. And in this confusing steel maze, anything that put her in danger was endangering Rhonda as well. Who's to say that someone down here wouldn't be hunting that girl, but find Rhonda instead?
Damn it, she had to get out. The longer she stayed down here, the more she put herself at risk. She kept moving as quietly as she could, glancing back and forth every few seconds and expecting to see someone standing there each time she turned around. That was another reason she had to get out, the atmosphere was making her paranoid.
She reached the next corner and took a moment to steel herself. She took a few deep breaths, then looked back one more time to make sure that no one had crept up behind her. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she turned the corner, pointing her gun straight down the next hall.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
There was somebody down that hall.
They had a gun too.
And it was pointed in Rhonda’s direction.
“Hi.”
((continued from…))
“Please don’t shoot me.”
They had a gun too.
And it was pointed in Rhonda’s direction.
“Hi.”
((continued from…))
“Please don’t shoot me.”
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
It was a psychological effect, but like...a film reel, manipulated in slow...no. Like a nightmareish memory that played frame by frame like tortu...hm...a movie sequence?
Her brain perceived time to be slower. In this circumstance, the more usual abstract thoughts were more difficult to process. Or perhaps. More difficult to control. It was preferable for her to perceive and compare in abstract concepts in her thoughts. But they were still required to be focused to the current situation.
She realigned herself. The backpack was on her dominant hand. She, after a rather unreasonable amount of time, placed her other hand in a pocket. There were several strategies that could be employed, even without a weapon currently. She knew how to play. She could survive. This was still the point of the season where it was still more reluctance. The first strategy was her left hand. Although her weapon was her bag, it was possible for the lower 50% of the population (in regards to intelligence. She believed she was about average, perhaps within a standard deviation higher.) to believe she was hiding a weapon.
She heard a response to her mistake, a verbal reply. She focused on that as she stopped to decide where to backtrack and vacate from. There were footsteps, they were close and coming closer, but they did not seem to be in the direction of the voice. Not that she focused as much on them right now. They did not seem to be very close. She did not think so. The unclear voice was either a trap or a unwise move, and she was inclined to take the former. (She did not believe it completely however, although she was unsure of the reason.)
The voice did seem to in the general direction of her plans. It would be wise to tu
A contestant. They had followed her.
Unknown identity. A wire for a weapon. (Or one of her weapons. In the very, very unlikely scenario of her being a killer. Only five of the class were killers. There was a number close to one hundred. Very unlikely.) Different bandanna. She stiffened.
She had a close-to-zero percentage of winning in the chances the armed student proceeded to attack her. A non-zero chance. Still too low. Focus.
"Were, were you the o-one saying something?"
The voices all sounded unclear, but hers shouldn't, being so close. She had to slow down. Have more volume, to the point even others could hear. (Please.) After all, she had no fear.
"I, I uh, wasn't on the announcements. Either! I'm Rebecca. The arty Rebecca."
Still, too fast. She was prepared to run at first opportune. She balled her hand in her pocket to a fist.
It was a bluff. The contestant in front was armed. Taller. Stronger. They were not viable for her to fulfill her ten-names quota with. Rebecca was certainly viable to fill theirs.
Her brain perceived time to be slower. In this circumstance, the more usual abstract thoughts were more difficult to process. Or perhaps. More difficult to control. It was preferable for her to perceive and compare in abstract concepts in her thoughts. But they were still required to be focused to the current situation.
She realigned herself. The backpack was on her dominant hand. She, after a rather unreasonable amount of time, placed her other hand in a pocket. There were several strategies that could be employed, even without a weapon currently. She knew how to play. She could survive. This was still the point of the season where it was still more reluctance. The first strategy was her left hand. Although her weapon was her bag, it was possible for the lower 50% of the population (in regards to intelligence. She believed she was about average, perhaps within a standard deviation higher.) to believe she was hiding a weapon.
She heard a response to her mistake, a verbal reply. She focused on that as she stopped to decide where to backtrack and vacate from. There were footsteps, they were close and coming closer, but they did not seem to be in the direction of the voice. Not that she focused as much on them right now. They did not seem to be very close. She did not think so. The unclear voice was either a trap or a unwise move, and she was inclined to take the former. (She did not believe it completely however, although she was unsure of the reason.)
The voice did seem to in the general direction of her plans. It would be wise to tu
A contestant. They had followed her.
Unknown identity. A wire for a weapon. (Or one of her weapons. In the very, very unlikely scenario of her being a killer. Only five of the class were killers. There was a number close to one hundred. Very unlikely.) Different bandanna. She stiffened.
She had a close-to-zero percentage of winning in the chances the armed student proceeded to attack her. A non-zero chance. Still too low. Focus.
"Were, were you the o-one saying something?"
The voices all sounded unclear, but hers shouldn't, being so close. She had to slow down. Have more volume, to the point even others could hear. (Please.) After all, she had no fear.
"I, I uh, wasn't on the announcements. Either! I'm Rebecca. The arty Rebecca."
Still, too fast. She was prepared to run at first opportune. She balled her hand in her pocket to a fist.
It was a bluff. The contestant in front was armed. Taller. Stronger. They were not viable for her to fulfill her ten-names quota with. Rebecca was certainly viable to fill theirs.
There was someone around the corner. She hadn’t misheard, someone had been right there and Akeno hadn’t realised until the last second. It was lucky for her that some noise had given them away.
Unlucky for them.
The person she found wasn’t anyone she knew; Akeno recognised her, kind of, the way you recognised anyone you’d gone to school and shared classes with for the last three and a bit years of your life, but even when the girl gave her name it barely rang any bells. Rebecca; artsy Rebecca. Had Lucille or Seo-Yun ever mentioned an artsy Rebecca? Maybe, but that hardly helped; those two knew everyone.
Her bandana wasn’t white though. That was more important.
She had her hand in her pocket like there was something in there. That was even more important.
As she looked the girl up and down she realised Rebecca was doing the same to her and Akeno quickly shoved the garrotte into the pocket of her bomber jacket. Now wasn’t a good time to try and get another kill, not when at least one other person was down here with them and she didn’t need this girl worrying because she was holding what might be a weapon.
“Rebecca, hi.” Akeno didn’t give her own name in turn, lest the other girl recognise it and start to panic; she didn’t try to make up a name either, because she was a bad liar and she had enough to worry about. Any noise now was a bad thing and Akeno was already worried that Rebecca was speaking too loudly. Her own voice was quieter, hushed, but still loud enough for the other girl to hear.
“No, that wasn’t me. Someone else is down here.” That fact was the only reason Akeno hadn’t struck yet; a fight now would make too much noise. If she had a knife or a gun, it would be different. Could she convince Rebecca to leave with her? “I was just leaving. You should too.”
Unlucky for them.
The person she found wasn’t anyone she knew; Akeno recognised her, kind of, the way you recognised anyone you’d gone to school and shared classes with for the last three and a bit years of your life, but even when the girl gave her name it barely rang any bells. Rebecca; artsy Rebecca. Had Lucille or Seo-Yun ever mentioned an artsy Rebecca? Maybe, but that hardly helped; those two knew everyone.
Her bandana wasn’t white though. That was more important.
She had her hand in her pocket like there was something in there. That was even more important.
As she looked the girl up and down she realised Rebecca was doing the same to her and Akeno quickly shoved the garrotte into the pocket of her bomber jacket. Now wasn’t a good time to try and get another kill, not when at least one other person was down here with them and she didn’t need this girl worrying because she was holding what might be a weapon.
“Rebecca, hi.” Akeno didn’t give her own name in turn, lest the other girl recognise it and start to panic; she didn’t try to make up a name either, because she was a bad liar and she had enough to worry about. Any noise now was a bad thing and Akeno was already worried that Rebecca was speaking too loudly. Her own voice was quieter, hushed, but still loud enough for the other girl to hear.
“No, that wasn’t me. Someone else is down here.” That fact was the only reason Akeno hadn’t struck yet; a fight now would make too much noise. If she had a knife or a gun, it would be different. Could she convince Rebecca to leave with her? “I was just leaving. You should too.”
Her footsteps stopped. Suddenly, there were two girls right in front of Leah.
Both bigger than her.
Both with guns.
Pointed.
Not at her, though.
“Uh… b-bad time?”
(The chances of her encountering a killer right now was 6%)
(With guns, it’s just a little higher.)
(With girls, its-
No. no need to do that.
Why was she worrying when she just announced her intentions to die?)
Leah tucked Benny in his (because sure, use pronouns for the imaginary friend, why not?) comfortable home in her backpack. A show of peace. (Submission.)
And then, a little louder:
''If you're looking for a kill, I'm, um, a bit easier? Ha, uh. That. Wasn't good.''
Both bigger than her.
Both with guns.
Pointed.
Not at her, though.
“Uh… b-bad time?”
(The chances of her encountering a killer right now was 6%)
(With guns, it’s just a little higher.)
(With girls, its-
No. no need to do that.
Why was she worrying when she just announced her intentions to die?)
Leah tucked Benny in his (because sure, use pronouns for the imaginary friend, why not?) comfortable home in her backpack. A show of peace. (Submission.)
And then, a little louder:
''If you're looking for a kill, I'm, um, a bit easier? Ha, uh. That. Wasn't good.''
"Shit."
It didn't take more than a second for Rhonda to be glad that she introduced herself with her shotgun at the ready. She knew exactly who she was talking to. It wasn't like there were many girls over six feet at Margrove, which made Verity Stewart pretty easy to pick out of a crowd. And indeed, Verity was right there, pointing a gun of her own at her, with a kill to her name.
Rhonda racked her brain with all of the possibilities for which direction this could go. Of course, most of the time, she thought about the possibilities that involved seeing a flash from the gun barrel pointed at her, and that was usually where they ended. She was one twitch of the finger away from death, and painfully aware of that fact. Even so, she refused to show any fear, hoping that if she didn't give the resemblance of an opportunity, then Verity wouldn't open fire.
And then the other girls came in. No weapon drawn, just kind of awkwardly making herself known in a way that made Rhonda raise an eyebrow, especially when she called herself an easy kill. Rhonda genuinely wondered if this girl was thinking about what she said at all, or if she had already cracked from the pressure of the game. Neither option was especially good, but the former would probably be easier to work with in a pinch.
Rhonda spoke slowly and clearly, but didn't lower her weapon. "I don't want to fight." She wanted to deescalate, but she didn't trust either of these girls an inch, especially in Verity's case.
It didn't take more than a second for Rhonda to be glad that she introduced herself with her shotgun at the ready. She knew exactly who she was talking to. It wasn't like there were many girls over six feet at Margrove, which made Verity Stewart pretty easy to pick out of a crowd. And indeed, Verity was right there, pointing a gun of her own at her, with a kill to her name.
Rhonda racked her brain with all of the possibilities for which direction this could go. Of course, most of the time, she thought about the possibilities that involved seeing a flash from the gun barrel pointed at her, and that was usually where they ended. She was one twitch of the finger away from death, and painfully aware of that fact. Even so, she refused to show any fear, hoping that if she didn't give the resemblance of an opportunity, then Verity wouldn't open fire.
And then the other girls came in. No weapon drawn, just kind of awkwardly making herself known in a way that made Rhonda raise an eyebrow, especially when she called herself an easy kill. Rhonda genuinely wondered if this girl was thinking about what she said at all, or if she had already cracked from the pressure of the game. Neither option was especially good, but the former would probably be easier to work with in a pinch.
Rhonda spoke slowly and clearly, but didn't lower her weapon. "I don't want to fight." She wanted to deescalate, but she didn't trust either of these girls an inch, especially in Verity's case.
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1256
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
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- Contact:
“I don’t- want- a fight either. I don’t want a kill.”
The gun stayed. Maybe lowered, a little bit, but not far enough to really make a distinction. Rhonda was down the hall, and Leah was a little bit behind Rhonda, but the gun wasn’t really pointed at either of them. It was just there. Floating.
“I just want-”
A breath. Heavy. Her teeth jittered between each set of words.
“A shower. I’m- cold and I’m- wet and I just- really want a- a fucking shower right now.”
The gun stayed. Maybe lowered, a little bit, but not far enough to really make a distinction. Rhonda was down the hall, and Leah was a little bit behind Rhonda, but the gun wasn’t really pointed at either of them. It was just there. Floating.
“I just want-”
A breath. Heavy. Her teeth jittered between each set of words.
“A shower. I’m- cold and I’m- wet and I just- really want a- a fucking shower right now.”