Pain.
Extreme pain.
He had never been hurt that badly. It was surprising how much a gun shot fucking hurts when you weren't even shot. His right ear was ringing, echoing. He flinched then recoiled. He knew guns were loud, but holy fucking shit. He raised his hand to his ear, trying to push away the now-deafness away.
It didn't work, and Xander only found liquid. It wasn't blood, but it was something else. It was a clear liquid. It really fucking hurt and Xander automatically regretted standing so near Rhonda. She didn't even took a second before shooting, she just raised her gun and pulled the trigger. Xander, allegedly, liked that. There was a show of power that needed to be done in SOTF-TV to win it.
Technically, they were on the right track. Rhonda, having used her gun, made everyone know that she would use it again. She wouldn't just sit on it. It was good, but gosh, did it hurt.
He looked up, seeing Ivan swinging down toward the ground. Xander lunged to grab him.
His hands met him, and he felt the sick wet blood on him. Xander gagged. He gagged, and he stared at Ivan. He couldn't vomit, but he wanted to. He hated this, he really hated this.
Every frame of this show is someone's last known photograph
Open
In the midst of him standing there, holding the bleeding boy as his shirt came loose and showed more of his injuries, listening to his words with horrified curiosity.
Who would do this? Seth wracked his brain trying to figure out who in his school was savage enough that they would do this on the word go. But before he could go further on that thought, Rhonda called for people to stay clear.
“Huh” Seth muttered, and then his ears rang. Almost dropping Ivan out of surprise and the want to cover his ears in a vain attempt to stop the infernal ringing. Still, he held on as Xander took hold of the rest of him.
He’d heard shots before on the show, but not like this. Even with cameras closeby and enhanced sounds, it never truly captured the sound of a shotgun blasting close to you. Or the ringing. The fucking ringing.
Seth gritted his teeth as his eyes started to brim at the edges, forcing him to blink rapidly. He looked down at Ivan.
“Fuckin’...you okay?!”
Who would do this? Seth wracked his brain trying to figure out who in his school was savage enough that they would do this on the word go. But before he could go further on that thought, Rhonda called for people to stay clear.
“Huh” Seth muttered, and then his ears rang. Almost dropping Ivan out of surprise and the want to cover his ears in a vain attempt to stop the infernal ringing. Still, he held on as Xander took hold of the rest of him.
He’d heard shots before on the show, but not like this. Even with cameras closeby and enhanced sounds, it never truly captured the sound of a shotgun blasting close to you. Or the ringing. The fucking ringing.
Seth gritted his teeth as his eyes started to brim at the edges, forcing him to blink rapidly. He looked down at Ivan.
“Fuckin’...you okay?!”
-
The Honeless Beard
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A sudden blast echoed out from the upper ferry, and Ivan felt as though he were a leaf, floating down at the whim of the wind. He was supported - by Seth, who let go and re-caught him as the full weight of Ivan came bearing down on him, by Xander who ducked under him to help.
As soon as they were holding him aloft, though, Ivan squirmed free, working himself to the ground so he could immidiately sit up, curl into his knees despite the absolute scream that worked its way up his ribcage. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pressing the raw F that still oozed blood into his right denim-covered knee. Both of the pain spots were welcome to him, signs that he somehow lived.
He wasn't supposed to live.
"Give me a minute," Ivan gasped out, arms lightly trembling. He could feel the F, the hot liquid of it, seeping into the skin of his knee. He clung to mental imagery, ran through his short list.
Fisk was in the suit. Keegan had that stupid fucking jacket. Vasily was the one with one eye. Giselle was the one shrieking about card numbers - took his fucking wallet. Two others.
"Thank you," he said, louder, into his knees.
As soon as they were holding him aloft, though, Ivan squirmed free, working himself to the ground so he could immidiately sit up, curl into his knees despite the absolute scream that worked its way up his ribcage. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pressing the raw F that still oozed blood into his right denim-covered knee. Both of the pain spots were welcome to him, signs that he somehow lived.
He wasn't supposed to live.
"Give me a minute," Ivan gasped out, arms lightly trembling. He could feel the F, the hot liquid of it, seeping into the skin of his knee. He clung to mental imagery, ran through his short list.
Fisk was in the suit. Keegan had that stupid fucking jacket. Vasily was the one with one eye. Giselle was the one shrieking about card numbers - took his fucking wallet. Two others.
"Thank you," he said, louder, into his knees.
Pain was Rhonda's main reaction to the shotgun. Her arms felt like she had just been doing chin-ups for an hour, her head was pounding like there was a concert speaker right behind her, and she couldn't hear anything for the next few seconds because of the ringing in her ears. Within moments of her pulling the trigger, every picture she ever saw of people wearing ear protection at gun ranges was far more than justified.
However, despite all the pain, the plan worked. Ivan was out of the air and on the ground. He still looked like death, but now he could actually move, or at least conceivably had the ability to do so. Rhonda hadn't taken a lot of time to look at his legs, since his face and torso were in bad enough shape, and also much more visible. But the fact that he managed to move them seemed to show some encouraging signs.
She really didn't want to be the one to spoil the positive mood that was building now that Ivan was free, but she had solved one problem by creating another. By firing off the shotgun, the ferry was no longer a safe place. The shot felt like it nearly blew out her ears with how loud it was, so she didn't even want to hazard a guess on how far out in the flotilla it could be heard. And all it would take was for someone to follow the sound, and they would eventually wind up at the ferry. So sticking around wasn't too appealing of an option anymore, but that was complicated by their new, extremely injured friend.
Rhonda looked down at Ivan, her gun now emptied and hanging by her side. "Hey Ivan, think you can run?" She asked succinctly. "Because we're probably gonna have to clear out of here soon."
However, despite all the pain, the plan worked. Ivan was out of the air and on the ground. He still looked like death, but now he could actually move, or at least conceivably had the ability to do so. Rhonda hadn't taken a lot of time to look at his legs, since his face and torso were in bad enough shape, and also much more visible. But the fact that he managed to move them seemed to show some encouraging signs.
She really didn't want to be the one to spoil the positive mood that was building now that Ivan was free, but she had solved one problem by creating another. By firing off the shotgun, the ferry was no longer a safe place. The shot felt like it nearly blew out her ears with how loud it was, so she didn't even want to hazard a guess on how far out in the flotilla it could be heard. And all it would take was for someone to follow the sound, and they would eventually wind up at the ferry. So sticking around wasn't too appealing of an option anymore, but that was complicated by their new, extremely injured friend.
Rhonda looked down at Ivan, her gun now emptied and hanging by her side. "Hey Ivan, think you can run?" She asked succinctly. "Because we're probably gonna have to clear out of here soon."
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The Honeless Beard
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"Yeah. Yeah, I can run," Ivan replied, "but I need to stop by the house boat first."
He groaned and rose to his feet, using help liberally from his knees and the ground. He managed to stand at full height, less colour in his cheeks, the F a dark wound that pounded lightly.
Ivan pointed a thumb towards the catwalk leading to the top floor of the boat, blinking hard against the light.
"I owe you - all of you. I'd like to help going forward. Can I meet you guys somewhere?"
He groaned and rose to his feet, using help liberally from his knees and the ground. He managed to stand at full height, less colour in his cheeks, the F a dark wound that pounded lightly.
Ivan pointed a thumb towards the catwalk leading to the top floor of the boat, blinking hard against the light.
"I owe you - all of you. I'd like to help going forward. Can I meet you guys somewhere?"
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MethodicalSlacker
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[Mariko was halfway up the stairs when she heard the gun go off.]
She pressed herself against the wall and held her harpoon gun close to her chest. The ferry bobbed on a small wave, and Mariko's feet, caught taking the steps two at a time, threatened to lose purchase beneath her. Her right shoe met the lip of the step and threatened to slide down—her stomach lurched with it, the day's first shade of seasickness. Though she managed to right herself as it became clear that the initial disturbance was not merely the foreswell of a larger and more menacing wave, her belly remained aflutter, a distraction which impeded her further auditory investigation of the gunshot.
There were several worried voices speaking to one another on the top deck of the ship. There had already been some prior, and she noticed no change in tone among them. The number remained indistinct, but she could tell that the same ones she had heard before were all present.
This could mean one of two things.
The first; there was a group assembled on top of the deck. One of them had a gun. The gun went off by accident. No harm, no foul. Conversation resumed.
The second; there was a group assembled on top of the deck. They have been fired upon or otherwise menaced by parties in another boat, and have decided to return the favor.
One of these situations was greatly more amenable than the other to Mariko revealing herself. It was no stretch of the imagination to assume that people in a gunfight were more likely to shoot her. This called for a slightly more delicate touch. The heft of the harpoon gun made it more difficult, but Mariko decided to slowly sneak up the stairs, keep herself low to the ground, and peer over the top step quickly to get a look. At once she set the plan in motion, using her hands and knees to steady herself as she crept upwards. The point of the harpoon faced downward with the rest of the gun tucked under her arm as Mariko took care not to let it bump noisily into the metal steps. Each second that she spent in upward movement felt at least eight times as long. At last, her left hand palmed the edge of the last step, and Mariko pulled herself up to see—
—Mariko felt words rise on a wave of indignant surprise well before she said them, but could not stop her impulse before it was too late and her cover was blown.
"Ivan?" she said, loud enough.
Then, realizing what she had just done, Mariko clamped her hand over her mouth and descended three steps backwards, hoping she was out of view.
She pressed herself against the wall and held her harpoon gun close to her chest. The ferry bobbed on a small wave, and Mariko's feet, caught taking the steps two at a time, threatened to lose purchase beneath her. Her right shoe met the lip of the step and threatened to slide down—her stomach lurched with it, the day's first shade of seasickness. Though she managed to right herself as it became clear that the initial disturbance was not merely the foreswell of a larger and more menacing wave, her belly remained aflutter, a distraction which impeded her further auditory investigation of the gunshot.
There were several worried voices speaking to one another on the top deck of the ship. There had already been some prior, and she noticed no change in tone among them. The number remained indistinct, but she could tell that the same ones she had heard before were all present.
This could mean one of two things.
The first; there was a group assembled on top of the deck. One of them had a gun. The gun went off by accident. No harm, no foul. Conversation resumed.
The second; there was a group assembled on top of the deck. They have been fired upon or otherwise menaced by parties in another boat, and have decided to return the favor.
One of these situations was greatly more amenable than the other to Mariko revealing herself. It was no stretch of the imagination to assume that people in a gunfight were more likely to shoot her. This called for a slightly more delicate touch. The heft of the harpoon gun made it more difficult, but Mariko decided to slowly sneak up the stairs, keep herself low to the ground, and peer over the top step quickly to get a look. At once she set the plan in motion, using her hands and knees to steady herself as she crept upwards. The point of the harpoon faced downward with the rest of the gun tucked under her arm as Mariko took care not to let it bump noisily into the metal steps. Each second that she spent in upward movement felt at least eight times as long. At last, her left hand palmed the edge of the last step, and Mariko pulled herself up to see—
—Mariko felt words rise on a wave of indignant surprise well before she said them, but could not stop her impulse before it was too late and her cover was blown.
"Ivan?" she said, loud enough.
Then, realizing what she had just done, Mariko clamped her hand over her mouth and descended three steps backwards, hoping she was out of view.
- 
- "We," his head snapped to the new arrival, "we can meet up somewhere, but are you sure you'll be okay?"
Xander's question wasn't out of good will. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave because he didn't want to here. He wanted to leave because he wanted to live, and guns were loud and everyone would attracted here like vultures. He wanted to leave because leaving meant he wouldn't be nauseous when he stared at the pool of blood in the shape of a boy that dirtied his own body.
He tugged at Rhonda's hand. She had her two hands on the guns, so Xander's hand went to her wrist. He tugged softly like a lost child asking for where was his mom.
"Rhonda, we should," his head jerked around, he whispered, "we should leave."
He wanted to leave. He wanted to live. He wanted to do something else this. The blood wasn't sedating him, it only made him for nauseous. He was stuck in spinning between two feelings that didn't make sense to him, that only made sense in a narrative that wasn't his. He spun again, and again. He wanted to stay. He really did.
But he couldn't.
Xander's question wasn't out of good will. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave because he didn't want to here. He wanted to leave because he wanted to live, and guns were loud and everyone would attracted here like vultures. He wanted to leave because leaving meant he wouldn't be nauseous when he stared at the pool of blood in the shape of a boy that dirtied his own body.
He tugged at Rhonda's hand. She had her two hands on the guns, so Xander's hand went to her wrist. He tugged softly like a lost child asking for where was his mom.
"Rhonda, we should," his head jerked around, he whispered, "we should leave."
He wanted to leave. He wanted to live. He wanted to do something else this. The blood wasn't sedating him, it only made him for nauseous. He was stuck in spinning between two feelings that didn't make sense to him, that only made sense in a narrative that wasn't his. He spun again, and again. He wanted to stay. He really did.
But he couldn't.
Rhonda jerked her head to the side as soon as she heard a new voice. Her hands twitched, almost raising the gun, but feeling too heavy to do so again so soon. She shot a glare instead of bullets, but her instincts weren't setting off any alarms. The way this new girl presented herself, nothing about it seemed threatening. Yeah, she knew that people could put up a ruse to keep from seeming intimidating, but she didn't get that vibe from her. This girl seemed way too awkward, especially with the way she backed behind cover like a cartoon.
Her arms relaxed a little. Yeah, she wasn't a threat. Rhonda wasn't going to interact, but she wasn't afraid of her.
She felt Xander tugging on her arm, and turned her glance to him, her eyes softening from her former intense stare. She could feel his desire to get out of there. She wasn't sure whether it was because of the new girl, the fact that Ivan and Seth weren't on their team, or whatever it was, but he made it clear that he wanted out. And to be fair, Rhonda was inclined to agree. The only person she could count on to watch her back right now was the one that was wearing the same bandanna as her.
"Yeah, we'll try to catch up with you guys at the houseboat later." She replied to Ivan. "We're gonna find somewhere to lay low for a little while. Take it easy and stay safe." She specifically directed that last part to Ivan, who was already looking wrecked enough. She didn't think that he would be able to survive much more damage in that condition.
"Come on, Xander." Rhonda told the lanky boy as she turned to head down the stairs and leave the ferry behind.
(Rhonda Rollins continued elsewhere...)
Her arms relaxed a little. Yeah, she wasn't a threat. Rhonda wasn't going to interact, but she wasn't afraid of her.
She felt Xander tugging on her arm, and turned her glance to him, her eyes softening from her former intense stare. She could feel his desire to get out of there. She wasn't sure whether it was because of the new girl, the fact that Ivan and Seth weren't on their team, or whatever it was, but he made it clear that he wanted out. And to be fair, Rhonda was inclined to agree. The only person she could count on to watch her back right now was the one that was wearing the same bandanna as her.
"Yeah, we'll try to catch up with you guys at the houseboat later." She replied to Ivan. "We're gonna find somewhere to lay low for a little while. Take it easy and stay safe." She specifically directed that last part to Ivan, who was already looking wrecked enough. She didn't think that he would be able to survive much more damage in that condition.
"Come on, Xander." Rhonda told the lanky boy as she turned to head down the stairs and leave the ferry behind.
(Rhonda Rollins continued elsewhere...)
Xander followed with a quick step. He didn't want to stay here longer than he needed. It was cruel, and it might have been a mistake, but Xander was a cruel man who preferred to run than to fight. Or something.
He was something that he didn't want to quantified in words so he instead let his actions describe him. Words weren't good at adapting his psyche and his behaviors into a clear cut box. It was simple to say that Xander was a complicated man of a complicated nature, but he wasn't any different than his classmates. Existing within that shell of a social contract was Xander who was actively trying to figure out what was there to be done, and what needed to be done.
He pondered on it. Staying with Ivan might be for the better, but leaving was easier.
((CK'S Xander Miles continued in the next thread))
It'd be easier than this.
He was something that he didn't want to quantified in words so he instead let his actions describe him. Words weren't good at adapting his psyche and his behaviors into a clear cut box. It was simple to say that Xander was a complicated man of a complicated nature, but he wasn't any different than his classmates. Existing within that shell of a social contract was Xander who was actively trying to figure out what was there to be done, and what needed to be done.
He pondered on it. Staying with Ivan might be for the better, but leaving was easier.
((CK'S Xander Miles continued in the next thread))
It'd be easier than this.
The ringing continued as Ivan wrestled out of their grip, down to the side. The fact that he could move, and scream, just more signs that Ivan had life in him beyond the pitiable display that had hung before him earlier. That was good, and Ivan, though barely audible, said he owed them. Made it all even better.
Seth with his hands free reached up to the sides of his head and pressed against his ears. He slowly breathed in and out as he held against them. He hadn't done this since he was a child when his parents would take him to the cinema and the sound would, at times, be like a massive wave crashing against his ears.
He blinked long and hard in a vain attempt to keep his eyes clean, small droplets making their way down.
Through this, he could hear the others, but more faintly. They are leaving now, meet up somewhere else. It didn't take long before they were gone, leaving him and Ivan behind.
Though a different voice joined the fray, a bit further away and more faint than the others. Place was not safe anymore.
If it ever had been.
Removing his hands from his head, Seth placed his knuckles on the ground and stood up. Legs unsteady as he stumbled over to Ivan, rubbing one of his sleeves across his face to clean up. As he got closer, he could see the scar on his face more clearly now that he wasn't hanging upside down. An F.
He'd seen this thing done before in fiction, people carving initials into their victims. IT had Henry Bower try to do that to Ben, so it was clear that something similar had happened here. And whilst there were a number of people with names starting on F at their school, he could think of a clear someone that would do something like that.
"Need a hand?" He said as he reached out to him with his right hand, at the same time glancing towards where he thought he had heard the voice.
Seth with his hands free reached up to the sides of his head and pressed against his ears. He slowly breathed in and out as he held against them. He hadn't done this since he was a child when his parents would take him to the cinema and the sound would, at times, be like a massive wave crashing against his ears.
He blinked long and hard in a vain attempt to keep his eyes clean, small droplets making their way down.
Through this, he could hear the others, but more faintly. They are leaving now, meet up somewhere else. It didn't take long before they were gone, leaving him and Ivan behind.
Though a different voice joined the fray, a bit further away and more faint than the others. Place was not safe anymore.
If it ever had been.
Removing his hands from his head, Seth placed his knuckles on the ground and stood up. Legs unsteady as he stumbled over to Ivan, rubbing one of his sleeves across his face to clean up. As he got closer, he could see the scar on his face more clearly now that he wasn't hanging upside down. An F.
He'd seen this thing done before in fiction, people carving initials into their victims. IT had Henry Bower try to do that to Ben, so it was clear that something similar had happened here. And whilst there were a number of people with names starting on F at their school, he could think of a clear someone that would do something like that.
"Need a hand?" He said as he reached out to him with his right hand, at the same time glancing towards where he thought he had heard the voice.
-
The Honeless Beard
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His name appeared from thin air, a ghostly apparition. So much was happening around him that he had a hard time focusing on it, through the pounding of his head and the gnawing ache of his ribs and lower body. The staircase from which his name appeared was an auxiliary one on the port side of the ship, fifteen feet or so away from the grander, more elaborate main staircase from which he had hung.
He looked up to see Seth offering a hand, Xander asking if he was going to be okay as Rhonda jumped into action - the leader of their duo, he supposed - telling Ivan that they'd catch up later, exiting down that same grand staircase.
Empty words. Later meant never and he wasn't about to wait on it.
But he had heard his name. Ivan took Seth's hand and pulled himself upwards, his free hand placed on the deck to help with his balance. Once on his feet, he squinted in the direction of the auxiliary staircase where Mariko was hiding, a frown etched across his features.
"We're not in a killing position," he called to the ghost, glancing at Seth and motioning downwards with one hand. Stay low, just in case. He took in the upper level of the ferry fully - the two stairwells on the port and starboard side, the grand staircase in the middle, railings that surrounded them save for a five foot gap that led to the house-boat.
He thought... was his bag in there?
"Come on out, and smoke em if you got em."
He looked up to see Seth offering a hand, Xander asking if he was going to be okay as Rhonda jumped into action - the leader of their duo, he supposed - telling Ivan that they'd catch up later, exiting down that same grand staircase.
Empty words. Later meant never and he wasn't about to wait on it.
But he had heard his name. Ivan took Seth's hand and pulled himself upwards, his free hand placed on the deck to help with his balance. Once on his feet, he squinted in the direction of the auxiliary staircase where Mariko was hiding, a frown etched across his features.
"We're not in a killing position," he called to the ghost, glancing at Seth and motioning downwards with one hand. Stay low, just in case. He took in the upper level of the ferry fully - the two stairwells on the port and starboard side, the grand staircase in the middle, railings that surrounded them save for a five foot gap that led to the house-boat.
He thought... was his bag in there?
"Come on out, and smoke em if you got em."
[[Kamille Rémy Martel continued from Staccato]]
As it turned out unless you had a sizeable interest in either old cars or boats, the interior of the ferry wasn't a very interesting place. Kamille had some appreciation for the old car aesthetics of the seventies and eighties sure, but whenever people spoke about cars they always focused on the classics and never the generic mass-produced entry-level pieces of machinery. As for boats, Kamille had no interest in them.
He hadn't encountered anyone else in the bowels of the ship so had decided to make a move topside. Both because there was nothing else to explore and because he had to meet Mariko. The entire enterprise of their partnership would have been ruined if he couldn't stick to the simplest of plans.
Kamille had found a set of stairs closer to the prow, ascended the stairs he consulted the mental map he had been attempting to build for the ferry. If he was correct he should have been on the opposite side of the ship to where he and Mariko had met originally. Whether that estimation would bear out he wasn't one hundred percent sure.
As he ascended the stairs, Kamille could hear voices talking in an animated fashion. In reaction, his grip on his assigned weapon tightened unconsciously and he let out a sigh. It appeared he was going to be walking into the middle of something once again. Kamille did not however expect the scene that greeted him once he reached the top of his set of stairs.
Two people he recognized stood on the deck of the ferry. Ivan Rodriguez and Seth Dunn, Ivan looked worse for wear and that was with him being polite about the other boys' condition. Whatever had happened to him since he had awoken had clearly been violent in nature.
Seth didn't look harmed and also looked to be helping regain his bearings. But even with all that Kamille's grip on the Sodegarami stayed firm. He cleared his throat softly as he reached the top of the stairs and then called out.
"What happened to you?"
As it turned out unless you had a sizeable interest in either old cars or boats, the interior of the ferry wasn't a very interesting place. Kamille had some appreciation for the old car aesthetics of the seventies and eighties sure, but whenever people spoke about cars they always focused on the classics and never the generic mass-produced entry-level pieces of machinery. As for boats, Kamille had no interest in them.
He hadn't encountered anyone else in the bowels of the ship so had decided to make a move topside. Both because there was nothing else to explore and because he had to meet Mariko. The entire enterprise of their partnership would have been ruined if he couldn't stick to the simplest of plans.
Kamille had found a set of stairs closer to the prow, ascended the stairs he consulted the mental map he had been attempting to build for the ferry. If he was correct he should have been on the opposite side of the ship to where he and Mariko had met originally. Whether that estimation would bear out he wasn't one hundred percent sure.
As he ascended the stairs, Kamille could hear voices talking in an animated fashion. In reaction, his grip on his assigned weapon tightened unconsciously and he let out a sigh. It appeared he was going to be walking into the middle of something once again. Kamille did not however expect the scene that greeted him once he reached the top of his set of stairs.
Two people he recognized stood on the deck of the ferry. Ivan Rodriguez and Seth Dunn, Ivan looked worse for wear and that was with him being polite about the other boys' condition. Whatever had happened to him since he had awoken had clearly been violent in nature.
Seth didn't look harmed and also looked to be helping regain his bearings. But even with all that Kamille's grip on the Sodegarami stayed firm. He cleared his throat softly as he reached the top of the stairs and then called out.
"What happened to you?"
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MethodicalSlacker
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Two voices left down the main stairwell. Above, two remained, including Ivan, who almost immediately figured her shit out. Nobody else seemed to notice, too. Mariko tried to remember what sort of special training at Mangrove had given them all somewhat impervious ears to the volume of gunshots. Maybe all the media she'd seen had actually played that part up, but Mariko was drawing a blank as to whether or not that was actually true. She was sure she'd have looked it up sometime a few years ago when she was running Cyberpunk Red, but that was a long time ago, in a classroom far, far away. It had nothing to do with Ivan, how he could hear her, and how Mariko could hear his response.
Not in a killing position. That meant 'no weapons.'
Smoke 'em if you got 'em. That meant 'come up and kill me scrub-lord, I'm ripped.'
Or it meant light up and party out on the deck with us. Either way, it was Classic Ivan. Always a showman, even if it didn't really make sense.
Before she could move up, though, she heard another voice with a rejoinder on the opposite stairwell. Kamille's voice. And it sounded like he'd already moved up to the top step. Fuck! If she'd known he was right behind her, she would've just waited for him to go up first before she blew her cover. Now it was clear to Ivan and whoever else that there were two, coming up, to tango, and maybe it was just the whiskey talking but she was tired of crouching on toe-point half-folded at the belly atop the damp metal stairs rocking to-and-fro with the seaborn sway of the ferry anyway and her backup had arrived so maybe it wasn't the worst situation on Earth to just walk upstairs and reveal herself.
Which she did. With one hand on the stair railing and the other pointing her harpoon downward, she pulled herself up and stood straight. Mariko walked upstairs, and—
"Jesus H., quiz-man," she said, "you don't look too good."¹
But the situation did, because Seth had the right color bandana, and she'd already struck a deal with the dashing rouge with the polearm. Mariko eased her posture and relaxed her shoulders as she made it to the top of the stairs. Someone got to the combat encounter before she did. Which left what, some dialogue? Might as well skip to the end and just start handing out experience points at this point, because Mariko didn't see any troubles with that. Smooth sailing, to get a head-start on the boat puns.
"Kam," she said across the deck, "it's good to see you."²
But she wasn't giving him the order to stand down just yet.
Not in a killing position. That meant 'no weapons.'
Smoke 'em if you got 'em. That meant 'come up and kill me scrub-lord, I'm ripped.'
Or it meant light up and party out on the deck with us. Either way, it was Classic Ivan. Always a showman, even if it didn't really make sense.
Before she could move up, though, she heard another voice with a rejoinder on the opposite stairwell. Kamille's voice. And it sounded like he'd already moved up to the top step. Fuck! If she'd known he was right behind her, she would've just waited for him to go up first before she blew her cover. Now it was clear to Ivan and whoever else that there were two, coming up, to tango, and maybe it was just the whiskey talking but she was tired of crouching on toe-point half-folded at the belly atop the damp metal stairs rocking to-and-fro with the seaborn sway of the ferry anyway and her backup had arrived so maybe it wasn't the worst situation on Earth to just walk upstairs and reveal herself.
Which she did. With one hand on the stair railing and the other pointing her harpoon downward, she pulled herself up and stood straight. Mariko walked upstairs, and—
"Jesus H., quiz-man," she said, "you don't look too good."¹
But the situation did, because Seth had the right color bandana, and she'd already struck a deal with the dashing rouge with the polearm. Mariko eased her posture and relaxed her shoulders as she made it to the top of the stairs. Someone got to the combat encounter before she did. Which left what, some dialogue? Might as well skip to the end and just start handing out experience points at this point, because Mariko didn't see any troubles with that. Smooth sailing, to get a head-start on the boat puns.
"Kam," she said across the deck, "it's good to see you."²
But she wasn't giving him the order to stand down just yet.
Seth stayed low, following the gesture given to him by Ivan. Normally, Seth struggled with the body language of others, and it was exhausting to follow along in a conversation. But this was easy to follow, get low or get killed.
A no-brainer really.
Droplets of cold sweat poured down from his brow as he heard Ivan call out an invitation up to them. If they had anything on them, this would be the end.
Another voice echoed out from behind them and Seth quickly spun his head around to see who it was. Kamille. Taller than him, but barely. Part of the student council, swimmer, hard worker. Different team than him, and a weapon in his hands to boot.
Footsteps from the other side as they made their way up the stairs to them
Both ends were unknowns to him. Bad news. Should have gotten out of there when they had the chance, but that moment had gone and they were left here with these two. It seemed like his game was ready to end here.
At least until Mariko walked up so they could finally see her, and the bandanna had the same color as his. A small, reflexive smile on his face as some good had happened. One of his team was here.
She seemed to be on the same page as Kamille, even though neither were on the same team. It made some sense as not everyone was ready to fully throw down with just their teams, people wanted to find their friends, hunker down and maybe escape. God knows he wanted to find his right now and stay with them.
But he couldn’t, he needed to play this smart if he wanted to live. He was not like Ivan.
So he’d accept this for now, but it could be troublesome in the future.
Seth coughed into his elbow before he spoke carefully with his words to Kamille.
“I found him strung up here by his legs.” He said, trying to make his voice as deep as he could as he eyed that weapon he had. Familiarity between the two be damned, he wasn’t going to let his guard down.
“Someone had left him here after doing all that.” He gestured open palmed, up and down in Ivan’s general direction.
“I helped get him down with Rhonda and Xander. They fucked off before you got here.” He kept the mention of a shotgun for himself, if they somehow had missed the large boom that had echoed across this area then that was for the better.
A no-brainer really.
Droplets of cold sweat poured down from his brow as he heard Ivan call out an invitation up to them. If they had anything on them, this would be the end.
Another voice echoed out from behind them and Seth quickly spun his head around to see who it was. Kamille. Taller than him, but barely. Part of the student council, swimmer, hard worker. Different team than him, and a weapon in his hands to boot.
Footsteps from the other side as they made their way up the stairs to them
Both ends were unknowns to him. Bad news. Should have gotten out of there when they had the chance, but that moment had gone and they were left here with these two. It seemed like his game was ready to end here.
At least until Mariko walked up so they could finally see her, and the bandanna had the same color as his. A small, reflexive smile on his face as some good had happened. One of his team was here.
She seemed to be on the same page as Kamille, even though neither were on the same team. It made some sense as not everyone was ready to fully throw down with just their teams, people wanted to find their friends, hunker down and maybe escape. God knows he wanted to find his right now and stay with them.
But he couldn’t, he needed to play this smart if he wanted to live. He was not like Ivan.
So he’d accept this for now, but it could be troublesome in the future.
Seth coughed into his elbow before he spoke carefully with his words to Kamille.
“I found him strung up here by his legs.” He said, trying to make his voice as deep as he could as he eyed that weapon he had. Familiarity between the two be damned, he wasn’t going to let his guard down.
“Someone had left him here after doing all that.” He gestured open palmed, up and down in Ivan’s general direction.
“I helped get him down with Rhonda and Xander. They fucked off before you got here.” He kept the mention of a shotgun for himself, if they somehow had missed the large boom that had echoed across this area then that was for the better.
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The Honeless Beard
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"Six of them," Ivan supplied, struggling to keep his left eye from wandering. Apparently, after being boot fucked by a shit kicker, that happened now. He'd never been cognizant of having to keep his eye muscled focused on the task at hand before, but here it was.
"They had bags on their faces and... I'm fine now. I'll be fine, now. They weren't even on the same fucking team."
He took a few steps away, toward the railing that surrounded the upper deck of the ferry, closer to Kamille's side than Mariko's. Just in case the two like-coloured bandanas opted to make a head start on grabbing double digits. Mariko- she'd called him quiz man, but that-
Why?
"Why quiz man? Cause I'm a puzzle?"
"They had bags on their faces and... I'm fine now. I'll be fine, now. They weren't even on the same fucking team."
He took a few steps away, toward the railing that surrounded the upper deck of the ferry, closer to Kamille's side than Mariko's. Just in case the two like-coloured bandanas opted to make a head start on grabbing double digits. Mariko- she'd called him quiz man, but that-
Why?
"Why quiz man? Cause I'm a puzzle?"