((Florentina "Tina" Luz's island start.))
She was curled up, in a fetal position, her arms wrapped around her legs that were reaching her stomach and her eyes staring at her bag. She had a blank expression, the kind of poker face that could be used to get out of any situations like when Mom or Pop asked her where she had been and coldly answered she was at friends or when she saw someone in the early hours of the morning and she appeared tough to avoid getting mugged. She avoided and escaped many situation with her poker face.
But she knew this one wouldn't be the same.
Tina stayed like that for a couple of minutes, wondering if any of this was real. Maybe she was just dreaming or perhaps she misunderstood it all. Perhaps it was a tv show and the camera crew would come in and reveal it was just a prank.
It wasn't that, though. It was real. The cameras weren't operated by anybody, they were independent, pointed in strategical location to cover every little hooks and crannies in the room. Including Tina, her pitiful awakening was broadcasted to the entire world that bothered watching the pitiful fate of an unknown class that were the unlucky ones to be kidnapped.
Tina muttered to herself, thinking out loud.
"This isn't good."
Clean as a cut and true as a mathematical theorem that she didn't study for. Her eyes adjusted themselves to the light in the room, proving another time that all of this was real. The kidnapping, the gas, the crying and the screaming they were all real. Heck, perhaps her weird dream was real too.
She tightened her grip on her legs and laid her head on her knees. Her back was against the wall, giving her a false feeling of security. She unwrapped her arms, spread her legs and propped herself up. That was better, she didn't look as weak as she used to.
Tina remember what the man said: she had to kill one person to go home. It wasn't a big number.
If she had a gun, she'd need to pull the trigger once. If she had a knife, she'd need one good slice. If she had a hammer, she'd need one good whack, or perhaps three.
What if she had something dumb like a pillow or a pack of cigarette? At least with the first one, she could smother someone but how do you kill someone with a cigarette? You gave them to someone and waited 20 years?
Fuck, that reminded her.
Cigarettes. She forgot to pack some before leaving. She remembered when sitting, searching in her purse and whispering an expletive when she realized she had none. She wanted to say that she'd kill for a cigarette but that would be very, very inappropriate in this situation.
Or was it really? Only one person could go home, and only if they had a kill. That could be Tina, or the rich boy or the guy sleeping in a bench. That could also be one of her siblings, she couldn't remember if they came or not. Celine was probably there. The school spirit queen was probably somewhere on the island, crying her eyes out. Tristan was not the kind of person to come here so he was probably back home worrying.
So, Celine was perhaps here. She went against every instincts of yelling and crying her name and made a very cold decision: she wouldn't search for her. She didn't want to see her die or suffer.
Cold but understandable.
She looked at one of the cameras. She looked away for a second, looking back at her bag then back to the camera.
"Mom? Pop? Tristan, Amelia, everyone that's still home? Do yourself a favor and.... don't watch."
That's all. Nothing else needed to be talked about. No monologue or soliloquy, nothing fancy. Tina would be boring, uninteresting. She'd make sure she'd give the worst show ever but still try to keep herself alive.
She just needed one kill to go home, and that'd be only thing she'd need to see her family again. Would they still love her? Yeah, they would. She heard stories and Luz protecting each others no matter what they did. Murder was easily acceptable, especially in the situation she was in.
Florentina grabbed her bag and stood up. She put the sling over her shoulders and unzipped the bag. Her eyes landed on her key to head back home.
A handgun. Two full magazines sitting beside it. There was many rap song about shooting a handgun and popping someone in the head. Was it really that easy as 50 Cents and Lil' Kim made it appear? She would know soon enough.
She wasn't even sure rappers rapped about that. She listen to rap music because the beats were good, but she only listened to the lyrics when they were clear. MC Ride, CupcakKe, Lil' Kim and Nicki Minaj all had one thing in common: they were black but that wasn't the case she was trying to make. They all came from less-than-favorable background. Homelessness, addiction, abortion, pain, abuse, all these kind of things peppered their lives and made them stronger. Tina decided to be like them.
She grabbed it. The handgun was heavy, heavier than she would have thought. Her fingers went on the trigger and she raised it, aiming for a table nearby. She pulled it.
Nothing.
She grabbed the instruction and stared at it. She read it in diagonal: how to reload the 7 bullets capacities magazine,how to clean, how to remove the security and-
How to remove the security, exactly what she needed. She flipped it off and squeezed the trigger again.
It sounded like a firecracker that started right beside Tina's ears. Her face went from a neutral expression to a scared one. That made a lot more noise she expected. She had heard gun shots in the past and seen guns but having one in her hand and shooting with it was different. It felt weird.
The gun buzzed in her hand, it felt hot, it made a sound her ears hated, it fired a deadly projectile that made a hole in the table and it felt strange to have a combat tool in her possession.
These sensations were needed however. She didn't to hear the buzzing in her ears to get out alive therefore she forced herself to enjoy.
Now, she just had to wait for someone to come in, attracted by the noise.
Lord of the Luz
open
Bridgette was supposed to be relaxing.
The past few weeks were spent studying nonstop for her finals. While most of her peers were already claimed by senioritis, she knew better. She needed to finish her senior year off strong, and make a good impression to college. Even if it didn’t matter, Bridgette just didn’t feel comfortable going into an exam unprepared - the result of years of diligence and neuroticism.
But of course, she knew that last-minute studying didn’t help anyone. If Bridgette studied hard enough in the past several weeks (which she had), she was already prepared to ace her finals. Then she’d enjoy her summer, go to college, and build a future for herself.
For now, she was content to enjoy her day at the aquarium.
Or at least, she was supposed to.
G26, Bridgette Sommerfeld: START
Bridgette was spending her first moments of lucidity bringing herself down from a panic attack. She was hyperventilating, clutching her stomach, her eyes glued to the ceiling. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake, or even where she was. Her mind was racing, playing Mr. Dolph’s death on repeat in her head, and then that strange man’s monologue. If she’d known what he was saying was a matter of life and death, maybe she would’ve paid attention.
It was hard to focus when a corpse was slumped over a few rows in front of you.
A gunshot - a real one this time - brought her back to her senses. Her frantic heart came to a standstill, and she even stopped breathing. For a split second, Bridgette was paralyzed. But as it passed, she became increasingly aware of her situation. She was lying on a cool tile floor, and cooking utensils were hanging above her. Bridgette lifted herself up as slowly as possible, not making a sound as she surveyed the room. The kitchen she was in was bigger than she’d expected, and she’d been lying in a small aisle between counters. To her left, under a sink, was a black duffel bag she assumed was hers.
She wasn’t calmed. On the contrary, Bridgette was still more stressed than she’d ever been in her life. Sure, she always perceived that her life was on the line, but never this literally. Somebody very close buy had a gun, and maybe she’d just heard somebody die.
Bridgette quietly dragged the duffel bag towards her, praying that she’d be able to avoid the same fate.
The past few weeks were spent studying nonstop for her finals. While most of her peers were already claimed by senioritis, she knew better. She needed to finish her senior year off strong, and make a good impression to college. Even if it didn’t matter, Bridgette just didn’t feel comfortable going into an exam unprepared - the result of years of diligence and neuroticism.
But of course, she knew that last-minute studying didn’t help anyone. If Bridgette studied hard enough in the past several weeks (which she had), she was already prepared to ace her finals. Then she’d enjoy her summer, go to college, and build a future for herself.
For now, she was content to enjoy her day at the aquarium.
Or at least, she was supposed to.
G26, Bridgette Sommerfeld: START
Bridgette was spending her first moments of lucidity bringing herself down from a panic attack. She was hyperventilating, clutching her stomach, her eyes glued to the ceiling. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake, or even where she was. Her mind was racing, playing Mr. Dolph’s death on repeat in her head, and then that strange man’s monologue. If she’d known what he was saying was a matter of life and death, maybe she would’ve paid attention.
It was hard to focus when a corpse was slumped over a few rows in front of you.
A gunshot - a real one this time - brought her back to her senses. Her frantic heart came to a standstill, and she even stopped breathing. For a split second, Bridgette was paralyzed. But as it passed, she became increasingly aware of her situation. She was lying on a cool tile floor, and cooking utensils were hanging above her. Bridgette lifted herself up as slowly as possible, not making a sound as she surveyed the room. The kitchen she was in was bigger than she’d expected, and she’d been lying in a small aisle between counters. To her left, under a sink, was a black duffel bag she assumed was hers.
She wasn’t calmed. On the contrary, Bridgette was still more stressed than she’d ever been in her life. Sure, she always perceived that her life was on the line, but never this literally. Somebody very close buy had a gun, and maybe she’d just heard somebody die.
Bridgette quietly dragged the duffel bag towards her, praying that she’d be able to avoid the same fate.
If Tina's ears didn't buzzed from the gunshot, she would have probably heard the sound of a bag being dragged softly on the floor. Instead, she heard nothing but the sharp breathing noise she was making.
Now that she shot a hole in a table, she didn't know what to do. That was her only plan, shoot something that wasn't alive then shoot something that was alive that was her peer then wait until it was over. She crumpled the piece of paper that was the instruction and threw them away. She waited but nobody came.
She didn't know what to do so it took her a few seconds before processing her next plan of action. Her eyes scanned the room, it was some kind of cafeteria with a kitchen nearby. There was a big window seperating the two rooms. It was filthy, it had hand prints on it and smears of what she assumed was food.
She raised her handgun, putting her right hand around the grip this time, aimed carefully at the window and pulled the trigger twice.
Now that she shot a hole in a table, she didn't know what to do. That was her only plan, shoot something that wasn't alive then shoot something that was alive that was her peer then wait until it was over. She crumpled the piece of paper that was the instruction and threw them away. She waited but nobody came.
She didn't know what to do so it took her a few seconds before processing her next plan of action. Her eyes scanned the room, it was some kind of cafeteria with a kitchen nearby. There was a big window seperating the two rooms. It was filthy, it had hand prints on it and smears of what she assumed was food.
She raised her handgun, putting her right hand around the grip this time, aimed carefully at the window and pulled the trigger twice.
A knife. That’s what was given to her.
While Bridgette was certain that everything else in her bag was of equal importance, the knife caught her attention first. It was placed neatly on top of everything else, and the metallic glint of the blade caught her eye. That, and she needed something to defend herself against the gun next door.
But was this going to cut it?
She was still staring blankly at her hands, idly turning the knife over. Sure, it was fancier than a regular old kitchen knife - it was probably some sort of special military-grade combat knife no civilian would even need to see - but it still wouldn’t do much against a gun. Her eyes wandered over to the duffel bag, and she spotted a slip of paper she’d missed the first time. Bridgette reached over and fished it out, squinting to read the small print.
What the hell was a ballistic kni-
Two more gunshots rang out, much louder and closer. Bridgette immediately ducked, mustering all her strength to suppress a yelp of surprise. The sound of thousands of glass shards scattering across the floor filled her ears, and she realized to her horror that someone was shooting their way in. She frantically looked around for something, anything that could protect her from a bullet better than a knife could. The only things she could find were the pans hanging directly above her, which could probably deflect bullets better than anything else at her disposal.
But they were so high up. Bridgette was cross-legged on the floor, tucked safely under a counter and out of sight of any window. If she stood up they’d definitely see her, and gun her down without hesitation. The only thing that could help her was out of reach, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Bridgette tried to stifle dry heaves as she frantically dug through her duffel bag. There had to be something of use in there.
While Bridgette was certain that everything else in her bag was of equal importance, the knife caught her attention first. It was placed neatly on top of everything else, and the metallic glint of the blade caught her eye. That, and she needed something to defend herself against the gun next door.
But was this going to cut it?
She was still staring blankly at her hands, idly turning the knife over. Sure, it was fancier than a regular old kitchen knife - it was probably some sort of special military-grade combat knife no civilian would even need to see - but it still wouldn’t do much against a gun. Her eyes wandered over to the duffel bag, and she spotted a slip of paper she’d missed the first time. Bridgette reached over and fished it out, squinting to read the small print.
What the hell was a ballistic kni-
Two more gunshots rang out, much louder and closer. Bridgette immediately ducked, mustering all her strength to suppress a yelp of surprise. The sound of thousands of glass shards scattering across the floor filled her ears, and she realized to her horror that someone was shooting their way in. She frantically looked around for something, anything that could protect her from a bullet better than a knife could. The only things she could find were the pans hanging directly above her, which could probably deflect bullets better than anything else at her disposal.
But they were so high up. Bridgette was cross-legged on the floor, tucked safely under a counter and out of sight of any window. If she stood up they’d definitely see her, and gun her down without hesitation. The only thing that could help her was out of reach, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Bridgette tried to stifle dry heaves as she frantically dug through her duffel bag. There had to be something of use in there.
Tina had 4 bullets left and there was still nobody in sight. Something was wrong and something felt wrong. She had shot a table and a window but no people yet.
She sighed and looked around. Why couldn't people come to her and she could just shoot them? That'd easier. Instead they heard the gunshots and they probably ran away.
Tina had no other reasons to stay here. She sighed another time but louder this time. She made her way to the door that led to the outside. But she stopped right in her tracks when she touched the door with her right hand.
Her gun still had bullets in it.
She looked at it, she looked at the window that was shattered. She could see a couple of pans swaying softly right to left from what she assumed was an air current.
She raised her gun, aimed and pulled the trigger 4 times.
First bullet landed on a pan and made it fell to the ground. She kinda enjoyed the sound it made when it hit the ground.
Bullet number two landed on a piece of glass that was still miraculously hanging, spreading glass shards in the room.
Bullet number three was a total miss: it landed on the counter where the food was transferred from the kitchen to the cafeteria.
The last bullet hit a second pan, but this one didn't fall. It taunted Tina, she kinda wanted to put another magazine in her gun and fire again but she chose otherwise.
She loaded another a magazine inside the gun and walked away.
She sighed and looked around. Why couldn't people come to her and she could just shoot them? That'd easier. Instead they heard the gunshots and they probably ran away.
Tina had no other reasons to stay here. She sighed another time but louder this time. She made her way to the door that led to the outside. But she stopped right in her tracks when she touched the door with her right hand.
Her gun still had bullets in it.
She looked at it, she looked at the window that was shattered. She could see a couple of pans swaying softly right to left from what she assumed was an air current.
She raised her gun, aimed and pulled the trigger 4 times.
First bullet landed on a pan and made it fell to the ground. She kinda enjoyed the sound it made when it hit the ground.
Bullet number two landed on a piece of glass that was still miraculously hanging, spreading glass shards in the room.
Bullet number three was a total miss: it landed on the counter where the food was transferred from the kitchen to the cafeteria.
The last bullet hit a second pan, but this one didn't fall. It taunted Tina, she kinda wanted to put another magazine in her gun and fire again but she chose otherwise.
She loaded another a magazine inside the gun and walked away.
The bag had nothing else important - scratch that, they were important, but not to the situation at hand. Unless a flashlight was going to save her from active shooter.
The loudest gunshot by far rang out, hitting something right above her. Bridgette looked up just in time to see one of the pans clatter to the floor, barely missing her foot. She jerked her leg back towards her body, and opted to curl up against the counter, head in her knees and hands covering the nape of her neck. Whoever was outside kept shooting into the room, but thankfully, nothing else hit her. After the gunshots died down, she heard the sound of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, until it was silent.
Bridgette waited before unfurling herself. For the first time since she’d woken up, she peeked her head over the counter. Whoever had been shooting did a number on the kitchen, but at least they were gone now. Bridgette picked up the pan that had fallen to the floor, grimacing as she saw the dent the bullet had made in the metal.
Well, at least she survived her first shootout. The first of many, Bridgette grimly reminded herself as she surveyed the rest of the kitchen. The window on the wall across from her was shattered, leaving an opening into a large cafeteria. The entire room was still, and she thanked god that the shooter had wandered off.
Hopefully not coming back.
Bridgette picked up the duffel bag and plopped it on the table, taking her inventory now that she wasn’t in direct danger. The danger had simply retreated into the shadows, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. She was always aware of it, lurking nearby, but she was glad for her temporary respite.
There was a map neatly folded inside, which she smoothed out on the counter to survey. She was somewhere towards the center of the island, and free to go almost anywhere. Bridgette wanted to plan some sort of route, but her mind blanked as she stared at the map. She knew she was going to hide out somewhere, but where? In the ruins of buildings to the south, or the wilderness to the north? As she looked down at the dented pan, she decided that her peers were most likely to go to the buildings. So north it was.
Bridgette put everything back in the bag, except her knife and the compass. After some consideration, Bridgette grabbed one of the undamaged pans and stowed it inside as well. It wasn’t great, but it’d do as a makeshift shield.
She didn’t plan to linger here. Who knows what kind of people those gunshots were attracting? Bridgette exited the kitchen and walked outside, into the sunshine. The cool breeze felt nice against her skin, and the air was fresher than anything she’d ever breathed back in New Jersey. From an objective standpoint, it wasn’t a bad place to die.
But Bridgette didn’t plan on dying here.
((Bridgette Sommerfeld continued in I Am The Lie, I Am The Liar))
The loudest gunshot by far rang out, hitting something right above her. Bridgette looked up just in time to see one of the pans clatter to the floor, barely missing her foot. She jerked her leg back towards her body, and opted to curl up against the counter, head in her knees and hands covering the nape of her neck. Whoever was outside kept shooting into the room, but thankfully, nothing else hit her. After the gunshots died down, she heard the sound of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, until it was silent.
Bridgette waited before unfurling herself. For the first time since she’d woken up, she peeked her head over the counter. Whoever had been shooting did a number on the kitchen, but at least they were gone now. Bridgette picked up the pan that had fallen to the floor, grimacing as she saw the dent the bullet had made in the metal.
Well, at least she survived her first shootout. The first of many, Bridgette grimly reminded herself as she surveyed the rest of the kitchen. The window on the wall across from her was shattered, leaving an opening into a large cafeteria. The entire room was still, and she thanked god that the shooter had wandered off.
Hopefully not coming back.
Bridgette picked up the duffel bag and plopped it on the table, taking her inventory now that she wasn’t in direct danger. The danger had simply retreated into the shadows, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. She was always aware of it, lurking nearby, but she was glad for her temporary respite.
There was a map neatly folded inside, which she smoothed out on the counter to survey. She was somewhere towards the center of the island, and free to go almost anywhere. Bridgette wanted to plan some sort of route, but her mind blanked as she stared at the map. She knew she was going to hide out somewhere, but where? In the ruins of buildings to the south, or the wilderness to the north? As she looked down at the dented pan, she decided that her peers were most likely to go to the buildings. So north it was.
Bridgette put everything back in the bag, except her knife and the compass. After some consideration, Bridgette grabbed one of the undamaged pans and stowed it inside as well. It wasn’t great, but it’d do as a makeshift shield.
She didn’t plan to linger here. Who knows what kind of people those gunshots were attracting? Bridgette exited the kitchen and walked outside, into the sunshine. The cool breeze felt nice against her skin, and the air was fresher than anything she’d ever breathed back in New Jersey. From an objective standpoint, it wasn’t a bad place to die.
But Bridgette didn’t plan on dying here.
((Bridgette Sommerfeld continued in I Am The Lie, I Am The Liar))