((Michael Crowe continued from The Activity of Inactivity.))
Michael had spent the last hour staring at his own reflection in the window. Well, maybe not his reflection, but the reflection of his mask staring back. His eyes focused on the form's shades, and how even they had a reflection of his form staring back. If he looked closely he could see that he was looking to at least ten of himself.
He hadn't gotten a chance to look at himself since... you know happened. He wondered if he should take off the mask, and try to assess the damage again, maybe guesstimate how he'd look when it healed up. A part of him didn't want to find out. A part of him hated how his mind had to wonder around when he had nothing to do.
Michael's eyes trailed down to the rum bottle in his hand. This shit certainly didn't fuckin' help. He'd never drunk before, never touched a cigarette, never smoked a joint, nothing, he was straight edge. He couldn't hold it against anyone though, he had his own vices, like slapping around smug ass underclassmen who thought they were hot shit. Straight edge? More like, straight edgy amirite fellas?! Still, he'd never drank before this, but if there was a time or a reason, both would probably apply now.
There was no reason for him to be a Debby Down though, he had this! They had this! They had this by the balls! He wasn't gonna worry about what happened, he had to focus on what was gonna happen. To him this medical mask might as well be his face now, and you know what, that shit was okay. It was okay because he'd survive this, he'd show them he'd survive, and it wouldn't just be him neither. They had this, they had the whole enchilada right there.
Like, look at the facts, he'd found a steady group, they found a decent place to hold up in, he knew there were other like minded people out there. Really things were looking up, to be honest, especially compared to the earlier days. He wasn't being stalked by a psycho maniac anymore for one, and two if he could help put together a group this big, maybe he could help make it bigger. He could find Ev, Scarlett, Maxwell, Felicia, Ramona, hell maybe even Zubin. Then if Adonis comes back, that's at least like eleven people. They could work with that, they could set up an S.O.S or something. Then Seal Team Six will pop up to rescue everyone, and leaked images of Danya with his brains splattered all over the pavement will find it's way across the internet, and things will be good again.
Like shit, imagine that. Imagine shit went right for once? Wouldn't that be great?
"Fuck it, I'll drink to that." He spoke to himself, as he brought the bottle to his lips, raising his mask.
The Whole Enchilada
Day Five, Daytime!
The Whole Enchilada
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
((Chuck Soileaux continued from A Detour from God.))
Chuck was asleep.
And at the same moment that Michael brought the bottle to his lips, a loud, inelegant snore rippled throughout the room. That snore, somehow, seemed to carry on for four syllables, each one adopting a different pitch and tone. Chuck didn't normally snore, but...well, his time on the island had done a number on him. So, if occasional ugly snores were the worst symptom, Chuck would have to consider himself lucky.
He had curled up on one of the pews, using his bag, sans crossbow, as an impromptu pillow, the Boo hat dragged over his eyes as a kind of improvised sleeping mask. If his senses were obscured, then perhaps his mind could wander. Into the land of imagination, of out of the box thinking. Perhaps that was where an escape plan would form.
He had some ideas. He still wanted to...redeem Lance's optimism. Ensure his novel attempt at coded communication would pay off in some form. But the only ideas he had so far required a microwave and several hundred feet of rope.
And were forgotten as he woke up.
Chuck had startled himself awake with his snoring.
"Ah fuck."
A nicer alarm than the announcements.
Chuck was asleep.
And at the same moment that Michael brought the bottle to his lips, a loud, inelegant snore rippled throughout the room. That snore, somehow, seemed to carry on for four syllables, each one adopting a different pitch and tone. Chuck didn't normally snore, but...well, his time on the island had done a number on him. So, if occasional ugly snores were the worst symptom, Chuck would have to consider himself lucky.
He had curled up on one of the pews, using his bag, sans crossbow, as an impromptu pillow, the Boo hat dragged over his eyes as a kind of improvised sleeping mask. If his senses were obscured, then perhaps his mind could wander. Into the land of imagination, of out of the box thinking. Perhaps that was where an escape plan would form.
He had some ideas. He still wanted to...redeem Lance's optimism. Ensure his novel attempt at coded communication would pay off in some form. But the only ideas he had so far required a microwave and several hundred feet of rope.
And were forgotten as he woke up.
Chuck had startled himself awake with his snoring.
"Ah fuck."
A nicer alarm than the announcements.
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
((Natali Greer continued from The Cape of No Hope))
The pews were uncomfortable, but they were a place for her to sit, and so she stayed. She stayed in one next to the altar, if only because it was furthest from the only exit and entrance in the building.
Natali slept. Well, she had slept. It definitely wasn't a good sleep by any meaning of the word "good", but after having run on fumes for so long, she supposed it was a good thing that she was able to get any sort of rest at all here. Count your blessings, and all of that. There weren't many blessings to go on, really, but anything to keep on going. Some fuel to light the fire, keep her going despite her flagging brain and the bags under her eyes.
Really, it should've been easy to blame her sleep on that, just simple stress, but she knew the real reason why those bits of sleep were so fleeting and short-lived.
It wasn't just the fear of death, it was the fear of what was going to be on the announcements that morning. The realization that all of her work to live, the bullet through Aria's brain, were going to be laid out, plain as paper. Spit out by Danya, in that sarcastic voice, and then everyone would know what she had done.
A frightening thought popped into Nat's mind as she continued to sit on the pews, nervous hands reaching for the metal salvation within her bag. Aria definitely could have had friends, friends that definitely could be here in this church, ones who wanted to get their rightful comeuppance, that taste of bittersweet revenge. Just as soon as she built herself up, it would all fal down, and maybe it was paranoia, but maybe it was right, and she just kept on sitting on the pew, unwilling to let go of the death grip on her bag, but unwilling to push her hand in just a bit more, and grab the gun. Grab it, and never let go.
All the reasons for just grabbing the gun and getting out were on the wall, ready for her to just go and take it, but maybe she just had to wait a while, see what was what. Maybe she was just trying to be smart.
Maybe she was just scared.
The pews were uncomfortable, but they were a place for her to sit, and so she stayed. She stayed in one next to the altar, if only because it was furthest from the only exit and entrance in the building.
Natali slept. Well, she had slept. It definitely wasn't a good sleep by any meaning of the word "good", but after having run on fumes for so long, she supposed it was a good thing that she was able to get any sort of rest at all here. Count your blessings, and all of that. There weren't many blessings to go on, really, but anything to keep on going. Some fuel to light the fire, keep her going despite her flagging brain and the bags under her eyes.
Really, it should've been easy to blame her sleep on that, just simple stress, but she knew the real reason why those bits of sleep were so fleeting and short-lived.
It wasn't just the fear of death, it was the fear of what was going to be on the announcements that morning. The realization that all of her work to live, the bullet through Aria's brain, were going to be laid out, plain as paper. Spit out by Danya, in that sarcastic voice, and then everyone would know what she had done.
A frightening thought popped into Nat's mind as she continued to sit on the pews, nervous hands reaching for the metal salvation within her bag. Aria definitely could have had friends, friends that definitely could be here in this church, ones who wanted to get their rightful comeuppance, that taste of bittersweet revenge. Just as soon as she built herself up, it would all fal down, and maybe it was paranoia, but maybe it was right, and she just kept on sitting on the pew, unwilling to let go of the death grip on her bag, but unwilling to push her hand in just a bit more, and grab the gun. Grab it, and never let go.
All the reasons for just grabbing the gun and getting out were on the wall, ready for her to just go and take it, but maybe she just had to wait a while, see what was what. Maybe she was just trying to be smart.
Maybe she was just scared.
[[Kyran Dean Continued From: The Activity of Inactivity.]]
"He's dehydrated..."
"Stay calm, breathe. Breathe, through your nose. Nice, slow, deep breaths now. Okay. So, we can get your breathing right under control. Someone hold his legs please, thanks. You're in good hands buddy. We're right here with you alright, you'll stay with us."
"Can you hear us. You still with us? You still there, right? Hey! Oh my god."
"Oh, oh, his eyes are rolling back. Focus. Slow! Breathe through your nose. Stay with me- stay with me. Okay, okay."
"Want me to pour some water on his head?"
"Yep."
"More water. We got to help bring his temperature down."
"Nice deep breaths, alright. Can you still hear me? Okay, I see you nodding."
Shakes and cramping. Mouth moving, but only a rasp. Hand up. Here, I'm here.
"Wait. Don't get up, lay down, stay down. Here, give him just a little, a little tiny drink. Don't want him choking."
"So, what do we do now?"
"We just need to make rounds with him and give him water. That's all we can to do."
"What about food? Should I give him some of these?"
"Yep. For tomorrow."
What the- what is this. Where the heck was he? The last thing he could remember was some weird dream involving seagulls and Michael Crowe.
Kyran looked around at the entirely unfamiliar room. This definitely wasn't his room. He had never been nor seen it before. It was super old-fashioned and was lacking a fist shaped hole in the wall.
There however, was glass, the multi-colored kind you see in some church windows, littering the old musty carpeting and he knew he wasn't responsible for that part. Wait a minute, church. He was laying in a parish of some kind. Or the backroom of one probably. Like where the reverends or sisters would hang out right before or right after their Sunday mornings. Not that he really paid much particular attention to religion stuff. But what the heck was he doing in here. Unless. He was dead. That's what it was wasn't it. Dean, you dummy. You dare-deviled or did some dumb-shit one too many times and paid for it this time.
What, no he wasn't dead. He could feel his nose, it was sort of numb, sort of hurting, as well as a minor throbbing on the back of his head. Kind of like a day after feeling when you sleep and wake up after having been punched right in the face or landing head first onto the ground after some failed flip trick or getting a massive 'katoosh' from an opposing cornerback. His body also felt completely spent. Like aching the morning after a lengthy work out session. Except worse. Nothing he wasn't used to by now though.
A mixture of a grunt and yawn escaped Kyran's mouth as he pulled at the arm rests of this sofa-bench-thing he had been laying on. He was still wearing his shoes, which means he had probably passed out in pure exhaustion. Kyran absentmindedly gazed forward, eyes adjusting to the morning light through the chapel window.
Crackers. Was that a tin of crackers set on that desk next to an energy bar, a bottle of water and what Kyran could only assume was a stack of bibles? It was at this moment, Kyran realized he was extremely thirsty. He lifted himself to his feet, feeling a sick swaying feeling throughout his entire self. He grabbed the bottle, sipped at it at first, then gulped it down in chugs, like he had just gotten off practice near the coach set tables of McDonald's coolers filled with Gatorade.
Water was warm, like not even the good, satisfying kind of water that would make you say, 'hey that is some delicious water' either. It was like food storage water, kept there and forgotten about until the next news forecast of some kind of natural disaster came up and mom would say 'see good thing we were prepared' - Yet: It was the most refreshing feeling he had felt drinking anything, in quite some time.
The water flowed down, his coarse, dried throat, washing it thoroughly, soaking his esophagus or whatever the water-tube part was called, back to life. He coughed up a bit of it from drinking too fast, but it didn't take away from the fact that the whole experience felt like absolute ecstasy. Words this Dean would never really use, unless having an orgasmic reaction to drinking water.
It wasn't until he was done finishing the bottle up greedily, like Jason did yesterday that he realized he was also mega-hungry. So, he took the energy bar, peeled it open and- wait a minute. Jason. Where did he get that memory of Jason chugging down a bottle of water, so fresh in his mind?
Kyran touched his face, his nose, the crusted blood brought irritating thoughts of Adonis punching him there. This was all starting to feel down-right uncomfortable. He chewed on the energy bar, savoring what he could get from it as he began to pace slowly through the room. It was slowly starting to come back. He'd spent an extended amount of time with that prick Alba and even started to remember what they were talking and where they were. A quarry, about a home-base, about names. Oh crud.
Yeah, he remembered the bus now. The kidnapping. This messed up terrorists run 'game'.
But why was he alone in a church. How did he get here? He couldn't remember much. No wait, he was wrong. There were voices, others here, on the other side of that door, in what was probably the main part of the church with the pews and the altars. Even through the muffled noise, none of them sounded like Jason or Adonis.
It was déjà vu all over again, when he had woken up to voices in the warehouse, where Chop Susie and Captain Ahab planned to kill him. That wasn't going to happen. Didn't he have a gun? Well, not anymore it was gone.
His eyes scanned the room, for something, anything he could wield to defend himself for a potential attack. There was nothing, except bibles and he wasn't about to hit someone with any kind of holy scripture, religious or not. Just you know, doesn't feel right doing that.
There. In a corner hollow of the wall, near some items of worship, was a candlestick. If all those memes about Colonel Mustard were right about this, then he could probably use that. At least he hoped. He walked a couple steps toward the hollow, only to trip over an unseen foot-rest, dropping the energy bar in the process. An audible crash of books and miscellaneous objects hitting the ground echoed through the parish.
Darn it, he messed up. Who put that there.
Kyran quickly gathered himself, snatching the candlestick and hid near the doorframe.
"He's dehydrated..."
"Stay calm, breathe. Breathe, through your nose. Nice, slow, deep breaths now. Okay. So, we can get your breathing right under control. Someone hold his legs please, thanks. You're in good hands buddy. We're right here with you alright, you'll stay with us."
"Can you hear us. You still with us? You still there, right? Hey! Oh my god."
"Oh, oh, his eyes are rolling back. Focus. Slow! Breathe through your nose. Stay with me- stay with me. Okay, okay."
"Want me to pour some water on his head?"
"Yep."
"More water. We got to help bring his temperature down."
"Nice deep breaths, alright. Can you still hear me? Okay, I see you nodding."
Shakes and cramping. Mouth moving, but only a rasp. Hand up. Here, I'm here.
"Wait. Don't get up, lay down, stay down. Here, give him just a little, a little tiny drink. Don't want him choking."
"So, what do we do now?"
"We just need to make rounds with him and give him water. That's all we can to do."
"What about food? Should I give him some of these?"
"Yep. For tomorrow."
What the- what is this. Where the heck was he? The last thing he could remember was some weird dream involving seagulls and Michael Crowe.
Kyran looked around at the entirely unfamiliar room. This definitely wasn't his room. He had never been nor seen it before. It was super old-fashioned and was lacking a fist shaped hole in the wall.
There however, was glass, the multi-colored kind you see in some church windows, littering the old musty carpeting and he knew he wasn't responsible for that part. Wait a minute, church. He was laying in a parish of some kind. Or the backroom of one probably. Like where the reverends or sisters would hang out right before or right after their Sunday mornings. Not that he really paid much particular attention to religion stuff. But what the heck was he doing in here. Unless. He was dead. That's what it was wasn't it. Dean, you dummy. You dare-deviled or did some dumb-shit one too many times and paid for it this time.
What, no he wasn't dead. He could feel his nose, it was sort of numb, sort of hurting, as well as a minor throbbing on the back of his head. Kind of like a day after feeling when you sleep and wake up after having been punched right in the face or landing head first onto the ground after some failed flip trick or getting a massive 'katoosh' from an opposing cornerback. His body also felt completely spent. Like aching the morning after a lengthy work out session. Except worse. Nothing he wasn't used to by now though.
A mixture of a grunt and yawn escaped Kyran's mouth as he pulled at the arm rests of this sofa-bench-thing he had been laying on. He was still wearing his shoes, which means he had probably passed out in pure exhaustion. Kyran absentmindedly gazed forward, eyes adjusting to the morning light through the chapel window.
Crackers. Was that a tin of crackers set on that desk next to an energy bar, a bottle of water and what Kyran could only assume was a stack of bibles? It was at this moment, Kyran realized he was extremely thirsty. He lifted himself to his feet, feeling a sick swaying feeling throughout his entire self. He grabbed the bottle, sipped at it at first, then gulped it down in chugs, like he had just gotten off practice near the coach set tables of McDonald's coolers filled with Gatorade.
Water was warm, like not even the good, satisfying kind of water that would make you say, 'hey that is some delicious water' either. It was like food storage water, kept there and forgotten about until the next news forecast of some kind of natural disaster came up and mom would say 'see good thing we were prepared' - Yet: It was the most refreshing feeling he had felt drinking anything, in quite some time.
The water flowed down, his coarse, dried throat, washing it thoroughly, soaking his esophagus or whatever the water-tube part was called, back to life. He coughed up a bit of it from drinking too fast, but it didn't take away from the fact that the whole experience felt like absolute ecstasy. Words this Dean would never really use, unless having an orgasmic reaction to drinking water.
It wasn't until he was done finishing the bottle up greedily, like Jason did yesterday that he realized he was also mega-hungry. So, he took the energy bar, peeled it open and- wait a minute. Jason. Where did he get that memory of Jason chugging down a bottle of water, so fresh in his mind?
Kyran touched his face, his nose, the crusted blood brought irritating thoughts of Adonis punching him there. This was all starting to feel down-right uncomfortable. He chewed on the energy bar, savoring what he could get from it as he began to pace slowly through the room. It was slowly starting to come back. He'd spent an extended amount of time with that prick Alba and even started to remember what they were talking and where they were. A quarry, about a home-base, about names. Oh crud.
Yeah, he remembered the bus now. The kidnapping. This messed up terrorists run 'game'.
But why was he alone in a church. How did he get here? He couldn't remember much. No wait, he was wrong. There were voices, others here, on the other side of that door, in what was probably the main part of the church with the pews and the altars. Even through the muffled noise, none of them sounded like Jason or Adonis.
It was déjà vu all over again, when he had woken up to voices in the warehouse, where Chop Susie and Captain Ahab planned to kill him. That wasn't going to happen. Didn't he have a gun? Well, not anymore it was gone.
His eyes scanned the room, for something, anything he could wield to defend himself for a potential attack. There was nothing, except bibles and he wasn't about to hit someone with any kind of holy scripture, religious or not. Just you know, doesn't feel right doing that.
There. In a corner hollow of the wall, near some items of worship, was a candlestick. If all those memes about Colonel Mustard were right about this, then he could probably use that. At least he hoped. He walked a couple steps toward the hollow, only to trip over an unseen foot-rest, dropping the energy bar in the process. An audible crash of books and miscellaneous objects hitting the ground echoed through the parish.
Darn it, he messed up. Who put that there.
Kyran quickly gathered himself, snatching the candlestick and hid near the doorframe.
The clang of announcements broke Mike out of his daydreaming. He took another sip as favorite uncle Danya began to speak. He found himself choking out a laugh at the audacity of that statement.
"Hah! Favorite uncle my ass! Danya's more like the creepy fuckin' uncle who makes you keep his special little secrets when he touches you innap-"
" -know if that was her main motivation for shooting Everett Taylor full of holes. I just wanted to let you all know that it happened."
A sound not unlike running dentistry equipment filled Michael's ears as TV static began filling his peripheral vision. The hand holding the rum bottle shook as Michael stared straight ahead into the window in front of him.
Bunny Barlowe had fucking killed Everett. Ev was dead... Gone! Michael never had the chance to find him. He never had the chance to make amends for what he did. It wasn't Everett's fault for what happened to Aaron, but he didn't know that. Now he'd never.
You should have found him, but you didn't... Now he's gone and it's your fault. What's the point in pretending to help people if you aren't actually helping a bit?
Hell! Sebastian died too! Weren't you gonna try to make it up to him, to Kitty too?! How could you in the first place? It wasn't like you could raise the dead, the dead that you caused! Face it you fuckup, there's nothing you've done since this point that's really mattered.
What were you gonna do, huh? Gonna sit there and think you can make some sort of clinic for the injured? Hope that if you held out long enough people would come? It wouldn't matter, all those people would just die from the same people who's been killing over and over.
Hell... You know what you gotta do right?
Michael laid the glass bottle onto the floor under the seat before getting up.
Motherfuckers didn't know their place anymore, they were just gonna keep doing it over and over again. Bunny, Saachi, Katarina... Just keep killing and killing, because they're fuckin' animals, because it don't matter to them. You know what you had to do, didn't you.
Michael grabbed his sword and chain, and began making his way to the front door.
They were just gonna keep hunting, nobody was doing anything to stop them, so they weren't gonna stop. They needed someone to stop them. Someone had to put their fuckin' foot down, and become the law.
Someone had to bring back some order on this fucking island, and if Michael Crowe wasn't the Law, then who the fuck was? Who else was gonna bring justice to these creeps if not him? He couldn't just sit here in apathy anymore, he had to do something. He was going to do something.
Michael's hand touched the doorknob. He took one look back at Kyran, Chuck, and Natali. Would they even notice he was gone? Would it make a difference?
Could he really do this? He couldn't just sit here and do nothing, but what if they were next? What if he wasn't there to protect them? Then if he stayed who'd be next? Maxwell, Scarlett? He had to do something, but what?!
He didn't know what to do... He didn't know what to do and he hated it. He fucking hated it!
Michael reeled back, and punched a hole right through the door.
"Hah! Favorite uncle my ass! Danya's more like the creepy fuckin' uncle who makes you keep his special little secrets when he touches you innap-"
" -know if that was her main motivation for shooting Everett Taylor full of holes. I just wanted to let you all know that it happened."
A sound not unlike running dentistry equipment filled Michael's ears as TV static began filling his peripheral vision. The hand holding the rum bottle shook as Michael stared straight ahead into the window in front of him.
Bunny Barlowe had fucking killed Everett. Ev was dead... Gone! Michael never had the chance to find him. He never had the chance to make amends for what he did. It wasn't Everett's fault for what happened to Aaron, but he didn't know that. Now he'd never.
You should have found him, but you didn't... Now he's gone and it's your fault. What's the point in pretending to help people if you aren't actually helping a bit?
Hell! Sebastian died too! Weren't you gonna try to make it up to him, to Kitty too?! How could you in the first place? It wasn't like you could raise the dead, the dead that you caused! Face it you fuckup, there's nothing you've done since this point that's really mattered.
What were you gonna do, huh? Gonna sit there and think you can make some sort of clinic for the injured? Hope that if you held out long enough people would come? It wouldn't matter, all those people would just die from the same people who's been killing over and over.
Hell... You know what you gotta do right?
Michael laid the glass bottle onto the floor under the seat before getting up.
Motherfuckers didn't know their place anymore, they were just gonna keep doing it over and over again. Bunny, Saachi, Katarina... Just keep killing and killing, because they're fuckin' animals, because it don't matter to them. You know what you had to do, didn't you.
Michael grabbed his sword and chain, and began making his way to the front door.
They were just gonna keep hunting, nobody was doing anything to stop them, so they weren't gonna stop. They needed someone to stop them. Someone had to put their fuckin' foot down, and become the law.
Someone had to bring back some order on this fucking island, and if Michael Crowe wasn't the Law, then who the fuck was? Who else was gonna bring justice to these creeps if not him? He couldn't just sit here in apathy anymore, he had to do something. He was going to do something.
Michael's hand touched the doorknob. He took one look back at Kyran, Chuck, and Natali. Would they even notice he was gone? Would it make a difference?
Could he really do this? He couldn't just sit here and do nothing, but what if they were next? What if he wasn't there to protect them? Then if he stayed who'd be next? Maxwell, Scarlett? He had to do something, but what?!
He didn't know what to do... He didn't know what to do and he hated it. He fucking hated it!
Michael reeled back, and punched a hole right through the door.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Any last vestiges of tiredness Chuck had were vanquished by the arrival of the announcements. He gripped his bag's handles, and stared at the ceiling, prepared to spring into action if the parish was designated as a dangerzone. Amazing, really, how quickly he had conditioned himself to view that as the wake up call. You had to be prepared, after all. For heartbreak. For fear. For the sudden 'oh shit' of being caught in a dangerzone. For having your faith in the humanity of your classmates slowly torn away from you, bit by bit, in a visceral and gory act of verbal butchery only worsened by the stinging "wit" of Danya. Salt in the wound, that was.
Chuck preferred to focus on that, really. It was much easier to linger on the salt in the wound than the wound itself. Pettiness, at this point, felt like a luxury. David Mitchell put it best. 'Oh, I wouldn't have minded Danya causing the deaths of dozens of my friends and peers, in cutting short so many innocent lives in an act of monstrous cruelty and nauseating injustice, if only he hadn't taken such gleefully sadistic pleasure in making bad jokes along the way.'
Of course, without the murders, those jokes would have been disturbing non-sequiturs. But still. There was something mentally calming about focusing on that petty aspect. Rather than addressing the torrent of trauma and heartache head on.
Some facts settled to the forefront of his mind, in the post-announcement silence.
In reverse order, oddly.
Danger zones. The tunnels off-limits. RIP Lance's plan. Maybe they had noticed after all. The lighthouse too. Shame. There went the obvious place for sending out messages and suicide. The shipping yard and flower field were not places he'd been to. He was sad about not seeing the flower field, though.
Jason's death confirmed. Not that there was any doubt about that. No news on Adonis, though. He might still be alive.
And Natali killed Aria. While he was helpless! And blind! Okay, yeah, Chuck had to focus on that. That was the sole name he could actually find out about in any meaningful detail.
His thoughts were interrupted by Michael punching a door. He hoped he wouldn't have to waste first aid supplies on treating self-induced splinters. Chuck jumped up. "Natali, can you explain?" He hoped he didn't sound too confrontational.
Chuck preferred to focus on that, really. It was much easier to linger on the salt in the wound than the wound itself. Pettiness, at this point, felt like a luxury. David Mitchell put it best. 'Oh, I wouldn't have minded Danya causing the deaths of dozens of my friends and peers, in cutting short so many innocent lives in an act of monstrous cruelty and nauseating injustice, if only he hadn't taken such gleefully sadistic pleasure in making bad jokes along the way.'
Of course, without the murders, those jokes would have been disturbing non-sequiturs. But still. There was something mentally calming about focusing on that petty aspect. Rather than addressing the torrent of trauma and heartache head on.
Some facts settled to the forefront of his mind, in the post-announcement silence.
In reverse order, oddly.
Danger zones. The tunnels off-limits. RIP Lance's plan. Maybe they had noticed after all. The lighthouse too. Shame. There went the obvious place for sending out messages and suicide. The shipping yard and flower field were not places he'd been to. He was sad about not seeing the flower field, though.
Jason's death confirmed. Not that there was any doubt about that. No news on Adonis, though. He might still be alive.
And Natali killed Aria. While he was helpless! And blind! Okay, yeah, Chuck had to focus on that. That was the sole name he could actually find out about in any meaningful detail.
His thoughts were interrupted by Michael punching a door. He hoped he wouldn't have to waste first aid supplies on treating self-induced splinters. Chuck jumped up. "Natali, can you explain?" He hoped he didn't sound too confrontational.
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
This was the moment that she feared, this was the moment that she dreaded, and now, it all came to a head. The announcements came on, like weights and weights on top of her head, and she would have screamed if she could, but what Danya was saying was right, wasn't it? Hadn't Natali befriended a helpless boy, knowing that his death would sooner rather than later? Hadn't she been so tempted to pull the trigger, right then and there, when she had first met him? She was terrified, yeah, of killing him, of finally pulling that trigger, but she had done it, hadn't she?
Yes, she had. That was the truth, and no, it wasn't enjoyable, it wasn't good, but it was needed, wasn't it? For her to live, for her to get off this place? It was needed, yes, she could at least tell herself that if she managed to find herself a safe place far away from her, to keep her own fears at bay. No, not at bay, but fencing them in, just a bit, just enough so they didn't dominate everything she did.
At the very least, it was something to think about, and thinking about that was better than what she was currently doing, which staring at Chuck open-mouthed like a dead fish.
Honestly, being a dead fish would have been better than this current predicament. Water was always cool and refreshing, something to help center her mind. Center, center, center. She could lie to Chuck, tell him whatever he wanted to hear just so he would leave her in peace, try to conjure up the feelings of remorse within her body and spew hem out like she was trying to expel them from her body, or maybe she could play the role of the unrepentant killer, and then leave as if she didn't give a damn.
But, that wasn't right. Wasn't true. Natali had given a damn, all the damns, and for that, wasn't it right for her to want to live?
Words were about to escape her mouth, but instead she only blinked, eyes opening and closing. Up and down, shocked and scared. Aria had wanted to live too, hadn't he? Stated as much, even if he was unsure of his life afterwards. She had still done it, though. It didn't change anything in the end, anyways. She still wanted to live.
"Aria? He..he told me that he didn't want to live like that, blind and helpless. Told me that he couldn't live with that."
He hadn't told her to go shoot him in the face, but that was 90% of the truth. Hopefully that would be enough for Chuck not to notice the hand reaching for the pistol within her bag.
Yes, she had. That was the truth, and no, it wasn't enjoyable, it wasn't good, but it was needed, wasn't it? For her to live, for her to get off this place? It was needed, yes, she could at least tell herself that if she managed to find herself a safe place far away from her, to keep her own fears at bay. No, not at bay, but fencing them in, just a bit, just enough so they didn't dominate everything she did.
At the very least, it was something to think about, and thinking about that was better than what she was currently doing, which staring at Chuck open-mouthed like a dead fish.
Honestly, being a dead fish would have been better than this current predicament. Water was always cool and refreshing, something to help center her mind. Center, center, center. She could lie to Chuck, tell him whatever he wanted to hear just so he would leave her in peace, try to conjure up the feelings of remorse within her body and spew hem out like she was trying to expel them from her body, or maybe she could play the role of the unrepentant killer, and then leave as if she didn't give a damn.
But, that wasn't right. Wasn't true. Natali had given a damn, all the damns, and for that, wasn't it right for her to want to live?
Words were about to escape her mouth, but instead she only blinked, eyes opening and closing. Up and down, shocked and scared. Aria had wanted to live too, hadn't he? Stated as much, even if he was unsure of his life afterwards. She had still done it, though. It didn't change anything in the end, anyways. She still wanted to live.
"Aria? He..he told me that he didn't want to live like that, blind and helpless. Told me that he couldn't live with that."
He hadn't told her to go shoot him in the face, but that was 90% of the truth. Hopefully that would be enough for Chuck not to notice the hand reaching for the pistol within her bag.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 894
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
((Scarlett McAfee continued from Destination is Unknown))
Well, at least the parish isn't a dangerzone to you, Scarlett.
Scarlett's heart was still feeling heavy as she had heard about the killers and the victims. Now that she thought about it. She would be on the next announcement because of Tania. What would be said about what she had done? Would it be the truth? Would it be a lie? She had no clue and she had to wait and see.
She was now standing in front of the parish at the front. She was sure that she could hear voices inside. Should she go in there? Hoping that she would find someone that she knew. Should she risk her life and hope that it wouldn't be people willing to kill anyone who tried to go inside? She really-
Scarlett felt herself jump in surprise as she noticed a fist punching right through the door. That was something that she had not suspected to happen. She raised the targe up as if to shield herself and her grip had tightened on the icepick in her other hand.
"H-Hey! I'm not dangerous...! I'm trying to look for my friends!" She called out to whoever was inside and then she waited for a response from them. "I won't bother you again if they are not with you! I'm looking for Michael Crowe and Wendy Fischer! H-Have you seen them...?"
Well, at least the parish isn't a dangerzone to you, Scarlett.
Scarlett's heart was still feeling heavy as she had heard about the killers and the victims. Now that she thought about it. She would be on the next announcement because of Tania. What would be said about what she had done? Would it be the truth? Would it be a lie? She had no clue and she had to wait and see.
She was now standing in front of the parish at the front. She was sure that she could hear voices inside. Should she go in there? Hoping that she would find someone that she knew. Should she risk her life and hope that it wouldn't be people willing to kill anyone who tried to go inside? She really-
Scarlett felt herself jump in surprise as she noticed a fist punching right through the door. That was something that she had not suspected to happen. She raised the targe up as if to shield herself and her grip had tightened on the icepick in her other hand.
"H-Hey! I'm not dangerous...! I'm trying to look for my friends!" She called out to whoever was inside and then she waited for a response from them. "I won't bother you again if they are not with you! I'm looking for Michael Crowe and Wendy Fischer! H-Have you seen them...?"
"Chuck?"
An afterthought, went the panic of being trapped weaponless with potential Chop Susies and Captain Ahabs. The relief that his mistake wasn't heard. The realization he was with friendly sorts who had left him some water and rations on the table. The winning feeling that it was probably Adonis and Jason, who had successfully found a stronghold for them in the Parish to base up in, even if the lighthouse would have been better, due to the high vantage point, but whatever. He'd take any indoor area other than the warehouse.
To the back-burner went the blare of the morning announcements. Frustration at their current situation and it was still going on. The overload of information from it all. The names he had to collect and remember for their ever-growing danger list of folks to keep out and the good people to keep safe. The wrenching heartbreak that he was wrong, that he had already partially failed, as Jason was already gone. Anger that Saachi was responsible, that he could have prevented it, if he had possibly just finished the job right at the start, near that warehouse on the first day. The shock and disappointment that Natali had seemingly taken a blind, helpless life in coward's blood.
Set aside was the anxiousness of opening that door, finding out what was on the other side, who else was in the Parish with him. The deciphering of the steadily increasing volume and abundance of voices, one of whom he recognized as his friend, Michael Crowe, before the thud of fist to wall, a sound Kyran knew pretty well, could be heard. The careful creak of the door, left unheard beneath the chatter of the group within the main hall of the pew filled Parish. The confirmation that this was in fact Michael Crowe, wearing the suddenly remembered mask from the ravine, who was busy at the far front, with a feminine tone right outside the entrance door. Attention and alertness to the fact that his AK47 laid on a seat next to a day pack and crossbow. The surprise to see Natali Greer sitting right there, looking up at the Boo Cap.
Not just any Boo cap. It was THE Boo cap.
He stood still just a few feet away, quietly taking in the sight of the cartoon ghost beanie and the face of its goofball owner who had surely only now noticed that he was alert and not in a coma. Kyran dropped the candlestick and slowly stepped closer, a tired hobble in his stride.
"Gosh-darn-it Chuck," he was careful with the words, they were in a church after all. He left the rest unsaid. There was nothing wrong with being five foot four. Heck Kyran still remembered 'the dark ages' where he was perfectly fine being of stature even less than Chuck, despite Richard's Dickery. But now, the difference made this a struggle. The Kyran Deans of the world never do this in front of peers, especially with a girl right there watching, or even near his brothers back home in Jersey, but over here, it didn't really matter anymore; they were all in this together. This peer was like a brother. Just like his brothers, he had not seen him in days which felt like weeks since the kidnapping.
It only made complete sense, to arch into a small crouch and wrap his arms tightly around the kid's upper-shoulders and nape of neck, for a warm embrace. He ruffled at the Boo cap with one hand and gave two pats on Chuck's shoulder with the other. Kyran wiped an index finger below one eye, hoping no one saw, before backing off, letting go.
"Good to see you, Boo.”
An afterthought, went the panic of being trapped weaponless with potential Chop Susies and Captain Ahabs. The relief that his mistake wasn't heard. The realization he was with friendly sorts who had left him some water and rations on the table. The winning feeling that it was probably Adonis and Jason, who had successfully found a stronghold for them in the Parish to base up in, even if the lighthouse would have been better, due to the high vantage point, but whatever. He'd take any indoor area other than the warehouse.
To the back-burner went the blare of the morning announcements. Frustration at their current situation and it was still going on. The overload of information from it all. The names he had to collect and remember for their ever-growing danger list of folks to keep out and the good people to keep safe. The wrenching heartbreak that he was wrong, that he had already partially failed, as Jason was already gone. Anger that Saachi was responsible, that he could have prevented it, if he had possibly just finished the job right at the start, near that warehouse on the first day. The shock and disappointment that Natali had seemingly taken a blind, helpless life in coward's blood.
Set aside was the anxiousness of opening that door, finding out what was on the other side, who else was in the Parish with him. The deciphering of the steadily increasing volume and abundance of voices, one of whom he recognized as his friend, Michael Crowe, before the thud of fist to wall, a sound Kyran knew pretty well, could be heard. The careful creak of the door, left unheard beneath the chatter of the group within the main hall of the pew filled Parish. The confirmation that this was in fact Michael Crowe, wearing the suddenly remembered mask from the ravine, who was busy at the far front, with a feminine tone right outside the entrance door. Attention and alertness to the fact that his AK47 laid on a seat next to a day pack and crossbow. The surprise to see Natali Greer sitting right there, looking up at the Boo Cap.
Not just any Boo cap. It was THE Boo cap.
He stood still just a few feet away, quietly taking in the sight of the cartoon ghost beanie and the face of its goofball owner who had surely only now noticed that he was alert and not in a coma. Kyran dropped the candlestick and slowly stepped closer, a tired hobble in his stride.
"Gosh-darn-it Chuck," he was careful with the words, they were in a church after all. He left the rest unsaid. There was nothing wrong with being five foot four. Heck Kyran still remembered 'the dark ages' where he was perfectly fine being of stature even less than Chuck, despite Richard's Dickery. But now, the difference made this a struggle. The Kyran Deans of the world never do this in front of peers, especially with a girl right there watching, or even near his brothers back home in Jersey, but over here, it didn't really matter anymore; they were all in this together. This peer was like a brother. Just like his brothers, he had not seen him in days which felt like weeks since the kidnapping.
It only made complete sense, to arch into a small crouch and wrap his arms tightly around the kid's upper-shoulders and nape of neck, for a warm embrace. He ruffled at the Boo cap with one hand and gave two pats on Chuck's shoulder with the other. Kyran wiped an index finger below one eye, hoping no one saw, before backing off, letting go.
"Good to see you, Boo.”
On his way out, he heard a yelp. A girl was asking if anyone has seen her friends. Michael didn't know, hell, they were probably being killed right now.
"What? Fuck no I haven't seen them, I've been stuck draggi-"
Hold up.
Wait a fucking minute.
Hoooooollld up.
...
The hand slinked away through the hole in the door that it made.
"Um."
Was that who he thought she was?
She had to be, she was looking for him, fuck!
Michael looked back towards what was probably an argument forming over Natali killing someone then looked back towards the door, then back towards them.
He yelled as quietly as he could in a whisper-shout "Ay, shut the fuck up, there's someone outside I'm trying to talk to!" before turning back to the door.
The door opened, and standing within the doorway was a masked figure in blood stained clothing carrying around a sword and chain like some bootleg slasher villain. It spoke.
"Oh shit... Scarlett, that actually you?"
"What? Fuck no I haven't seen them, I've been stuck draggi-"
Hold up.
Wait a fucking minute.
Hoooooollld up.
...
The hand slinked away through the hole in the door that it made.
"Um."
Was that who he thought she was?
She had to be, she was looking for him, fuck!
Michael looked back towards what was probably an argument forming over Natali killing someone then looked back towards the door, then back towards them.
He yelled as quietly as he could in a whisper-shout "Ay, shut the fuck up, there's someone outside I'm trying to talk to!" before turning back to the door.
The door opened, and standing within the doorway was a masked figure in blood stained clothing carrying around a sword and chain like some bootleg slasher villain. It spoke.
"Oh shit... Scarlett, that actually you?"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Chuck nodded at Natali's explanation. "Ah, okay." He nodded, as if to confirm his acceptance of her tale. He still had his...misgivings about mercy killing. About all the intricacies of if such a final act could be properly consented to. About the risks of miscommunication, or of unscrupulous knaves exploiting the procedure, using the veneer of euthanasia to advance their own interests. About the intrinsic morality of having the blood of an innocent on your hands, regardless of the context.
And all of those fears were heightened here. In this place of anarchy, of uncertainty, with no authority, no medical know-how, no room for actual debate.
But, well, for Natali's sake, for Chuck's own sake, it was good that he was in a forgiving mood. Michael's story, delivered from a far more sympathetic figure and with a far more potentially worrying number of kills to his name, had primed Chuck to be receptive. Shaved off some of the edges of his earlier cynicism. Michael had, so far, paid off the trust invested in him. Had acted with a manner consistent with his stories, shown altruism and care. Chuck did not get on with Natali, but neither had she given him any advance reason to suspect that she was a player in their midst.
Chuck bit his tongue, and nodded, again, unaware of the redundancy in his movements. "Okay. Yeah. Nasty business. Sorry you were put in that situation." Again, tremendous redundancy. And Chuck made sure not to actually voice support for her decision. But he would internalise his doubts. Hold back his judgements. He could do that. Wasn't exactly bottling them up. Just prioritising group cohesion.
He couldn't exactly break out into a smile, or act as if nothing awkward had not just transpired. Because, well, Chuck's mind was still grappling with the avalanche of bad news the announcement had presented. And the voice coming through the hole in the door that Michael had created...
But very soon after, a real reason to break out into a smile happened.
Yes, Chuck had known Kyran was there. But it was good to know he was okay. Good to hear him back up on his feet again (even though, yeah, the height comparison was not in Chuck's favour). And something about the surprise in Kyran's voice at discovering Chuck was contagious - it was like he was seeing Kyran for the first time too. He was slow to turn around, to fully face Kyran, but was pulled into what, for Kyran's standards, was a remarkably unguarded embrace. Chuck's cheeks shone red and a happy grin broke across his features.
Michael's whisper shout wasn't necessary. Chuck was just happy to be face to face with a friend again. A real one. Not one of circumstance or fortune. One who had qualities beyond just 'hasn't tried to kill me'. But a real friend. Fuck, this was important.
And so, silently, Chuck hugged Michael. A proper hug, one that had Chuck's Boo ears tickle Kyran's chin, because fuck it.
"Been too long, man. Too long."
And all of those fears were heightened here. In this place of anarchy, of uncertainty, with no authority, no medical know-how, no room for actual debate.
But, well, for Natali's sake, for Chuck's own sake, it was good that he was in a forgiving mood. Michael's story, delivered from a far more sympathetic figure and with a far more potentially worrying number of kills to his name, had primed Chuck to be receptive. Shaved off some of the edges of his earlier cynicism. Michael had, so far, paid off the trust invested in him. Had acted with a manner consistent with his stories, shown altruism and care. Chuck did not get on with Natali, but neither had she given him any advance reason to suspect that she was a player in their midst.
Chuck bit his tongue, and nodded, again, unaware of the redundancy in his movements. "Okay. Yeah. Nasty business. Sorry you were put in that situation." Again, tremendous redundancy. And Chuck made sure not to actually voice support for her decision. But he would internalise his doubts. Hold back his judgements. He could do that. Wasn't exactly bottling them up. Just prioritising group cohesion.
He couldn't exactly break out into a smile, or act as if nothing awkward had not just transpired. Because, well, Chuck's mind was still grappling with the avalanche of bad news the announcement had presented. And the voice coming through the hole in the door that Michael had created...
But very soon after, a real reason to break out into a smile happened.
Yes, Chuck had known Kyran was there. But it was good to know he was okay. Good to hear him back up on his feet again (even though, yeah, the height comparison was not in Chuck's favour). And something about the surprise in Kyran's voice at discovering Chuck was contagious - it was like he was seeing Kyran for the first time too. He was slow to turn around, to fully face Kyran, but was pulled into what, for Kyran's standards, was a remarkably unguarded embrace. Chuck's cheeks shone red and a happy grin broke across his features.
Michael's whisper shout wasn't necessary. Chuck was just happy to be face to face with a friend again. A real one. Not one of circumstance or fortune. One who had qualities beyond just 'hasn't tried to kill me'. But a real friend. Fuck, this was important.
And so, silently, Chuck hugged Michael. A proper hug, one that had Chuck's Boo ears tickle Kyran's chin, because fuck it.
"Been too long, man. Too long."
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
Chuck seemed to have believed Natali's story, so there was at least some tension taken off of the whole "everyone still alive has discovered I killed a man" situation. Still, some tension felt like it had managed to burrow its way into her bones, festering deep and strong, and Nat realized she wasn't entirely sure if she was sitting still at that moment.
He was trying to express her condolences now, saying that it had indeed been a difficult situation for her to have been in, and while part of her wanted to scream at him how obvious that was, how desperate she was to find a way to get off this island alive, she also knew that he was just trying to find the words to express how he was feeeling about it all, in a way. Her face continued not to deviate from the set-in-stone neutrality she had strived to keep it in as he continued speaking, trying not to give him any further reason to think that she was suspicious in any way.
Maybe it would have been polite for her to say "Thank you," or something of the sort, but Natali wasn't sure whether she was even up for exchanging simple conversation pleasantries like that. There was still a deep feeling of awkwardness that colored the interactions she had had with Chuck so far, and while she wasn't sure whether that was from a light mutual distrust or just incompatible personalities, she still thought it maybe not have been the best idea to actually say anything.
Instead, the only thing she offered him was a slight smile. It was only a slight upturn at the corners of her lips, and there was no way it managed to actually reach her eyes, but she hoped he would take it as a peace offering of sorts. There was no need to keep enemies enemies, after all, and so it was the smart thing to do to get back home.
She was only being smart, being cautious, but it didn't mean that she could keep up this fake smile forever. Maybe if she kept it on for long enough, though, she'd feel a fraction of the happiness.
Mercifully, this was interrupted by the arrival of Kyran, who seemed to be doing much better now, at least judging from how he swooped in hug Chuck. While she was definitely glad to see that he was doing alright, even after all of his idiocy, it also served as a reminder of how little she knew of the other people in her ragtag group. Sure, her photography business and work for the school newspaper meant she at least knew them of passing, but there was little more than names to faces, maybe some things she knew they were interested in. Nothing more than that.
Still, she smiled again, this time at Kyran, and this time, perhaps it was a bit more genuine.
"Well, good to see you back up again."
This was followed by a quick wave, even if it still felt like her heart was pounding. Things were turning out okay, yeah, but she could hear Michael speaking to someone at the entrance, but she tried not to pay so much attention to it.
Sitting with her thoughts for a bit more was something she didn't really mind.
He was trying to express her condolences now, saying that it had indeed been a difficult situation for her to have been in, and while part of her wanted to scream at him how obvious that was, how desperate she was to find a way to get off this island alive, she also knew that he was just trying to find the words to express how he was feeeling about it all, in a way. Her face continued not to deviate from the set-in-stone neutrality she had strived to keep it in as he continued speaking, trying not to give him any further reason to think that she was suspicious in any way.
Maybe it would have been polite for her to say "Thank you," or something of the sort, but Natali wasn't sure whether she was even up for exchanging simple conversation pleasantries like that. There was still a deep feeling of awkwardness that colored the interactions she had had with Chuck so far, and while she wasn't sure whether that was from a light mutual distrust or just incompatible personalities, she still thought it maybe not have been the best idea to actually say anything.
Instead, the only thing she offered him was a slight smile. It was only a slight upturn at the corners of her lips, and there was no way it managed to actually reach her eyes, but she hoped he would take it as a peace offering of sorts. There was no need to keep enemies enemies, after all, and so it was the smart thing to do to get back home.
She was only being smart, being cautious, but it didn't mean that she could keep up this fake smile forever. Maybe if she kept it on for long enough, though, she'd feel a fraction of the happiness.
Mercifully, this was interrupted by the arrival of Kyran, who seemed to be doing much better now, at least judging from how he swooped in hug Chuck. While she was definitely glad to see that he was doing alright, even after all of his idiocy, it also served as a reminder of how little she knew of the other people in her ragtag group. Sure, her photography business and work for the school newspaper meant she at least knew them of passing, but there was little more than names to faces, maybe some things she knew they were interested in. Nothing more than that.
Still, she smiled again, this time at Kyran, and this time, perhaps it was a bit more genuine.
"Well, good to see you back up again."
This was followed by a quick wave, even if it still felt like her heart was pounding. Things were turning out okay, yeah, but she could hear Michael speaking to someone at the entrance, but she tried not to pay so much attention to it.
Sitting with her thoughts for a bit more was something she didn't really mind.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 894
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Scarlett was surprised when the door opened and she suddenly saw someone who looked like they were out of a horror movie. She had wanted to flee from the scene immediately. But the voice from the scary-looking person sounded very familiar to her.
"....Michael...? That.... I...."
Scarlett felt tears start to flow down her cheeks and she didn't even care if he was seeing her like this. She had wanted to find him and now he was finally in front of her. He looked like he was in some kind of bad shape. She wanted to hug him.... To know that he was really alive and well.
She dropped the icepick and the targe to the ground and she rushed over to him, crying more in happiness and sadness. Her emotions were getting the better of her. She just found one of her friends still alive.
Scarlett wrapped her arms around Michael's waist and she buried her face just below his chest, muffling her sobs.
"....I-I was so scared. Everett was killed in front of me and I-I couldn't save him...." She mumbled into his body, shaking against him. "M-Michael... I thought I would never see you again...."
"....Michael...? That.... I...."
Scarlett felt tears start to flow down her cheeks and she didn't even care if he was seeing her like this. She had wanted to find him and now he was finally in front of her. He looked like he was in some kind of bad shape. She wanted to hug him.... To know that he was really alive and well.
She dropped the icepick and the targe to the ground and she rushed over to him, crying more in happiness and sadness. Her emotions were getting the better of her. She just found one of her friends still alive.
Scarlett wrapped her arms around Michael's waist and she buried her face just below his chest, muffling her sobs.
"....I-I was so scared. Everett was killed in front of me and I-I couldn't save him...." She mumbled into his body, shaking against him. "M-Michael... I thought I would never see you again...."
Well, this was definitely a hug and love sesh. Even Mike Crowe was hugged at least twice.
As for Kyran, he'd faded into the background once again to allow everyone else to have their moments and to avoid a potential "group hug" or something equally not his thing. One with a friend after having heard you lost another friend not too long ago was enough. Even though his mind was less hazy than yesterday or so, his body still felt physically drained from whatever it was that happened. He slumped onto the church bench.
Someone else was at the opened door way. Scarlett McAfee: A cool girl, he knew from fourth period. She seemed to have developed a bond with Michael on the course of this whole twisted adventure. Not a strange thing, considering that Kyran had sort of done the same with Adonis Alba of all people. The person he had formed this whole home base plan with, which seemed to be in affect and already gaining new members. One step at a time to figure out a way to survive this situation. They'd need to get things moving forward eventually again. But this was certainly progress.
"Guys," Kyran asked softly to no one in particular, quietly seated on the bench. "What happened to me yesterday."
He already knew what happened to Jason.
"What happened to Alba."
As for Kyran, he'd faded into the background once again to allow everyone else to have their moments and to avoid a potential "group hug" or something equally not his thing. One with a friend after having heard you lost another friend not too long ago was enough. Even though his mind was less hazy than yesterday or so, his body still felt physically drained from whatever it was that happened. He slumped onto the church bench.
Someone else was at the opened door way. Scarlett McAfee: A cool girl, he knew from fourth period. She seemed to have developed a bond with Michael on the course of this whole twisted adventure. Not a strange thing, considering that Kyran had sort of done the same with Adonis Alba of all people. The person he had formed this whole home base plan with, which seemed to be in affect and already gaining new members. One step at a time to figure out a way to survive this situation. They'd need to get things moving forward eventually again. But this was certainly progress.
"Guys," Kyran asked softly to no one in particular, quietly seated on the bench. "What happened to me yesterday."
He already knew what happened to Jason.
"What happened to Alba."
"Scarlett..."
Jesus, what happened to her while he was gone? She was covered in blood, crying and Everett was obviously dead... Shit how bad was it? What did Bunny do? All the more reason to go out there, to end this shit...
"Scarlett, stop..."
She hugged him, cried to him.
Michael hated crying more than anything. It didn't matter who did it, he just hated it. Sure, he wasn't one to talk, he's the type of person who loved it when someone was scared of him or wanting to knock his lights out, that shit was plain funny, but crying? Crying was never fun. It was even worse when it was a friend crying.
Michael looked back towards the group behind them, they were hugging each other too. He couldn't sit here and do nothing, but... He couldn't leave them either. What was he thinking in the first place? He'd go on some suicide mission doomed to fail? No, he wasn't gonna take the easy way out. He was gonna do something about this, and he was gonna do it to help the people who needed it. Michael started by hugging Scarlett back.
"Scarlett, come on, let's go inside... It's okay, look at me, it's okay."
...
Michael took Scarlett inside, before he moved himself to the podium. He looked at the people down the chapel, his fellow castaways, his classmates, his friends.
"Okay everyone, listen up! We got some real shit to discuss."
Michael watched as the room went quiet. He hoped he could get the point across, he'd never taken speech classes or philosophy or none of that politician shit, but there was a first for anything.
"Got your attention? Alright, good! So, I'm gonna be frank here; we're all a bunch of fuckups and idiots. We've all made mistakes, and we've all fucked shit up and done the wrong thing at the wrong time. It's sucks, but it's the sorry truth."
Michael thought of his mistakes, killing Aaron, not saving Simon fast enough, not finding Scarlett and Ev before Bunny did.
"It's alright though, because it's time we change some shit. As bad as we are, it's worse out there, at the very least, we got our heads on straight. Outside those doors are our dead friends, primitive screwhead murderhobos, and crazy motherfuckers who's brains just twisted right in two. Worse than that though are people like us out there; only difference is they're alone, cold, starving, afraid, and unarmed. They can't do this on their own, like we can't."
The faceless gaze of shades and a medical mask scanned the room, looking everyone in the eyes, even if they couldn't see back into his.
"How are we supposed to help? What, should we band up and hunt down every sicko, sadist, and psycho? No... Shit would take too much time, by the time we're finished with that, someone else would snap and join them, it would be pointless, everyone we'd be looking for would be dead by the time we came to rescue them. We can't just split up and search every nuke and cranny for our friends either, we'd be just like the others, on our own no one watching our back. And then some opportunistic creep with a better weapon then us shows up, then what?"
Mike pantomimed his hand across his neck.
"If we just sit here and hope people come, maybe they'll be like Scarlett and show up, but maybe isn't good enough. We need to lead them here. Then once we get more people here, we can put our heads together, find a real way out of this mess, and not have to worry about those selfish scumsucking cretin who want to sell us out for their own useless skin. Question is; how do we lead our friends here, how do we bring them to us?"
Michael leaned in close over the podium.
"Well, do I got a balls to the walls answer for you. Everyone, get over here. I got a plan."
Jesus, what happened to her while he was gone? She was covered in blood, crying and Everett was obviously dead... Shit how bad was it? What did Bunny do? All the more reason to go out there, to end this shit...
"Scarlett, stop..."
She hugged him, cried to him.
Michael hated crying more than anything. It didn't matter who did it, he just hated it. Sure, he wasn't one to talk, he's the type of person who loved it when someone was scared of him or wanting to knock his lights out, that shit was plain funny, but crying? Crying was never fun. It was even worse when it was a friend crying.
Michael looked back towards the group behind them, they were hugging each other too. He couldn't sit here and do nothing, but... He couldn't leave them either. What was he thinking in the first place? He'd go on some suicide mission doomed to fail? No, he wasn't gonna take the easy way out. He was gonna do something about this, and he was gonna do it to help the people who needed it. Michael started by hugging Scarlett back.
"Scarlett, come on, let's go inside... It's okay, look at me, it's okay."
...
Michael took Scarlett inside, before he moved himself to the podium. He looked at the people down the chapel, his fellow castaways, his classmates, his friends.
"Okay everyone, listen up! We got some real shit to discuss."
Michael watched as the room went quiet. He hoped he could get the point across, he'd never taken speech classes or philosophy or none of that politician shit, but there was a first for anything.
"Got your attention? Alright, good! So, I'm gonna be frank here; we're all a bunch of fuckups and idiots. We've all made mistakes, and we've all fucked shit up and done the wrong thing at the wrong time. It's sucks, but it's the sorry truth."
Michael thought of his mistakes, killing Aaron, not saving Simon fast enough, not finding Scarlett and Ev before Bunny did.
"It's alright though, because it's time we change some shit. As bad as we are, it's worse out there, at the very least, we got our heads on straight. Outside those doors are our dead friends, primitive screwhead murderhobos, and crazy motherfuckers who's brains just twisted right in two. Worse than that though are people like us out there; only difference is they're alone, cold, starving, afraid, and unarmed. They can't do this on their own, like we can't."
The faceless gaze of shades and a medical mask scanned the room, looking everyone in the eyes, even if they couldn't see back into his.
"How are we supposed to help? What, should we band up and hunt down every sicko, sadist, and psycho? No... Shit would take too much time, by the time we're finished with that, someone else would snap and join them, it would be pointless, everyone we'd be looking for would be dead by the time we came to rescue them. We can't just split up and search every nuke and cranny for our friends either, we'd be just like the others, on our own no one watching our back. And then some opportunistic creep with a better weapon then us shows up, then what?"
Mike pantomimed his hand across his neck.
"If we just sit here and hope people come, maybe they'll be like Scarlett and show up, but maybe isn't good enough. We need to lead them here. Then once we get more people here, we can put our heads together, find a real way out of this mess, and not have to worry about those selfish scumsucking cretin who want to sell us out for their own useless skin. Question is; how do we lead our friends here, how do we bring them to us?"
Michael leaned in close over the podium.
"Well, do I got a balls to the walls answer for you. Everyone, get over here. I got a plan."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.