[[Kyran Dean Continued From: It's Kind of Like a Wasteland.]]
Turns out Adonis wasn't much of a navigator. Not that it was much of a stretch either.
7:00 PM.
They had gotten lost.
Alba's skills or lack thereof had gotten them to travel straight up north instead of south east to where the lighthouse and Parish was located. Kyran hoped they'd at least found some of the folks on his 'to find' list, but there wasn't much luck there. They hadn't run into anyone, pretty much. Not even gunshots, so on the other hand, maybe they were lucky after-all. They ended up at the northern forest last night, all over again somehow and it had gotten dark, so the guys decided to rest.
12:00 AM.
Not Kyran though. Nope, not you Dean.
He stayed awake. Tired, but at the same time, not tired, cradling the AK47 as he sat against the trunk of a tree. It was one of those feelings where you wanted to sleep because of physical exhaustion, but knew you couldn't, because you were feeling so darn sick. Didn't help that the whole kill or be killed situation kept his eyes open as well. Anyone could have sneaked up on them. Shot them or stabbed them in their sleep.
Even in the safety and semi-comfort of a shaded forest compared to the other outdoor wilderness locations, Kyran couldn't keep his eyes closed, his mind eternally racing. The hunger and even more bothersome feeling of thirst stronger than his need for sleep. Even those feelings themselves were dulling after a bit; his body getting used to the feeling for the past few days going onto a third, replaced by headaches, fatigue and nausea.
3:00 AM.
The guys slept peacefully, as Kyran pretended, letting them slumber as he watched in every direction for a Tina or a K.K to pop by, his trigger finger ready on the AK, just in-case. Didn't want to shoot anyone, however, innocent lives still needed protecting and had priority. Still, he promised himself he was going to save lives, not end them. But a mad dog was a mad dog and perhaps the listees needed to be put to sleep themselves. The struggles of a hopeful vet, on some sick social experiment. It was certainly quite the dilemma.
9:00 AM.
Eventually time passed, rays of early morning sun had peeked in through the canopy above bringing bright early mornings with the accompaniment of singing birds. Themselves interrupted by another announcement from the lead terrorist.
Yeah that.
He closed his eyes and braced himself for the bad news which would soon follow.
11:00 AM.
They were on the move again sometime later, not sure what time, but if Kyran had to guess he'd say sometime before lunchtime. Like between eleven or twelve or something. How would he know though, those terrorist pricks stole his favorite watch too.
Why were they even doing this to them. Why kidnap teenagers randomly just to put them on an island to kill each other for apparently no reason. What was the point of all this? It didn't make any sense, whatsoever. Except maybe for the jollies off creating their own snuff. Sick bastards.
The announcement earlier that morning had given more names to add to the list and some to remove. Saachi was finally noted as a killer, for not one but two people, including Jay. It made Kyran boil that Chop Susie had been so treacherous to even betray her closest ally like that and kill him. He wondered if he should have just finished her off when he had the chance once he knocked her down with the old garden hoe, but he shook the thought. He'd have been no better than she was for doing what the sick bastards wanted.
Michael Crowe was on it too, another friend, but the guy had taken out Blaine whom Natali warned as a danger and even Tina wanted to take out, so there was probably more to the story they were missing.
A definite new addition and lock to the list was Jasmine King, who took out two of their classmates in succession. Paris was gone because of her.
12:00 PM.
Kyran remained at the rear once again, keeping mostly quiet, letting his feet drag on every step, gaze facing downward, snap-back positioned in a way to shield the sun, eyes sensitive to the bright-light, with the growing bags. Whenever the guys spoke directly at him, he'd nod or grunt an affirmative or negative, mostly portraying anything he needed to through body language rather than verbal communication. Even the gun and the ammo case felt heavy over his shoulder now.
Adonis was still leading the way, navigating, but Kyran would silently redirect any misguided circles onto the correct direction, since the area they were now moving through had grown increasingly more familiar from when he had traveled while carrying Natali on piggyback.
Eventually the tree line of the forest gave way to what sounded like the smooth pounding of ocean waves and the squawking of a flock of seagulls.
"Yo, Alba. Hold up. Wait," Kyran spoke up semi-coherently compared to the rest of the morning. "I know this place."
Kyran put on the breaks, looking toward the still somewhat far off bridge in the near-distance, with scattered trees lining the path along the way. He was back at the ravine.
"Bridge leads to the church and the lighthouse. Natali went down that way when we split."
A mild, tight-lipped smirk rose on one side of Kyran's mouth for once in what felt like ages. Despite the dryness, despite the woozy feeling, he could forget about his bodily pain and fatigue for at least a moment. One goal was finally within reach.
"We're getting close to finding ourselves a home-base."
We're Mostly Made of Water
Day 3, Noon
((Adonis Alba continued from It's Kind of Like a Wasteland))
Yeah, I definitely fucked up somewhere.
In hindsight, Adonis probably shouldn't have been the navigator. You would think that after walking all day, they would have managed to find one of the places they were considering, at least by accident. But nope, no such luck. They were definitely, one hundred percent lost.
But hey, on the bright side, no one had tried to kill them yet.
Spending the night in the middle of the woods sucked. Unlike when he crashed in the ruins, there wasn't any shelter that could help him even pretend to feel comfortable. He had to settle for sticks, leaves, and lots of dirt. When he woke up, he felt like complete shit, and his back kind of hurt. He really, really wanted to go back to sleep, but the sound of the intercom disruptively coming to life put a definite end to that plan.
Announcements came, more people killed, and more people died. Adonis was pretty surprised to hear Michael Crowe come up twice. Wasn't he on Kyran's list of good people? The fuck happened there? Whatever, they'd figure it out later. He had more names to remember.
Michael, Saachi, Wendy, Jasmine, and Katarina again. Fuck, whole class is goin' to crazytown...
More time passed, and the trio continued to walk across the island. Fuck, where were they even going at this point? At this point, Adonis had pretty much realized that he had no idea what he was doing, so he was accepting any and all corrections to his path. He wasn't going to admit that he was a shitty navigator, since that would require a self-inflicted hit to his pride, and he was not about that. But taking course corrections? Yeah, that's what a good navigator does, right?
Oh wait, shit, Kyran was putting the brakes on the operation in the middle of nowhere. What was going on?
Oh, he actually knew where they were. Sweet.
"Nice." Adonis said with a gradually widening grin. "Shouldn't be too much longer now, right?"
Yeah, I definitely fucked up somewhere.
In hindsight, Adonis probably shouldn't have been the navigator. You would think that after walking all day, they would have managed to find one of the places they were considering, at least by accident. But nope, no such luck. They were definitely, one hundred percent lost.
But hey, on the bright side, no one had tried to kill them yet.
Spending the night in the middle of the woods sucked. Unlike when he crashed in the ruins, there wasn't any shelter that could help him even pretend to feel comfortable. He had to settle for sticks, leaves, and lots of dirt. When he woke up, he felt like complete shit, and his back kind of hurt. He really, really wanted to go back to sleep, but the sound of the intercom disruptively coming to life put a definite end to that plan.
Announcements came, more people killed, and more people died. Adonis was pretty surprised to hear Michael Crowe come up twice. Wasn't he on Kyran's list of good people? The fuck happened there? Whatever, they'd figure it out later. He had more names to remember.
Michael, Saachi, Wendy, Jasmine, and Katarina again. Fuck, whole class is goin' to crazytown...
More time passed, and the trio continued to walk across the island. Fuck, where were they even going at this point? At this point, Adonis had pretty much realized that he had no idea what he was doing, so he was accepting any and all corrections to his path. He wasn't going to admit that he was a shitty navigator, since that would require a self-inflicted hit to his pride, and he was not about that. But taking course corrections? Yeah, that's what a good navigator does, right?
Oh wait, shit, Kyran was putting the brakes on the operation in the middle of nowhere. What was going on?
Oh, he actually knew where they were. Sweet.
"Nice." Adonis said with a gradually widening grin. "Shouldn't be too much longer now, right?"
(( Michael Crowe waking up from Yours Truly, 2095 ))
The announcements ringed Michael back to the land of the awake, his arm moving away from his face. He immediately recoiled from the sunlight, goddamn that shit was bright! His arm fumbled around the ground beside him until it found what he needed. His shades had returned to their former resting place along his grey-blue eyes.
"That's better..."
Michael laid on the ground for a good five seconds before forcing himself up into a sitting position, the shifting of position causing him great discomfort. Great discomfort as in, painful as shit. It had gotten worse since last night... He needed something to help with that.
He fumbled through his bag for painkillers as he listened in on the announcements. The Michael felt a grim satisfaction when Danya mentioned what he'd done to Blaine. 'Quite a show' he called it. Michael grabbed himself a handful of pills as he removed the mask. It was only when Danya mentioned Simon and what happened to him that it really hit him on what Danya's idea of a 'show' was.
Michael had stuffed his face with pain pills, chewing them up like Flintstone vitamins while Judge Dredd-worthy scowl formed along his face despite the now permanent grin marked into it. Danya only enjoyed the torture scene was what it really amounted too... He had only cared for Blaine's side of the ordeal, sadists like him were what Danya was looking for.
It was then something else hit him. Blaine was Danya's little pet, and he killed him. He took something away from that sadistic fuck, and that little ounce of satisfaction came back. He took a gulp of water to wash down the pill dust, listening to the remaining parts of the announcement. Maybe he could find another one of Danya's pets to put into the dirt, or maybe another barrel, if it stops them from killing and dying, just to spite the bastard.
He took note of the names, Saachi and Jasmine in particular, both owning two kills, Saachi in particular was an oddity, it sounds like she mercy killed Jay. To be honest, Michael felt kind of bad about making fun of his writing, but back then he didn't know he'd end up in a death game either. Katarina sounded like finishing some sort of previous business, and it sounded like Bridgette was also one of Danya's pets based on the context of the sentence, but he wouldn't know unless he saw it, would he?
He sat back against the fence, waiting for the painkillers to take effect, letting time pass on.
He had started his trek towards the lighthouse about an hour ago, once the drugs finally took effect. He felt a bit woozy, but outside of the vague loopiness, he felt alright, especially since the pain was now much more minor. He continued to follow the path until he heard some conversation in the distance.
He recognized the voices.
One of them belonged to someone who was actually pretty damn cool! He adjusted his movement into a brisk speed walk, taking longer and faster strides as he attempted to catch up to the group. He waited until he was close enough to viewing distance to close the call out to them.
"Eyy motherfuckers wait up!"
He brought his arm up as if he was waving a taxi as he tried to get their attention.
The announcements ringed Michael back to the land of the awake, his arm moving away from his face. He immediately recoiled from the sunlight, goddamn that shit was bright! His arm fumbled around the ground beside him until it found what he needed. His shades had returned to their former resting place along his grey-blue eyes.
"That's better..."
Michael laid on the ground for a good five seconds before forcing himself up into a sitting position, the shifting of position causing him great discomfort. Great discomfort as in, painful as shit. It had gotten worse since last night... He needed something to help with that.
He fumbled through his bag for painkillers as he listened in on the announcements. The Michael felt a grim satisfaction when Danya mentioned what he'd done to Blaine. 'Quite a show' he called it. Michael grabbed himself a handful of pills as he removed the mask. It was only when Danya mentioned Simon and what happened to him that it really hit him on what Danya's idea of a 'show' was.
Michael had stuffed his face with pain pills, chewing them up like Flintstone vitamins while Judge Dredd-worthy scowl formed along his face despite the now permanent grin marked into it. Danya only enjoyed the torture scene was what it really amounted too... He had only cared for Blaine's side of the ordeal, sadists like him were what Danya was looking for.
It was then something else hit him. Blaine was Danya's little pet, and he killed him. He took something away from that sadistic fuck, and that little ounce of satisfaction came back. He took a gulp of water to wash down the pill dust, listening to the remaining parts of the announcement. Maybe he could find another one of Danya's pets to put into the dirt, or maybe another barrel, if it stops them from killing and dying, just to spite the bastard.
He took note of the names, Saachi and Jasmine in particular, both owning two kills, Saachi in particular was an oddity, it sounds like she mercy killed Jay. To be honest, Michael felt kind of bad about making fun of his writing, but back then he didn't know he'd end up in a death game either. Katarina sounded like finishing some sort of previous business, and it sounded like Bridgette was also one of Danya's pets based on the context of the sentence, but he wouldn't know unless he saw it, would he?
He sat back against the fence, waiting for the painkillers to take effect, letting time pass on.
He had started his trek towards the lighthouse about an hour ago, once the drugs finally took effect. He felt a bit woozy, but outside of the vague loopiness, he felt alright, especially since the pain was now much more minor. He continued to follow the path until he heard some conversation in the distance.
He recognized the voices.
One of them belonged to someone who was actually pretty damn cool! He adjusted his movement into a brisk speed walk, taking longer and faster strides as he attempted to catch up to the group. He waited until he was close enough to viewing distance to close the call out to them.
"Eyy motherfuckers wait up!"
He brought his arm up as if he was waving a taxi as he tried to get their attention.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
((Jason Andrews continues from the same place everyone else did))
Jason watched and shuddered silently as a millipede crawled out of the leg of his pants.
He'd hated nearly everything that had happened since he'd left Amanda. He hated being chased by his ex-girlfriend with a machete, that went without saying, he hated sleeping on the ground in the open in the wilderness with only the whims of a friend and his nocturnal clock, he hated the fact that he was now dealing with the consequences of the sleep by taking an ecosystem with him, he hated Kyran and Alba's entire idea of what constituted a plan, and he hated the fact that Amanda was still alive, because that meant that not only was he now down a jacket, not only did leaving Kyran standing guard over his sleeping form go against his entire plan for what he was going to do to get out of here, not only did he fucking hate nature and everything to do with nature, not only did he hate that he was now having to face the fact he was worth shit without a gun or a reputation out here and girls like Clio could cow him down immediately, not only did it mean he still had to worry about his best friend instead of moving past her like he should have, but
there were now fucking bugs crawling out of his clothing.
Before he could even process what either of the two fellow athletes standing next to him were talking about, Jason threw his bag to the ground and pulled out the first aid kit. He grabbed the tiny scissors, meant only for cutting bandages or some shit, and started hacking away at what seemed like the knee length of his pants. If there was any real benefit to keeping them long, Jason couldn't think of it. He could think of a lot of things, like how Paris was now dead.
It was weird, someone he'd met here was now dead. Attacking him had turned this whole situation into a reality, but hearing of his death just brought it closer, like that scene in that movie. You know, the one where he brings the thing closer with his powers. Whatever, Jason couldn't be bothered thinking of names or people, that was for art geeks. God was probably in it. But those other names in the announcements, the ones of other people who weren't dead yet? Shit, that was like that other scene in that other movie. The one with the magic. Shit, Jason couldn't even think of what he meant now. He was running on what had to be almost 4 hours of sleep.
Michael, Saachi, Wendy, Katarina. All people to avoid, and most of them chicks. All fine with Jason, he couldn't deal with those. Bro it down, keep it real.
Both pants were detached now. Jason tossed the scissors back into the kit and tore the severed legs up their lengths, turning them from clothing to towels. They flew off to the side as Jason felt ocean wind on his legs. It wasn't that much better than the nature sleep to be honest, but at least he could see whatever the fuck was crawling around on his legs. Nothing now, but wait until tonight. He'd shoot the fuckers if he had to. Well, probably just swat them. If he wanted to really shoot them, he'd need Kyran's gun.
Kyran and Alba were going on about the home-base idea. Jason kept quiet. He thought about putting in his two cents, but that wasn't him. It wasn't his idea, he sure as hell wasn't going to add to the small talk. When he felt like he should say something, though, someone else had the same idea.
A new arrival to the scene. Jason had no idea who he was, given he was covered in more bandages than an Egyptian Pharaoh but he had the same kind of charm Jason wished he'd had, given he could just walk up to an entire new group of people and act like he was always there. If he were a vengeful person or someone prone to taking slights into storylines he'd mark him down for later as someone to kill in revenge.
But he wasn't, so Jason just cocked his head, raised his left eyebrow slightly, and waited for Kyran or Alba to recognize him to recognize him and hopefully say his name. Just to clarify that this guy, out of everyone on the island, wasn't Michael Crowe.
Jason watched and shuddered silently as a millipede crawled out of the leg of his pants.
He'd hated nearly everything that had happened since he'd left Amanda. He hated being chased by his ex-girlfriend with a machete, that went without saying, he hated sleeping on the ground in the open in the wilderness with only the whims of a friend and his nocturnal clock, he hated the fact that he was now dealing with the consequences of the sleep by taking an ecosystem with him, he hated Kyran and Alba's entire idea of what constituted a plan, and he hated the fact that Amanda was still alive, because that meant that not only was he now down a jacket, not only did leaving Kyran standing guard over his sleeping form go against his entire plan for what he was going to do to get out of here, not only did he fucking hate nature and everything to do with nature, not only did he hate that he was now having to face the fact he was worth shit without a gun or a reputation out here and girls like Clio could cow him down immediately, not only did it mean he still had to worry about his best friend instead of moving past her like he should have, but
there were now fucking bugs crawling out of his clothing.
Before he could even process what either of the two fellow athletes standing next to him were talking about, Jason threw his bag to the ground and pulled out the first aid kit. He grabbed the tiny scissors, meant only for cutting bandages or some shit, and started hacking away at what seemed like the knee length of his pants. If there was any real benefit to keeping them long, Jason couldn't think of it. He could think of a lot of things, like how Paris was now dead.
It was weird, someone he'd met here was now dead. Attacking him had turned this whole situation into a reality, but hearing of his death just brought it closer, like that scene in that movie. You know, the one where he brings the thing closer with his powers. Whatever, Jason couldn't be bothered thinking of names or people, that was for art geeks. God was probably in it. But those other names in the announcements, the ones of other people who weren't dead yet? Shit, that was like that other scene in that other movie. The one with the magic. Shit, Jason couldn't even think of what he meant now. He was running on what had to be almost 4 hours of sleep.
Michael, Saachi, Wendy, Katarina. All people to avoid, and most of them chicks. All fine with Jason, he couldn't deal with those. Bro it down, keep it real.
Both pants were detached now. Jason tossed the scissors back into the kit and tore the severed legs up their lengths, turning them from clothing to towels. They flew off to the side as Jason felt ocean wind on his legs. It wasn't that much better than the nature sleep to be honest, but at least he could see whatever the fuck was crawling around on his legs. Nothing now, but wait until tonight. He'd shoot the fuckers if he had to. Well, probably just swat them. If he wanted to really shoot them, he'd need Kyran's gun.
Kyran and Alba were going on about the home-base idea. Jason kept quiet. He thought about putting in his two cents, but that wasn't him. It wasn't his idea, he sure as hell wasn't going to add to the small talk. When he felt like he should say something, though, someone else had the same idea.
A new arrival to the scene. Jason had no idea who he was, given he was covered in more bandages than an Egyptian Pharaoh but he had the same kind of charm Jason wished he'd had, given he could just walk up to an entire new group of people and act like he was always there. If he were a vengeful person or someone prone to taking slights into storylines he'd mark him down for later as someone to kill in revenge.
But he wasn't, so Jason just cocked his head, raised his left eyebrow slightly, and waited for Kyran or Alba to recognize him to recognize him and hopefully say his name. Just to clarify that this guy, out of everyone on the island, wasn't Michael Crowe.
Wait, what? He didn't leave someone behind, did he? Adonis was pretty sure that he hadn't. Kyran was standing right freaking there, and Jason... oh shit, did they forget Jason? He hadn't really spoken up in a while, so maybe he got lost somewhere. Well, not really lost, since he was calling out to them. Maybe he just fell behind a little and needed them to slow down.
Adonis turned around and... wait, Jason was right there. There was someone else thought, further down the path. He couldn't really make out who it was, though. He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and squinted, leaning ever so slightly forward to make his picture of the new guy just a little better.
What he saw... well, it was hard to describe. Maybe it would be best to start with the fact that the guy didn't have a fuckin' face. Well, maybe he did, but Adonis sure as hell couldn't see one behind his mask and glasses. Going lower, the dude was just covered in bandages all over the place. To say he looked like a goddamn mummy would not have been an understatement. And... wait, did he have a fuckin' sword too?
Adonis blinked and rubbed his eyes, but Mummy Man was still there, coming towards them. Somehow, this wasn't some kind of bizarre nightmare. With no other way to react, Adonis let loose the most sincere "What the fuck?" he had ever uttered in his life
Adonis turned around and... wait, Jason was right there. There was someone else thought, further down the path. He couldn't really make out who it was, though. He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and squinted, leaning ever so slightly forward to make his picture of the new guy just a little better.
What he saw... well, it was hard to describe. Maybe it would be best to start with the fact that the guy didn't have a fuckin' face. Well, maybe he did, but Adonis sure as hell couldn't see one behind his mask and glasses. Going lower, the dude was just covered in bandages all over the place. To say he looked like a goddamn mummy would not have been an understatement. And... wait, did he have a fuckin' sword too?
Adonis blinked and rubbed his eyes, but Mummy Man was still there, coming towards them. Somehow, this wasn't some kind of bizarre nightmare. With no other way to react, Adonis let loose the most sincere "What the fuck?" he had ever uttered in his life
Kyran was starting to feel a strange cramping sensation deep within his inner midsection, as if everything else wasn't bad enough already. The dizzy, wooziness wasn't helping much either.
They had continued along the path for a little bit, to the very same spot he and Natali had seen Richard and the seagulls.
It was only a short distance walk, but even that had taken some wind out of him after constant travel, no sleep and lack of energy. Kyran placed a hand on one of the solid poles which were anchoring and keeping the rope bridge together at the edge of the ravine. He continued to rest on the spot, gripping the solid post, for a moment of breather, under the bright sun. The ocean breeze felt nice against his warm skin, masking his even more heated inside.
He was just about ready to cross when Adonis uttered his usual style of expletives at a surprise call from behind them. Kyran took a moment, attempting to clear his mind in his exhaustion. Managing to force his focus on being alert, Kyran interpreted the approach of someone new and made his delayed reaction.
Loud, boisterous goofball? He knew who that was.
Turning around he expected to see another person on his 'to find' list, but was met with an atrocity of a human being. Kyran swallowed at what he could, so little saliva left to smooth out his itchy throat and took just one step forward, or maybe backward since they just came from that direction. Whatever. He put one finger-less-skater-gloved hand up and waved him forward.
They had a bridge to cross, so he hoped they could get past the meeting stages quick.
"Jeeze," Kyran called out as the distance closed between the newcomer and the group a little more.
The AK47 stayed down though always at ready, still strapped along with the case over his shoulder. Despite what he was seeing, the speech and delivery was still clear as that very day. Helped that the guy still had hair like the flock of seagulls, squawking over to the side, sunglasses and the distinguishable leather jacket. What was with the medical mask and that weird stain at the groinal region of pants though.
Dude nearly unrecognizable, covered in so many bandages or gauze or - whatever it was Adonis had given Kyran to stuff his bleeding nose a day earlier. All of a sudden, the crusted bloody nose and the single large piece of bandaging covering the slanted carve on his cheek courtesy of Chop Susie, seemed inconsequential. Talk about some real battle scars. Damn.
"The hell happened," Kyran continued, pausing for a second, announcement from the morning in mind. He trailed before saying the name, wondering if he had the right person in mind, or if his groggy brain was just going eff you Dean, eff you, sleep next time. Was this in fact Michael.
"... Crowe?"
They had continued along the path for a little bit, to the very same spot he and Natali had seen Richard and the seagulls.
It was only a short distance walk, but even that had taken some wind out of him after constant travel, no sleep and lack of energy. Kyran placed a hand on one of the solid poles which were anchoring and keeping the rope bridge together at the edge of the ravine. He continued to rest on the spot, gripping the solid post, for a moment of breather, under the bright sun. The ocean breeze felt nice against his warm skin, masking his even more heated inside.
He was just about ready to cross when Adonis uttered his usual style of expletives at a surprise call from behind them. Kyran took a moment, attempting to clear his mind in his exhaustion. Managing to force his focus on being alert, Kyran interpreted the approach of someone new and made his delayed reaction.
Loud, boisterous goofball? He knew who that was.
Turning around he expected to see another person on his 'to find' list, but was met with an atrocity of a human being. Kyran swallowed at what he could, so little saliva left to smooth out his itchy throat and took just one step forward, or maybe backward since they just came from that direction. Whatever. He put one finger-less-skater-gloved hand up and waved him forward.
They had a bridge to cross, so he hoped they could get past the meeting stages quick.
"Jeeze," Kyran called out as the distance closed between the newcomer and the group a little more.
The AK47 stayed down though always at ready, still strapped along with the case over his shoulder. Despite what he was seeing, the speech and delivery was still clear as that very day. Helped that the guy still had hair like the flock of seagulls, squawking over to the side, sunglasses and the distinguishable leather jacket. What was with the medical mask and that weird stain at the groinal region of pants though.
Dude nearly unrecognizable, covered in so many bandages or gauze or - whatever it was Adonis had given Kyran to stuff his bleeding nose a day earlier. All of a sudden, the crusted bloody nose and the single large piece of bandaging covering the slanted carve on his cheek courtesy of Chop Susie, seemed inconsequential. Talk about some real battle scars. Damn.
"The hell happened," Kyran continued, pausing for a second, announcement from the morning in mind. He trailed before saying the name, wondering if he had the right person in mind, or if his groggy brain was just going eff you Dean, eff you, sleep next time. Was this in fact Michael.
"... Crowe?"
Michael had moved closer to the group as they turned around, they noticed him. All three, even Kyran took one look at him, and they were horrified...
A tightness formed in Michael's chest as he realized that maybe this wasn't a good idea after all... He had trouble swallowing when he realized that even with his injuries covered up, he was mutilated beyond recognition. He froze in his place, debating in his head whether or not to just turn around and leave. He wanted to take his sunglasses to see if they'd at least recognize his eyes, but he was on the verge of crying like a bitch right now, so on they stayed.
Kyran asked what happened, and the added 'Crowe' at the end of it made it clear even he didn't recognize him as well. It wasn't like this back in the tunnels, but then again, nobody could've seen him in the darkness... Michael liked the night time better to be honest, nothing good happened in the day. Fuck it.
"F-fuckin' Blaine, that's what happened..."
Michael continued to move closer to the group. Fuck he hoped this wasn't a mistake.
A tightness formed in Michael's chest as he realized that maybe this wasn't a good idea after all... He had trouble swallowing when he realized that even with his injuries covered up, he was mutilated beyond recognition. He froze in his place, debating in his head whether or not to just turn around and leave. He wanted to take his sunglasses to see if they'd at least recognize his eyes, but he was on the verge of crying like a bitch right now, so on they stayed.
Kyran asked what happened, and the added 'Crowe' at the end of it made it clear even he didn't recognize him as well. It wasn't like this back in the tunnels, but then again, nobody could've seen him in the darkness... Michael liked the night time better to be honest, nothing good happened in the day. Fuck it.
"F-fuckin' Blaine, that's what happened..."
Michael continued to move closer to the group. Fuck he hoped this wasn't a mistake.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Crowe...
Nope.
This wasn't happening, not to Jason.
He even recognized one of the names he said. Blaine. Another name on the announcement, but in the same area as Michael's. It only sealed the deal.
Jason reached into his waistband and pulled out his gun. He held the grip tightly in his hands as he whirled around and aimed it right at the mummy's head.
"You're gonna step the fuck off right now or I'll blow your goddamn head off."
It was time to play poker with a king-high.
Nope.
This wasn't happening, not to Jason.
He even recognized one of the names he said. Blaine. Another name on the announcement, but in the same area as Michael's. It only sealed the deal.
Jason reached into his waistband and pulled out his gun. He held the grip tightly in his hands as he whirled around and aimed it right at the mummy's head.
"You're gonna step the fuck off right now or I'll blow your goddamn head off."
It was time to play poker with a king-high.
Wait, Crowe? As in Michael Crowe? The guy that Kyran was looking for? The guy that killed two people? Shit, he was here already? And he looked like that? Holy fuck, this day was really hitting the ground running in terms of fucked-up shit.
So catching up, Kyran's buddy is here now, but he's being held together by bandages. And Blaine was behind it somehow? Wait, Kyran said that Blaine was kinda fuckin' crazy, didn't he? Yeah, that made sense. If Blaine was willing to fuck up Natali's knee, then he'd probably be up for fucking up Michael's... everything. Seriously, the fuck happened to this guy?
Adonis didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it, since Jason had already jumped straight to guns and threats, further limiting Adonis' already limited chances at diplomacy. This whole scene was sketchy as shit on multiple levels, but if Kyran still trusted Michael, then maybe it might be worth giving him a chance? At least for a few minutes, anyway. Besides, they had him outnumbered, so he'd have to be an idiot to try anything on them now.
"Fuckin'... cool it a sec, okay?" He held a hand back, trying to get Jason to take it down a notch.
Shit, when did I start having to babysit around here?
So catching up, Kyran's buddy is here now, but he's being held together by bandages. And Blaine was behind it somehow? Wait, Kyran said that Blaine was kinda fuckin' crazy, didn't he? Yeah, that made sense. If Blaine was willing to fuck up Natali's knee, then he'd probably be up for fucking up Michael's... everything. Seriously, the fuck happened to this guy?
Adonis didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it, since Jason had already jumped straight to guns and threats, further limiting Adonis' already limited chances at diplomacy. This whole scene was sketchy as shit on multiple levels, but if Kyran still trusted Michael, then maybe it might be worth giving him a chance? At least for a few minutes, anyway. Besides, they had him outnumbered, so he'd have to be an idiot to try anything on them now.
"Fuckin'... cool it a sec, okay?" He held a hand back, trying to get Jason to take it down a notch.
Shit, when did I start having to babysit around here?
This dumb motherfucker...
Okay, maybe he was too upfront with meeting them, sure. But you'd think they'd have pulled a gun on him before he explained himself, not after. You'd think context clues would help people understand your situation. Sure, he could guess that having two kills made him suspicious, but he could also guess if someone saw how he looked they'd understand exactly why he has those kills. But here we have dumbfuck-mcgee, spewing diarrhea out from his mouth like he's some Dirty Harry because he's got a revolver in his hands...
He should fuck him up for that alone...
But you know what? He won't. Remember Aaron? Yeah, Michael wasn't going to make that mistake again. Nope, nuh uh, not today. Fuck it, he's just gonna turn around and leave. This wasn't worth it. They looked pretty set anyways, Kyran had that big ass AK on him, and Jason's got that pistol, they'd do fine... They didn't need him.
Michael turned around, ready to walk away.
"Y'know what?"
Michael didn't walk away.
"Fuck you, Jason."
Kyran was one of his closest friends, he's one of the people Michael had been hoping to find. Was he really gonna walk away because of some pissant with a pistol? No, he wasn't just gonna leave his best friend to fate, not after how long it took him to find anyone else. He needed more people, people who weren't going to bitch out and play this shit. He knew for a fact him and Kyran were on the same page, he knew the guy well enough that he wouldn't use that AK unless he had to.
The katana embedded itself into the ground as Michael's hand reached up to his face, grabbing his sunglasses and mask.
"Can't believe this dumb motherfucker is making me do this..."
His hand pocketed the covers, as he took in a long deep breath. This was a dumb idea.
One of two ways this was gonna go...
"You wanna see why Blaine had to eat shit?"
Michael turned around, and took a step forward, pausing for dramatic effect. Michael gasped as if even he was surprised by how he looked, taking the time to mock their reactions at his features.
"It's the fuckin' boogeyman! Holy shit, what're we gonna do?! Children avert ye eyes, for it is said that a single gaze will turn you to stone!" Michael placed his wrist over his forehead, closed his eyes, arched his back and leaned, mimicking Jeffery Dean Morgan's performance as a certain Walking Dead character.
He straightened himself, pointing towards his face. "Listen, I get it, you're fuckin' scared of me, and you think I'm gonna kill your shit or something. I'm not, I don't have a fucking reason to. I had a reason for Blaine, and I had a reason for Simon. Blaine did this shit to me, and he did worse to Simon. I wasn't gonna let that bastard get away with it, and Simon asked me to do him in because it hurt too bad, and he didn't have much longer anyways."
He brought his arms out to his sides, showing his hands were empty. "Look at me, I'm unarmed, you gonna shoot an unarmed man, Jason?"
His arms went back to his sides, he knew he probably couldn't get to Jason, but at least Kyran or Adonis would have to understand, right?
"I ain't killed nobody who didn't deserve it; Simon didn't deserve to lay there like some stuck pig, and Blaine's a literal human piece of shit, it's only fitting where he ended up. I'll make you a deal, okay? I ain't gonna leave, so you got two choices, and they're your choices, it only effects me and you, not Kyran, not Adonis, none of the other people I met, just me and you."
Michael spun his wrists before flicking his fingers and stoping to point at the left of him. "Door numero uno! You put the gun down, we realize we're probably on the same side, and we deescalate this shit! I put my mask back on so you don't gotta look at this shit, and we go on our merry way. I don't really know you too well and I don't give much a fuck about you, but Kyran's one of my buddies, and after I spent all this time looking for my friends, so you best bet I'm staying around a while."
"Or..."
His arms shifted to pointing towards the right.
"You pull that trigger. I don't know how well you aim, so hey, you might be a crack shot, you might turn me into a brain salad! Scary guy is dead, and you can sleep easy at night knowing you killed someone who had no intention of doing you in! But... But!"
Michael brought his hands up into a box just in front of his face.
"Here. Is. The. Catch."
Michael smiled, his tongue sliding through Blaine's markings.
"After Blaine fucked me up, I got him back for it. Turns out I'm good at fitting people in places they shouldn't fit; in Blaine's case I flushed his whole head down a toilet. For you? Well, if it turns out you miss, or I get back up after you shoot me, well..."
Michael's grin widened, his lips and mouth peeling open revealing all the teeth he could.
"I'm going to walk up to you, unhinge my jaw like a fucking snake, and swallow you whole. I don't give a fuck what it does to my figure, you got me? As I said earlier, I ain't gonna kill nobody who don't deserve it, but if you're willing to shoot someone with nothing on them, then I'd say you deserve whatever comes your way, right?"
"Right?"
This was so fucking stupid, but Michael had hope that it would work. He appealed to the two things that would work in a situation like this, morality and fear. Michael had hoped that he'd either guilt trip or scare Jason into not being a fucking idiot. The smart decision would be to walk away, but he wasn't just gonna leave without seeing his best friend. If he had to be an asshole and scare Jason out of the way, then so be it.
"Two choices... Your choices. What's it gonna be? You gonna put that shit away so we can act like adults, or do you still want to play the big man?"
Okay, maybe he was too upfront with meeting them, sure. But you'd think they'd have pulled a gun on him before he explained himself, not after. You'd think context clues would help people understand your situation. Sure, he could guess that having two kills made him suspicious, but he could also guess if someone saw how he looked they'd understand exactly why he has those kills. But here we have dumbfuck-mcgee, spewing diarrhea out from his mouth like he's some Dirty Harry because he's got a revolver in his hands...
He should fuck him up for that alone...
But you know what? He won't. Remember Aaron? Yeah, Michael wasn't going to make that mistake again. Nope, nuh uh, not today. Fuck it, he's just gonna turn around and leave. This wasn't worth it. They looked pretty set anyways, Kyran had that big ass AK on him, and Jason's got that pistol, they'd do fine... They didn't need him.
Michael turned around, ready to walk away.
"Y'know what?"
Michael didn't walk away.
"Fuck you, Jason."
Kyran was one of his closest friends, he's one of the people Michael had been hoping to find. Was he really gonna walk away because of some pissant with a pistol? No, he wasn't just gonna leave his best friend to fate, not after how long it took him to find anyone else. He needed more people, people who weren't going to bitch out and play this shit. He knew for a fact him and Kyran were on the same page, he knew the guy well enough that he wouldn't use that AK unless he had to.
The katana embedded itself into the ground as Michael's hand reached up to his face, grabbing his sunglasses and mask.
"Can't believe this dumb motherfucker is making me do this..."
His hand pocketed the covers, as he took in a long deep breath. This was a dumb idea.
One of two ways this was gonna go...
"You wanna see why Blaine had to eat shit?"
Michael turned around, and took a step forward, pausing for dramatic effect. Michael gasped as if even he was surprised by how he looked, taking the time to mock their reactions at his features.
"It's the fuckin' boogeyman! Holy shit, what're we gonna do?! Children avert ye eyes, for it is said that a single gaze will turn you to stone!" Michael placed his wrist over his forehead, closed his eyes, arched his back and leaned, mimicking Jeffery Dean Morgan's performance as a certain Walking Dead character.
He straightened himself, pointing towards his face. "Listen, I get it, you're fuckin' scared of me, and you think I'm gonna kill your shit or something. I'm not, I don't have a fucking reason to. I had a reason for Blaine, and I had a reason for Simon. Blaine did this shit to me, and he did worse to Simon. I wasn't gonna let that bastard get away with it, and Simon asked me to do him in because it hurt too bad, and he didn't have much longer anyways."
He brought his arms out to his sides, showing his hands were empty. "Look at me, I'm unarmed, you gonna shoot an unarmed man, Jason?"
His arms went back to his sides, he knew he probably couldn't get to Jason, but at least Kyran or Adonis would have to understand, right?
"I ain't killed nobody who didn't deserve it; Simon didn't deserve to lay there like some stuck pig, and Blaine's a literal human piece of shit, it's only fitting where he ended up. I'll make you a deal, okay? I ain't gonna leave, so you got two choices, and they're your choices, it only effects me and you, not Kyran, not Adonis, none of the other people I met, just me and you."
Michael spun his wrists before flicking his fingers and stoping to point at the left of him. "Door numero uno! You put the gun down, we realize we're probably on the same side, and we deescalate this shit! I put my mask back on so you don't gotta look at this shit, and we go on our merry way. I don't really know you too well and I don't give much a fuck about you, but Kyran's one of my buddies, and after I spent all this time looking for my friends, so you best bet I'm staying around a while."
"Or..."
His arms shifted to pointing towards the right.
"You pull that trigger. I don't know how well you aim, so hey, you might be a crack shot, you might turn me into a brain salad! Scary guy is dead, and you can sleep easy at night knowing you killed someone who had no intention of doing you in! But... But!"
Michael brought his hands up into a box just in front of his face.
"Here. Is. The. Catch."
Michael smiled, his tongue sliding through Blaine's markings.
"After Blaine fucked me up, I got him back for it. Turns out I'm good at fitting people in places they shouldn't fit; in Blaine's case I flushed his whole head down a toilet. For you? Well, if it turns out you miss, or I get back up after you shoot me, well..."
Michael's grin widened, his lips and mouth peeling open revealing all the teeth he could.
"I'm going to walk up to you, unhinge my jaw like a fucking snake, and swallow you whole. I don't give a fuck what it does to my figure, you got me? As I said earlier, I ain't gonna kill nobody who don't deserve it, but if you're willing to shoot someone with nothing on them, then I'd say you deserve whatever comes your way, right?"
"Right?"
This was so fucking stupid, but Michael had hope that it would work. He appealed to the two things that would work in a situation like this, morality and fear. Michael had hoped that he'd either guilt trip or scare Jason into not being a fucking idiot. The smart decision would be to walk away, but he wasn't just gonna leave without seeing his best friend. If he had to be an asshole and scare Jason out of the way, then so be it.
"Two choices... Your choices. What's it gonna be? You gonna put that shit away so we can act like adults, or do you still want to play the big man?"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
What the, how the, when did he get that gun. How did he not notice? Had his attentiveness and coherency just about dissipated this badly already.
Kyran could feel his heart rate and blood pressure go up at the sudden tension and hostility under the burning midday sun.
It took him some delayed awareness to take in everything going on. He stepped back; tired eyes opened a little more fully than before as Jason brought out his own firearm, just about cocking the hammer back, yelling, freaking out like a college kid in a backwoods, hillbilly slasher flick who took the revolver off the recently deceased sheriff in attempt to ward off the said hillbilly slasher.
Not to say that old chum Michael was a hillbilly slasher, but what the hell he was almost, sort of looking the part.
That was even before he'd taken off the mask. Somewhere in there the mask and sunglasses went off, showcasing the disfigurement which Michael had been trying to hide. Silence or shock, reactions were happening around him at it probably, but Kyran did not flinch. Flippin’ Blaine Eno, of course.
Natali was proof of that guy's violence even if Kyran hadn't personally witnessed it himself. Now what he did to Michael, proved Blaine was sicker than he thought, and he understood that Michael needed to do what he needed to defend himself and end Blaine's wrath, especially for whatever Blaine had done to him. Kyran felt rotten about the possible insensitivity he'd made with his initial reaction toward Michael and had prepared to speak, but that was cut off almost immediately by Jason's current panic.
Much like Adonis, Kyran himself was calling for peace, albeit in much more silent way than his louder peer - all energy and ability to speak, sapped and withdrawn to the bottom of Kyran's coarse throat.
"Jason - Jason calm down man, calm down. Chill."
Light headed. His words were a whisper compared to everyone and everything else, barely being registered at all.
The others continued to speak and react, with the gun still in the air. He really needed to make sure to ask about weapons right away next time, he was just fortunate it was Jason and not somebody he barely knew. He hadn't even noticed the katana Michael had until it was embedded into the ground, while Michael being Michael, spoke with a bit of that usual goofiness Kyran had grown accustomed to over the years, despite the situation happening.
Underneath the goofy tone, the words Michael spoke were categorically not. Turns out that toilet job horror story in the warehouse bathroom, was Blaine and Michael's doing.
God freaking damn. The light-headed-ness continued to grow when Kyran realized that Michael's words were escalating the predicament more than it did to diffuse it. Jason showed little to no signs of letting the crisis fade either.
It was one friend vs another friend now and Kyran was stuck in the middle.
"Guys..." more talking, not being heard was frustrating. Strange because he wouldn't care at all back home. "Guys, relax."
Kyran let out a sigh, quietly unzipping the AK47 from its labeled case, lifting it vertically over his shoulder, muzzle pointed up. He fired one shot into the air.
"CHILL."
Gun still smoking, he took a deep breath. Kyran expended quite some energy having to yell out that last word enough so they could hear him after the loudness of the gunshot, as he wobbled over to the middle of both guys, each step taking a little more out of him, his mind and body feeling increasingly groggy, with the heat, stress, elevated blood pressure and racing heartbeat. He looked over at Michael, then back at Jason, staring down at the barrel of the revolver. Breathing rate increasing.
"Jason. If Michael wanted to attack us, I don't think he'd loudly call out for us to 'wait up', plus he's right. Blaine is on the danger list remember? He destroyed, Natali Greer's knee. Not surprised Blaine would do worse to him."
Attention back to Michael and his other worldly visage. Kyran tried swallowing, but his throat was completely dry.
"... and Mike, holy hell bro. That plunger faced mess at the warehouse, was Blaine wasn't it. Jeeze, that's fu—"
Cramping from his insides were sharper suddenly. Kyran felt woozier than he originally thought. His insides heaved as he tried to continue his sentence. He unstrapped his AK47 as well as the case and placed it on the ground as carefully as he could.
Kyran held his mid-section and lowered himself to ground slowly, to a half-crouch, half slouch, willing himself to stand up again through the newfound inner pains. With his gloved palms on his knees, Kyran lurched forward and heaved.
Bluurrrrguuguurrrruugurrhhh...
Vomiting followed as what little fluids Kyran had stored in his body before their field trip, in the form of what felt like nasty, burning saliva or slime-like liquid, came pouring out of his mouth, hanging loosely at this bottom lip. Panting now, Kyran Dean, could barely breathe.
Dry mouth, lightheaded and dizzy: Kyran thought it was over, looking up, wiping the fluids off the lower lip with the back of his gloved hand. Instead, he felt his blood pressure drop exponentially. He was wrong of course. Another heave worked its way up.
Jettisons of more violent vomiting splattered onto the ground nearby to that bridge. Curious seagulls perched and observing.
Kyran could feel his heart rate and blood pressure go up at the sudden tension and hostility under the burning midday sun.
It took him some delayed awareness to take in everything going on. He stepped back; tired eyes opened a little more fully than before as Jason brought out his own firearm, just about cocking the hammer back, yelling, freaking out like a college kid in a backwoods, hillbilly slasher flick who took the revolver off the recently deceased sheriff in attempt to ward off the said hillbilly slasher.
Not to say that old chum Michael was a hillbilly slasher, but what the hell he was almost, sort of looking the part.
That was even before he'd taken off the mask. Somewhere in there the mask and sunglasses went off, showcasing the disfigurement which Michael had been trying to hide. Silence or shock, reactions were happening around him at it probably, but Kyran did not flinch. Flippin’ Blaine Eno, of course.
Natali was proof of that guy's violence even if Kyran hadn't personally witnessed it himself. Now what he did to Michael, proved Blaine was sicker than he thought, and he understood that Michael needed to do what he needed to defend himself and end Blaine's wrath, especially for whatever Blaine had done to him. Kyran felt rotten about the possible insensitivity he'd made with his initial reaction toward Michael and had prepared to speak, but that was cut off almost immediately by Jason's current panic.
Much like Adonis, Kyran himself was calling for peace, albeit in much more silent way than his louder peer - all energy and ability to speak, sapped and withdrawn to the bottom of Kyran's coarse throat.
"Jason - Jason calm down man, calm down. Chill."
Light headed. His words were a whisper compared to everyone and everything else, barely being registered at all.
The others continued to speak and react, with the gun still in the air. He really needed to make sure to ask about weapons right away next time, he was just fortunate it was Jason and not somebody he barely knew. He hadn't even noticed the katana Michael had until it was embedded into the ground, while Michael being Michael, spoke with a bit of that usual goofiness Kyran had grown accustomed to over the years, despite the situation happening.
Underneath the goofy tone, the words Michael spoke were categorically not. Turns out that toilet job horror story in the warehouse bathroom, was Blaine and Michael's doing.
God freaking damn. The light-headed-ness continued to grow when Kyran realized that Michael's words were escalating the predicament more than it did to diffuse it. Jason showed little to no signs of letting the crisis fade either.
It was one friend vs another friend now and Kyran was stuck in the middle.
"Guys..." more talking, not being heard was frustrating. Strange because he wouldn't care at all back home. "Guys, relax."
Kyran let out a sigh, quietly unzipping the AK47 from its labeled case, lifting it vertically over his shoulder, muzzle pointed up. He fired one shot into the air.
"CHILL."
Gun still smoking, he took a deep breath. Kyran expended quite some energy having to yell out that last word enough so they could hear him after the loudness of the gunshot, as he wobbled over to the middle of both guys, each step taking a little more out of him, his mind and body feeling increasingly groggy, with the heat, stress, elevated blood pressure and racing heartbeat. He looked over at Michael, then back at Jason, staring down at the barrel of the revolver. Breathing rate increasing.
"Jason. If Michael wanted to attack us, I don't think he'd loudly call out for us to 'wait up', plus he's right. Blaine is on the danger list remember? He destroyed, Natali Greer's knee. Not surprised Blaine would do worse to him."
Attention back to Michael and his other worldly visage. Kyran tried swallowing, but his throat was completely dry.
"... and Mike, holy hell bro. That plunger faced mess at the warehouse, was Blaine wasn't it. Jeeze, that's fu—"
Cramping from his insides were sharper suddenly. Kyran felt woozier than he originally thought. His insides heaved as he tried to continue his sentence. He unstrapped his AK47 as well as the case and placed it on the ground as carefully as he could.
Kyran held his mid-section and lowered himself to ground slowly, to a half-crouch, half slouch, willing himself to stand up again through the newfound inner pains. With his gloved palms on his knees, Kyran lurched forward and heaved.
Bluurrrrguuguurrrruugurrhhh...
Vomiting followed as what little fluids Kyran had stored in his body before their field trip, in the form of what felt like nasty, burning saliva or slime-like liquid, came pouring out of his mouth, hanging loosely at this bottom lip. Panting now, Kyran Dean, could barely breathe.
Dry mouth, lightheaded and dizzy: Kyran thought it was over, looking up, wiping the fluids off the lower lip with the back of his gloved hand. Instead, he felt his blood pressure drop exponentially. He was wrong of course. Another heave worked its way up.
Jettisons of more violent vomiting splattered onto the ground nearby to that bridge. Curious seagulls perched and observing.
If there was one thing that Jason prided himself on, it was that he always stood his ground.
Even when Michael took off his mummy costume and showed them his disgusting fucked-up face, he didn't move his gun or even betray an emotion. When he started explaining why Blaine and Simon had to die, and why he killed them, he never even cocked his eyebrow at the ridiculous shit some people had already been through. Every twist and turn of the monologue had Jason readjusting his grip, not letting his aim falter or fall, because there were rhetorical questions there he had every intention of answering one way or the other.
For example:
"Look at me, I'm unarmed, you gonna shoot an unarmed man, Jason?"
The answer to that was yes. Yes, if Jason could get away with shooting Michael Crowe, he would. Not out of any perverse sense of justice, or even personal feelings. For one, that concept didn't exist here, and for another, he wanted to shoot Michael Crowe for much more than that.
Michael Crowe had killed. That meant that he was a threat to Jason's endgame, one which ended with Jason's victory. He was not letting Michael Crowe near the end after proving himself to be capable of something Jason so sorely wanted and needed to do.
Jason heard protests behind him, from Adonis and Kyran. They wanted him to chill, but Jason was already chill. In fact, he felt calmer than he'd felt in days, standing there with Michael at his mercy. He wanted control, and he had control, even if it was by someone who only held it as an illusion. The highest card in Jason's hand could be beaten by anything, but they had no idea.
At least, until Michael started hinting he didn't care about losing his chips.
And then, Jason was stuck.
He didn't want Michael Crowe anywhere near him, because fuck that noise. If Jason was going to get anywhere, he needed his base control and not an unstable factor. Jason didn't know how this thing with Kyran and Adonis was going to turn out, but it would have been smooth if Michael wasn't in the picture. But as it stood right now he'd leveled the playing field. He was either joining them, or he was getting a bullet in the head, a bullet which resided in its casing in its box in its bag under the arms of the kid he stole this gun from on the first goddamn day so unless this stupid gun was a magnet then Jason was out of options right now.
He didn't want Michael there as option number one, but he literally could not choose option number two.
What the hell was he going to do?
He could keep speaking. His voice was stronger than he had any right to be considering the bluff he'd failed at.
"I don't know about you, but I'd be willing to-"
Listen to a gunshot rip through the air? If not, it was too late for that, considering Kyran was screaming and had fired his gun.
Jason's head whipped around for a moment, a moment which could have killed him if Michael Crowe was really as dangerous as Jason was presenting him as. In the flash of colour he saw as Kyran, standing there with the rifle in his hands, aiming to the sky. He turned back to Michael though, and Kyran re-positioned himself between the two. Jason adjusted his aim so that the gun wasn't pointed at Kyran's own head, but still held himself steady, the nerve he'd picked up from years of baseball keeping him rooted to the moment.
And he listened to Kyran try to talk some sense into him, which probably would have worked if they were on the same level and operating under the same assumptions. He turned around to say the same to Michael, but his second monologue was interrupted.
Before Jason knew it, Kyran was now vomiting on the ground, his gun out of hand along with his stomach fluids. He immediately lowered his own gun and released it from one of his hands, turning around to Adonis.
"Jesus! What's he been eating?"
Out of the corner of his eye as he spun around to the other party of the scene, he took note of the fact that the AK-47 was no longer in Kyran's hands.
Even when Michael took off his mummy costume and showed them his disgusting fucked-up face, he didn't move his gun or even betray an emotion. When he started explaining why Blaine and Simon had to die, and why he killed them, he never even cocked his eyebrow at the ridiculous shit some people had already been through. Every twist and turn of the monologue had Jason readjusting his grip, not letting his aim falter or fall, because there were rhetorical questions there he had every intention of answering one way or the other.
For example:
"Look at me, I'm unarmed, you gonna shoot an unarmed man, Jason?"
The answer to that was yes. Yes, if Jason could get away with shooting Michael Crowe, he would. Not out of any perverse sense of justice, or even personal feelings. For one, that concept didn't exist here, and for another, he wanted to shoot Michael Crowe for much more than that.
Michael Crowe had killed. That meant that he was a threat to Jason's endgame, one which ended with Jason's victory. He was not letting Michael Crowe near the end after proving himself to be capable of something Jason so sorely wanted and needed to do.
Jason heard protests behind him, from Adonis and Kyran. They wanted him to chill, but Jason was already chill. In fact, he felt calmer than he'd felt in days, standing there with Michael at his mercy. He wanted control, and he had control, even if it was by someone who only held it as an illusion. The highest card in Jason's hand could be beaten by anything, but they had no idea.
At least, until Michael started hinting he didn't care about losing his chips.
And then, Jason was stuck.
He didn't want Michael Crowe anywhere near him, because fuck that noise. If Jason was going to get anywhere, he needed his base control and not an unstable factor. Jason didn't know how this thing with Kyran and Adonis was going to turn out, but it would have been smooth if Michael wasn't in the picture. But as it stood right now he'd leveled the playing field. He was either joining them, or he was getting a bullet in the head, a bullet which resided in its casing in its box in its bag under the arms of the kid he stole this gun from on the first goddamn day so unless this stupid gun was a magnet then Jason was out of options right now.
He didn't want Michael there as option number one, but he literally could not choose option number two.
What the hell was he going to do?
He could keep speaking. His voice was stronger than he had any right to be considering the bluff he'd failed at.
"I don't know about you, but I'd be willing to-"
Listen to a gunshot rip through the air? If not, it was too late for that, considering Kyran was screaming and had fired his gun.
Jason's head whipped around for a moment, a moment which could have killed him if Michael Crowe was really as dangerous as Jason was presenting him as. In the flash of colour he saw as Kyran, standing there with the rifle in his hands, aiming to the sky. He turned back to Michael though, and Kyran re-positioned himself between the two. Jason adjusted his aim so that the gun wasn't pointed at Kyran's own head, but still held himself steady, the nerve he'd picked up from years of baseball keeping him rooted to the moment.
And he listened to Kyran try to talk some sense into him, which probably would have worked if they were on the same level and operating under the same assumptions. He turned around to say the same to Michael, but his second monologue was interrupted.
Before Jason knew it, Kyran was now vomiting on the ground, his gun out of hand along with his stomach fluids. He immediately lowered his own gun and released it from one of his hands, turning around to Adonis.
"Jesus! What's he been eating?"
Out of the corner of his eye as he spun around to the other party of the scene, he took note of the fact that the AK-47 was no longer in Kyran's hands.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck..."
There really was no other way that Adonis could put his reaction to whatever the hell Blaine had done to Michael's face into words. The guy was fucked up, like a victim in a horror movie, only he was still alive. Hell, how was he even still alive with all the shit that had happened to him? Dude must have been tough as hell to keep on going. And if this was just his face, then what the hell were the rest of his bandages covering up? Adonis really, really didn't want to think about that, but just looking at Michael made it kinda hard not to.
So Michael kept going on dishing about who he killed and how Jason was being a dumbass or whatever. It kinda felt like Adonis was watching a movie, actually, since he was pretty sure he hadn't ever seen anyone talk like this in his life when they weren't on camera. Well, actually they were technically on camera, but it wasn't of their free will, so he didn't count that.
BANG
"Fuck!"
Well, Kyran had found a way to shut everyone up real quick: Firing his goddamn gun in the air. Adonis stared up at the sky, hoping that the bullet didn't come back down on him. He knew that falling bullets were still dangerous as hell, so he really wanted to get to shelter now. A roof between him and the flying death bullet would definitely be appreciated.
Not that he had much time to think on that though, since it wasn't long before Kyran made another noise. This time, it was very, very loud vomiting. He puked some kind of ooze all over the place, and it formed a rapidly expanding puddle that was coming far too close to Adonis' shoes for comfort.
"Fuck!" Adonis shouted, jumping back from the shimmering, quivering vomit. He carefully stepped around the mess and made his way to Kyran's side, just in time for another shower to spray forth from the skater's mouth.
"Holy fuck dude, you all right?"
There really was no other way that Adonis could put his reaction to whatever the hell Blaine had done to Michael's face into words. The guy was fucked up, like a victim in a horror movie, only he was still alive. Hell, how was he even still alive with all the shit that had happened to him? Dude must have been tough as hell to keep on going. And if this was just his face, then what the hell were the rest of his bandages covering up? Adonis really, really didn't want to think about that, but just looking at Michael made it kinda hard not to.
So Michael kept going on dishing about who he killed and how Jason was being a dumbass or whatever. It kinda felt like Adonis was watching a movie, actually, since he was pretty sure he hadn't ever seen anyone talk like this in his life when they weren't on camera. Well, actually they were technically on camera, but it wasn't of their free will, so he didn't count that.
BANG
"Fuck!"
Well, Kyran had found a way to shut everyone up real quick: Firing his goddamn gun in the air. Adonis stared up at the sky, hoping that the bullet didn't come back down on him. He knew that falling bullets were still dangerous as hell, so he really wanted to get to shelter now. A roof between him and the flying death bullet would definitely be appreciated.
Not that he had much time to think on that though, since it wasn't long before Kyran made another noise. This time, it was very, very loud vomiting. He puked some kind of ooze all over the place, and it formed a rapidly expanding puddle that was coming far too close to Adonis' shoes for comfort.
"Fuck!" Adonis shouted, jumping back from the shimmering, quivering vomit. He carefully stepped around the mess and made his way to Kyran's side, just in time for another shower to spray forth from the skater's mouth.
"Holy fuck dude, you all right?"
He wasn't getting to Jason.
This wasn't working. Why in the fuck Kyran and Adonis pick that crazy ass idiot up? Wait a minute, Kyran and Adonis both fucking hate each other, why are they toget- Fuck it.
He needed a better threat, the unarmed wasn't doing it.
"Alright, fuck it, how about this..."
Michael reached in his coat pocket and pulled out the gun he stole from Blaine.
"Now I ain't so unarmed bitch, you gonna shoot at someone who can shoot ba-"
Michael closed his eyes as Jason shot back. The bastard actually did it, he actually shot him! Michael was as good as dead, except wait... he wasn't dead? Michael noticed when he opened his eyes, Kyran was standing there AK in the sky, smoke coming from the barrel as he demanded they chill the fuck out.
Michael could tell Kyran wasn't having any of that shit just from the look on his face as he moved over in between them. Kyran always had his shit together, and today was no exception. Michael lowered the gun when he realized that Kyran could handle this, that the dick waving contest portion of this encounter was pretty much done. He called Jason out, telling him the same exact thing he was saying earlier.
"That's right!" Michael blurted in.
Almost on cue though, Kyran turned to chew him out. Michael prepared for the worst, but all it seems he was doing was asking about the mess in the warehouse, and how he probably wished he hadn-
Oh.
Ew.
Michael was expecting a reaction like this to be fair. Though he was more expecting it around the time he took the mask off, and not a good 20 seconds later. At least it wasn't because of his face, that felt kind of nice. He was still probably gonna put it back on after this, he didn't really want to take it off in the first place.
He watched Kyran stand back up, wiping away at his mouth.
"Ay man, you goo-"
Kyran keeled over once again.
"No he ain't..."
Okay, to be fair though, maybe the plunger was a bit much, but in his defense he intended it to be a red flag! It was there to kind of censor the stall and warn you ahead of time that you should probably not look in there, as if the sprawled out arms and legs wasn't enough of an 'occupied' message. Hell, he thought it was kind of funny to be honest; or at least it was funnier in his head. Didn't help that Blaine deserved it.
It wasn't until he noticed that Kyran wasn't stopping, and that the color started turning into a faded yellow that Michael started to realize maybe something was wrong. You didn't puke that yellow-y color unless you was really, really, sick. "Hey uhhh... Kyran... Kyran you okay man?"
Michael started to inch closer to him, hoping that Jason wouldn't take it as an opportunity to ice him.
This wasn't working. Why in the fuck Kyran and Adonis pick that crazy ass idiot up? Wait a minute, Kyran and Adonis both fucking hate each other, why are they toget- Fuck it.
He needed a better threat, the unarmed wasn't doing it.
"Alright, fuck it, how about this..."
Michael reached in his coat pocket and pulled out the gun he stole from Blaine.
"Now I ain't so unarmed bitch, you gonna shoot at someone who can shoot ba-"
Michael closed his eyes as Jason shot back. The bastard actually did it, he actually shot him! Michael was as good as dead, except wait... he wasn't dead? Michael noticed when he opened his eyes, Kyran was standing there AK in the sky, smoke coming from the barrel as he demanded they chill the fuck out.
Michael could tell Kyran wasn't having any of that shit just from the look on his face as he moved over in between them. Kyran always had his shit together, and today was no exception. Michael lowered the gun when he realized that Kyran could handle this, that the dick waving contest portion of this encounter was pretty much done. He called Jason out, telling him the same exact thing he was saying earlier.
"That's right!" Michael blurted in.
Almost on cue though, Kyran turned to chew him out. Michael prepared for the worst, but all it seems he was doing was asking about the mess in the warehouse, and how he probably wished he hadn-
Oh.
Ew.
Michael was expecting a reaction like this to be fair. Though he was more expecting it around the time he took the mask off, and not a good 20 seconds later. At least it wasn't because of his face, that felt kind of nice. He was still probably gonna put it back on after this, he didn't really want to take it off in the first place.
He watched Kyran stand back up, wiping away at his mouth.
"Ay man, you goo-"
Kyran keeled over once again.
"No he ain't..."
Okay, to be fair though, maybe the plunger was a bit much, but in his defense he intended it to be a red flag! It was there to kind of censor the stall and warn you ahead of time that you should probably not look in there, as if the sprawled out arms and legs wasn't enough of an 'occupied' message. Hell, he thought it was kind of funny to be honest; or at least it was funnier in his head. Didn't help that Blaine deserved it.
It wasn't until he noticed that Kyran wasn't stopping, and that the color started turning into a faded yellow that Michael started to realize maybe something was wrong. You didn't puke that yellow-y color unless you was really, really, sick. "Hey uhhh... Kyran... Kyran you okay man?"
Michael started to inch closer to him, hoping that Jason wouldn't take it as an opportunity to ice him.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Feeling light as air, staggering on his feet, swaying, trying to stabilize a hold on whoever was nearby. He croaked out a response.
"Mmh, yeah. I'm ok - I'm okay."
In an instant, Kyran Dean's vision completely blacked out. A dull thud onto dry earth.
"Mmh, yeah. I'm ok - I'm okay."
In an instant, Kyran Dean's vision completely blacked out. A dull thud onto dry earth.