[Genevieve Cordova, start.]
Everything still felt like a dream.
There was a surreality to the situation that led Genevieve to question whether anything she was seeing and hearing was real or just a nightmare she could not wake up from. Genevieve had often thought about how she would act if she was thrown into the show, as she was sure every fan of the program had, but had never imagined actually having to experience each moment ticking past. The unrelenting fear of knowing that her existance could be ended in the next second. Genevieve watched the edited, sanitised highlights. The visceral details were all new to her. Everything looked bigger and shinier on television.
What Genevieve knew for certain was that the limelight was life or death. Not luck, not skill, not smarts, but the ability to manipulate the camera and grab as much attention as possible. To that end, Genevieve sat cross-legged on the chair she had pulled up to a camera on the wall, her cyan bandanna tied around her head to keep her hair out of her eyes, and began her makeshift confessional.
“When I first woke up in the game, I suppose I felt... kind of sad, I guess. Like, I was super shocked that I got picked for SOTF and I didn't think I was ready for the spotlight on me.” Genevieve said, giving the camera an overexaggerated frown. In an instant, her frown became an exaggerated smile that masked her desperate plea for attention with genuine enthusiasm for the game. “But I was also super excited! I mean, I've always loved watching the plots and characters on SOTF, so I thought that this was gonna be the greatest thing that ever happened to me!”
It was a form of selling out, but Genevieve hardly cared. If Survival meant phony speeches to a camera lens, she was prepared to survive until her vocal cords exploded.
“If I had to describe my playing style,” Genevieve began, pursing her lips. “I would have to say that I am most influenced by Bones. Jared Clayton, too. He's probably my favourite competitor of all time. Karen Ruiz was definitely a role model for me. They were all such great, innovative, competitors.”
Genevieve felt like a fraud. Her smile vanished as she thought about her family, her kind-of sort-of parents and the woman who had been the older sister she never had, watching her at home. Her smile dropped and she pulled her knees up to her chest. Genevieve stared at the ground, trying to phrase her final goodbye to the only real family she had ever known.
“Nick. Jessica. Aimee. I'm so sorry.” She said. Terse, but enough to let them know that Genevieve was still in there underneath the fake confessionals. She gave a weak, genuine smile. “I'll see you all again soon. Forgive me for everything I'm about to do.”
Genevieve pushed herself off the chair and slumped down in the corner where the cameras couldn't see her with her head in her hands. Her tears made the makeup run down her cheeks. Of course it wasn't a dream. Dreams had better production values.
We Are Not Your Kind of People
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We Are Not Your Kind of People
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delicateMachine
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"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? Anzu screamed at the man who was restraining her as she desperately struggled to break free. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS! NOT TO ME!" She managed to get her right arm loose for a second, reaching out for something, anything, to defend herself with, before her abductor regained a hold of her, a second figure forcing a pungent-smelling cloth over her mouth. Anzu's struggles soon slowed, then stopped, the world fading to black.
-
It was funny how the milestones of your life could just fly by without you ever taking notice.
Your last time grumbling at your alarm clock as you rise out of bed, hoping beyond all hope that a meteor strike had miraculously cancelled school while you were asleep. Last time eating shitty cereal while absently watching the shitty morning television, falling comfortably into the routine that had been settled in many years ago.
It was funny how a simple knock on the door could signify the end of your life.
"Excuse me, Ms. Anzu Sakamoto?" The serious looking man at the door said as she slowly cracked it open.
"Yes?" Anzu's still groggy mind was confused, but not alarmed quite yet. It was definitely out of the ordinary, but he was probably just one of her father's business associates or something. Which didn't explain the fact that there was a rather decent number of them, or their very ominous van. Shit.
"You've been selected to be a part of SOTF-TV." The man said, blocking the door with his foot as she tried to close it. "Please, come with us quietly, miss. There's no need to make a fuss." He continued, slowly the door completely and advancing as Anzu backed away slowly, her legs seeming to turn to lead.
It was funny how you always thought it wasn't going to happen to you.
"Please remain calm, miss. We're not going to hurt you." The man said, mistaking her trembling for fear or apprehension, instead of the steadily boiling rage that was greater than any Anzu had felt in her life before. Who the hell were they to nonchalantly show up at her door and spirit her away? Who the hell were they to decide that her life up to this point had meant nothing at all?
"Fuck. No." She growled, charging at the men in a desperate attempt to break through.
-
Anzu remained silent, desolate, throughout the briefing. She'd heard this shit before, through the speakers of her TV screen. None of it would make her any less dead.
-
(Anzu Sakamoto: Begin)
The stupid fucking useless toy she'd been assigned was flung against the wall, soon followed by the skimpy witch outfit. What the hell were those sick bastards implying? Not only did they expect her to die for them, they expected her to do it prancing around in that?
Anzu took a deep breath, wanting to do nothing but scream forever, trash the stupid fucking sports center she'd woken up in, tear down the walls until there was nothing left. It would have been so easy to give in to the rage, follow the same basic outline set but no doubt hundreds of her predecessors. It would have been so easy to just let loose and give the spectators the show they wanted.
But that was just it, wasn't it? There were now an unimaginable number of assholes watching her every move even now, and she loathed every single one of them.
So drawing on every last bit of her self-restraint, mastered over the years, Anzu calmed down. She exhaled. She remained boring. If she had to die, there sure as hell wasn't going to be anyone getting any satisfaction from it.
Not that she just planned to lay around and wait, of course. She had people to find. Ashley, Sarah, Valerie. Caroline. Now, more than ever, she regretted never having the guts to confess, scared over something as comparably tiny as rejection, or the scorn of her parents. Tiny might not have been the right word, but anything seemed insignificant compared to a deathmatch.
Anzu tied her amber bandanna to her arm, hoisted her duffel bag over her shoulder. There was shit to be done.
-
It was funny how the milestones of your life could just fly by without you ever taking notice.
Your last time grumbling at your alarm clock as you rise out of bed, hoping beyond all hope that a meteor strike had miraculously cancelled school while you were asleep. Last time eating shitty cereal while absently watching the shitty morning television, falling comfortably into the routine that had been settled in many years ago.
It was funny how a simple knock on the door could signify the end of your life.
"Excuse me, Ms. Anzu Sakamoto?" The serious looking man at the door said as she slowly cracked it open.
"Yes?" Anzu's still groggy mind was confused, but not alarmed quite yet. It was definitely out of the ordinary, but he was probably just one of her father's business associates or something. Which didn't explain the fact that there was a rather decent number of them, or their very ominous van. Shit.
"You've been selected to be a part of SOTF-TV." The man said, blocking the door with his foot as she tried to close it. "Please, come with us quietly, miss. There's no need to make a fuss." He continued, slowly the door completely and advancing as Anzu backed away slowly, her legs seeming to turn to lead.
It was funny how you always thought it wasn't going to happen to you.
"Please remain calm, miss. We're not going to hurt you." The man said, mistaking her trembling for fear or apprehension, instead of the steadily boiling rage that was greater than any Anzu had felt in her life before. Who the hell were they to nonchalantly show up at her door and spirit her away? Who the hell were they to decide that her life up to this point had meant nothing at all?
"Fuck. No." She growled, charging at the men in a desperate attempt to break through.
-
Anzu remained silent, desolate, throughout the briefing. She'd heard this shit before, through the speakers of her TV screen. None of it would make her any less dead.
-
(Anzu Sakamoto: Begin)
The stupid fucking useless toy she'd been assigned was flung against the wall, soon followed by the skimpy witch outfit. What the hell were those sick bastards implying? Not only did they expect her to die for them, they expected her to do it prancing around in that?
Anzu took a deep breath, wanting to do nothing but scream forever, trash the stupid fucking sports center she'd woken up in, tear down the walls until there was nothing left. It would have been so easy to give in to the rage, follow the same basic outline set but no doubt hundreds of her predecessors. It would have been so easy to just let loose and give the spectators the show they wanted.
But that was just it, wasn't it? There were now an unimaginable number of assholes watching her every move even now, and she loathed every single one of them.
So drawing on every last bit of her self-restraint, mastered over the years, Anzu calmed down. She exhaled. She remained boring. If she had to die, there sure as hell wasn't going to be anyone getting any satisfaction from it.
Not that she just planned to lay around and wait, of course. She had people to find. Ashley, Sarah, Valerie. Caroline. Now, more than ever, she regretted never having the guts to confess, scared over something as comparably tiny as rejection, or the scorn of her parents. Tiny might not have been the right word, but anything seemed insignificant compared to a deathmatch.
Anzu tied her amber bandanna to her arm, hoisted her duffel bag over her shoulder. There was shit to be done.
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Un-Persona*
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((Ashley Namath: RBP2 - TV2 - Start))
Last thing Ashley remembered was her sisters remarking how cool she was now, as they dragged her away from home, all the way to here. Dad wasn't home, mom was asleep. But no, they watched, even waved good-bye.
They wanted to see her die.
And now, she had the means to do it. Gun in hand, she walked away from the football field she had woke up on. It was too damn cold to stay for long. Probably should have worn better clothes for the weather, but she just tossed some clean ones on, already running late to school.
"What good that does me now."
A few wardrobe changes had occurred since she woke up. A rainbow bandana now acted as a scarf over her collar for one. She also had white gloves, a jacket over her other jacket, and a hat, all from the costume they gave her. At least they might provide some warmth, however little that may be.
So now she was inside the building, not sure for what reason. What was she suppose to do besides die? Be entertaining? Forget that. She supposed if she had to live, she could do it in a dull fashion.
Spite is a hell of a drug.
Only a few rooms in this place, but labeled for simplicity, she supposed. Two squash rooms, tennis, pool area. Despite questioning what Squash was, she wondered which one to enter. At the end she shrugged, and decided to see what was in Squash room number 1.
Last thing Ashley remembered was her sisters remarking how cool she was now, as they dragged her away from home, all the way to here. Dad wasn't home, mom was asleep. But no, they watched, even waved good-bye.
They wanted to see her die.
And now, she had the means to do it. Gun in hand, she walked away from the football field she had woke up on. It was too damn cold to stay for long. Probably should have worn better clothes for the weather, but she just tossed some clean ones on, already running late to school.
"What good that does me now."
A few wardrobe changes had occurred since she woke up. A rainbow bandana now acted as a scarf over her collar for one. She also had white gloves, a jacket over her other jacket, and a hat, all from the costume they gave her. At least they might provide some warmth, however little that may be.
So now she was inside the building, not sure for what reason. What was she suppose to do besides die? Be entertaining? Forget that. She supposed if she had to live, she could do it in a dull fashion.
Spite is a hell of a drug.
Only a few rooms in this place, but labeled for simplicity, she supposed. Two squash rooms, tennis, pool area. Despite questioning what Squash was, she wondered which one to enter. At the end she shrugged, and decided to see what was in Squash room number 1.
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Genevieve sat and sobbed in mournful silence until her cheeks were stained with tears. It was a pathetic response to the game, crying. Genevieve conditioned herself to believe as much through dilligent viewing of the sanitised highlights, jeering those forgotten cowards who awoke bleary-eyed and sobbing, appealing to deities for protection or screaming for their families. Crying was a coward's stategy, but one frequently chosen. A passive, pointless strategy that was suited only for those who deserved to die. Those who had already given up. Genevieve had often wondered how she would act if she was thrown into the game, but she had never imagined being the girl who sat and cried. It had been easy to picture herself as the conquering badass when she was on the other side of the television screen.
Huddled in an apparent blind spot in the corner of the hall, Genevieve pulled her legs to her chest and buried her head in her knees. As long as she had tears left in her to cry, Genevieve wanted to avoid the camera lens. Everything was already going wrong. Color commentary for the older seasons had taught Genevieve that the opening hours were invaluable. She had seen enough of the show to know that this was the time for her to be forming alliances, planning out her long-term strategy, getting early kills to maximise her impact on the game. These were the make or break moments; her one chance to appease a fickle viewing audience. A strong first impression was her best chance at staying alive. By the end of the day, she would be dead or she would be a star.
Genevieve was wasting them by sitting and crying.
All Genevieve could think about was how undignified this must have looked. She imagined the Haywards frantically searching through livestreams, haggard at their computer monitors, watching the girl who may as well have been their own daughter curled up in a ball, crying. The thought drew a quiet, bitter laugh from her lips. Funny as hell, it was the most horrible thing she could think of.
Laughter stopped her from crying, though, and Genevieve wiped her tears away with the palms of her hands. Genevieve breathed deep breaths to clear her lungs, trying to compose herself as best she could before she stepped back into the view of the cameras. There was no need to rush her movements at this stage; she knew that the second she scrambled back into frame, every single movement she made would be scrutinised by the hosts and the audience at home. Playing the game smart began and ended with only expending energy when you were in view of a camera.
Back on her feet, Genevieve gave the camera a knowing glare as she knelt beside her pack and retrieved her assigned weapon. It was a small knife with an ornate handle that came with a sheath. Genevieve had no knowledge of weaponry of any kind- she had never been in a fight in her life, let alone used a knife for anything but preparing food- and the small blade felt unbalanced and awkward in her hands. Genevieve shoved it down the side of her boot, emulating a technique she saw in a movie one time.
Genevieve tapped the microphone inside her collar to grab the attention of her mentor.
“Alright, Ms. Collar.” She said, shouldering her pack. “What should I do?”
Huddled in an apparent blind spot in the corner of the hall, Genevieve pulled her legs to her chest and buried her head in her knees. As long as she had tears left in her to cry, Genevieve wanted to avoid the camera lens. Everything was already going wrong. Color commentary for the older seasons had taught Genevieve that the opening hours were invaluable. She had seen enough of the show to know that this was the time for her to be forming alliances, planning out her long-term strategy, getting early kills to maximise her impact on the game. These were the make or break moments; her one chance to appease a fickle viewing audience. A strong first impression was her best chance at staying alive. By the end of the day, she would be dead or she would be a star.
Genevieve was wasting them by sitting and crying.
All Genevieve could think about was how undignified this must have looked. She imagined the Haywards frantically searching through livestreams, haggard at their computer monitors, watching the girl who may as well have been their own daughter curled up in a ball, crying. The thought drew a quiet, bitter laugh from her lips. Funny as hell, it was the most horrible thing she could think of.
Laughter stopped her from crying, though, and Genevieve wiped her tears away with the palms of her hands. Genevieve breathed deep breaths to clear her lungs, trying to compose herself as best she could before she stepped back into the view of the cameras. There was no need to rush her movements at this stage; she knew that the second she scrambled back into frame, every single movement she made would be scrutinised by the hosts and the audience at home. Playing the game smart began and ended with only expending energy when you were in view of a camera.
Back on her feet, Genevieve gave the camera a knowing glare as she knelt beside her pack and retrieved her assigned weapon. It was a small knife with an ornate handle that came with a sheath. Genevieve had no knowledge of weaponry of any kind- she had never been in a fight in her life, let alone used a knife for anything but preparing food- and the small blade felt unbalanced and awkward in her hands. Genevieve shoved it down the side of her boot, emulating a technique she saw in a movie one time.
Genevieve tapped the microphone inside her collar to grab the attention of her mentor.
“Alright, Ms. Collar.” She said, shouldering her pack. “What should I do?”
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delicateMachine
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Before Anzu could open the door to go out into the world and do... well, whatever the hell she planned on doing, it was flung open. She froze, her hand still extended towards the doorknob.
Shit. Her first reaction was to tense up, prepare to charge. If the world hated Anzu enough to send someone after her right after she woke up, then fuck the world, she wasn't going down that easily- wait, holy shit, was that Ashley?
The flight attendant's getup had thrown Anzu off for a moment, but yep, that was definitely Ashley. She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing again. "Christ, Ashley, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Anzu said, smiling despite herself.
Ashley had been one of her best friends, since... hell, Anzu couldn't even remember exactly when, it'd been that long. She vaguely remembered something about a tree? Well, all that really mattered was that they'd met up far sooner than Anzu had allowed herself to hope.
Fuck you tentatively retracted, world.
Anzu's smile faded a bit when she saw the rainbow bandanna Ashley was using as a scarf. Though Anzu honestly didn't give a shit about the teams, seeing as there was no way in hell she was going to play along with the producer's game, but it still stung to know there was that much less of a chance of both of them making it out alive.
Shit. Her first reaction was to tense up, prepare to charge. If the world hated Anzu enough to send someone after her right after she woke up, then fuck the world, she wasn't going down that easily- wait, holy shit, was that Ashley?
The flight attendant's getup had thrown Anzu off for a moment, but yep, that was definitely Ashley. She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing again. "Christ, Ashley, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Anzu said, smiling despite herself.
Ashley had been one of her best friends, since... hell, Anzu couldn't even remember exactly when, it'd been that long. She vaguely remembered something about a tree? Well, all that really mattered was that they'd met up far sooner than Anzu had allowed herself to hope.
Fuck you tentatively retracted, world.
Anzu's smile faded a bit when she saw the rainbow bandanna Ashley was using as a scarf. Though Anzu honestly didn't give a shit about the teams, seeing as there was no way in hell she was going to play along with the producer's game, but it still stung to know there was that much less of a chance of both of them making it out alive.
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Un-Persona*
- Posts: 189
- Joined: Mon Sep 17, 2018 4:55 am
Oh, seems like good things can happen. She hadn't exactly expected to find a friend so soon, but it sure as hell wasn't something she needed to complain about. Ashley slowly grew her own smile as she saw Anzu's, even if she had scared her half to death.
"Sorry, was just kinda wanderin' 'round since I woke up. Good to see ya too."
Ashley crossed her arms as she looked over her friend. She seemed okay. Anzu had always managed to keep her calm facade up when needed, but Ashley had known her long enough to know it was just that, a facade. Still, even Ashley had trouble at times knowing when Anzu was truly upset, especially as she got better at hiding her feelings as they got older.
"You doin' alright so far? Just a little bit on the edge myself."
Ashley scratched at her head with her non-gun holding hand, looking around at the bright white backdrop, the burnt orange bandana around Anzu's arm and her entire black get-up. At least her friend would have an easy time hiding. The contrast Anzu and Ashley had with their colors was getting increasingly noticeable.
She wondered if there was anybody else around to add to this mess of mismatch.
"Sorry, was just kinda wanderin' 'round since I woke up. Good to see ya too."
Ashley crossed her arms as she looked over her friend. She seemed okay. Anzu had always managed to keep her calm facade up when needed, but Ashley had known her long enough to know it was just that, a facade. Still, even Ashley had trouble at times knowing when Anzu was truly upset, especially as she got better at hiding her feelings as they got older.
"You doin' alright so far? Just a little bit on the edge myself."
Ashley scratched at her head with her non-gun holding hand, looking around at the bright white backdrop, the burnt orange bandana around Anzu's arm and her entire black get-up. At least her friend would have an easy time hiding. The contrast Anzu and Ashley had with their colors was getting increasingly noticeable.
She wondered if there was anybody else around to add to this mess of mismatch.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3432
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
A voice echoes quietly from Genevieve's collar.
"Hello, Genevieve. My name is Cecelia Warren. What you should do, I would say, depends entirely on what you're hoping to achieve, though I can provide some general advice: the early game may seem make or break, but remember that you can recover more easily from an overly quiet day than from one that goes awry. Don't be Marvia Jones. Get yourself in a good spot, connect with your teammates if possible. I can't tell you where they are, but I would recommend grouping. I can't contact you again until after the announcements, so try to exercise strategic caution until then."
"Hello, Genevieve. My name is Cecelia Warren. What you should do, I would say, depends entirely on what you're hoping to achieve, though I can provide some general advice: the early game may seem make or break, but remember that you can recover more easily from an overly quiet day than from one that goes awry. Don't be Marvia Jones. Get yourself in a good spot, connect with your teammates if possible. I can't tell you where they are, but I would recommend grouping. I can't contact you again until after the announcements, so try to exercise strategic caution until then."
"Hey there."
Life had provided.
((Colin Pigeon - HB4 - START))
It was kind of funny, thinking about that now. It was 'life', one could say, that had chosen them to be thrown into this murderous game, making them kill each other just to get a shot at getting home again. 'Life', however, had managed to put Colin in that doorway at that exact moment. For the time being, he considered that a good thing. It reminded him of something his mom had told him after a bad job loss when he was young:
"Honey, life's going to be really unfair sometimes. But no matter how much you yell or scream or cry, life isn't going to care."
Honestly, Colin hadn't thought about those words in a long time, but they seemed to resonate in his mind quite strongly as he stepped into the room with the other two girls.
"Sorry to barge in like this, but you're the first people I've met in this place, so I figured I'd introduce myself."
Staying calm was a number one priority to Colin. He didn't want to be one of those people that turned into a nervous, quivering wreck the moment they woke up. Not only were they horribly awkward to see, but they also tended not to last long, from what he had glanced. That's why he was doing his best to be casual as he looked from one girl to the other. Neither of them were from his school - it was most likely a two school game, like the last season had been (he was pretty sure, at least). He was just trying to decide whether that was a good or bad thing for him at the moment.
He extended his hand.
"Name's Colin."
He didn't bother to give his last name, something that was almost subconscious at this point in his life. 'Embarrassed' probably wasn't the right word... but coming off as a joke at this moment probably wasn't the best idea.
He couldn't help but glance down at the gun in one of the girl's hands. He didn't think she'd use it, but...
"Keep on their good side. That's all you've got to do right now."
Life had provided.
((Colin Pigeon - HB4 - START))
It was kind of funny, thinking about that now. It was 'life', one could say, that had chosen them to be thrown into this murderous game, making them kill each other just to get a shot at getting home again. 'Life', however, had managed to put Colin in that doorway at that exact moment. For the time being, he considered that a good thing. It reminded him of something his mom had told him after a bad job loss when he was young:
"Honey, life's going to be really unfair sometimes. But no matter how much you yell or scream or cry, life isn't going to care."
Honestly, Colin hadn't thought about those words in a long time, but they seemed to resonate in his mind quite strongly as he stepped into the room with the other two girls.
"Sorry to barge in like this, but you're the first people I've met in this place, so I figured I'd introduce myself."
Staying calm was a number one priority to Colin. He didn't want to be one of those people that turned into a nervous, quivering wreck the moment they woke up. Not only were they horribly awkward to see, but they also tended not to last long, from what he had glanced. That's why he was doing his best to be casual as he looked from one girl to the other. Neither of them were from his school - it was most likely a two school game, like the last season had been (he was pretty sure, at least). He was just trying to decide whether that was a good or bad thing for him at the moment.
He extended his hand.
"Name's Colin."
He didn't bother to give his last name, something that was almost subconscious at this point in his life. 'Embarrassed' probably wasn't the right word... but coming off as a joke at this moment probably wasn't the best idea.
He couldn't help but glance down at the gun in one of the girl's hands. He didn't think she'd use it, but...
"Keep on their good side. That's all you've got to do right now."
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Un-Persona*
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A voice quietly whispers from Colin's collar.
"While I'm glad you're one of the few who seems to have their shit together after waking up, I am still the one who is responsible for you and what you do. Put your Goddamn bandana on before you explode, and remember that only four other kids have a reason to play nice."
"While I'm glad you're one of the few who seems to have their shit together after waking up, I am still the one who is responsible for you and what you do. Put your Goddamn bandana on before you explode, and remember that only four other kids have a reason to play nice."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Un-Persona. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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delicateMachine
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- Location: void
"Good to hear you're doing okay." Anzu said, smiling slightly in relief. The day was still young, of course, but shit going down within the first few hours of a season of TV wasn't exactly rare, and it was good to hear that Ashley had managed to avoid getting caught up in anything.
"I'm doing fine, too. Only woke up a couple minutes ago, actually." Anzu conveniently avoided any mention of her brief freak out. Ashley may have been the only one of Anzu's friends that knew her well enough to have an idea of how much of her behavior was just an act, but she still had to keep up appearances, especially in front of the voyeuristic fucktards behind each and every camera.
"Anyway-" she began, before being cut off by some asswipe deciding to ruin the moment and walk into the room. Caught off guard, Anzu gave him the most unfriendly glare humanly possible before getting a hold of herself a second later and switching to a more neutral expression.
Anzu didn't recognize Asswipe, meaning he had to be a douche from a different school. They did that last season, didn't they? Throw two different schools together into one big clusterfuck? If he was a representation of his school's collective talent for timing, Anzu knew she was going to be having a lot of fun over the next couple days. Kid had the survival instinct of a depressed, skydiving lemming, to boot. Who the hell just walked into a room with two strangers on SOTF, especially when one of them had a gun? Christ, he was lucky that neither Ashley nor herself were psycho murder-bitches, or he would've been dead within a second.
Asswipe introduced himself, attaching a name to the face. Colin. Anzu didn't give enough of a shit to remember this. "Uh, hey, good to meet you." Anzu said, smiling a slightly strained smile and resisting the urge to break the boy's fingers as she shook his hand. "I'm Anzu. This is Ashley." She said, still smiling amicably. She casually sidled closer to the door.
"You know, we were just about to go, and I'm sure you've got lots more important things to be doing than talking to us, so..." Anzu nonchalantly walked through the doorway as she said this, beckoning Ashley to follow her behind Asswipe's back.
There wasn't much time left for any of them, and Anzu certainly didn't have any intention of wasting time on meeting new shitheads who weren't going to be living for much longer. She left the sports center with Ashley in tow, hoping that Colin wouldn't be enough of a dumbass to try and follow them.
((Anzu Sakamoto: Continued in Zoom, Kick, Persuasion, Tech.))
"I'm doing fine, too. Only woke up a couple minutes ago, actually." Anzu conveniently avoided any mention of her brief freak out. Ashley may have been the only one of Anzu's friends that knew her well enough to have an idea of how much of her behavior was just an act, but she still had to keep up appearances, especially in front of the voyeuristic fucktards behind each and every camera.
"Anyway-" she began, before being cut off by some asswipe deciding to ruin the moment and walk into the room. Caught off guard, Anzu gave him the most unfriendly glare humanly possible before getting a hold of herself a second later and switching to a more neutral expression.
Anzu didn't recognize Asswipe, meaning he had to be a douche from a different school. They did that last season, didn't they? Throw two different schools together into one big clusterfuck? If he was a representation of his school's collective talent for timing, Anzu knew she was going to be having a lot of fun over the next couple days. Kid had the survival instinct of a depressed, skydiving lemming, to boot. Who the hell just walked into a room with two strangers on SOTF, especially when one of them had a gun? Christ, he was lucky that neither Ashley nor herself were psycho murder-bitches, or he would've been dead within a second.
Asswipe introduced himself, attaching a name to the face. Colin. Anzu didn't give enough of a shit to remember this. "Uh, hey, good to meet you." Anzu said, smiling a slightly strained smile and resisting the urge to break the boy's fingers as she shook his hand. "I'm Anzu. This is Ashley." She said, still smiling amicably. She casually sidled closer to the door.
"You know, we were just about to go, and I'm sure you've got lots more important things to be doing than talking to us, so..." Anzu nonchalantly walked through the doorway as she said this, beckoning Ashley to follow her behind Asswipe's back.
There wasn't much time left for any of them, and Anzu certainly didn't have any intention of wasting time on meeting new shitheads who weren't going to be living for much longer. She left the sports center with Ashley in tow, hoping that Colin wouldn't be enough of a dumbass to try and follow them.
((Anzu Sakamoto: Continued in Zoom, Kick, Persuasion, Tech.))
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Un-Persona*
- Posts: 189
- Joined: Mon Sep 17, 2018 4:55 am
((Yeah, sorry bout this folks, but me and boogeh are on Day 11 and therefore skipping to avoid inactivity.))
Ashley shivered a bit as a new face and new voice came out of nowhere so suddenly. Ashley knew her perception was never the best and that this whole show was clouding her mind, but she was already prepared to slap herself for getting caught off guard so darn easily. She shook off her shivers, regaining some composure as Anzu began to talk to him. She waved slightly and gave a smile as she was introduced.
Anzu had already made her way towards the exit. Guess she didn't like this guy Colin's face. Too bad, he seemed nice and was just looking for some company. Poor bucko, but Ashley knew she had to consider her priorities now. Can't be friends with everyone who comes across anymore. So as Anzu continued to wave Ashley on over, Ashley grabbed one of Colin's fingers and shook it lightly before she followed after.
"Nice meetin' ya...toodles!"
And so, Ashley marched out the door, tagging behind Anzu to wherever they ended up next.
((Ashley Namath: RBP2 - TV2 - Continued Next Time In Zoom, Kick, Persuasion, Tech))
Ashley shivered a bit as a new face and new voice came out of nowhere so suddenly. Ashley knew her perception was never the best and that this whole show was clouding her mind, but she was already prepared to slap herself for getting caught off guard so darn easily. She shook off her shivers, regaining some composure as Anzu began to talk to him. She waved slightly and gave a smile as she was introduced.
Anzu had already made her way towards the exit. Guess she didn't like this guy Colin's face. Too bad, he seemed nice and was just looking for some company. Poor bucko, but Ashley knew she had to consider her priorities now. Can't be friends with everyone who comes across anymore. So as Anzu continued to wave Ashley on over, Ashley grabbed one of Colin's fingers and shook it lightly before she followed after.
"Nice meetin' ya...toodles!"
And so, Ashley marched out the door, tagging behind Anzu to wherever they ended up next.
((Ashley Namath: RBP2 - TV2 - Continued Next Time In Zoom, Kick, Persuasion, Tech))
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Shit. He knew he had forgotten something.
"Nice to meet you two... just give me a second..." Giving another little smile to the girls in the hopes of affirming he wasn't a threat, Colin dropped his bag and unzipped it, starting to dig through its contents. Luckily, the bright yellow bandana he was looking for was conveniently placed near the top. He pulled it out and wrapped it around his head, standing back up...
... just in time to see Anzu making her way to the door.
Before he could even react to that in any way, the other girl, Ashley, made off as well. At least she was a lot more polite about it, even lightly shaking his hand (or, well, finger) before leaving Colin all alone.
... Who uses the word 'toodles' anymore?
Colin soon after realized that he was letting the only two people he had met thus far walk right out the door.
"Hey!" Colin cried out... but he stopped himself. Frustratedly letting out a breath of air, he started pacing back and forth across the squash court, weighing his options.
OK, sure, he was letting two girls just walk away from him, and one of them was armed... but that wasn't necessarily the worst thing in the world. Hell, it wasn't really that bad at all. They were now walking out into an island full of other students who had potentially gotten the idea to start killing each other by now. Walking around like that was making yourself a target. Colin wasn't going to be doing that.
I've got a roof over my head, space to myself... probably a defensible position... this'll definitely work for now.
He kept thinking. Thinking was how he was going to stay ahead in this competition. He knew all the kids from his own school, and now he at least the names of two students from whatever the other school was. He still didn't know who else was on his team, but that info could come with time... and some luck.
"I wonder how big this place is..."
"Nice to meet you two... just give me a second..." Giving another little smile to the girls in the hopes of affirming he wasn't a threat, Colin dropped his bag and unzipped it, starting to dig through its contents. Luckily, the bright yellow bandana he was looking for was conveniently placed near the top. He pulled it out and wrapped it around his head, standing back up...
... just in time to see Anzu making her way to the door.
Before he could even react to that in any way, the other girl, Ashley, made off as well. At least she was a lot more polite about it, even lightly shaking his hand (or, well, finger) before leaving Colin all alone.
... Who uses the word 'toodles' anymore?
Colin soon after realized that he was letting the only two people he had met thus far walk right out the door.
"Hey!" Colin cried out... but he stopped himself. Frustratedly letting out a breath of air, he started pacing back and forth across the squash court, weighing his options.
OK, sure, he was letting two girls just walk away from him, and one of them was armed... but that wasn't necessarily the worst thing in the world. Hell, it wasn't really that bad at all. They were now walking out into an island full of other students who had potentially gotten the idea to start killing each other by now. Walking around like that was making yourself a target. Colin wasn't going to be doing that.
I've got a roof over my head, space to myself... probably a defensible position... this'll definitely work for now.
He kept thinking. Thinking was how he was going to stay ahead in this competition. He knew all the kids from his own school, and now he at least the names of two students from whatever the other school was. He still didn't know who else was on his team, but that info could come with time... and some luck.
"I wonder how big this place is..."
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“Did you really just compare me to Marvia?! I am way cooler than Marvia--” Genevieve hissed, before exhaling sharply to calm herself down. As Jhamel Thompson had shown in Season 65, pissing off the mentors was a quick way of getting yourself killed. “Cautious. Okay, Ms. Collar. Cautious. I can totally do that.”
“Marvia, though?” Genevieve added incredulously. “Are you serious?”
If her mentor was purposefully trying to rile Genevieve up, they couldn't have picked a better contestant than Marvia. Genevieve abhorred Marvia and everything she represented, having spent the better part of Season 65 vocally expressing her disgust at everything Marvia was a part of, especially her assaulting that girl from Texas. Most of the greasy, basement-dwelling forum trolls on the message boards had told Genevieve that she simply did not appreciate fanservice. Genevieve told them to jam a fork in their urethra. The fact that so many people were jumping to defend rape had disgusted her. Genevieve was honestly planning to avoid Season 66, if the fan community was going to get even worse. It's funny how things like that work out.
Genevieve swung her arms and huffed, still pissed off as all hell by the comparison, as she crossed the length of the tennis court. Each step she took reminded her of the knife jammed awkwardly down the side of her boot. Whilst Genevieve had no intentions of ever using it, she had to admit that knowing she possessed a weapon made her feel safer about walking around by herself. A Chill ran down Genevieve's spine as she fumbled through opening the door. Still, she decided, she needed to remain cautious if she wanted to survive, and cautious for Genevieve meant finding her team and staying out of trouble.
Still grumbling about the comparison to Marvia, Genevieve stepped out into the corridor and scanned her surroundings for any signs of recent movement. See? Totally cautious. Genevieve couldn't find anything. Content that she wasn't being watched or followed by anyone but the cameras, Genevieve ran through the corridors and out of the building. Time to go find the her team. Time to gather up the Cyan Stingrays.
Genevieve hoped the name would grow on her.
[Genevieve Cordova, continued in Plot Twist.]
“Marvia, though?” Genevieve added incredulously. “Are you serious?”
If her mentor was purposefully trying to rile Genevieve up, they couldn't have picked a better contestant than Marvia. Genevieve abhorred Marvia and everything she represented, having spent the better part of Season 65 vocally expressing her disgust at everything Marvia was a part of, especially her assaulting that girl from Texas. Most of the greasy, basement-dwelling forum trolls on the message boards had told Genevieve that she simply did not appreciate fanservice. Genevieve told them to jam a fork in their urethra. The fact that so many people were jumping to defend rape had disgusted her. Genevieve was honestly planning to avoid Season 66, if the fan community was going to get even worse. It's funny how things like that work out.
Genevieve swung her arms and huffed, still pissed off as all hell by the comparison, as she crossed the length of the tennis court. Each step she took reminded her of the knife jammed awkwardly down the side of her boot. Whilst Genevieve had no intentions of ever using it, she had to admit that knowing she possessed a weapon made her feel safer about walking around by herself. A Chill ran down Genevieve's spine as she fumbled through opening the door. Still, she decided, she needed to remain cautious if she wanted to survive, and cautious for Genevieve meant finding her team and staying out of trouble.
Still grumbling about the comparison to Marvia, Genevieve stepped out into the corridor and scanned her surroundings for any signs of recent movement. See? Totally cautious. Genevieve couldn't find anything. Content that she wasn't being watched or followed by anyone but the cameras, Genevieve ran through the corridors and out of the building. Time to go find the her team. Time to gather up the Cyan Stingrays.
Genevieve hoped the name would grow on her.
[Genevieve Cordova, continued in Plot Twist.]
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His plan had been to wait it out.
One thing Colin hadn't really thought about was the lack of working clocks in the building, which left him with absolutely no idea how much time was passing. However long it was, it felt like forever. He didn't hear anyone else in the center, so he was just left to entertain himself.
He finally dug all the way through his pack, examining all of its contents. It was pretty much everything he expected, except for two things: some sort of rainbow-colored pony suit thing and a fleshlight, which he assumed was his "weapon".
"Hope you guys are patting yourselves on the back for that one," Colin stated sarcastically. He didn't know whether the cameras would be able to catch his massive eye roll.
Pulling out the pony suit, he immediately hurled it away from him, almost smiling as it hit the wall and dropped to floor.
"I'll kill myself before I wear that thing."
Shaking his head, he turned back to the fleshlight... and dropped it back into his bag. He supposed he wanted to be prepared for any situation this place would throw at him.
Except anything that involves me wearing a goddamn pony costume.
-
More time passed.
This at least gave Colin some time to reflect on his situation. Was he really just going to keep sitting around here, waiting for people to show up? There was logic in the plan... but what if someone hostile showed up? And the further along things went, the more likely that was.
The defensive plan was good, but he couldn't kid himself. He needed allies, at least for a while. He had to play smart.
Grabbing his bag, he swung it over his shoulder. After a peace sign to the nearest camera, Colin was out on his search.
((Colin Pigeon continued in Boyhood))
One thing Colin hadn't really thought about was the lack of working clocks in the building, which left him with absolutely no idea how much time was passing. However long it was, it felt like forever. He didn't hear anyone else in the center, so he was just left to entertain himself.
He finally dug all the way through his pack, examining all of its contents. It was pretty much everything he expected, except for two things: some sort of rainbow-colored pony suit thing and a fleshlight, which he assumed was his "weapon".
"Hope you guys are patting yourselves on the back for that one," Colin stated sarcastically. He didn't know whether the cameras would be able to catch his massive eye roll.
Pulling out the pony suit, he immediately hurled it away from him, almost smiling as it hit the wall and dropped to floor.
"I'll kill myself before I wear that thing."
Shaking his head, he turned back to the fleshlight... and dropped it back into his bag. He supposed he wanted to be prepared for any situation this place would throw at him.
Except anything that involves me wearing a goddamn pony costume.
-
More time passed.
This at least gave Colin some time to reflect on his situation. Was he really just going to keep sitting around here, waiting for people to show up? There was logic in the plan... but what if someone hostile showed up? And the further along things went, the more likely that was.
The defensive plan was good, but he couldn't kid himself. He needed allies, at least for a while. He had to play smart.
Grabbing his bag, he swung it over his shoulder. After a peace sign to the nearest camera, Colin was out on his search.
((Colin Pigeon continued in Boyhood))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Flare. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.