"Oh, don't worry, I'm not looking for her, I saw her die."
Brendan's eyes widened and he choked on the water he was drinking when those simple words came out of Abby's mouth. He began coughing, dropping the bottle to the ground with a soft thump as he tried to regain control of himself. Okay, he had known Abby was blunt after that whole chink comment, but holy hell, he had something else to add to his "Things I Never Expected Foreigners To Say Easily" List that was pretty much growing longer with every statement that Abby was saying. The almost...careless way she had said it...it was almost psychotic in a way. He was beginning to worry now, although it was more a worry of "Holy shit what the hell is she going to do next?"
Abby at least kind of tried to soften the blow of "Yeah, she's dead." and seemed upset that she had blurted it out so easily, but it still kind of hurt. It was more of a hollow ache...just one that compounded the pain of losing Wendy and Chris, but not one that really tore at him inside. He had known Rena, of course, but he hadn't watched her die so...at least he could imagine that she had went out peacefully. Gunshots, though...that just reminded him of John Ferrara. His fist clenched...he still hadn't paid back that bastard for what he had did.
Abby continued, however, mentioning her fright and her indecision with...well, a lot of things, really. Brendon could sympathize...after all, it wasn't too long ago that he and Megan were going through the same thoughts and lines. Well...maybe not the exact same lines...after all, Abby had a different script than they did, but the theme was the same and oh wait, well, okay. It wasn't the same. Abby seemed to be a biiiit more focused on that whole dying thing, which was not a thought that Brendon relished in...ever. It wasn't a thing he liked to dwell upon and he did believe in the theory that people just...had a time to die. That their lives were done, their purposes fulfilled, and to put it in cheesy terms, that was a wrap.
But along with that was the belief that a person's 'time' was never up when they hadn't accomplished anything. People had a reason to live and dying on The Program was not a reason. To inspire others was a reason, but what kind of person would have to die on this island to actually inspire others to action? To inspire others to greatness? They were all supposed to die here anyway besides one 'winner' as it were. But Brendon could and would fight against the specter known as death and hearing someone so calmly say that they were okay with it and were contemplating suicide irritated him. Even in something like the Program, Brendon wanted to live and to survive and he wanted the people he could see...the people he could protect like some big damn hero...he wanted them to live as well.
Brendon was about to say something when Megan chimed in with her own thoughts and he stiffened a bit, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He was beginning to think all of this talk was just like speaking of the devil. Dwell on death too long and before you knew it, it'd stare you right in the face, its scythe raised high to cut you down. Wasn't it best to simply...let these things lie and just live every moment as best as you could? Thinking too hard about it...it just wasn't right. At least to Brendon's eyes, there was no reason. Crazy or not...every moment spent thinking and being resolved to the thought of death was just a moment spent in vain.
It was best to fight.
It was always better to fight than to lie down and take it.
He licked his dry lips and quickly took a gulp of water. "Hey uh..." He took in a breath. He had to say something. After Megan and Abby...it didn't feel right to remain silent. They had to be strong...sure, strong meant that you had to face death, but that didn't mean you had to just let it overwhelm you. Maybe he was just interpreting their words wrong. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut. "Look...Megan's right. It's...been pretty hard. For all of us. You, me, Megan...hell, probably it's been hard for the killers too. At least...to take the first step, right? I mean...to actually kill a person...that's pretty fucked up, right?"
"But uh...look. Yes. Death is all around us...and who knows, maybe it is peaceful. Maybe God'll come down with his legion of angels and whisk away from this sad earth into the heaven that is his kingdom. We can't exactly ask the people who've died, now can we? I mean...I guess the only thing I can offer is that if you're going to die? At least die with purpose...die knowing you've helped someone or at least just had a damn good thought when you go out. So please...don't just go jump off the Helipad. Suicide...doesn't help anyone...it's the coward's way out. At least if you're going to die...go out strong."
He swallowed. He probably was sounding really self-righteous and like a prick at the moment, but that's just the way he felt about things. "Anyway though...I mean...look, this is just my opinion. But dwelling on death...don't let it control your life. Every moment we have is precious...especially now of all times. The only thing we have left right now is to live in the moment and take as much enjoyment out of every last bit we have left. Crazy or not...idiots or not...that's the only thing we have left. It's our life, right? It's our script. We can write what we want and if you're just going to fill it up with death then..."
"...Well, then it makes sense that that's what's headed your way next, isn't it?"
Great. Now he was getting all melodramatic and sad as well. He quickly shook his head. "But anyway uh...look, I'm staying in this for as long as I can and God help me if I don't try my utmost to make sure you guys survive as well. Look...the rules say that only one can survive but come on. If we somehow make it to the end...what're they going to do? Send their soldiers to kill us? Fine, let them. I don't care...as long as I can keep my friends and my allies safe, I don't care what they do to me." He smiled, clenched his hand in a fist. "All we need to do is survive as a group and...I don't know...somehow, things'll work out."
That didn't sound too bad, did it? It was probably too wordy...too many pauses and shit. Too wrong. But that's how he damn felt and he was going to get it out before the chance could be taken away from him.
And that's when the sound came. Gunshots. Three of them. So strikingly similar to the time at the depot. Brendon immediately found himself on his feet, clutching his water bottle like it was some sort of deadly weapon. The doors to the quarters were open...maybe the shooter had somehow gone inside. He bit his lower lip. He had more than words, didn't he?
"All right...look, I don't know if whoever did the shooting was dangerous, but gunshots of any kind are bad so uh...just stick tight here, okay? I'm going to go see what's going on." He dropped the bottle and tugged on his boxing gloves as he took a few steps towards the building. He had to be careful...getting shot wasn't is any of his plans.
Actions Speak Louder Than Words
Moderator: Sh4dE
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Tythanin. 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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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Abby listened to the pair, her words caught in her throat. There were so many things she had to say... she didn't know where to start. It had all gone better then expected, questions about her sanity notwithstanding. Megan... Megan was feeling the same. Not exactly the same, but very close. Death, right in front of here. The possibility of nothing, no God, no Heaven, just an eternal black forever. Abby shivered. It was a depressing topic, and it hit far too close to home. But she needed to know. She needed to get things straight.
Megan was crying, softly sobbing to herself. It was odd and discomforting, but Abby couldn't tell her to stop, especially after they'd just dished out their guts. She sat in silence, contemplating the other girls words. She felt like she was back at General's Pride, back in debate class, struggling to find the right words.
Brendon spoke up, taking a swig of water and trying to find the right words. Abby gave a smile at him, trying to lessen the emotional blow she'd dropped on the group. Megan was with her, but Brendon still had a chance. Brendon was stronger then the both of them combined, and if he was fazed by the death of his comrades, he was dealing with it far better then Megan was. Brendon was white, he was strong, and he wasn't ready to die. Just what America was looking for. If it came down to the wire, would he die for Megan?
Maybe. All these questions, it's all maybes. Maybe there is a heaven, maybe there's nothing. Maybe this is my punishment, for some almighty sin? There's no way I'm going to answer any of this.
Abby waited a few moments, letting the silence stretch out between the group. Brendon's message was clear. Die for a purpose, die with dignity. Go out with a bang, picturing beautiful works of art, savor every last second before the big sleep. In a way, it was nice to hear. It was... Realistic. He didn't ask her to win, or to play, or to wave a white flag, or suggest a crackpot escape attempt. A breath of fresh air and logic, in a game filled with extremists. Abby took another bite of her granola bar, shrugging her shoulders.
Okay. That shouldn't be too hard.
"Okay. I won't kill myself then.. But in the end, only one of us is going to get out of here. That's not a myth, that's a fact. They'll go as long as it takes, for entertainment. And with my track record... With my Dad, and my skin color, and my lack of knowing anything that'd be considered fucking practical in this situation- Okay. Sure, I'll hold on for a bit longer."
She laughed at herself. It was ridiculous how calm she was. The entire situation suddenly seemed dream like. She looked over at Megan. For a second, she felt an irrational need to put her hand on the other girls shoulder, comfort her. She didn't know why. She rubbed her hands together, trying to think of something to say.
"It's weird. We're... We're both really different, but I get what you mean. I never really knew what to believe in. Other kids would make fun of me, because I'm supposed to believe in spirits, or Buddha, or something like that. I'm not really sure, but who the hell cares. My Dad... he skipped out on us when I was younger. I never really paid much attention to religion, especially after he left. But now that I think on it, it's kinda ridiculous to expect anything other then nothingness. When we die, we go to sleep and we don't wake up. That's what we've been seeing, I mean-... What I'm trying to get at is this. Maybe it won't be such a bad thing, death. I was terrified of all this, up until Rena. She isn't hurt now. She's just gone. She's asleep, with nothing hurting her, and if anyone tried to hurt her, she wouldn't care on account of the fact that she doesn't exist anymore... So maybe it doesn't matter that people will forget about us. We're all going to die one day, even the winners. No one exists forever, and that isn't a bad thing."
She gave another shrug, finishing off her snack in one bite. Leaning back, she breathed out, looking at her two companions. She'd been incredibly lucky. Megan and Brendon... was there anyone else worth talking to in the entire Program?
"I get tired easy, so maybe the big sleep would be good for me."
BANG BANG BANG
Abby bolted up, letting out a squeal of panic, her thoughts kicking into overdrive. Brendon was likewise on his feet, looking towards one of the exits behind them. Abby felt her heart beat in her chest. Gunshots. She knew the sound. Rena flashed through her mind. Instinctively she clasped her hands together, scratching the dirt from her blue gloves. Brendon moved towards the door, a pair of boxer gloves on hand.
Abby blinked.
"Brendon, are you crazy?" She whispered frantically. "Look, I may be- y'know- but I'm still rational! Gunshots, nosies, that's bad. Don't you dare go check..."
She spun around, looking at their setup. Bags open on the floor... No way to obscure the fact they'd been here, at least, not quickly. And according to Murphy's Law, trouble was on its way. She glanced toward the office block behind them. Cupboards. Desks, shelves.
Idea.
Hide and Seek.
"Just- just hide for now!"
Awkwardly fumbling with her bag, Abby hobbled forward, searching desperately for a place to hide.
Megan was crying, softly sobbing to herself. It was odd and discomforting, but Abby couldn't tell her to stop, especially after they'd just dished out their guts. She sat in silence, contemplating the other girls words. She felt like she was back at General's Pride, back in debate class, struggling to find the right words.
Brendon spoke up, taking a swig of water and trying to find the right words. Abby gave a smile at him, trying to lessen the emotional blow she'd dropped on the group. Megan was with her, but Brendon still had a chance. Brendon was stronger then the both of them combined, and if he was fazed by the death of his comrades, he was dealing with it far better then Megan was. Brendon was white, he was strong, and he wasn't ready to die. Just what America was looking for. If it came down to the wire, would he die for Megan?
Maybe. All these questions, it's all maybes. Maybe there is a heaven, maybe there's nothing. Maybe this is my punishment, for some almighty sin? There's no way I'm going to answer any of this.
Abby waited a few moments, letting the silence stretch out between the group. Brendon's message was clear. Die for a purpose, die with dignity. Go out with a bang, picturing beautiful works of art, savor every last second before the big sleep. In a way, it was nice to hear. It was... Realistic. He didn't ask her to win, or to play, or to wave a white flag, or suggest a crackpot escape attempt. A breath of fresh air and logic, in a game filled with extremists. Abby took another bite of her granola bar, shrugging her shoulders.
Okay. That shouldn't be too hard.
"Okay. I won't kill myself then.. But in the end, only one of us is going to get out of here. That's not a myth, that's a fact. They'll go as long as it takes, for entertainment. And with my track record... With my Dad, and my skin color, and my lack of knowing anything that'd be considered fucking practical in this situation- Okay. Sure, I'll hold on for a bit longer."
She laughed at herself. It was ridiculous how calm she was. The entire situation suddenly seemed dream like. She looked over at Megan. For a second, she felt an irrational need to put her hand on the other girls shoulder, comfort her. She didn't know why. She rubbed her hands together, trying to think of something to say.
"It's weird. We're... We're both really different, but I get what you mean. I never really knew what to believe in. Other kids would make fun of me, because I'm supposed to believe in spirits, or Buddha, or something like that. I'm not really sure, but who the hell cares. My Dad... he skipped out on us when I was younger. I never really paid much attention to religion, especially after he left. But now that I think on it, it's kinda ridiculous to expect anything other then nothingness. When we die, we go to sleep and we don't wake up. That's what we've been seeing, I mean-... What I'm trying to get at is this. Maybe it won't be such a bad thing, death. I was terrified of all this, up until Rena. She isn't hurt now. She's just gone. She's asleep, with nothing hurting her, and if anyone tried to hurt her, she wouldn't care on account of the fact that she doesn't exist anymore... So maybe it doesn't matter that people will forget about us. We're all going to die one day, even the winners. No one exists forever, and that isn't a bad thing."
She gave another shrug, finishing off her snack in one bite. Leaning back, she breathed out, looking at her two companions. She'd been incredibly lucky. Megan and Brendon... was there anyone else worth talking to in the entire Program?
"I get tired easy, so maybe the big sleep would be good for me."
BANG BANG BANG
Abby bolted up, letting out a squeal of panic, her thoughts kicking into overdrive. Brendon was likewise on his feet, looking towards one of the exits behind them. Abby felt her heart beat in her chest. Gunshots. She knew the sound. Rena flashed through her mind. Instinctively she clasped her hands together, scratching the dirt from her blue gloves. Brendon moved towards the door, a pair of boxer gloves on hand.
Abby blinked.
"Brendon, are you crazy?" She whispered frantically. "Look, I may be- y'know- but I'm still rational! Gunshots, nosies, that's bad. Don't you dare go check..."
She spun around, looking at their setup. Bags open on the floor... No way to obscure the fact they'd been here, at least, not quickly. And according to Murphy's Law, trouble was on its way. She glanced toward the office block behind them. Cupboards. Desks, shelves.
Idea.
Hide and Seek.
"Just- just hide for now!"
Awkwardly fumbling with her bag, Abby hobbled forward, searching desperately for a place to hide.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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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Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Megan paused, mulling over the collective speeches of her two companions. She glanced down at her half eaten brownie, wondering whether or not it would still taste sweet when she took a bite. She nibbled at it slightly. It tasted like chocolate had always tasted- like summer and happiness and sunshine and love and just a bit of capitalist joy and bitter endings all mixed into one. She ate the rest of the brownie slowly, savoring it. Chocolate was the food of life. Hadn't she heard that before? It made sense. It was wonderful and sweet when you had it, but it could also be bitter, and not everyone liked it. And yet, for the most part it was nice while it lasted. Only thing was, it never lasted.
Megan smiled. I see too much symbolism where there isn't any. She turned to Brendon and Abby, looking both up and down. It was time to stop thinking about death. It was time to gear up and get shit straight. Because Megan Jacobson may have been a bitch, she may have been a poet, she may have even been crazy, but she wasn't a fucking quitter, that was for damn sure.
"I...think I get it now. I'm not as scared. Like, maybe if we just keep on going we'll be okay, right?" Megan nodded, wiping the tears off her face.
"And to think, a few hours ago I cared about if my mascara looked like shit, or I smelled like smoke." She let out a snort of quiet laughter. It all seemed far away now, and blurry, like her memories had waltzed through a snowstorm in Antarctica or something.
She looked over her two companions, smiling as she did so. Brendon might not have been a typical hero, but he was a good guy. He tried hard. He cared about her. It crossed Megan's mind that until she found Ben- which was next on her check list- Brendon really was the only person left who genuinely cared about her. Dom had probably long forgotten she ever existed, Tyler was probably off preaching, and Matt...well Matt would be back in a few minutes, and then there'd be another person who was learning to care about her.
Him and Abby were the new ones, and she liked them. Abby was cool, for a ch....an Asian. And she was the type of girl who Megan would never have even talked to otherwise. So it was good, wasn't it? Getting to know new people. Maybe Tyler had a point. Maybe the Program wasn't just about killing your classmates- maybe it was about figuring out what America really is all about, and what American values really are, when they're stripped bare and left in the dark. It was a way to see who thought what and who felt what about who, and who laid down and died and who got up to fight, and who would do anything for their country.
But in the end, only one survived, and maybe Megan was okay with that, as long as she did her best. And yes, her mother would be losing someone else she loved, and her brother would be an only child now, and her father would have to struggle thinking he failed her, but as long as Megan tried then she wasn't going to shame them. She was going to make them proud of her.
"I'm glad you're here Abby. I...I think that you're a pretty cool kid. And, frankly, the big sleep doesn't sound to bad. After this we could all use some rest."
Megan laughed, feeling the heat return to her cheeks, the silver lining return to her life. She would fight until she couldn't anymore, run until her feet bled, scream until her lungs gave out, and then stand up and keep doing it until she was nothing but a pile of dust in the wind.
Or something equally as tragically poetic as that. Damn straight Megan wasn't gonna go quietly. That shit was for the pathetic. Hell no. Megan was loud in life, she was gonna be loud in death. Not even the Grim Reaper could shut that bitch up.
The gunshots tore through everything, but at this point, Megan was kinda used to it. All the nice moments got interrupted by the game, and such was life. She stood up, grabbing for Helmut Von Slappenstien and her bag, and listening to Brendon.
"Uh, fuck no!" Megan said, eyes wide. "Brendon, sweetie, you have gloves and you're going up against a gun. Two plus two equals dead. And I am not letting you break that damn pinky promise, understand? We're gonna do what Abby says and hide. Awesome? Awesome."
Megan started to look for a place to run too, before deciding to leave Team Bitchin- or at least it's last two current members- with some parting words of wisdom.
"Guys! Don't die, okay? Pretty please?"
Megan squeezed herself into her hiding spot, holding her breath in as tightly as possible.
All that was left to do was wait.
Megan smiled. I see too much symbolism where there isn't any. She turned to Brendon and Abby, looking both up and down. It was time to stop thinking about death. It was time to gear up and get shit straight. Because Megan Jacobson may have been a bitch, she may have been a poet, she may have even been crazy, but she wasn't a fucking quitter, that was for damn sure.
"I...think I get it now. I'm not as scared. Like, maybe if we just keep on going we'll be okay, right?" Megan nodded, wiping the tears off her face.
"And to think, a few hours ago I cared about if my mascara looked like shit, or I smelled like smoke." She let out a snort of quiet laughter. It all seemed far away now, and blurry, like her memories had waltzed through a snowstorm in Antarctica or something.
She looked over her two companions, smiling as she did so. Brendon might not have been a typical hero, but he was a good guy. He tried hard. He cared about her. It crossed Megan's mind that until she found Ben- which was next on her check list- Brendon really was the only person left who genuinely cared about her. Dom had probably long forgotten she ever existed, Tyler was probably off preaching, and Matt...well Matt would be back in a few minutes, and then there'd be another person who was learning to care about her.
Him and Abby were the new ones, and she liked them. Abby was cool, for a ch....an Asian. And she was the type of girl who Megan would never have even talked to otherwise. So it was good, wasn't it? Getting to know new people. Maybe Tyler had a point. Maybe the Program wasn't just about killing your classmates- maybe it was about figuring out what America really is all about, and what American values really are, when they're stripped bare and left in the dark. It was a way to see who thought what and who felt what about who, and who laid down and died and who got up to fight, and who would do anything for their country.
But in the end, only one survived, and maybe Megan was okay with that, as long as she did her best. And yes, her mother would be losing someone else she loved, and her brother would be an only child now, and her father would have to struggle thinking he failed her, but as long as Megan tried then she wasn't going to shame them. She was going to make them proud of her.
"I'm glad you're here Abby. I...I think that you're a pretty cool kid. And, frankly, the big sleep doesn't sound to bad. After this we could all use some rest."
Megan laughed, feeling the heat return to her cheeks, the silver lining return to her life. She would fight until she couldn't anymore, run until her feet bled, scream until her lungs gave out, and then stand up and keep doing it until she was nothing but a pile of dust in the wind.
Or something equally as tragically poetic as that. Damn straight Megan wasn't gonna go quietly. That shit was for the pathetic. Hell no. Megan was loud in life, she was gonna be loud in death. Not even the Grim Reaper could shut that bitch up.
The gunshots tore through everything, but at this point, Megan was kinda used to it. All the nice moments got interrupted by the game, and such was life. She stood up, grabbing for Helmut Von Slappenstien and her bag, and listening to Brendon.
"Uh, fuck no!" Megan said, eyes wide. "Brendon, sweetie, you have gloves and you're going up against a gun. Two plus two equals dead. And I am not letting you break that damn pinky promise, understand? We're gonna do what Abby says and hide. Awesome? Awesome."
Megan started to look for a place to run too, before deciding to leave Team Bitchin- or at least it's last two current members- with some parting words of wisdom.
"Guys! Don't die, okay? Pretty please?"
Megan squeezed herself into her hiding spot, holding her breath in as tightly as possible.
All that was left to do was wait.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. 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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peregrineink*
- Posts: 322
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:39 am
(Oh god sorry short post but I want to move it along because the deaths are late!)
Maddie was a whirlwind, she could feel the rage fill the room she burst into, it crackled everywhere, from the tips of her fingers and hair to the soles of her shoes it felt like lightning.
Everything was ruined.
At first glance when she entered the room it seemed empty, however this was false. Why? Because she had heard voices. The voices were now lying. The voices were now ruining everything by having their bodies disappear. She could feel the warmth that bodies left if they stood somewhere and then moved quickly, or was that her mind saying that? Who cared?
She caught a glimpse, a foot? Hair? It was a girl, she was hiding, Maddie immediately turned her gun on her. She was Asian. This was unacceptable.
"Excuse me, I see you there. Hiding girl. Asian girl?" She took her safety off, of course. "I really think you should come out here. I really think that it's not nice to hide."
Maddie was going to finish this gallery if it was the last thing she did.
And it probably would be.
Maddie was a whirlwind, she could feel the rage fill the room she burst into, it crackled everywhere, from the tips of her fingers and hair to the soles of her shoes it felt like lightning.
Everything was ruined.
At first glance when she entered the room it seemed empty, however this was false. Why? Because she had heard voices. The voices were now lying. The voices were now ruining everything by having their bodies disappear. She could feel the warmth that bodies left if they stood somewhere and then moved quickly, or was that her mind saying that? Who cared?
She caught a glimpse, a foot? Hair? It was a girl, she was hiding, Maddie immediately turned her gun on her. She was Asian. This was unacceptable.
"Excuse me, I see you there. Hiding girl. Asian girl?" She took her safety off, of course. "I really think you should come out here. I really think that it's not nice to hide."
Maddie was going to finish this gallery if it was the last thing she did.
And it probably would be.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler peregrineink. 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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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Abby headed towards the office block, Megan and Brendan close behind. Her eyes flickered about, desperately looking for a hiding location. Her heart pounding in her chest, she shoved her back underneath a desk, kicking it with her foot to push it into cover.
Hide and seek. Hide and seek.
She looked up. Megan had found a spot, cramming both herself and her supplies into a cabinet. Her gaze flickered away. She didn't have any time to think, only to survive. Abby was rarely pressured in her life. It seemed like that fact was being made up for, tenfold.
There!
She could hear footsteps, coming down the hall. Who had it been? Someone with a gun, obviously. Just as more obvious, someone intent on playing. Abby ran towards the desk, shoving the armchair aside. As fast as she could, Abby rolled herself into a ball, cramming into the small hiding spot. She held her breath.
Silence.
-------
The door opened. Abby could hear the footsteps, advancing menacingly towards them. It felt like her heart was the loudest thing in the room, sweat dripped from her brow as she willed herself farther back, into her hiding spot. She'd made a mistake. Cramming into a cabinet would have been a far better option. Exposed, it was down to luck. At the right angle, her cover could be blown in an instant.
Don't panic.
The words weren't working. Her hands were shaking, despite being clutched close to her chest. It took all the willpower she had to avoid gasping for air, instead breathing in short panicked spurts. Abby closed her eyes.
Don't think about them. They'll leave, your luck will hold. You just need to stay calm. Pray the others don't do anything. It'll be fine. It'll all be-
"Excuse me, I see you there."
Fine.
"Hiding girl."
Oh God.
"Asian girl?"
ohgod
Her first instinct was to bolt, a mad dash to the exit. Survival chance uncertain, but better then she had staying put. But she couldn't move. Instead, she shrunk back farther, tucking her legs in towards her chest. Abby felt dread building inside her, knowing what would come next. Hide and seek. She'd been caught. Game over.
"I really think you should come out here. I really think that it's not nice to hide."
Fuck you, cunt.
Her own thoughts surprised her. Cowering in terror, and located by a psycho. This was supposed to be… ‘it’. She was out of lives, dead in a few seconds. She wouldn’t fight back, she couldn’t even run. All she could do was squeeze back, wimper, await the inevitable. Her death was nothing, so why the resentment?
The silence continued. Abby flexed her hand, forming a fist over and over. She wouldn’t come out. She wasn’t stupid. For a crazy second, she was sure the girl would just- walk away. Leave her be. But she’d singled her out. Asian girl. Not just girl, Asian girl. She was fucked.
I can’t believe I’m going to die. Maybe-maybe that’s it. Just a few seconds ago, I was talking about it, now I get to try it. I guess they made my decisions for me. Fuck. Just…
Abby bit her lip, hearing the footsteps come closer, her dread and fear building with every footfall. Her mind was swimming, hurling in a thousand directions at once. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. A part of her wanted to lunge out, go for the girl’s throat. The way she’d said it so causally, asian girl. A part of her had always figured she’d die from some lunatic with a hard-on for bigotry. Megan hadn’t talked like that. All the more unfortunate she’d only found Megan seconds before the lunatic. She needed to get her head straight, her thoughts cleared. Half of her was still trapped in the day dream, ‘Oh, not you, I meant the other asian girl.’
Abby looked out. The girls shoes, smatterings of blood. She laughed, despite herself. Maddie bent down, looking underneath the desk.
Oh, you meant THIS asian girl?
She barely had time to open her mouth and scream, before Maddie’s hand jolted out, grabbing her by the hair. Pain shot through her as Maddie yanked, beginning to drag her out into the open. Instinctively, her hands went to Maddie’s wrist, clawing and scratching feebly, trying to hold back. Her fear had built up, boiling over. She was shouting as loud as she could now, screaming at Maddie as she was hauled across the floor by the hair.
“Stop it! Fucking stop!”
Of course she wouldn’t stop. Abby was going to die. There was no doubt in her mind, not anymore. She had minutes left. Seconds maybe. Her heart beat faster and she gave up clawing, smacking at Maddie’s wrist as the girl dumped her in the middle of the floor, sprawled on the tiles. With a huff she sat up, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Teeth chattering, she raised her hand up, waving it frantically at the other girl.
“A minute! Give me one minute!”
A minute. The entire scene was laughable. In any other situation, she’d have been shot instantly. But no. Maddie, she was toying with her. Abby was just being realistic. She was as good as dead, and even if Megan and Brendon stood up, they didn’t have a weapon to fight with. Abby was going to die. She needed to accept it, and think fast.
Lucky. Any other killer, dead right away. Lucky to die like this. Lucky.
Sitting on the ground, Abby tried her hardest to avoid hyperventilating, wasting what time she had left. Her brain was still racing, and she mentally willed herself to slow down. Abby swallowed hard, staring up at her killer. Maddie Harris. In a million years, would she have ever guessed it would be Maddie Harris? Maddie had had a future from what she could remember. A promising art school, a career in sculpting, or perhaps poetry. Not like Abby at all, and yet, completely alike. Abby wasn’t going to art school. Her art was a hobby, a passionate one, but still a hobby. Maddie lived and breathed the stuff.
But the point was moot. She was going to die. Hopefully Maddie would too, but that wasn’t up to her to decide. For a second, Abby was sure Maddie would outright shoot her, end the entire thing. She had the gun, and judging from the announcements, she certainly had the guts. But the other girl was relenting, temporarily.
Close your eyes if you can.
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, letting out a stuttering nervous laugh.
“A-at least you got me now. Can’t let the chink win, right?” She mumbled, before awkwardly clearing her throat. Abby slid back a pace, her eyes on the gun in Maddie’s hand. She thought of Rena, but little comfort was coming from it.
Sleep. Just sleep. Gonna go to sleep. Just think. Think Abby. Think and speak.
Closing her eyes, Abby bowed her head, mentally focusing. The shot could come at any time, and she had only two objectives on her mind. 1) Avoid pissing her pants, or crying. And the 2nd…? Brendon had said it best. Go out with something. Die for something.
…
No, no no no no…
She was drawing a blank. She blinked, realizing she’d failed her first objective. Hands still shaking, she raised her blue gloves up, wiping tears from her eyes. She thought of her family. Alex was probably glued to the screen. Her mother, maybe. Her father…? Did he even matter anymore? Yes. He did. And wherever he was, Abby bet he’d be watching as well.
So, I didn’t play. I didn’t kill anyone. That’s good. If there’s a heaven, I’m going to it. If not- if- Shit. Come’on Abby. Think. Last words. So many good last words. Quote something. Say something controversial. Leave them thinking. Leave… Leave… hM.
That could work.
Abby looked up. The gun was up now, aimed at her face. Her mouth opened, sputtering, trying to form words. She looked down the barrel of the gun, locking eyes with Maddie.
We would have been great friends.
Abby tried her hardest not to scream. Slowly with the greatest care she leaned in, until she could feel the lukewarm barrel of the gun pressed against her forehead.
“There is nothing worth saying, ‘cus no one is listening, and I could never hear myself anyway. N-now. Whenever you’re r-“
BANG.
Black.
F23: ABBY ERICKSON - DECEASED
Hide and seek. Hide and seek.
She looked up. Megan had found a spot, cramming both herself and her supplies into a cabinet. Her gaze flickered away. She didn't have any time to think, only to survive. Abby was rarely pressured in her life. It seemed like that fact was being made up for, tenfold.
There!
She could hear footsteps, coming down the hall. Who had it been? Someone with a gun, obviously. Just as more obvious, someone intent on playing. Abby ran towards the desk, shoving the armchair aside. As fast as she could, Abby rolled herself into a ball, cramming into the small hiding spot. She held her breath.
Silence.
-------
The door opened. Abby could hear the footsteps, advancing menacingly towards them. It felt like her heart was the loudest thing in the room, sweat dripped from her brow as she willed herself farther back, into her hiding spot. She'd made a mistake. Cramming into a cabinet would have been a far better option. Exposed, it was down to luck. At the right angle, her cover could be blown in an instant.
Don't panic.
The words weren't working. Her hands were shaking, despite being clutched close to her chest. It took all the willpower she had to avoid gasping for air, instead breathing in short panicked spurts. Abby closed her eyes.
Don't think about them. They'll leave, your luck will hold. You just need to stay calm. Pray the others don't do anything. It'll be fine. It'll all be-
"Excuse me, I see you there."
Fine.
"Hiding girl."
Oh God.
"Asian girl?"
ohgod
Her first instinct was to bolt, a mad dash to the exit. Survival chance uncertain, but better then she had staying put. But she couldn't move. Instead, she shrunk back farther, tucking her legs in towards her chest. Abby felt dread building inside her, knowing what would come next. Hide and seek. She'd been caught. Game over.
"I really think you should come out here. I really think that it's not nice to hide."
Fuck you, cunt.
Her own thoughts surprised her. Cowering in terror, and located by a psycho. This was supposed to be… ‘it’. She was out of lives, dead in a few seconds. She wouldn’t fight back, she couldn’t even run. All she could do was squeeze back, wimper, await the inevitable. Her death was nothing, so why the resentment?
The silence continued. Abby flexed her hand, forming a fist over and over. She wouldn’t come out. She wasn’t stupid. For a crazy second, she was sure the girl would just- walk away. Leave her be. But she’d singled her out. Asian girl. Not just girl, Asian girl. She was fucked.
I can’t believe I’m going to die. Maybe-maybe that’s it. Just a few seconds ago, I was talking about it, now I get to try it. I guess they made my decisions for me. Fuck. Just…
Abby bit her lip, hearing the footsteps come closer, her dread and fear building with every footfall. Her mind was swimming, hurling in a thousand directions at once. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream. A part of her wanted to lunge out, go for the girl’s throat. The way she’d said it so causally, asian girl. A part of her had always figured she’d die from some lunatic with a hard-on for bigotry. Megan hadn’t talked like that. All the more unfortunate she’d only found Megan seconds before the lunatic. She needed to get her head straight, her thoughts cleared. Half of her was still trapped in the day dream, ‘Oh, not you, I meant the other asian girl.’
Abby looked out. The girls shoes, smatterings of blood. She laughed, despite herself. Maddie bent down, looking underneath the desk.
Oh, you meant THIS asian girl?
She barely had time to open her mouth and scream, before Maddie’s hand jolted out, grabbing her by the hair. Pain shot through her as Maddie yanked, beginning to drag her out into the open. Instinctively, her hands went to Maddie’s wrist, clawing and scratching feebly, trying to hold back. Her fear had built up, boiling over. She was shouting as loud as she could now, screaming at Maddie as she was hauled across the floor by the hair.
“Stop it! Fucking stop!”
Of course she wouldn’t stop. Abby was going to die. There was no doubt in her mind, not anymore. She had minutes left. Seconds maybe. Her heart beat faster and she gave up clawing, smacking at Maddie’s wrist as the girl dumped her in the middle of the floor, sprawled on the tiles. With a huff she sat up, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. Teeth chattering, she raised her hand up, waving it frantically at the other girl.
“A minute! Give me one minute!”
A minute. The entire scene was laughable. In any other situation, she’d have been shot instantly. But no. Maddie, she was toying with her. Abby was just being realistic. She was as good as dead, and even if Megan and Brendon stood up, they didn’t have a weapon to fight with. Abby was going to die. She needed to accept it, and think fast.
Lucky. Any other killer, dead right away. Lucky to die like this. Lucky.
Sitting on the ground, Abby tried her hardest to avoid hyperventilating, wasting what time she had left. Her brain was still racing, and she mentally willed herself to slow down. Abby swallowed hard, staring up at her killer. Maddie Harris. In a million years, would she have ever guessed it would be Maddie Harris? Maddie had had a future from what she could remember. A promising art school, a career in sculpting, or perhaps poetry. Not like Abby at all, and yet, completely alike. Abby wasn’t going to art school. Her art was a hobby, a passionate one, but still a hobby. Maddie lived and breathed the stuff.
But the point was moot. She was going to die. Hopefully Maddie would too, but that wasn’t up to her to decide. For a second, Abby was sure Maddie would outright shoot her, end the entire thing. She had the gun, and judging from the announcements, she certainly had the guts. But the other girl was relenting, temporarily.
Close your eyes if you can.
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, letting out a stuttering nervous laugh.
“A-at least you got me now. Can’t let the chink win, right?” She mumbled, before awkwardly clearing her throat. Abby slid back a pace, her eyes on the gun in Maddie’s hand. She thought of Rena, but little comfort was coming from it.
Sleep. Just sleep. Gonna go to sleep. Just think. Think Abby. Think and speak.
Closing her eyes, Abby bowed her head, mentally focusing. The shot could come at any time, and she had only two objectives on her mind. 1) Avoid pissing her pants, or crying. And the 2nd…? Brendon had said it best. Go out with something. Die for something.
…
No, no no no no…
She was drawing a blank. She blinked, realizing she’d failed her first objective. Hands still shaking, she raised her blue gloves up, wiping tears from her eyes. She thought of her family. Alex was probably glued to the screen. Her mother, maybe. Her father…? Did he even matter anymore? Yes. He did. And wherever he was, Abby bet he’d be watching as well.
So, I didn’t play. I didn’t kill anyone. That’s good. If there’s a heaven, I’m going to it. If not- if- Shit. Come’on Abby. Think. Last words. So many good last words. Quote something. Say something controversial. Leave them thinking. Leave… Leave… hM.
That could work.
Abby looked up. The gun was up now, aimed at her face. Her mouth opened, sputtering, trying to form words. She looked down the barrel of the gun, locking eyes with Maddie.
We would have been great friends.
Abby tried her hardest not to scream. Slowly with the greatest care she leaned in, until she could feel the lukewarm barrel of the gun pressed against her forehead.
“There is nothing worth saying, ‘cus no one is listening, and I could never hear myself anyway. N-now. Whenever you’re r-“
BANG.
Black.
F23: ABBY ERICKSON - DECEASED
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.
(OOC: Uh...mild GMing approved by Peregrine? I guess?)
Hide? Sure, the person inside the building had a gun, but it's not like there were plenty of open spaces. Maybe he could just perch next to a door and spring some sort of ambush. At least, that's how it worked out in the games that he had played and some movies...just be right next to the door and when the gunman comes bursting in, you pull off a wicked one-two takedown on them and knock them the fuck out. That's how heroes did it and that was how Brendon wanted to do it. Of course...well, he wasn't really that good of a hero and he didn't have the advantage of being able to regenerate health after being shot. Hiding...while it left a bad taste in his mouth, was probably necessary.
So he quickly stepped over to a standing cabinet, pressing against the wall and hoping that he wouldn't be seen by whoever had the gun. The shooter was coming closer...he could hear her footsteps echo within the halls as he gulped, trying to stop the hammering of his heart within his chest. It wasn't that he was scared...well, okay, just a little bit of fright was there. Just a little. But adrenaline was pumping through him and he licked his dry lips, trying to remain as quiet as possible. He hoped things would be peaceful enough...continued hoping as he heard someone enter the room they were in and begin to speak.
The person was female...he recognized the voice, but couldn't place a name to it at the moment. He took a peek around the cabinet...saw the back of the girl. She was short with her strawberry-blond hair tied up in a pair of pigtails. That he recognized. Madeline Harris. But the memories of Maddie from school didn't click with what he saw before him. She was tugging Abby out of her hiding spot...Brendon could hear the Asian girl's screams and protests.
That wasn't right. Maddie was a scrawny artist, not some sort of demented killer. He heard her name on the announcements but still...seeing her like this...even from the back. It was wrong. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong. He wanted to shout...to tell her to leave Abby the fuck alone, but for some reason his mouth remained shut and he kept watching. Maybe Maddie was just playing around. Maybe she wasn't going to kill Abby...maybe Maddie was just getting in some sort of sadistic, domme sort of thrill before leaving.
Things never worked out the way he wanted, though. He heard the bang, saw Abby's corpse fall to the floor.
He screamed.
Rage...pure, unfiltered rage flowed through his body as he stepped out of his hiding spot, running towards Maddie with his right fist held high as he swung it straight towards the back of her head. He felt his fist connect...felt a wave of satisfaction flow through him. He wanted to kill her. No, that wasn't the right word. He wanted to pulverize her. He wanted her to live for as long as possible, to cling to the last remnants of her pathetic life all the way to the end as he beat every inch of her into a bloody pulp with his very own hands. He could see it already. She'd drop the gun...she had to. Just judging from her build, she probably wasn't a very strong person and besides, he was punching her in the back of her fucking head.
And then he'd just let go. Just take out all of his frustrations and failures and...and everything on her. Just keep punching and punching until he broke something...broke many somethings. Shatter her nose...break a couple of ribs, it didn't matter. Just as long as she felt pain...suffered for what she had done. Suffered for killing another person that Brendon had promised to try to keep alive. Suffer for slapping reality into the face of his hopes and his ideals. Suffer for not only killing Abby...but also for hurting him. She would pay.
There were tears falling down Brendon's face as he wound up for another punch. He had acted so cool earlier...tried to be all hopeful...promised to try to keep people alive. In the end, all he had done was hide and get someone else killed.
Wendy. Chris. And now Abby.
It was wrong.
He was wrong.
Hide? Sure, the person inside the building had a gun, but it's not like there were plenty of open spaces. Maybe he could just perch next to a door and spring some sort of ambush. At least, that's how it worked out in the games that he had played and some movies...just be right next to the door and when the gunman comes bursting in, you pull off a wicked one-two takedown on them and knock them the fuck out. That's how heroes did it and that was how Brendon wanted to do it. Of course...well, he wasn't really that good of a hero and he didn't have the advantage of being able to regenerate health after being shot. Hiding...while it left a bad taste in his mouth, was probably necessary.
So he quickly stepped over to a standing cabinet, pressing against the wall and hoping that he wouldn't be seen by whoever had the gun. The shooter was coming closer...he could hear her footsteps echo within the halls as he gulped, trying to stop the hammering of his heart within his chest. It wasn't that he was scared...well, okay, just a little bit of fright was there. Just a little. But adrenaline was pumping through him and he licked his dry lips, trying to remain as quiet as possible. He hoped things would be peaceful enough...continued hoping as he heard someone enter the room they were in and begin to speak.
The person was female...he recognized the voice, but couldn't place a name to it at the moment. He took a peek around the cabinet...saw the back of the girl. She was short with her strawberry-blond hair tied up in a pair of pigtails. That he recognized. Madeline Harris. But the memories of Maddie from school didn't click with what he saw before him. She was tugging Abby out of her hiding spot...Brendon could hear the Asian girl's screams and protests.
That wasn't right. Maddie was a scrawny artist, not some sort of demented killer. He heard her name on the announcements but still...seeing her like this...even from the back. It was wrong. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong. He wanted to shout...to tell her to leave Abby the fuck alone, but for some reason his mouth remained shut and he kept watching. Maybe Maddie was just playing around. Maybe she wasn't going to kill Abby...maybe Maddie was just getting in some sort of sadistic, domme sort of thrill before leaving.
Things never worked out the way he wanted, though. He heard the bang, saw Abby's corpse fall to the floor.
He screamed.
Rage...pure, unfiltered rage flowed through his body as he stepped out of his hiding spot, running towards Maddie with his right fist held high as he swung it straight towards the back of her head. He felt his fist connect...felt a wave of satisfaction flow through him. He wanted to kill her. No, that wasn't the right word. He wanted to pulverize her. He wanted her to live for as long as possible, to cling to the last remnants of her pathetic life all the way to the end as he beat every inch of her into a bloody pulp with his very own hands. He could see it already. She'd drop the gun...she had to. Just judging from her build, she probably wasn't a very strong person and besides, he was punching her in the back of her fucking head.
And then he'd just let go. Just take out all of his frustrations and failures and...and everything on her. Just keep punching and punching until he broke something...broke many somethings. Shatter her nose...break a couple of ribs, it didn't matter. Just as long as she felt pain...suffered for what she had done. Suffered for killing another person that Brendon had promised to try to keep alive. Suffer for slapping reality into the face of his hopes and his ideals. Suffer for not only killing Abby...but also for hurting him. She would pay.
There were tears falling down Brendon's face as he wound up for another punch. He had acted so cool earlier...tried to be all hopeful...promised to try to keep people alive. In the end, all he had done was hide and get someone else killed.
Wendy. Chris. And now Abby.
It was wrong.
He was wrong.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Tythanin. 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.
-
Casey The Undead*
- Posts: 196
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:44 am
Maddie Harris. It wasn't right. It wasn't right or sane or reasonable and it hurt Megan to see it. Maddie Harris wasn't a killer. She was an artist. She was just a kid, they were all just kids, but Maddie...Maddie was someone Megan would have never pegged as a monster. And yet there she was, gun toting, wild-eyed, crazy as could be. Megan felt like a three year old checking under her bed for monsters- yes that pile of laundry (or Maddie Harris) looked really bad and scary, but give your eyes a second to adjust and it turns out that it's not a monster, or a killer, but just a pile of laundry. Harmless.
But then she spoke, and Megan realized two things. The first was that Maddie Harris was anything but harmless. She was going to kill them without batting an eye if she got the chance. The second was the ultimate flaw of hiding. Maddie had probably heard them talking. And their hiding spots weren't ideal. Megan wished she hadn't opened her mouth, wished she would have just grabbed both of her friends and run when she had the chance. But that was five minutes ago. The chance was gone.
"Excuse me, I see you there. Hiding girl." Megan felt her breath catch. No, she could see Maddie, Maddie wasn't looking at her, right? Oh fuck. Oh-
"Asian girl?"
Megan should have been breathing a sigh of relief, but really everything got worse. Causing her own death, Megan could probably deal with. And in the end, she and St. Peter would have a good chuckle at the dramatic irony of it all. But causing Abby's death? No. No Megan couldn't do that, she couldn't fuck up like that, not like she'd fucked up with Chris and Wendy. She wasn't doing it again.
Megan watched with wide-eyed horror as Maddie pulled Abby out of hiding. She clamped her hands around Helmut Von Slappenstien, ready to swing at Maddie. A football helmet probably hurt like fucking hell to get hit with, and if Megan aimed right for the head then Maddie would drop the gun, Megan would grab Abby, scream for Brendon, and they'd run like fucking hell until their feet were bleeding and they were hacking up lungs.
Of course, the issue was that it was Hemlut Von Slappenstien vs Big Ol' Muthahfuckin Gun, and Megan was pretty much paralyzed at the moment. She couldn't die rescuing Abby, at least not before she'd actually succeeded in the whole rescuing part. If she ran at Maddie right now, Maddie would probably shoot Megan in the face, shoot Abby as the Asian girl tried to scramble away, and shoot Brendon as he came in to save them both. Bad. Very bad.
Megan clutched Helmut so tight that her nails started digging into her palms. She just needed to wait for the right moment to-
The shot was so loud, so sudden, that Megan jumped, smacking her head into the top of the cupboard or whatever she was in. Her head spun, the force of hitting it sending spots into Megan's vision. Dazedly, she saw Abby crumple to the ground. Megan clutched her head and the steadily growing bump on it and shut her eyes. Everything was spinning. She couldn't think straight, that was all. Abby was crawling away, Brendon was-
Screaming. Brendon was screaming. No. Bad sign. Very bad sign. Megan opened her eyes again. Tears clouded her vision, but she blinked them away, straining to keep the swerving world steady. Abby was on the ground. Motionless. And wrong, so very, very wrong.
Abby had said Rena looked like she was sleeping, but there was a giant fucking hole in Abby's head and it didn't look like she was sleeping at all. She looked dead. She looked cold, and empty, and dead, fucking fucking fucking dead.
Brendon had rushed Maddie, and Megan felt fear creep through every part of her. Maddie had a gun, and what the fuck did Brendon have? Fucking boxing gloves? He was gonna die, and that'd be the...forth person Megan let down. No. Not happening. Fuck his hero shit, sometimes the heroes had to run.
"Brendon! Brendon!" Megan tore herself out of her hiding spot, rushing towards Maddie and Brendon. "Fucking Christ stop! Stop!" She was screaming, running faster then she'd ever run before. She grabbed Brendon's wrist, like Brendon had grabbed her hand back at the Garage, and she tugged him away from Maddie.
If it was a movie, Megan would have stopped and looked Brendon straight in the eyes. They would have seen the sadness they both felt, and they would have broken down in each others arms. Maddie would have been knocked out for just long enough that Megan and Brendon could walk over and shut Abby's eyes. Long enough that Megan could take Abby's gloves from the girl and put them on herself, carrying a bit of her fallen comrade as long as she could. If it was a movie, Megan and Brendon both would have lived to the end, would have done the right thing. If it was a movie, then Abby would have gotten the glorious sendoff she deserved.
But movies weren't real, and Megan knew better. They didn't even have the time to glance back and see Abby's body one last time. They only had time to run, and so Megan did that, pulling Brendon behind her.
In her head, Megan was making a list. Maddie Harris, you have made it to the top of my Shit List Hit List. You and John Fucking Ferrera. I hope you die the most miserable, painful death imaginable, and I hope that I'm there to see it, you insane fucker.
Her lungs burned. Her feet hurt. She wasn't fucking stopping, not until she'd fainted. She had to do this for Abby, right? Wasn't what that whole talk was about? She had to fight till the end, but she couldn't be afraid of death, because it would be okay. Abby was trying to tell her that. It was coming together in Megan's head, the Program, her friends, her life, death- it was all starting to make sense. And yeah, it took losing some friends, and some overdramatic speeches, and a villain or two for Megan to get it, but at least maybe Abby died with some clarity. And at least maybe Megan could do out the same way.
A small smile spread across her lips. Sometimes all it took was befriending an Asian girl to make the whole world make sense. Abby was gone, but there was no way in hell Megan would ever forget her. Thanks Abby. Thanks so much. You...you were really cool. I'll miss you. More then you know.
((Megan Jacobson and Brendon Arrington continued in I'm Younger Than That Now))
But then she spoke, and Megan realized two things. The first was that Maddie Harris was anything but harmless. She was going to kill them without batting an eye if she got the chance. The second was the ultimate flaw of hiding. Maddie had probably heard them talking. And their hiding spots weren't ideal. Megan wished she hadn't opened her mouth, wished she would have just grabbed both of her friends and run when she had the chance. But that was five minutes ago. The chance was gone.
"Excuse me, I see you there. Hiding girl." Megan felt her breath catch. No, she could see Maddie, Maddie wasn't looking at her, right? Oh fuck. Oh-
"Asian girl?"
Megan should have been breathing a sigh of relief, but really everything got worse. Causing her own death, Megan could probably deal with. And in the end, she and St. Peter would have a good chuckle at the dramatic irony of it all. But causing Abby's death? No. No Megan couldn't do that, she couldn't fuck up like that, not like she'd fucked up with Chris and Wendy. She wasn't doing it again.
Megan watched with wide-eyed horror as Maddie pulled Abby out of hiding. She clamped her hands around Helmut Von Slappenstien, ready to swing at Maddie. A football helmet probably hurt like fucking hell to get hit with, and if Megan aimed right for the head then Maddie would drop the gun, Megan would grab Abby, scream for Brendon, and they'd run like fucking hell until their feet were bleeding and they were hacking up lungs.
Of course, the issue was that it was Hemlut Von Slappenstien vs Big Ol' Muthahfuckin Gun, and Megan was pretty much paralyzed at the moment. She couldn't die rescuing Abby, at least not before she'd actually succeeded in the whole rescuing part. If she ran at Maddie right now, Maddie would probably shoot Megan in the face, shoot Abby as the Asian girl tried to scramble away, and shoot Brendon as he came in to save them both. Bad. Very bad.
Megan clutched Helmut so tight that her nails started digging into her palms. She just needed to wait for the right moment to-
The shot was so loud, so sudden, that Megan jumped, smacking her head into the top of the cupboard or whatever she was in. Her head spun, the force of hitting it sending spots into Megan's vision. Dazedly, she saw Abby crumple to the ground. Megan clutched her head and the steadily growing bump on it and shut her eyes. Everything was spinning. She couldn't think straight, that was all. Abby was crawling away, Brendon was-
Screaming. Brendon was screaming. No. Bad sign. Very bad sign. Megan opened her eyes again. Tears clouded her vision, but she blinked them away, straining to keep the swerving world steady. Abby was on the ground. Motionless. And wrong, so very, very wrong.
Abby had said Rena looked like she was sleeping, but there was a giant fucking hole in Abby's head and it didn't look like she was sleeping at all. She looked dead. She looked cold, and empty, and dead, fucking fucking fucking dead.
Brendon had rushed Maddie, and Megan felt fear creep through every part of her. Maddie had a gun, and what the fuck did Brendon have? Fucking boxing gloves? He was gonna die, and that'd be the...forth person Megan let down. No. Not happening. Fuck his hero shit, sometimes the heroes had to run.
"Brendon! Brendon!" Megan tore herself out of her hiding spot, rushing towards Maddie and Brendon. "Fucking Christ stop! Stop!" She was screaming, running faster then she'd ever run before. She grabbed Brendon's wrist, like Brendon had grabbed her hand back at the Garage, and she tugged him away from Maddie.
If it was a movie, Megan would have stopped and looked Brendon straight in the eyes. They would have seen the sadness they both felt, and they would have broken down in each others arms. Maddie would have been knocked out for just long enough that Megan and Brendon could walk over and shut Abby's eyes. Long enough that Megan could take Abby's gloves from the girl and put them on herself, carrying a bit of her fallen comrade as long as she could. If it was a movie, Megan and Brendon both would have lived to the end, would have done the right thing. If it was a movie, then Abby would have gotten the glorious sendoff she deserved.
But movies weren't real, and Megan knew better. They didn't even have the time to glance back and see Abby's body one last time. They only had time to run, and so Megan did that, pulling Brendon behind her.
In her head, Megan was making a list. Maddie Harris, you have made it to the top of my Shit List Hit List. You and John Fucking Ferrera. I hope you die the most miserable, painful death imaginable, and I hope that I'm there to see it, you insane fucker.
Her lungs burned. Her feet hurt. She wasn't fucking stopping, not until she'd fainted. She had to do this for Abby, right? Wasn't what that whole talk was about? She had to fight till the end, but she couldn't be afraid of death, because it would be okay. Abby was trying to tell her that. It was coming together in Megan's head, the Program, her friends, her life, death- it was all starting to make sense. And yeah, it took losing some friends, and some overdramatic speeches, and a villain or two for Megan to get it, but at least maybe Abby died with some clarity. And at least maybe Megan could do out the same way.
A small smile spread across her lips. Sometimes all it took was befriending an Asian girl to make the whole world make sense. Abby was gone, but there was no way in hell Megan would ever forget her. Thanks Abby. Thanks so much. You...you were really cool. I'll miss you. More then you know.
((Megan Jacobson and Brendon Arrington continued in I'm Younger Than That Now))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Casey The Undead. 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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peregrineink*
- Posts: 322
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:39 am
Pain hurt. The boy, whose name she dimly remembered as Brandon or Brendon or Brian or something came flying at her. One. Twice. He hit her. He kept hitting her until some person Maddie couldn't see with a girl's voice seemed to make him go away. Maddie lay there in stunned silence as she heard their feet echoe down the hall. Stars danced before her eyes.
They had worked together. The girl had not killed her. She could have. Maddie closed her eyes. Her left eye was swollen, he had missed her nose but her right cheekbone began to swell up too. Luckily she could still see.
She didn't want to.
Maddie rolled onto her back, her tangled hair spread out, bloodier than ever. The girl lay nearby, incredibly dead. Maddie had done it.
Maddie reached out for Abby's cold, still hand, fingertips touching fingertips, she interlocked her fingers with the corpse. With her free hand, she took out the gun.
The tip pressed to her temple before she realized...maybe it went quickly. Maybe all of the people she had killed this far hadn't even realized what had happened. Right? Maybe the same could be said for her. Maybe it would be quick, painless, and she could go on to whatever judgment she was going to receive in the hereafter.
A statue with no head, reaching her hand out for someone to hold. Maddie stood before the statue alone.
It was beautiful.
Douglas Adams, gallery curator, came up behind her. He rested a hand on the small of her back and leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Such talent should not go wasted," he told her. Maddie's eyes never left the statue.
Maddie agreed.
She dropped the gun from her temple, how could she do that? There was so much left to do. She needed to find Duncan. She needed to get out of here and go to art school. She needed to get famous and move on with her life because this was not her life here. It wasn't. This was not how she died.
But now she lay there with a throbbing face, the exhaustion creeping up on her in her bones, her the pain. It hurt.
She made a mental note to kill Brendon, and followed it up by making a note to spare the girl who had dragged him away. Maddie wasn't a killer, she wasn't. She just...
Maddie closed her eyes again. She just needed to sleep, she just needed to sleep for five minutes. She gripped her gun in her hand and drifted off into a half-oblivion. Sort of awake and sort of fast asleep.
The picture hung alone.
The twisted frame was made of exquisite bone, still brimming with marrow, still shining with blood from its recent separation from skin and muscle. Femur and fibula twisted together, threaded through with nerves opened to the air. The topper of the frame was the bits of long hair incorporated into it. Like gold thread woven into a braid.
The canvas was made of skin, still trembling, the hairs on its surface rising in attention. This all was to frame the most important part of the creation. A still beating heart hung in exactly the center of the frame. On either side, two gray eyes stared out in wide open terror at their newfound existence.
Five people stood before the picture, staring at it with varying states of indifference. Damon wrinkled his nose at it, the three bright roses on his chest oozing blood.
"I think it's uninspired," he said. Siobhan nodded next to him. Her dress, worn for the gallery, was black, but she dripped a trail of red.
"Very commonplace, I fear it's already been done before."
Jethro could say nothing, but he stared up at the picture, his one remaining eye dolefully glaring at it from the jawless ruin that was now his face.
"I don't know," Johan managed to say through ruined teeth. "The artist has put a lot of work into it. I daresay she has put herself into it."
Abby scowled, from the front she seemed normal save for what looked to be a red smudge on the side of her face. As she turned her head to engage the others, the red cave where matter should be dripped wetly.
"She could definitely do better," Abby said. Her eyes stared into the tortured gray eyes on the canvas. "Definitely better."
Maddie awoke screaming, every injury she had sustained crying out in agony at her sudden movement. She scrambled to her feet in wordless horror, and could feel how disgusting she was crawling on her skin she could feel it in her hair there was so much blood but where had it all come from?
She stared at the little puddle of blood she herself had formed from her mouth while she slept. She licked the inside cuts on her cheek and tasted copper roses.
No rest for the prolific.
She shoulder her bag and continued onwards.
(Madeline Harris continued in Break the Sky)
They had worked together. The girl had not killed her. She could have. Maddie closed her eyes. Her left eye was swollen, he had missed her nose but her right cheekbone began to swell up too. Luckily she could still see.
She didn't want to.
Maddie rolled onto her back, her tangled hair spread out, bloodier than ever. The girl lay nearby, incredibly dead. Maddie had done it.
Maddie reached out for Abby's cold, still hand, fingertips touching fingertips, she interlocked her fingers with the corpse. With her free hand, she took out the gun.
The tip pressed to her temple before she realized...maybe it went quickly. Maybe all of the people she had killed this far hadn't even realized what had happened. Right? Maybe the same could be said for her. Maybe it would be quick, painless, and she could go on to whatever judgment she was going to receive in the hereafter.
A statue with no head, reaching her hand out for someone to hold. Maddie stood before the statue alone.
It was beautiful.
Douglas Adams, gallery curator, came up behind her. He rested a hand on the small of her back and leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Such talent should not go wasted," he told her. Maddie's eyes never left the statue.
Maddie agreed.
She dropped the gun from her temple, how could she do that? There was so much left to do. She needed to find Duncan. She needed to get out of here and go to art school. She needed to get famous and move on with her life because this was not her life here. It wasn't. This was not how she died.
But now she lay there with a throbbing face, the exhaustion creeping up on her in her bones, her the pain. It hurt.
She made a mental note to kill Brendon, and followed it up by making a note to spare the girl who had dragged him away. Maddie wasn't a killer, she wasn't. She just...
Maddie closed her eyes again. She just needed to sleep, she just needed to sleep for five minutes. She gripped her gun in her hand and drifted off into a half-oblivion. Sort of awake and sort of fast asleep.
The picture hung alone.
The twisted frame was made of exquisite bone, still brimming with marrow, still shining with blood from its recent separation from skin and muscle. Femur and fibula twisted together, threaded through with nerves opened to the air. The topper of the frame was the bits of long hair incorporated into it. Like gold thread woven into a braid.
The canvas was made of skin, still trembling, the hairs on its surface rising in attention. This all was to frame the most important part of the creation. A still beating heart hung in exactly the center of the frame. On either side, two gray eyes stared out in wide open terror at their newfound existence.
Five people stood before the picture, staring at it with varying states of indifference. Damon wrinkled his nose at it, the three bright roses on his chest oozing blood.
"I think it's uninspired," he said. Siobhan nodded next to him. Her dress, worn for the gallery, was black, but she dripped a trail of red.
"Very commonplace, I fear it's already been done before."
Jethro could say nothing, but he stared up at the picture, his one remaining eye dolefully glaring at it from the jawless ruin that was now his face.
"I don't know," Johan managed to say through ruined teeth. "The artist has put a lot of work into it. I daresay she has put herself into it."
Abby scowled, from the front she seemed normal save for what looked to be a red smudge on the side of her face. As she turned her head to engage the others, the red cave where matter should be dripped wetly.
"She could definitely do better," Abby said. Her eyes stared into the tortured gray eyes on the canvas. "Definitely better."
Maddie awoke screaming, every injury she had sustained crying out in agony at her sudden movement. She scrambled to her feet in wordless horror, and could feel how disgusting she was crawling on her skin she could feel it in her hair there was so much blood but where had it all come from?
She stared at the little puddle of blood she herself had formed from her mouth while she slept. She licked the inside cuts on her cheek and tasted copper roses.
No rest for the prolific.
She shoulder her bag and continued onwards.
(Madeline Harris continued in Break the Sky)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler peregrineink. 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.