(Brendon Arrington continued from I'm Younger Than That Now)
It was annoying.
He had been walking for who knows how long since the argument in the firing range and he was still upset about the whole ordeal. Upset at Megan for blowing her lid and shoving her ideals into their faces, upset at himself for reacting like he did and leaving without even bothering to listen to Alex's plan, and upset at Brigadier General Adams for putting them in that sort of position in the first place. And that wasn't all...he was irritated at pretty much anything that could have been a proximate cause to the the situation he was in now. God, Bryant Carver, the people who had taken them here...all of them he was beginning to wish had just dropped off the face of the Earth.
But wishes never came true without a little bit of elbow grease to go along with it and as of the moment, all he had was a pair of weighted boxing gloves and a duffel bag.
It was annoying.
He stopped in his tracks and took a look around at where he was at the moment. It looked like it was the gate that led into the compound they were in...and after some more checking, it was obvious there was no way he'd get the gate open by himself. The controls were busted and unless he somehow found a goddamn tank in the compound, he probably wasn't going to get to crash through it like some sort of action movie hero.
But it was empty and the two gatehouses could become a nice shelter. At least there in the silence he could compose his thoughts, think about things, and really just...calm down. That's what he wanted...that's what he needed. So with a slight grunt, he walked into the left gatehouse, found a chair, and just plopped his ass into it. He didn't care if it was dangerous or foolhardy at the moment. He just wanted some time to think.
Going Off the Script
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Moderator: Sh4dE
Going Off the Script
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.
Brendon didn't know how long he had spent in the gatehouse dwelling on his past actions and what he should do in the future. Before he knew it, night had passed and after stumbling out of the gatehouse, he saw that the sun was beginning to rise. He rubbed at his eyes, sighing as he worked out the kinks in his arms and legs. It definitely had been uncomfortable in there and he had fallen asleep in the chair a few times along the way, but in the end, the whole reflection thing had helped. He was still a little irritated (more at himself than anyone else) inside and also still a bit jealous and upset that Megan had left him at the firing range like that, but it was fine. The former was just something he'd have to live with and the latter...well, for that he actually needed to find Megan again.
And apologize to her.
It was the reason why he had been so irritated anyway. It made sense to tackle that problem first. The way the two had parted...it felt like something was squeezing at his heart, crushing it between its grasping fingers. If that was what hatred felt like, it wasn't a sensation that he ever wanted to replicate. Hell, it was still there...dulled and less powerful, but still there. This time, though...it was directed at himself. Anger that he hadn't kept his cool, anger that he had lost his temper at Megan so easily (although he still felt justified, Megan had acted like a huge dick to him), and anger that he let that little "Fuck Bryant Carver" line slip.
As for how to solve it? Well...the first thing was to find Megan. Find her, hope she was okay, hope no one else was going to shoot him, and hope the two of them would be able to remain calm and rational long enough to get their apologies going. And then maybe, if things went right (and they often did in movies, although this wasn't a movie), they'd hug and make up and be awesome together again. Brendon was almost absolutely certain that it wouldn't work out that way, though.
But it was worth a shot. Along with his dumb idea that all the non-killers could somehow just hang out together until the end without having any murdering. A slight grin worked its way on his face as he thought about his stupid idea. He remembered Tyler saying something like that...saying that working together without any killing was what being an American was supposed to be about. He had absolutely no clue why Tyler had then gone and killed someone with a fucking suplex of all things, but maybe he'd somehow find out if they ever crossed paths.
But beyond that...he didn't really have anything else. He was fixed to his goal...to make an environment where at least...the most level-headed people could just live together in peace for a while. He doubted it'd really work out and he definitely doubted that it would last all that long, but it would be something. Something nice and pleasant amongst all of the death. He didn't think anything would really deter him from his path, but the future was nebulous. Always changing. Something deep like that.
Brendon took a deep breath. The morning air tasted crisp. He felt rejuvenated...as if he had gotten a new purpose. He wondered if Megan had felt the same way when she came up with her plan. Probably did, but it wasn't like Brendon could ask her at the moment. But he was charged. Ready to take on the rest of the world on the island. Ready to try to protect innocents from those who would want to commit wanton murder...like John and Madeline.
"Greetings again, students of General's Pride High School," The speakers crackled with the beginning of the day's announcements and Brendon closed his eyes to listen, concentrating. It was a short list...although whether that meant there were just that few students or that the killers had finally slowed down, he didn't know. Madeline's name popped up twice and he even heard Bryant Carver's name. He couldn't help but feel a small ding of self-righteousness as he heard Carver's name, but he quickly brushed it off.
'Heh...Tyler got offed by US Snipers for ranting against America? Well...at least it seems like he was still the same guy, kill or not. At least he went out with a bang....probably stuck to his guns at the end.' He took a deep breath and sighed. It was a shame...Tyler was definitely one of the guys he'd like to keep around. But now he knew there were snipers around...even in this little way, Tyler was helping. He snickered and shook his head, bringing a hand to her forehead in a quick salute.
'Thanks for the help, Tyler. Every little bit helps.'
He shouldered his pack. There were things he needed to do. People he needed to see.
(Brendon Arrington continued in Let's Make Life a Living Hell.)
And apologize to her.
It was the reason why he had been so irritated anyway. It made sense to tackle that problem first. The way the two had parted...it felt like something was squeezing at his heart, crushing it between its grasping fingers. If that was what hatred felt like, it wasn't a sensation that he ever wanted to replicate. Hell, it was still there...dulled and less powerful, but still there. This time, though...it was directed at himself. Anger that he hadn't kept his cool, anger that he had lost his temper at Megan so easily (although he still felt justified, Megan had acted like a huge dick to him), and anger that he let that little "Fuck Bryant Carver" line slip.
As for how to solve it? Well...the first thing was to find Megan. Find her, hope she was okay, hope no one else was going to shoot him, and hope the two of them would be able to remain calm and rational long enough to get their apologies going. And then maybe, if things went right (and they often did in movies, although this wasn't a movie), they'd hug and make up and be awesome together again. Brendon was almost absolutely certain that it wouldn't work out that way, though.
But it was worth a shot. Along with his dumb idea that all the non-killers could somehow just hang out together until the end without having any murdering. A slight grin worked its way on his face as he thought about his stupid idea. He remembered Tyler saying something like that...saying that working together without any killing was what being an American was supposed to be about. He had absolutely no clue why Tyler had then gone and killed someone with a fucking suplex of all things, but maybe he'd somehow find out if they ever crossed paths.
But beyond that...he didn't really have anything else. He was fixed to his goal...to make an environment where at least...the most level-headed people could just live together in peace for a while. He doubted it'd really work out and he definitely doubted that it would last all that long, but it would be something. Something nice and pleasant amongst all of the death. He didn't think anything would really deter him from his path, but the future was nebulous. Always changing. Something deep like that.
Brendon took a deep breath. The morning air tasted crisp. He felt rejuvenated...as if he had gotten a new purpose. He wondered if Megan had felt the same way when she came up with her plan. Probably did, but it wasn't like Brendon could ask her at the moment. But he was charged. Ready to take on the rest of the world on the island. Ready to try to protect innocents from those who would want to commit wanton murder...like John and Madeline.
"Greetings again, students of General's Pride High School," The speakers crackled with the beginning of the day's announcements and Brendon closed his eyes to listen, concentrating. It was a short list...although whether that meant there were just that few students or that the killers had finally slowed down, he didn't know. Madeline's name popped up twice and he even heard Bryant Carver's name. He couldn't help but feel a small ding of self-righteousness as he heard Carver's name, but he quickly brushed it off.
'Heh...Tyler got offed by US Snipers for ranting against America? Well...at least it seems like he was still the same guy, kill or not. At least he went out with a bang....probably stuck to his guns at the end.' He took a deep breath and sighed. It was a shame...Tyler was definitely one of the guys he'd like to keep around. But now he knew there were snipers around...even in this little way, Tyler was helping. He snickered and shook his head, bringing a hand to her forehead in a quick salute.
'Thanks for the help, Tyler. Every little bit helps.'
He shouldered his pack. There were things he needed to do. People he needed to see.
(Brendon Arrington continued in Let's Make Life a Living Hell.)
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.