((Leah Bissard continued from Countdown))
Thankfully Leah managed to get out of there before anything got too out of hand. She managed to find herself in what appeared to be an open theater of sorts. It looked to be rather abandoned as well. Leah stood silently, making sure nobody was around before plopping down at a table, trying to find some comfort.
A small part of her wondered if those kids back there actually heeded their mentor's advice, though she quickly pushed that out of her mind. While she felt no attachment to the dark blue bandanna boy, she didn't want him to outright die. Leah shivered as she thought about that boy's spear and how it might've been used against the other boy. Soon enough she was thinking of that same spear getting her, and that train of thought was forcefully derailed quickly.
She thought of her mentor's words, especially those regarding her teammates. Those kids back there were on the same team, and they seemed to warm up to each other pretty quick. Their mentor was awfully supportive of them as well. Contrast Leah's, who outright told her not to trust hers. She knew that four other kids in this game were running around with the exact same bandanna, mentored by the exact same woman. Leah hoped that they'd be okay, though her mentor's comment still spooked her. Why shouldn't she trust the only people she could survive this game with? Either way, she had some bad feelings about all of this. Hoping to take her mind off of it, Leah dug around her daypack for a proper inventory check.
First thing she pulled out was a flashlight, which she made a quick mental note of and shoved it back into her bag. Next up was a first aid kit (same as the flashlight), Skittles (which she quickly ate), a Buzz Lightyear costume (which she stared at in disbelief before tossing to the ground), and what she immediately recognized as the gun's manual. Again her mentor's words echoed in her mind.
But at least we gave you a big gun to protect yourself, right?
Yes you did, Leah thought to herself as she began flipping through the pages. She put the daypack on her lap as she loosely held the gun on her side. Her hands were on the magazine; Leah was too afraid to keep her finger on the trigger. Now that she'd thought about it, she'd never fired a gun before. Guns usually had a kick to them, didn't they? She didn't need to be spooked now. Leah kept her ears out for trouble, and in preparation she at least turned the safety on her gun off. Ready to fire at any moment.
Lifdoff
Private death thread, sorry
-
crabCaptain*
- Posts: 55
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 9:02 am
((...Continued from Countdown))
Keeping out of sight, Isabel ducked behind the bar, with Damion close behind. They had a plan. A stupid plan, but maybe it would pay off.
They were going to try to nab some free supplies. Well, not free but stolen rather. She didn't want to kill the girl, just ensure her own survival for a bit longer. She felt a bit queasy about stealing from another person but put it in perspective. The girl would probably try to kill her later anyway. She didn't feel confident running up and grabbing the bag herself. She wasn't very fast and didn't want to risk an asthma attack this early in the game. She silently hoped Damion would take a look at her situation and volunteer. He did play soccer after all. It would be okay. This girl didn't look to be in the state of mind to shoot somebody at this point. She hoped.
This was a horrible plan.
But what else were they supposed to do? Sit around and eventually starve to death? The food wasn't going to last forever.
"So, who's it gonna be?" She inquired.
She looked hard at him. She needed him to do it. She couldn't. Not without running the risk of getting shot, or struggling to breathe.
God she hoped he would do it.
Keeping out of sight, Isabel ducked behind the bar, with Damion close behind. They had a plan. A stupid plan, but maybe it would pay off.
They were going to try to nab some free supplies. Well, not free but stolen rather. She didn't want to kill the girl, just ensure her own survival for a bit longer. She felt a bit queasy about stealing from another person but put it in perspective. The girl would probably try to kill her later anyway. She didn't feel confident running up and grabbing the bag herself. She wasn't very fast and didn't want to risk an asthma attack this early in the game. She silently hoped Damion would take a look at her situation and volunteer. He did play soccer after all. It would be okay. This girl didn't look to be in the state of mind to shoot somebody at this point. She hoped.
This was a horrible plan.
But what else were they supposed to do? Sit around and eventually starve to death? The food wasn't going to last forever.
"So, who's it gonna be?" She inquired.
She looked hard at him. She needed him to do it. She couldn't. Not without running the risk of getting shot, or struggling to breathe.
God she hoped he would do it.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler crabCaptain. 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.
((Damion Castillo continues from Countdown))
Survival.
Popularity.
Those were the words Damion used to convince himself that this was OK. That this was the right thing to do. It required a lot of mental gymnastics to persuade him, but in the end, he sort of managed it.
When Isabel had suggested the plan, all Damion could do was stare at her. "This isn't me," he said. "I can't do this." And so he continued speaking, using variations of the same phrases because Damion was a good person. He was above this, right? The girl they chose looked perfectly innocent. She didn't deserve this, not at all. They left the person they should've victimized at the boardwalk.
He could imagine his family and friends looking at the TV, shaking their heads in disapproval. This wasn't him, this was never him. They would hate him.
But then Isabel continued speaking, and made it easier for him to swallow his pride and do the deed. People liked it when the contestants played smart, right? The audience just loved watching those sneaky, conniving backstabbers. That was part of the appeal of this show. He didn't need to worry about being hated after all. If he played his cards right, people would love him.
Also, he couldn't last a week on bread, a submarine, beef jerky, crackers, juice and candy, no matter how much he rationed his supplies. Eventually, all of them would need to get some blood on their hands if they wanted to survive. Damion was just being proactive. There wouldn't be any hard feelings, hopefully. It was all part of the game. His family, his friends, they'd understand.
The hardest part of the plan was getting up close. When discussing the plan, Damion had argued that they should've waited until nighttime. She'd eventually go to sleep and it would be much easier to steal her supplies without being caught, he pointed out. But the problem was that they might lose her. Finding her at the theater was a miracle in itself. So, they took their risk.
As Isabel looked at him and asked who'd go up and get the supplies, Damion understood that it wasn't really a question. It was a request. And to be honest, he really did seem like a better choice. He was more athletic, and he didn't have asthma. But really, Damion didn't want to be forced into this because the girl had a gun. If they played their cards right and the plan succeeded, there would be a great reward and they'd get at least one more day. But if they didn't?
However you looked at the situation, Damion was the only choice. He would already look bad enough trying to steal someone's supplies so early in the game. How much worse would it be if he forced Isabel to take the bullet?
Damion took a shaky breath. "I'll do it," he whispered. He didn't get up just yet. He needed a few more seconds to prepare, a few more seconds of prayer because he wasn't ready. Then again, he might never be ready for something like this.
Survival.
Popularity.
Those were the words Damion used to convince himself that this was OK. That this was the right thing to do. It required a lot of mental gymnastics to persuade him, but in the end, he sort of managed it.
When Isabel had suggested the plan, all Damion could do was stare at her. "This isn't me," he said. "I can't do this." And so he continued speaking, using variations of the same phrases because Damion was a good person. He was above this, right? The girl they chose looked perfectly innocent. She didn't deserve this, not at all. They left the person they should've victimized at the boardwalk.
He could imagine his family and friends looking at the TV, shaking their heads in disapproval. This wasn't him, this was never him. They would hate him.
But then Isabel continued speaking, and made it easier for him to swallow his pride and do the deed. People liked it when the contestants played smart, right? The audience just loved watching those sneaky, conniving backstabbers. That was part of the appeal of this show. He didn't need to worry about being hated after all. If he played his cards right, people would love him.
Also, he couldn't last a week on bread, a submarine, beef jerky, crackers, juice and candy, no matter how much he rationed his supplies. Eventually, all of them would need to get some blood on their hands if they wanted to survive. Damion was just being proactive. There wouldn't be any hard feelings, hopefully. It was all part of the game. His family, his friends, they'd understand.
The hardest part of the plan was getting up close. When discussing the plan, Damion had argued that they should've waited until nighttime. She'd eventually go to sleep and it would be much easier to steal her supplies without being caught, he pointed out. But the problem was that they might lose her. Finding her at the theater was a miracle in itself. So, they took their risk.
As Isabel looked at him and asked who'd go up and get the supplies, Damion understood that it wasn't really a question. It was a request. And to be honest, he really did seem like a better choice. He was more athletic, and he didn't have asthma. But really, Damion didn't want to be forced into this because the girl had a gun. If they played their cards right and the plan succeeded, there would be a great reward and they'd get at least one more day. But if they didn't?
However you looked at the situation, Damion was the only choice. He would already look bad enough trying to steal someone's supplies so early in the game. How much worse would it be if he forced Isabel to take the bullet?
Damion took a shaky breath. "I'll do it," he whispered. He didn't get up just yet. He needed a few more seconds to prepare, a few more seconds of prayer because he wasn't ready. Then again, he might never be ready for something like this.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Leah had been a fairly good student and a quick learner at Whittree, so she was somewhat confident in her attempt to tackle this manual. While it was a little hard to follow, Leah was pretty sure that she got the general gist of how to work the gun after a couple more read-throughs. When she felt done, Leah stuffed the book into her bag before shifting the gun onto her lap.
She turned it over in her hands. It felt strange just holding it like this, calmly in her lap as if it was just a new pet or an exotic but benign object. Leah was half-worried that it would go off, and she shakily lifted it up onto the table just in case it actually happened. She kept her hands firm on the butt and handguard as she looked it over more closely, mentally noting the parts of the 'Zastava M70AB2' (as it was properly called) that was as important to her immediate survival as food or shelter.
Could she really use this? If the time came to use it, could she pull the trigger? Leah gulped as she looked at the gun, imagining herself cornered by whatever poor soul became the top killer in a matter of days. It was hard imagining herself firing back, and it probably didn't translate well into reality. If Leah couldn't pull the trigger the gun was just an intimidating security blanket. Sheet music was useless to someone who can't read it, after all. She had to make it useful herself.
She turned it over in her hands. It felt strange just holding it like this, calmly in her lap as if it was just a new pet or an exotic but benign object. Leah was half-worried that it would go off, and she shakily lifted it up onto the table just in case it actually happened. She kept her hands firm on the butt and handguard as she looked it over more closely, mentally noting the parts of the 'Zastava M70AB2' (as it was properly called) that was as important to her immediate survival as food or shelter.
Could she really use this? If the time came to use it, could she pull the trigger? Leah gulped as she looked at the gun, imagining herself cornered by whatever poor soul became the top killer in a matter of days. It was hard imagining herself firing back, and it probably didn't translate well into reality. If Leah couldn't pull the trigger the gun was just an intimidating security blanket. Sheet music was useless to someone who can't read it, after all. She had to make it useful herself.
If this were an option, Damion could have stayed there forever. He could have twiddled his thumbs and ground his teeth and procrastinate, wasting his time until the girl eventually decided to leave. And then she'd be slightly surprised, but then Damion would simply say 'Hi', change their target, and wave to show her no harm. And then she'd go and everything would be safe.
That is, if it were an option.
But it wasn't. Every second he spent there was a second wasted. All eyes were on him, prodding him, telling him to do it. Isabel was staring at him. No words were said, but the message was clear. And the cameras. Some were focused on the girl, others were focused on those two, waiting in anticipation. They wanted a show. And Damion wouldn't disappoint.
If he did it, Damion would be praised. Everyone would love just how smart he played, how he took risks. Sure, he wouldn't become famous immediately. There were probably those kids painting the walls red with blood, and yes, those were usually the best shows. But they tended to sputter out quickly. Damion would use his head. That was what he was good with anyways. Well, that, and running. Maybe he'd have to get his hands dirty, but that was an eventuality that they all had to plan for. And then he'd make it home, and for a few months, he'd be a star. Everyone would love him, praise him, and they'd be genuine. Damion wouldn't have to worry about people being fake, because he'd know that they'd be true.
That was the motivation he needed. So, Damion finally walked out from behind the bar, his safe haven, and headed towards the girl.
Every step was measured. Heel first, then sole. Heel, sole.
Every breath was controlled, a conscious effort.
The girl was only a few meters away. But those few meters seemed like miles. Miles which he needed to tread silently.
There were a few times when he'd actually nudge a chair, or when his shoes would make a slight squeak. In those moments, the world would stop. Damion would freeze, and hold his spear up, ready to defend himself. But after a few crucial seconds, nothing would happen, and Damion would continue on his mile-long walk.
And so it continued. Breath. Step. Breath. Step. Pause. Wait. Continue.
After an eternity of this routine, he was finally within an arm's length of his goal. The bag was right there. It was so close.
But so was the girl.
He slowly grabbed the bag. An additional lifeline, something that would give them a few more days. For a second, he thought that he might make it. But then the bag bumped into her chair.
That is, if it were an option.
But it wasn't. Every second he spent there was a second wasted. All eyes were on him, prodding him, telling him to do it. Isabel was staring at him. No words were said, but the message was clear. And the cameras. Some were focused on the girl, others were focused on those two, waiting in anticipation. They wanted a show. And Damion wouldn't disappoint.
If he did it, Damion would be praised. Everyone would love just how smart he played, how he took risks. Sure, he wouldn't become famous immediately. There were probably those kids painting the walls red with blood, and yes, those were usually the best shows. But they tended to sputter out quickly. Damion would use his head. That was what he was good with anyways. Well, that, and running. Maybe he'd have to get his hands dirty, but that was an eventuality that they all had to plan for. And then he'd make it home, and for a few months, he'd be a star. Everyone would love him, praise him, and they'd be genuine. Damion wouldn't have to worry about people being fake, because he'd know that they'd be true.
That was the motivation he needed. So, Damion finally walked out from behind the bar, his safe haven, and headed towards the girl.
Every step was measured. Heel first, then sole. Heel, sole.
Every breath was controlled, a conscious effort.
The girl was only a few meters away. But those few meters seemed like miles. Miles which he needed to tread silently.
There were a few times when he'd actually nudge a chair, or when his shoes would make a slight squeak. In those moments, the world would stop. Damion would freeze, and hold his spear up, ready to defend himself. But after a few crucial seconds, nothing would happen, and Damion would continue on his mile-long walk.
And so it continued. Breath. Step. Breath. Step. Pause. Wait. Continue.
After an eternity of this routine, he was finally within an arm's length of his goal. The bag was right there. It was so close.
But so was the girl.
He slowly grabbed the bag. An additional lifeline, something that would give them a few more days. For a second, he thought that he might make it. But then the bag bumped into her chair.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Yet again, the sudden noise made Leah jump. In this case, she bolted upright, eyes darting around in an attempt to find the source of the noise. It took her a split second to look down, though, to realize that there was someone crouched next to her chair. Leah cursed herself for not noticing someone sneak up, yet again.
She recognized the boy instantly: it was the Hispanic kid from the store, with the tan bandanna and the big spear. It didn't take too long for her to notice that he also had her bag in his hand.
Her heart raced. Was she being mugged? If the boy was here, the other girl was definitely somewhere in the cabaret. She was probably lurking somewhere in the area, watching from afar. Or waiting to ambush. Both of them were armed, right? Leah didn't recall exactly what the girl had, though she remembered that it was some sort of blade.
Two versus one. That never went well.
She didn't want to take this lying down. She remembered the loaded Zastava in her grip, safety off. The boy seemed surprised as well, and if Leah acted quickly, she might be able to pull out. She had the gun, after all.
Make it useful, she was mentally screaming at herself. Make it useful!
The boy had her supplies, her lifeline, her key to survival besides the gun. She had made up her mind already.
Leah quickly readjusted her hand, clenching the grip and putting her pointer finger on the trigger. In the process, to buy her time, she also decided to kick the boy in the face while he was still down. She felt half-sorry for him, though she remembered the mantra she'd have to go by for the next few days.
Trust no-one.
That was reason enough to fight back.
She recognized the boy instantly: it was the Hispanic kid from the store, with the tan bandanna and the big spear. It didn't take too long for her to notice that he also had her bag in his hand.
Her heart raced. Was she being mugged? If the boy was here, the other girl was definitely somewhere in the cabaret. She was probably lurking somewhere in the area, watching from afar. Or waiting to ambush. Both of them were armed, right? Leah didn't recall exactly what the girl had, though she remembered that it was some sort of blade.
Two versus one. That never went well.
She didn't want to take this lying down. She remembered the loaded Zastava in her grip, safety off. The boy seemed surprised as well, and if Leah acted quickly, she might be able to pull out. She had the gun, after all.
Make it useful, she was mentally screaming at herself. Make it useful!
The boy had her supplies, her lifeline, her key to survival besides the gun. She had made up her mind already.
Leah quickly readjusted her hand, clenching the grip and putting her pointer finger on the trigger. In the process, to buy her time, she also decided to kick the boy in the face while he was still down. She felt half-sorry for him, though she remembered the mantra she'd have to go by for the next few days.
Trust no-one.
That was reason enough to fight back.
Crack.
Damion landed flat on his back. His nose was throbbing, and blood was flowing from it towards his lips.
The girl was standing above him, finger on the trigger. Ready to fire.
He was hyperventilating. Damion couldn't get enough air. His eyes were dilated, and his heart felt like it was about to leap out of its chest.
He didn't know what to do. He was scared. All he knew was that if he didn't act within the next second or so, he was screwed. He'd die only 2 hours after waking up on this island, and there was no way he'd let that happen. No way. It was too soon, he hadn't even proved himself yet.
Without thinking much, he pushed himself off the floor and plunged the spear in below the girl's shoulder.
Damion landed flat on his back. His nose was throbbing, and blood was flowing from it towards his lips.
The girl was standing above him, finger on the trigger. Ready to fire.
He was hyperventilating. Damion couldn't get enough air. His eyes were dilated, and his heart felt like it was about to leap out of its chest.
He didn't know what to do. He was scared. All he knew was that if he didn't act within the next second or so, he was screwed. He'd die only 2 hours after waking up on this island, and there was no way he'd let that happen. No way. It was too soon, he hadn't even proved himself yet.
Without thinking much, he pushed himself off the floor and plunged the spear in below the girl's shoulder.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
The boy was sent sprawling as Leah fumbled with the gun, aiming it at the boy on the ground. She still couldn't believe she was about to kill someone in cold blood, but she knew that morality was all but gone by now. This boy was ready to screw a girl over by depriving her of supplies, and now the tables had turned. Now he was the one getting screwed.
She had him cornered, and yet Leah's hands still shook. Goddammit, she needed to do this. She wasn't about to let him go.
Make it useful, make it useful, make it useful...
Before she could, though, the boy popped up and drove the spear into her shoulder before Leah could do anything about it.
Her first instinct was to scream. It was a bloodcurdling shriek; all the pain and turmoil she was feeling channeled into one long, high-pitched and squeaky screech. Her hand seized up involuntarily, and a shot rang out not long after. As she expected, the gun's kick sent her stumbling into the table, knocking it over as Leah fell flat on her ass. She dropped the gun and kept screaming, the freed hand going up to nurse her bleeding shoulder.
She had him cornered, and yet Leah's hands still shook. Goddammit, she needed to do this. She wasn't about to let him go.
Make it useful, make it useful, make it useful...
Before she could, though, the boy popped up and drove the spear into her shoulder before Leah could do anything about it.
Her first instinct was to scream. It was a bloodcurdling shriek; all the pain and turmoil she was feeling channeled into one long, high-pitched and squeaky screech. Her hand seized up involuntarily, and a shot rang out not long after. As she expected, the gun's kick sent her stumbling into the table, knocking it over as Leah fell flat on her ass. She dropped the gun and kept screaming, the freed hand going up to nurse her bleeding shoulder.
The last thing Damion felt was shock.
One of the reasons why he'd wanted to wait until nighttime, aside from it being easier to sneak away, was because he didn't want to see the girl's reaction. The fact that he didn't know her name or who she was made it a bit easier to steal from her. Only a bit.
It was much easier performing these sins when you dehumanized someone. When they didn't have a face, a name, nothing. They just became an obstacle. Stealing from her while she was sleeping would've made the girl simply an obstacle.
But Damion never had that luxury. As soon as the blade went into her shoulder, he hated himself, he felt sick. He felt the blade enter her skin, embed itself there. He never wanted to cause that much pain. Never. So, he pulled it out as quickly as he'd drove it in.
Before he could do anything else, before he could apologize, or fight back, or even get a chance to run away, he was shot in the face. That's it. The bullet ripped through his brain, causing him to jerk back and fall on the floor. He didn't even feel anything. There wasn't any time.
If Damion had his way, if he knew that he'd die that soon, then he would've wanted it to be valiant. He would've wanted his death to stand out among the hundreds of kids who died for this show. Maybe some epic speech. Or some last goodbyes for his family and his friends, to get a few tears from the audience. Or maybe he could've squeezed in one last kill.
But it wasn't. It was a perfectly ordinary, typical, casual kill. Damion Castillo wouldn't be remembered because his story was boring. He woke up, looked like a maniac, met a teammate, tried chasing someone down, and failed within a couple of hours. Nothing new, nothing revolutionary. Damion wouldn't die as a hero or a villain. He wouldn't die as a fan favorite. He would die as fodder. Not what he wanted at all. Maybe his death would show up in a reaction gif online, or in the highlights for the main program. And that would be the last his family would see of him. Just that.
TB3: DAMION CASTILLO: DECEASED
64 STUDENTS REMAINING
One of the reasons why he'd wanted to wait until nighttime, aside from it being easier to sneak away, was because he didn't want to see the girl's reaction. The fact that he didn't know her name or who she was made it a bit easier to steal from her. Only a bit.
It was much easier performing these sins when you dehumanized someone. When they didn't have a face, a name, nothing. They just became an obstacle. Stealing from her while she was sleeping would've made the girl simply an obstacle.
But Damion never had that luxury. As soon as the blade went into her shoulder, he hated himself, he felt sick. He felt the blade enter her skin, embed itself there. He never wanted to cause that much pain. Never. So, he pulled it out as quickly as he'd drove it in.
Before he could do anything else, before he could apologize, or fight back, or even get a chance to run away, he was shot in the face. That's it. The bullet ripped through his brain, causing him to jerk back and fall on the floor. He didn't even feel anything. There wasn't any time.
If Damion had his way, if he knew that he'd die that soon, then he would've wanted it to be valiant. He would've wanted his death to stand out among the hundreds of kids who died for this show. Maybe some epic speech. Or some last goodbyes for his family and his friends, to get a few tears from the audience. Or maybe he could've squeezed in one last kill.
But it wasn't. It was a perfectly ordinary, typical, casual kill. Damion Castillo wouldn't be remembered because his story was boring. He woke up, looked like a maniac, met a teammate, tried chasing someone down, and failed within a couple of hours. Nothing new, nothing revolutionary. Damion wouldn't die as a hero or a villain. He wouldn't die as a fan favorite. He would die as fodder. Not what he wanted at all. Maybe his death would show up in a reaction gif online, or in the highlights for the main program. And that would be the last his family would see of him. Just that.
TB3: DAMION CASTILLO: DECEASED
64 STUDENTS REMAINING
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
crabCaptain*
- Posts: 55
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 9:02 am
Isabel looked on in horror.
What had she done.
This was her fault. She sent him out there. She'd sentenced him to death before the bullet was even fired.
Now they were both going to die for a stupid bag of supplies.
Her only known lifeline was dead, and there was no telling what the girl would do when she heard the wailing sounds coming from behind the counter. Probably the same thing she did to Damion. She lay sobbing in a freezing puddle of tears and phlegm. She looked pitiful and that's how she'd probably die. Alone and vulnerable. Not without a fight, not without honor. She'd gotten someone killed and she was certainly next.
But she wasn't. The girl was screaming and crying. And injured.
She needed to leave. She really wanted to leave.
But she was too scared to even move from her puddle on the floor.
What the hell is wrong with me?
((continued in It all happened so slowly))
What had she done.
This was her fault. She sent him out there. She'd sentenced him to death before the bullet was even fired.
Now they were both going to die for a stupid bag of supplies.
Her only known lifeline was dead, and there was no telling what the girl would do when she heard the wailing sounds coming from behind the counter. Probably the same thing she did to Damion. She lay sobbing in a freezing puddle of tears and phlegm. She looked pitiful and that's how she'd probably die. Alone and vulnerable. Not without a fight, not without honor. She'd gotten someone killed and she was certainly next.
But she wasn't. The girl was screaming and crying. And injured.
She needed to leave. She really wanted to leave.
But she was too scared to even move from her puddle on the floor.
What the hell is wrong with me?
((continued in It all happened so slowly))
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Leah tried to nurse her shoulder, and the searing pain accompanying it. The boy had pulled the spear out, thankfully sparing her from the pain of trying to pull it out herself. Leah scrambled to her feet and kept one hand firmly on the wound. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding, at least.
She froze when she saw the boy's corpse in front of her, a pool of scarlet growing under him. His face was grotesquely skewered, a sizable bullet hole torn into his forehead. Leah averted her eyes a split second after seeing it, trying not to throw up as she stumbled back from the carcass.
Well, she had made it useful, didn't she? The gun was put to good use, and that showed in the dead body in front of her. That boy was a human being like her, just trying to survive, but condemning others in the process. Leah had done the same, though her methods had been more lethal in the short term than his. She didn't know whether to feel remorse or contempt for the boy, though she knew what she had to do next.
First she picked up the gun, hand on the grip and careful not to be anywhere near the trigger. Next, she wretched her bag out of his hand, trying not to look at him in the process. After a quick moment, she decided against bringing along the boy's bag and spear. While the bag could've been important, it would just serve as a reminder of the dead boy if she brought it along. Baggage with unpleasant memories attached to it.The spear was much the same.
There was screaming, coming from a counter a little ways from Leah was standing. Probably the other girl, she thought. The boy's teammate. She was probably armed, and Leah didn't want to deal with her right now. Her priority was just to get away from the corpse, the girl and this whole place in general.
And that she did. After slinging the pack over her shoulder, Leah quickly turned around and bolted. Her footsteps were heavy as she fled the cabaret, leaving the wailing girl to deal with her dead teammate. She made sure not to look back.
((Leah Bissard continued in Gravity))
She froze when she saw the boy's corpse in front of her, a pool of scarlet growing under him. His face was grotesquely skewered, a sizable bullet hole torn into his forehead. Leah averted her eyes a split second after seeing it, trying not to throw up as she stumbled back from the carcass.
Well, she had made it useful, didn't she? The gun was put to good use, and that showed in the dead body in front of her. That boy was a human being like her, just trying to survive, but condemning others in the process. Leah had done the same, though her methods had been more lethal in the short term than his. She didn't know whether to feel remorse or contempt for the boy, though she knew what she had to do next.
First she picked up the gun, hand on the grip and careful not to be anywhere near the trigger. Next, she wretched her bag out of his hand, trying not to look at him in the process. After a quick moment, she decided against bringing along the boy's bag and spear. While the bag could've been important, it would just serve as a reminder of the dead boy if she brought it along. Baggage with unpleasant memories attached to it.The spear was much the same.
There was screaming, coming from a counter a little ways from Leah was standing. Probably the other girl, she thought. The boy's teammate. She was probably armed, and Leah didn't want to deal with her right now. Her priority was just to get away from the corpse, the girl and this whole place in general.
And that she did. After slinging the pack over her shoulder, Leah quickly turned around and bolted. Her footsteps were heavy as she fled the cabaret, leaving the wailing girl to deal with her dead teammate. She made sure not to look back.
((Leah Bissard continued in Gravity))