Abel didn't respond to the poisoning bit.
After a few more seconds of digging he pulled out the Violet Crumble bar and lobbed it towards Makaria.
"There. Now you robbed me."
Abel closed the bag the rest of the way as he walked in the other direction.
29 and me
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3504
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The more slender one came closer, and Leander's breathing didn't change. He watched, waited.
The stockier guy was better-dressed, and also white. He had on sunglasses, and something about his seeming demeanor got Leander's hackles up. It was the sort of thing where, if they did meet and talk back in the normal world, they would either become thick as thieves as he joined Leander's cadre, or else there would be conflict. With his friends backing him up, Leander had no doubt everything would be fine, but without? The guy wasn't built or anything, but something in his attitude just set off some bells.
Anyways, the other guy looked a lot less special. Wasn't well-dressed—white t-shirts were the lowest common denominator—and kind of spindly in a way the poor fit didn't hide. He wasn't a white guy, not that that meant anything. There was no real telling who had been taken, or how, or why. Well, Leander could figure out why he personally was here, but the sample he'd seen so far suggested that was probably not a universal state of affairs.
While he was looking through the scope, it was like the whole world was contained in that glass circle. He was still aware of the physicality of his location, the cool from the shade, the dampness seeping into his clothes, the strands of grass and weeds poking at his limbs, the ambient buzz of insects, but it was set to the side. Distant. His universe moved back and forth, from one boy to the other, a commute that grew shorter with each step.
But they didn't meet. The bulkier guy tossed something to the other, then turned and set off in the opposite direction.
Leander tracked back and forth once more. There was a decision to be made here. The smaller guy had a shotgun. But the bigger looked like trouble in those sunglasses.
His world stopped shifting and locked onto the white boy in the shades, shadowing his movements.
The stockier guy was better-dressed, and also white. He had on sunglasses, and something about his seeming demeanor got Leander's hackles up. It was the sort of thing where, if they did meet and talk back in the normal world, they would either become thick as thieves as he joined Leander's cadre, or else there would be conflict. With his friends backing him up, Leander had no doubt everything would be fine, but without? The guy wasn't built or anything, but something in his attitude just set off some bells.
Anyways, the other guy looked a lot less special. Wasn't well-dressed—white t-shirts were the lowest common denominator—and kind of spindly in a way the poor fit didn't hide. He wasn't a white guy, not that that meant anything. There was no real telling who had been taken, or how, or why. Well, Leander could figure out why he personally was here, but the sample he'd seen so far suggested that was probably not a universal state of affairs.
While he was looking through the scope, it was like the whole world was contained in that glass circle. He was still aware of the physicality of his location, the cool from the shade, the dampness seeping into his clothes, the strands of grass and weeds poking at his limbs, the ambient buzz of insects, but it was set to the side. Distant. His universe moved back and forth, from one boy to the other, a commute that grew shorter with each step.
But they didn't meet. The bulkier guy tossed something to the other, then turned and set off in the opposite direction.
Leander tracked back and forth once more. There was a decision to be made here. The smaller guy had a shotgun. But the bigger looked like trouble in those sunglasses.
His world stopped shifting and locked onto the white boy in the shades, shadowing his movements.
Makaria blinked a bit, getting rid of the prickling annoyance of his eyelash digging into the soft membrane.
With one hand he rubbed at his eye, and with another he caught the candy bar.
Should he take offense? He was being pitied and condescended at, he knew it, but… pride isn't a necessary element in this decision.
And so he looked at the boy in the eye and said-
''What do you know about fishing?''
OK, out of the blue. Maybe he should provide an explanation first.
His thought process was…
Oh, hey, I thought I saw a fish -> What sort of fish was that? -> If he figured out the species it could be a clue to where he is-> Does Abel recognize the local wildlife? -> Why would Abel know, anyways? -> Maybe he fishes.
He's heard that white guys in America, Europe, whatever likes to fish for fun. Like, some sort of Oklahoman stereotype, based half on preconceived misconceptions and half on the sheer memetic power of shitty internet jokes.
Maybe that was true. Abel looked like a fisher. Sure seemed like it was the only activity roughly categorized as a sport that he partakes in. Except for Esports.
Sucks to suck. At least any fisher on this island wouldn't starve to death. If they had fishing rods. Or they can just catch the fish with their hands. Apparently, that was a… distinctly Oklahoman activity as well.
Focus, motherfucker, stop thinking about Oklahoma.
''... wait, where are you from?''
With one hand he rubbed at his eye, and with another he caught the candy bar.
Should he take offense? He was being pitied and condescended at, he knew it, but… pride isn't a necessary element in this decision.
And so he looked at the boy in the eye and said-
''What do you know about fishing?''
OK, out of the blue. Maybe he should provide an explanation first.
His thought process was…
Oh, hey, I thought I saw a fish -> What sort of fish was that? -> If he figured out the species it could be a clue to where he is-> Does Abel recognize the local wildlife? -> Why would Abel know, anyways? -> Maybe he fishes.
He's heard that white guys in America, Europe, whatever likes to fish for fun. Like, some sort of Oklahoman stereotype, based half on preconceived misconceptions and half on the sheer memetic power of shitty internet jokes.
Maybe that was true. Abel looked like a fisher. Sure seemed like it was the only activity roughly categorized as a sport that he partakes in. Except for Esports.
Sucks to suck. At least any fisher on this island wouldn't starve to death. If they had fishing rods. Or they can just catch the fish with their hands. Apparently, that was a… distinctly Oklahoman activity as well.
Focus, motherfucker, stop thinking about Oklahoma.
''... wait, where are you from?''
Abel's steps slowed to a halt just before reaching the other side of the bridge. He only turned his face around to address Makaria.
"I'm from down under. Alice. Not much fish to catch, sadly."
He adjusted the strap of his daypack and kept walking, one hand on the strap and the other shoved into the pocket of his slacks.
"See you around, Singapore."
He didn't turn around for that last bit.
((continued sometime later))
"I'm from down under. Alice. Not much fish to catch, sadly."
He adjusted the strap of his daypack and kept walking, one hand on the strap and the other shoved into the pocket of his slacks.
"See you around, Singapore."
He didn't turn around for that last bit.
((continued sometime later))
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3504
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Leander's trigger finger brushed against the metal, up and down, up and down. The curve was smooth, elegant in its brutal way; it could've been polished wood. There was enough resistance that his movements didn't set it off. He was more careful than that.
It was quite a ways before the boy he was following passed behind the obstruction of a faint rise in the landscape, a small ridge or berm where the wild grasses and shrubs grew taller, sprouting diminutive yellow blossoms. Leander tracked ahead with the rifle, searching for an obvious point to pick the trail back up, but there was none. All that remained in this direction was scattered bushes, buzzing insects, and the backdrop of a small gulch with another distant bridge.
He could probably extract himself from his position if he really wanted to follow the boy. But that was an awful lot of effort to go to in order to construct a worse situation than that he'd enjoyed the past minutes.
The universe pulled out some. Leander shook his head, removed his right hand from the trigger and scratched an itch on the side of his face. In his little hideout, the world was speckled with shadows and dim light filtered through the leaves and branches. Everything smelled like water, dirt, and vegetation. It was a good scent, like going on an adventure, though of course this situation was serious. When he played shooter games, Leander never really stopped to appreciate the scenery, even though it must have been carefully crafted. There was too much action going on.
He returned to his position and slowly pivoted the barrel of the rifle back towards the initial bridge. Time to see if the smaller boy was still there.
It was quite a ways before the boy he was following passed behind the obstruction of a faint rise in the landscape, a small ridge or berm where the wild grasses and shrubs grew taller, sprouting diminutive yellow blossoms. Leander tracked ahead with the rifle, searching for an obvious point to pick the trail back up, but there was none. All that remained in this direction was scattered bushes, buzzing insects, and the backdrop of a small gulch with another distant bridge.
He could probably extract himself from his position if he really wanted to follow the boy. But that was an awful lot of effort to go to in order to construct a worse situation than that he'd enjoyed the past minutes.
The universe pulled out some. Leander shook his head, removed his right hand from the trigger and scratched an itch on the side of his face. In his little hideout, the world was speckled with shadows and dim light filtered through the leaves and branches. Everything smelled like water, dirt, and vegetation. It was a good scent, like going on an adventure, though of course this situation was serious. When he played shooter games, Leander never really stopped to appreciate the scenery, even though it must have been carefully crafted. There was too much action going on.
He returned to his position and slowly pivoted the barrel of the rifle back towards the initial bridge. Time to see if the smaller boy was still there.
''See you around.''
He reloaded his shotgun.
''...''
He turns and looks towards you.
''Nobody here?''
Tapped the camera screen. Knock Knock.
''I know you're watching this.''
...
''Coward.''
...
He did not notice the boy.
He reloaded his shotgun.
''...''
He turns and looks towards you.
''Nobody here?''
Tapped the camera screen. Knock Knock.
''I know you're watching this.''
...
''Coward.''
...
He did not notice the boy.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3504
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The remaining boy's attention was fixed on something off to the side. It took Leander a few moments of careful study to figure out what it was: a camera. He'd noted cameras here and there himself, conspicuous amidst the otherwise mostly untamed nature, but hadn't given them too much thought. The captives would be monitored, naturally. He couldn't see any cameras in his makeshift nest, but surely there were some with a view of him. He visualized the cameras tracking the rifle tracking the boy.
Only, it wasn't so much tracking he was doing now, not with his target standing more or less still. No, now he was centering the cross hairs, marking his shift from observer to potential participant in the ongoing events. He took aim at the boy's head, finger sliding up and down the trigger, and then lowered a little. The AWP didn't get to oneshot you in Counterstrike just for show, he was pretty sure. Better to take the more certain shot to the center of mass.
It was a really long way to where the guy was standing. It'd probably take Leander a good minute to extract himself and make it over there, if he was rushing. Of course, why rush at that point, right? He'd have however long he felt like. Could even maybe hang out and see if someone else bumbled in to see what was going on, pick them up too when they went to loot.
These were pretty sound tactics, especially considering the low cost of failure. He knew plenty about weapons—plenty to be pretty sure that, just as he could reach out and tap the guy from here no sweat, his interaction wasn't going to be effectually reciprocated with the other gun in play. That was for spraying up close, and would be deadly in that context but why on earth would he ever let that matter? There was nothing to lose, really. Or, well, the man had said something about naming and shaming, but so what? Leander didn't know anyone here from Adam. Not a lot of repercussions primed to head his way.
The boy not being a threat would've maybe been an argument against taking the shot if he was unarmed, granted, but with what he was packing, Leander could be set for the long haul. Well-equipped up close and at a distance, basic understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of his tools... could anyone mess with him at that point? That room hadn't been that full. He'd heard of that Russian or Polish or whatever girl, back in World War II, who popped like a hundred Nazis before an artillery shell got her. There were definitely not a hundred people sitting around Leander during the briefing. And the ammo in his pack wasn't limitless, but it was generous enough.
This was in a lot of ways like he'd imagined things. Just, you know, he'd sort of figured he'd be picking off soldiers or something. Not assassinating some stick of a guy while he mugged for his close-up.
The cross hairs stayed steady on the boy's core. Leander ran his index finger down the trigger, then back up. Then he lifted it off.
"Bang," he exhaled, pantomiming the kick of the rifle, watching the world hitch up and then settle back on the boy, unshot and unaware that if this was Battlefield he'd be waiting on the respawn timer.
Then, quietly and with inconspicuous movements, Leander faded back into the foliage.
((Leander Van Vliet continued in Nerves Of The Ocean Shores))
Only, it wasn't so much tracking he was doing now, not with his target standing more or less still. No, now he was centering the cross hairs, marking his shift from observer to potential participant in the ongoing events. He took aim at the boy's head, finger sliding up and down the trigger, and then lowered a little. The AWP didn't get to oneshot you in Counterstrike just for show, he was pretty sure. Better to take the more certain shot to the center of mass.
It was a really long way to where the guy was standing. It'd probably take Leander a good minute to extract himself and make it over there, if he was rushing. Of course, why rush at that point, right? He'd have however long he felt like. Could even maybe hang out and see if someone else bumbled in to see what was going on, pick them up too when they went to loot.
These were pretty sound tactics, especially considering the low cost of failure. He knew plenty about weapons—plenty to be pretty sure that, just as he could reach out and tap the guy from here no sweat, his interaction wasn't going to be effectually reciprocated with the other gun in play. That was for spraying up close, and would be deadly in that context but why on earth would he ever let that matter? There was nothing to lose, really. Or, well, the man had said something about naming and shaming, but so what? Leander didn't know anyone here from Adam. Not a lot of repercussions primed to head his way.
The boy not being a threat would've maybe been an argument against taking the shot if he was unarmed, granted, but with what he was packing, Leander could be set for the long haul. Well-equipped up close and at a distance, basic understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of his tools... could anyone mess with him at that point? That room hadn't been that full. He'd heard of that Russian or Polish or whatever girl, back in World War II, who popped like a hundred Nazis before an artillery shell got her. There were definitely not a hundred people sitting around Leander during the briefing. And the ammo in his pack wasn't limitless, but it was generous enough.
This was in a lot of ways like he'd imagined things. Just, you know, he'd sort of figured he'd be picking off soldiers or something. Not assassinating some stick of a guy while he mugged for his close-up.
The cross hairs stayed steady on the boy's core. Leander ran his index finger down the trigger, then back up. Then he lifted it off.
"Bang," he exhaled, pantomiming the kick of the rifle, watching the world hitch up and then settle back on the boy, unshot and unaware that if this was Battlefield he'd be waiting on the respawn timer.
Then, quietly and with inconspicuous movements, Leander faded back into the foliage.
((Leander Van Vliet continued in Nerves Of The Ocean Shores))
Two blinks.
>Leave
>Stay
...
Was there anywhere to go after this? It was an island. A contained environment. There's nowhere to go. He couldn't leave. He would never leave.
But if he stayed he would die.
->Leave
>Stay
Are you sure you want to leave?
>Yes
>No
...
->Yes
>No
No turning back now.
Leaving in
3
2
1
>Leave
>Stay
...
Was there anywhere to go after this? It was an island. A contained environment. There's nowhere to go. He couldn't leave. He would never leave.
But if he stayed he would die.
->Leave
>Stay
Are you sure you want to leave?
>Yes
>No
...
->Yes
>No
No turning back now.
Leaving in
3
2
1