Marcus was still begging, and it was freaking Angie out. At least he backed off so that she could get her bag. But at the same time, she wasn't sure how to react to this. He was repeatedly telling her how badly he wanted her to stay, but at the same time, he didn't seem to be making any moves to try to keep her from leaving. Angie didn't really know what to expect from him, and that really unnerved her about him. Marcus had surprised her twice already, once by staying relatively calm after being announced as a killer, and once by killing Jaxon out of the blue when she wasn't looking. By this time, Angie was pretty sure that hanging around him would not be good for her future survival.
"Marcus..." She began, trying to be as sympathetic to him as possible. "I know that you're scared, but you've killed two people already. I don't know how to really say this, but..." She paused for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to word what she wanted to say. "...I don't really feel safe sticking around with you. I think that it might be best if we split up. You know, before something bad happens again?"
Angie wasn't too convinced that she had convinced him, so she added on a little more. "I just want to stay safe, Marcus, and I'm sure that you want to do the same thing. That's why I think this is for the best. Maybe we can see each other again later, but..." Angie tried to find a good way to finish that sentence, a way that wouldn't cause Marcus to do whatever it is that made him go crazy and kill Jaxon. She didn't know what to say, though, so she just gave it a shot.
"... I just can't stay here right now."
Angie picked up her bag and slowly headed towards the door. "Sorry Marcus. This is for the best."
Balls Deep
PM for entry
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SansaSaver
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Marcus’s vision remained locked on Angie as she went to retrieve her bag, his eyes darting to capture any minuscule motion offered by his last remaining friend, desperate to ensure she didn’t leave him to. Her savoured the warmth clutching his legs to his torso brought him, relishing any sliver of comfort he could find against the overwhelming fear of abandonment that implanted itself in his mind. For a moment he thought everything would be okay, that Angie would grant his wish and stay with him, but then she had to open her mouth and let those damning words escape it.
His breath hitched in his throat as she spoke, head shaking violently as he tried and failed to deny what she was saying. He tried to speak, but all that he managed was a scream; a long, pained scream that left his throat sore and raw as fresh tears trailed down his face. He planted his face roughly his hands, the needles of pain from his ruined hand only spurring forwards his painful sobs, not wanting Angie to see the destruction of the chipper disposition he’d been trying to maintain for the past day.
He allowed himself a handful of seconds to grieve, a moment to exhale and let a spray of sticky saliva escape his mouth, before allowing his instincts to take over, all in pursuit of his singular goal. He crawled hurriedly and erratically across the ground, his face twisted in a panicked rage as he retrieved the scissors from where he’d let them rest in Jaxon’s torso.
“I won’t let you leave too,” he whispered, pausing for only a second before he gritted his teeth and made his next move. “You’ve all I’ve got left.”
The shining metal of the dagger and the droplets of blood that adorned its surface glinted gently in the morning sunlight as he swept his blade towards Angie’s ankle, the scream of panic that evacuated his mouth drowned out by Angie’s own scream as the knife made contact with her flesh.
She was his friend.
She couldn’t leave him too.
His breath hitched in his throat as she spoke, head shaking violently as he tried and failed to deny what she was saying. He tried to speak, but all that he managed was a scream; a long, pained scream that left his throat sore and raw as fresh tears trailed down his face. He planted his face roughly his hands, the needles of pain from his ruined hand only spurring forwards his painful sobs, not wanting Angie to see the destruction of the chipper disposition he’d been trying to maintain for the past day.
He allowed himself a handful of seconds to grieve, a moment to exhale and let a spray of sticky saliva escape his mouth, before allowing his instincts to take over, all in pursuit of his singular goal. He crawled hurriedly and erratically across the ground, his face twisted in a panicked rage as he retrieved the scissors from where he’d let them rest in Jaxon’s torso.
“I won’t let you leave too,” he whispered, pausing for only a second before he gritted his teeth and made his next move. “You’ve all I’ve got left.”
The shining metal of the dagger and the droplets of blood that adorned its surface glinted gently in the morning sunlight as he swept his blade towards Angie’s ankle, the scream of panic that evacuated his mouth drowned out by Angie’s own scream as the knife made contact with her flesh.
She was his friend.
She couldn’t leave him too.
Angie immediately regretted not running away as soon as she saw Jaxon's dead body. Marcus was completely losing it, shaking like a leaf while screaming like a maniac. She was stunned by the complete wreck of a person that was in front of her, and couldn't help but pity him for being so affected by their situation.
Then Angie's sympathy turned to fear as Marcus started crawling toward her like a demented crab, knife in hand. She tried to turn around on her heel and run, but Marcus got to her too quickly. Before she could get away, she felt his knife slicing through the tendons in her ankle, sending her to the ground with a cry of pain.
Her foot was in pure agony, and she knew that there was no way that she could run on it. She could see Marcus above her, his knife smeared and dripping with blood. As she looked at him, she no longer saw her old classmate. Rather, she saw an unstable killer staring down his next victim. However, she still thought that deep down, there was still some semblance of his rational self. She pleaded to him, hoping that his sanity would return to him long enough for her to talk him down.
"Marcus, stop! Please calm down!"
Then Angie's sympathy turned to fear as Marcus started crawling toward her like a demented crab, knife in hand. She tried to turn around on her heel and run, but Marcus got to her too quickly. Before she could get away, she felt his knife slicing through the tendons in her ankle, sending her to the ground with a cry of pain.
Her foot was in pure agony, and she knew that there was no way that she could run on it. She could see Marcus above her, his knife smeared and dripping with blood. As she looked at him, she no longer saw her old classmate. Rather, she saw an unstable killer staring down his next victim. However, she still thought that deep down, there was still some semblance of his rational self. She pleaded to him, hoping that his sanity would return to him long enough for her to talk him down.
"Marcus, stop! Please calm down!"
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As soon as Angie fell beneath his blow, Marcus was sure the deed was done; he was certain he’d incapacitated her enough to keep her with him, ensure that she’d stay his friend and not leave him alone like the others had and would. But she didn’t. Even with blood leaking profusely from the open wound, which was long and thin - as per the size of his blade - she continued to fight back; struggling to climb up and get away from him. Tears continued to flow freely down his chin and landed with soft thuds on the flooring beneath him as he struggled to his feet, knees knocking together and chest rising heavily as he tried to force air into his lungs. His vision was all a blur, and the moment of hesitation he allowed himself to attempt to regain his bearings was enough for Angie to shout out a handful of protesting words, audible even beyond the painful ringing in his ears.
Calm down.
It was the same phrase he’d heard many times before in his life, a murmuring of comfort offered by his parents or a friend if an assignment was getting the best of him or the weight of his commitments was proving too heavy. As Angie said it, the memories flashed through his mind in a frenzied blur, the warmth and love he’d felt at the time now completely gone in his current situation. Instead he felt nothing but fear, and grief, and betrayal, feelings he’d scarcely ever experienced before, feelings he didn’t know what to do with or how to cope.
He wanted his family and friends with him.
He wanted so badly to have their comfort, their love, everything they’d given him throughout his life that’d been striped away from him the second he’d been tossed into this game.
He tried to think of an alternative action as he gazed wide-eyed at Angie, not properly seeing or acknowledging what lay before him, but his mind had become so clouded that it was impossible to think properly; so he instead relied upon what’d worked for him so far, the only thing he knew he could do to make her stay. Marcus threw himself at her in a harried attempt to ensure she couldn’t get away, but as he did so he could feel his grip loosen as his sneakers slipped on the bloodstained floor. He braced for the fall as best he could, tightening himself as he collided with Angie, nailing her onto padding beneath them in the process. He was positioned on top of her, half-straddling her as he attempted to pin her down with one knee digging into her abdomen.
His whole body was shaking uncontrollably as he scrambled in a panic to retrieve his scissors, acting on instinct alone as he brought them down into Angie’s body, the words he offered as a final farewell no longer a screaming beg, but instead a tear-stricken cry, directed to Angie, to his family, to everybody that mattered.
“I’m sorry.”
Calm down.
It was the same phrase he’d heard many times before in his life, a murmuring of comfort offered by his parents or a friend if an assignment was getting the best of him or the weight of his commitments was proving too heavy. As Angie said it, the memories flashed through his mind in a frenzied blur, the warmth and love he’d felt at the time now completely gone in his current situation. Instead he felt nothing but fear, and grief, and betrayal, feelings he’d scarcely ever experienced before, feelings he didn’t know what to do with or how to cope.
He wanted his family and friends with him.
He wanted so badly to have their comfort, their love, everything they’d given him throughout his life that’d been striped away from him the second he’d been tossed into this game.
He tried to think of an alternative action as he gazed wide-eyed at Angie, not properly seeing or acknowledging what lay before him, but his mind had become so clouded that it was impossible to think properly; so he instead relied upon what’d worked for him so far, the only thing he knew he could do to make her stay. Marcus threw himself at her in a harried attempt to ensure she couldn’t get away, but as he did so he could feel his grip loosen as his sneakers slipped on the bloodstained floor. He braced for the fall as best he could, tightening himself as he collided with Angie, nailing her onto padding beneath them in the process. He was positioned on top of her, half-straddling her as he attempted to pin her down with one knee digging into her abdomen.
His whole body was shaking uncontrollably as he scrambled in a panic to retrieve his scissors, acting on instinct alone as he brought them down into Angie’s body, the words he offered as a final farewell no longer a screaming beg, but instead a tear-stricken cry, directed to Angie, to his family, to everybody that mattered.
“I’m sorry.”
At first, Angie thought that her attempt to calm Marcus had struck a chord. His attack paused and he stood there stock-still, glaring at her with his wide, terrified eyes. Perhaps her judgment of him had been skewed. He didn't look like a psychopath now, he looked lost and scared. She wasn't sure whether he would try to attack again or start sobbing.
Unfortunately for her, it was the former. Marcus dropped all of his weight onto her, immobilizing her even more than her sliced ankle already had. As he took a mount position, Angie's veil of optimism finally dropped. She had been hoping for the unlikely positive outcome for far too long, and now she had to look at the situation for what it was. She was on a bum leg, Marcus was on top of her with a clear intent to kill, and she had no method of escape. She couldn't even muster up the energy to try to force him off. All she did was look up at him with a sad gaze, the visage of someone that, despite their best efforts, had lost all hope.
Marcus' tearful apology only made things worse. Angie felt herself about to tear up as well, but that was disrupted by Marcus' scissors digging into her neck. Although he missed her throat, he had lodged the blades in her carotid artery. The sudden pain made her gasp in shock, and she rapidly began to feel weaker as blood flowed out through the broken artery and the freshly opened wound. Within seconds, she was gone.
At that moment, the world got a little less colorful.
Unfortunately for her, it was the former. Marcus dropped all of his weight onto her, immobilizing her even more than her sliced ankle already had. As he took a mount position, Angie's veil of optimism finally dropped. She had been hoping for the unlikely positive outcome for far too long, and now she had to look at the situation for what it was. She was on a bum leg, Marcus was on top of her with a clear intent to kill, and she had no method of escape. She couldn't even muster up the energy to try to force him off. All she did was look up at him with a sad gaze, the visage of someone that, despite their best efforts, had lost all hope.
Marcus' tearful apology only made things worse. Angie felt herself about to tear up as well, but that was disrupted by Marcus' scissors digging into her neck. Although he missed her throat, he had lodged the blades in her carotid artery. The sudden pain made her gasp in shock, and she rapidly began to feel weaker as blood flowed out through the broken artery and the freshly opened wound. Within seconds, she was gone.
At that moment, the world got a little less colorful.
VW2: Angie Hart- Deceased
44 Players Remain
44 Players Remain
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SansaSaver
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The popping of Angie’s skin’s seal echoed throughout Marcus’s eardrums long after his final thrust, her body growing limp and her pleading dying out far too slowly for his liking. As her movements slowed and her final breath vacated her throat, Marcus painfully rolled off Angie’s body, landing in an exhausted slump in the pool of congealing blood filtering from her and mingling with that of Jaxon’s. A burst of pain radiated through his hand as he unclenched his fist from around his scissors, a dull throbbing that harmonised with the erratic beating of his heart.
He closed his eyes as much firmness as he could muster, trying to grasp at fleeting thoughts and force some semblance of order into the disarray his mind had become. It was as though he was feeling all the emotions he’d ever felt at once, rampaging themselves through him like a hurricane. He hadn’t been in full control of everything for a long while, perhaps not even since he’d awoken in the resort, and that notion alone only heightened the bursts of fear and loss that were already coursing through his system. He was alone now, had lost the two people he’d once felt so sure would stay with him, and for that he wanted to scream until his lungs were raw and bloody.
Three.
He had three kills to his name now.
He’d had to do what he’d done to Jaxon, both to make him stay and to stop him telling all the other Davison kids lies about him. He’d known that if he could get himself cleaned up, erase any evidence of what he’d done, then nobody from that school would be any the wiser. And Whittree - he hadn’t paid much mind to his old classmates, they’d all hate him for what he’d done to Eden, and there wasn’t much he could do about that. But there’d been a sliver of hope, a slight chance of things being alright, because he still had Angie and she could vouch for him, convince them otherwise. But she’d wanted to leave too and he’d done what he’d done, and there was no going back now. He no longer even had the fraction of comfort that his parents would know he was doing okay, that façade having irreparably fractured the second Jaxon wanted to leave and fully shattered when Angie had done the same. There was no denying it now, no scrambling for justifications or claiming that his parents might still love him.
The realisation hit him like a bullet, and it wasn’t a second later that he found himself doubled-over on the padded carpet, voiding the contents of his stomach onto the ground, expelling what little he’d eaten throughout the day.
He had nobody.
Was nobody.
He closed his eyes as much firmness as he could muster, trying to grasp at fleeting thoughts and force some semblance of order into the disarray his mind had become. It was as though he was feeling all the emotions he’d ever felt at once, rampaging themselves through him like a hurricane. He hadn’t been in full control of everything for a long while, perhaps not even since he’d awoken in the resort, and that notion alone only heightened the bursts of fear and loss that were already coursing through his system. He was alone now, had lost the two people he’d once felt so sure would stay with him, and for that he wanted to scream until his lungs were raw and bloody.
Three.
He had three kills to his name now.
He’d had to do what he’d done to Jaxon, both to make him stay and to stop him telling all the other Davison kids lies about him. He’d known that if he could get himself cleaned up, erase any evidence of what he’d done, then nobody from that school would be any the wiser. And Whittree - he hadn’t paid much mind to his old classmates, they’d all hate him for what he’d done to Eden, and there wasn’t much he could do about that. But there’d been a sliver of hope, a slight chance of things being alright, because he still had Angie and she could vouch for him, convince them otherwise. But she’d wanted to leave too and he’d done what he’d done, and there was no going back now. He no longer even had the fraction of comfort that his parents would know he was doing okay, that façade having irreparably fractured the second Jaxon wanted to leave and fully shattered when Angie had done the same. There was no denying it now, no scrambling for justifications or claiming that his parents might still love him.
The realisation hit him like a bullet, and it wasn’t a second later that he found himself doubled-over on the padded carpet, voiding the contents of his stomach onto the ground, expelling what little he’d eaten throughout the day.
He had nobody.
Was nobody.
Eli's voice emerged from Marcus' collar. He sounded uneasy.
"Ok son. I think you've done enough for now. Maybe you should just take some time to think about what you're doing and if you want to go this path."
"Ok son. I think you've done enough for now. Maybe you should just take some time to think about what you're doing and if you want to go this path."
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SansaSaver
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Marcus’s entire body shook with the tornado of emotions storming through him and the convulsions from the purging of his stomach that continued to linger long after he’d let everything out. A trail of tears and snot continued to steadily trickle down his face, slowly landing with a soft splash into the disgusting cocktail of blood and vomit that sat before him. The scent of bitter copper and protein was lodged deeply within his nostrils, a string of saliva dangling from the edge of his broken lips before he managed to pry his unbroken hand from the ground and wipe it away, intaking a heavy breath as he did so. His throat burned as he attempted to reintroduce air into his lungs, stomach acid having worn away at it and inducing yet another sob of pain.
He felt like he was going to faint, as though his entire body would collapse beneath him at any second and send him into a spell of unconsciousness. It was as though all the energy he had left had been sapped from his body, and he would’ve gratefully let the exhaustion sweeping through him overtake him if it weren’t for the sudden and unfamiliar voice echoing around him.
Marcus gasped in shock as the man’s voice reached his ears, the uneasiness behind his words obvious even through the surprise of their presence. At first he didn’t know where it’d come from, whether it was from the loudspeakers that dotted the resort and brought them the announcements or some hidden microphone attached to one of the nearby cameras. It wasn’t until he felt the buzzing of sound waves against his Adam’s apple that he realised it was coming from his collar. He’d almost forgotten about the metal circlet laced around his neck, having not paid much attention to it since he’d awoken, but as the man spoke to him and him alone, it received every ounce of it.
And as the message concluded and silence returned to the daycare, a small smile made its way across Marcus’s features.
The man called him ‘son’, in the same way his own father had done ever since he was a little boy. And that wasn’t the only similarity - his mentor’s voice held the same mixture of honey and husk that he knew so well, almost identical to the voice he’d grown up listening to. He relished every word the man gave him, imprinting each one onto his memory as firmly as he could. ‘Take some time’ - that sounded nice, exactly what he wanted. He wanted to savour every second of this moment, extend it for as long as he could - though he knew it’d be fleeting; Isolde had lectured him about the mentors last season, told him about how limited their advice could be. Even so, this man had come to him in his hour of need, and Marcus would do anything he could to retain the warmth his arrival had given him - his mentor’s advice was the first time he felt truly comforted, the emotion washing over him in an almost euphoric wave of warmth.
And as quickly as it’d come, Marcus could feel the edges of anxiety beginning to pulse through him, a myriad of counterpoints and doubts beginning to assault him. What if his mentor didn’t really want him? What if he’d give up on him just as quickly as Taylor and Vahka and Jaxon and Angie had? Marcus couldn’t bear to focus on them, didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of his mentor leaving him too. Instead, he folded himself into a cocoon as he held his collar delicately in his uninjured hand, nestling his face into his knees as his other hand wrapped around his legs.
“What do I do? I’m so scared, I don’t wanna die.” His voice was timid and broken as he whispered into his collar, laced with the same degree of unease possessed by his mentor. “You’re here to help me, right? So that means you won’t leave me too, won’t you? Please don’t leave me too. Please.”
He felt like he was going to faint, as though his entire body would collapse beneath him at any second and send him into a spell of unconsciousness. It was as though all the energy he had left had been sapped from his body, and he would’ve gratefully let the exhaustion sweeping through him overtake him if it weren’t for the sudden and unfamiliar voice echoing around him.
Marcus gasped in shock as the man’s voice reached his ears, the uneasiness behind his words obvious even through the surprise of their presence. At first he didn’t know where it’d come from, whether it was from the loudspeakers that dotted the resort and brought them the announcements or some hidden microphone attached to one of the nearby cameras. It wasn’t until he felt the buzzing of sound waves against his Adam’s apple that he realised it was coming from his collar. He’d almost forgotten about the metal circlet laced around his neck, having not paid much attention to it since he’d awoken, but as the man spoke to him and him alone, it received every ounce of it.
And as the message concluded and silence returned to the daycare, a small smile made its way across Marcus’s features.
The man called him ‘son’, in the same way his own father had done ever since he was a little boy. And that wasn’t the only similarity - his mentor’s voice held the same mixture of honey and husk that he knew so well, almost identical to the voice he’d grown up listening to. He relished every word the man gave him, imprinting each one onto his memory as firmly as he could. ‘Take some time’ - that sounded nice, exactly what he wanted. He wanted to savour every second of this moment, extend it for as long as he could - though he knew it’d be fleeting; Isolde had lectured him about the mentors last season, told him about how limited their advice could be. Even so, this man had come to him in his hour of need, and Marcus would do anything he could to retain the warmth his arrival had given him - his mentor’s advice was the first time he felt truly comforted, the emotion washing over him in an almost euphoric wave of warmth.
And as quickly as it’d come, Marcus could feel the edges of anxiety beginning to pulse through him, a myriad of counterpoints and doubts beginning to assault him. What if his mentor didn’t really want him? What if he’d give up on him just as quickly as Taylor and Vahka and Jaxon and Angie had? Marcus couldn’t bear to focus on them, didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of his mentor leaving him too. Instead, he folded himself into a cocoon as he held his collar delicately in his uninjured hand, nestling his face into his knees as his other hand wrapped around his legs.
“What do I do? I’m so scared, I don’t wanna die.” His voice was timid and broken as he whispered into his collar, laced with the same degree of unease possessed by his mentor. “You’re here to help me, right? So that means you won’t leave me too, won’t you? Please don’t leave me too. Please.”
Eli's voice reemerged from Marcus' collar. The uneasiness seemed to have faded.
"Find the rest of your team, that way they'll be able to look after you and you'll be able to look after them. I'm not going to be able to communicate with you again for a while. So find them and good luck son."
"Find the rest of your team, that way they'll be able to look after you and you'll be able to look after them. I'm not going to be able to communicate with you again for a while. So find them and good luck son."
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SansaSaver
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Marcus lifted his uninjured hand to his face to wipe away the concoction of snot and tears that’d accumulated upon it, a bright smile settling across his features as he did so. It’d been so long since he truly felt someone cared about him or wanted him, but his mentor did. He didn’t reject him or cast him off, he accepted what he’d done without judgement or hatred and wanted to help him, not leave him to the wolves.
It was all he wanted, and he’d finally, truly, found it.
“I promise I won't disappoint you,” Marcus croaked, forcing himself to stand up, despite the shaking of his legs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
His bandaged fingers snaked around his collar as his other hand laced around the loops of his bags, smile still plastered widely across his face. He could barely contain his happiness as it ran through him, another trail of tears breaking through the mess caked on his face. He paused for a moment, letting the warmth wash over him once more, before stepping delicately past the mess of Jaxon’s and Angie’s bodies, neither acknowledging or looking back at what he’d done. That was in the past, and while it still hurt to think about what they’d driven him to, he knew that if he had his mentor by his side then it needn’t happen again.
His slow walk gradually broke into a jog, and it was only seconds later that he’d darted from the Daycare Centre, nary a trace of his belongings left behind in his wake.
((Marcus Redder continued in Do You Want to Build a Snowman?))
It was all he wanted, and he’d finally, truly, found it.
“I promise I won't disappoint you,” Marcus croaked, forcing himself to stand up, despite the shaking of his legs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
His bandaged fingers snaked around his collar as his other hand laced around the loops of his bags, smile still plastered widely across his face. He could barely contain his happiness as it ran through him, another trail of tears breaking through the mess caked on his face. He paused for a moment, letting the warmth wash over him once more, before stepping delicately past the mess of Jaxon’s and Angie’s bodies, neither acknowledging or looking back at what he’d done. That was in the past, and while it still hurt to think about what they’d driven him to, he knew that if he had his mentor by his side then it needn’t happen again.
His slow walk gradually broke into a jog, and it was only seconds later that he’d darted from the Daycare Centre, nary a trace of his belongings left behind in his wake.
((Marcus Redder continued in Do You Want to Build a Snowman?))