“Yeah I think you made this you..” he turned to Ripley, who was also yelling. “What? Yeah I can run what are you…” Ray pushes himself up to a knee, coated in Cheez-It dust. Feeling at his right arm, he saw no glass stuck in it, not that it would matter. None of this was- Is Ángel still talking?
“Don’t lecture me shitter!” But the Cyberjock was already gone. Groaning, Ray turns back to Ripley. “That could’ve gone better, right?” Before he could answer, Ray was already looking around again, finding Jill mid flight. “Hey.” He called after her. “Hey! The moment’s passed, I think.”
What a disaster. They had a plan (Jump them, steal their shit, run off) and Ray decided to go off half cocked and now what? They’re gonna they’ve been found out, and they’ll be gunning for the two of them at any moment.
“God fucking damnit.” He muttered, poking at the thin gash on his tricep. “Fucking great.”
But I knew, and I know it was a lie.
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Moderator: SOTF: Cyber Staff
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EllisWilson
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MonteCristo
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It was strange. When Ángel spoke, there were no protests or denials in Ripley's mind, only contemplation. He made no moves to shout back at Ángel or stop him from taking Jill’s bag. He just nodded. Not enough for anyone to notice—Ripley himself barely did—but it made the boy stop and think. He watched Ángel disappear and almost breathed a sigh of relief, but the sharp pain in his arm snapped him back to the matter at hand.
Jill was leaving, now worse off than when Ripley first barged into the scene. Ripley couldn’t blame her for going—he and Ray hadn’t helped the situation whatsoever. If Ripley hadn’t rushed in, maybe Ángel would’ve only taken Jill's weapons. But in the ensuing panic, Ángel had rushed off with her entire bag.
“Jill!” Ripley called out weakly, “Hold on! You don’t have a bag!” He wasn’t sure if she heard him, but Ripley still fished out one of the lunches from his bag and set it in front of him. He took the flashbang he hadn’t bothered using and placed it by the lunch. While checking the lunch in front of him—it was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—Ripley thought about his chances and decided that he could spare another lunchbox—this one had pizza in it. He probably wouldn’t need it. Plus, he could make up for the loss with however many Cheez-Its he could get his hands on.
Hands. Arm. Ripley took out his first-aid kit and searched its contents until he found the antiseptic wipes, sterile dressings, and gauze rolls. He wasn’t entirely sure how to treat his wounds, but from what he could remember, the supplies he pulled out would help. Fortunately for Ripley, the glass shards that hit him were close together, so he’d only need one dressing. Unfortunately, the shards were in him, and they couldn’t stay that way.
“It could've gone worse—Ángel wasn't messing around with that gun of his. What now?” Ripley asked Ray. His eyes focused purely on the other boy rather than where his right hand was moving. He waited for Ray to speak. Ray always had something to say, and Ripley hoped right now would be no different. He needed to have something else on his mind. He didn’t want to think about his arm. He didn’t want to think about how he and Ray’s first attack went. He didn’t want to think about what Ángel said. Ripley’s right hand tried to grip one of the pieces, but it sent an agonizing pang throughout his arm. He needed Ray to start talking so that he could once again focus on his words and not think about anything else.
Jill was leaving, now worse off than when Ripley first barged into the scene. Ripley couldn’t blame her for going—he and Ray hadn’t helped the situation whatsoever. If Ripley hadn’t rushed in, maybe Ángel would’ve only taken Jill's weapons. But in the ensuing panic, Ángel had rushed off with her entire bag.
“Jill!” Ripley called out weakly, “Hold on! You don’t have a bag!” He wasn’t sure if she heard him, but Ripley still fished out one of the lunches from his bag and set it in front of him. He took the flashbang he hadn’t bothered using and placed it by the lunch. While checking the lunch in front of him—it was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—Ripley thought about his chances and decided that he could spare another lunchbox—this one had pizza in it. He probably wouldn’t need it. Plus, he could make up for the loss with however many Cheez-Its he could get his hands on.
Hands. Arm. Ripley took out his first-aid kit and searched its contents until he found the antiseptic wipes, sterile dressings, and gauze rolls. He wasn’t entirely sure how to treat his wounds, but from what he could remember, the supplies he pulled out would help. Fortunately for Ripley, the glass shards that hit him were close together, so he’d only need one dressing. Unfortunately, the shards were in him, and they couldn’t stay that way.
“It could've gone worse—Ángel wasn't messing around with that gun of his. What now?” Ripley asked Ray. His eyes focused purely on the other boy rather than where his right hand was moving. He waited for Ray to speak. Ray always had something to say, and Ripley hoped right now would be no different. He needed to have something else on his mind. He didn’t want to think about his arm. He didn’t want to think about how he and Ray’s first attack went. He didn’t want to think about what Ángel said. Ripley’s right hand tried to grip one of the pieces, but it sent an agonizing pang throughout his arm. He needed Ray to start talking so that he could once again focus on his words and not think about anything else.
Jill twisted her body, looking over her shoulders. She groaned in pain as she felt the glass shards underneath her skin move deeper. Jill squinted with her only eye. She could only see one person, Ripley, and she didn't want to go to them after what had happened. She tried to swallow her spit, but she found it stuck in the middle of her throat. She choked and sputtered.
She tried to think about it, long and hard, but she didn't know what to say. She had already asked not to be hurt and not to be killed, and Ángel didn't care about it.
"I don't want to get hurt again."
She tried to think about it, long and hard, but she didn't know what to say. She had already asked not to be hurt and not to be killed, and Ángel didn't care about it.
"I don't want to get hurt again."
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EllisWilson
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“You’re not gonna get hurt again. We’re not here for that.” Turning to Ripley, he continued. “What is gonna happen is that we’re gonna patch ourselves up, then get our fucking heads together.” On his feet now, Ray was poking at the cut dribbling blood down his arm. No glass in it. He got off easy.
“I fucked up.” He was talking to both of them at once now, still concentrated on his arm. “I set a plan, and then I did the opposite of that, right? Supposed to sneak up on the fucker and kick his ass.” He looked back up at Ripley. He saw his friend with glass in his arm and his face crumpled slightly.
“Do you… do you want me to pull that out for you?” His eyes were flicking between Ripley and Jill. Jesus Christ just look at Jill.
“Did Ángel beat the shit out of you or something? Fucking Christ.” Shaking his head, he looked back to Ripley. Ripley and the rip in his arm meat.
“Fucking disaster.”
“I fucked up.” He was talking to both of them at once now, still concentrated on his arm. “I set a plan, and then I did the opposite of that, right? Supposed to sneak up on the fucker and kick his ass.” He looked back up at Ripley. He saw his friend with glass in his arm and his face crumpled slightly.
“Do you… do you want me to pull that out for you?” His eyes were flicking between Ripley and Jill. Jesus Christ just look at Jill.
“Did Ángel beat the shit out of you or something? Fucking Christ.” Shaking his head, he looked back to Ripley. Ripley and the rip in his arm meat.
“Fucking disaster.”
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MonteCristo
- Posts: 75
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Ripley let Ray talk. Talk to Jill, talk strategy, talk loud and clear. Ripley just focused on the noise, taking his mind off everything else. It took him a moment to realize Ray had offered to help him with the glass in his arm.
“No,” Ripley refused, “Just keep talking. I'm listening.” Ray’s help would have been welcome, but something in Ripley wouldn't let him say yes. He just held his hand near the glass himself, waiting to rip it out himself, so that he could tend to his wounds by himself. He had to do it alone, to prove he was good for something. He’d messed everything up so far; he needed to show that he was worth keeping around. At that thought, Ripley’s head rang as if an alarm went off in his mind, but he dismissed the feeling as just another effect of his injuries.
“Keep talking, keep talking,” Ripley urged on, his hand tensing up as he anticipated plucking the first shard out. He tried to rack his head for a topic that would get Ray to talk more. He landed on something that refused to leave his mind, something that didn’t sit right with him since that initial denial. But he held his tongue. He’d talk about Ángel later.
“No,” Ripley refused, “Just keep talking. I'm listening.” Ray’s help would have been welcome, but something in Ripley wouldn't let him say yes. He just held his hand near the glass himself, waiting to rip it out himself, so that he could tend to his wounds by himself. He had to do it alone, to prove he was good for something. He’d messed everything up so far; he needed to show that he was worth keeping around. At that thought, Ripley’s head rang as if an alarm went off in his mind, but he dismissed the feeling as just another effect of his injuries.
“Keep talking, keep talking,” Ripley urged on, his hand tensing up as he anticipated plucking the first shard out. He tried to rack his head for a topic that would get Ray to talk more. He landed on something that refused to leave his mind, something that didn’t sit right with him since that initial denial. But he held his tongue. He’d talk about Ángel later.
"They didn't hit me," she said, not recognizing herself.
Gillian spoke again, trying to understand what was wrong with her voice. "I fell through the bridge's roof." She pointed to the pile of crackers that was now behind her. She hugged herself, not touching any of the glass shards that was piercing her skin. She was about to speak a third time when she got glimpse of her face in the bloodstained reflection.
She looked like a tomato. Red and swollen and ripe; and ready to explode under any pressure.
Jill struggled to swallow, her face distorted and wrapped into something she couldn't start to imagine being real despite being made up of data. Was this happening to her real body? Was her face also broken in where she used the machine? Did her parents look at her, broken and in pain?
She looked back at the boys. "Can we go somewhere else?"
Gillian spoke again, trying to understand what was wrong with her voice. "I fell through the bridge's roof." She pointed to the pile of crackers that was now behind her. She hugged herself, not touching any of the glass shards that was piercing her skin. She was about to speak a third time when she got glimpse of her face in the bloodstained reflection.
She looked like a tomato. Red and swollen and ripe; and ready to explode under any pressure.
Jill struggled to swallow, her face distorted and wrapped into something she couldn't start to imagine being real despite being made up of data. Was this happening to her real body? Was her face also broken in where she used the machine? Did her parents look at her, broken and in pain?
She looked back at the boys. "Can we go somewhere else?"
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EllisWilson
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Ray looked at the pile of crackers when Jill pointed them out, then up to the blasted out frame where glass ought to be. Ángel didn’t hit her, she said. Ray had it pegged wrong. The Cyberjock was a vulture, as opposed to… some other cooler animal. Not that it changes anything; An ass only changes when you kick it enough.
“Alright,” he said. “Yeah, we should probably head out. He’s probably running to get his buddies, and his buddies have probably got fucking bazookas or something. Let me get my gun first.” He’d noticed where his gun (weird video game looking thing) had slid, and was walking toward it as he pulled his backpack around behind him. As he walked he spoke “We can find some place that’s empty and fix all our shit up, right? We can work on getting at those creeps that put us in here.”
He paused for a moment, midway through bending over to get his gun. He looked back at Jill. “We’ll fill you in on what we figured out.” He stopped talking for a moment, grabbing up his gun and turning around, letting it swing with his arms.
He could tell Jill wasn’t in good straits. He liked to think her face has nothing to do with that assessment. Can CR simulate a concussion? Can it give you a real one? Did the Psychojocks mod it in? Probably. Definitely. Jill’s probably gonna be pissed once this passes, so why not use that?
“You can have my medkit if you want it.” He told her. “You probably need it more than I do.” The cut on his arm was an afterthought. It wasn’t real, so neither was its pain. The only thing that was real was his thoughts, and they were focused on one thing:
Getting even.
“Alright,” he said. “Yeah, we should probably head out. He’s probably running to get his buddies, and his buddies have probably got fucking bazookas or something. Let me get my gun first.” He’d noticed where his gun (weird video game looking thing) had slid, and was walking toward it as he pulled his backpack around behind him. As he walked he spoke “We can find some place that’s empty and fix all our shit up, right? We can work on getting at those creeps that put us in here.”
He paused for a moment, midway through bending over to get his gun. He looked back at Jill. “We’ll fill you in on what we figured out.” He stopped talking for a moment, grabbing up his gun and turning around, letting it swing with his arms.
He could tell Jill wasn’t in good straits. He liked to think her face has nothing to do with that assessment. Can CR simulate a concussion? Can it give you a real one? Did the Psychojocks mod it in? Probably. Definitely. Jill’s probably gonna be pissed once this passes, so why not use that?
“You can have my medkit if you want it.” He told her. “You probably need it more than I do.” The cut on his arm was an afterthought. It wasn’t real, so neither was its pain. The only thing that was real was his thoughts, and they were focused on one thing:
Getting even.
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MonteCristo
- Posts: 75
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Ripley’s hand was still hovering over the glass in his arm when Jill suggested leaving. It floated back to his side when Ray agreed. The two of them were right; it’d be wiser to get to safety before tending to their wounds—basically, the opposite order of what Ripley had been doing. He closed up the first aid kit and packed his bag, trying to pay no mind to the pain still shooting up and down and all around his arm. It still hurt.
“I’ve got two lunches and a flashbang,” he added to Ray’s offer, “I can give them to you once I patch myself up.” Though he was addressing Jill, Ripley wasn’t focusing on her for the same reason he wasn’t focusing on his arm. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to look at it. As long as he remembered it was fake, there was no need to worry. It still hurt.
Ripley stood up and looked in Ray’s direction, trying not to look around or behind himself for fear he’d see his or Jill’s injuries. It still hurt.
“I’ve got two lunches and a flashbang,” he added to Ray’s offer, “I can give them to you once I patch myself up.” Though he was addressing Jill, Ripley wasn’t focusing on her for the same reason he wasn’t focusing on his arm. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to look at it. As long as he remembered it was fake, there was no need to worry. It still hurt.
Ripley stood up and looked in Ray’s direction, trying not to look around or behind himself for fear he’d see his or Jill’s injuries. It still hurt.
"That'd be," she choked a bit on tears. "That'd be nice."
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EllisWilson
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This was too perfect. Well, not too perfect because of the glass and shit, but for Ray the situation had massively improved. He’d gotten to run off one of the assholes trying screw with him, and now the Jock Blockers are three strong. He just couldn’t help but crack a grin over it, he was so happy.
“Alright, alright, alright,” he was walking backwards as he spoke. “Let’s find ourselves a hideout.” He turned on his heel and let out a short laugh. This could be fun. More than he expected anyway. Maybe he could get a talk show deal out of this. Get a book deal. A movie deal. Yeah, that one would be it. San Jose to Hollywood.
Walking on, he started feeling a vibration in his chest. Shit, this might be so much fun. That would be the best part. Ray could enjoy this little nightmare more than the Omega Cucks, or Zeph Newman, or Mr. Franklin who’s one hundred percent gonna lose his job over this (his fucking head exploded). Ray, striding back inside, feeling like his heart may come loose, belted out at the top of his lungs “JOCK BLOCKERS! WHOOP WHOOP!”
This was gonna be lots of fun.
((Ray Sullivan Continued In The Stand By Me Experience))
“Alright, alright, alright,” he was walking backwards as he spoke. “Let’s find ourselves a hideout.” He turned on his heel and let out a short laugh. This could be fun. More than he expected anyway. Maybe he could get a talk show deal out of this. Get a book deal. A movie deal. Yeah, that one would be it. San Jose to Hollywood.
Walking on, he started feeling a vibration in his chest. Shit, this might be so much fun. That would be the best part. Ray could enjoy this little nightmare more than the Omega Cucks, or Zeph Newman, or Mr. Franklin who’s one hundred percent gonna lose his job over this (his fucking head exploded). Ray, striding back inside, feeling like his heart may come loose, belted out at the top of his lungs “JOCK BLOCKERS! WHOOP WHOOP!”
This was gonna be lots of fun.
((Ray Sullivan Continued In The Stand By Me Experience))
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MonteCristo
- Posts: 75
- Joined: Thu Jun 22, 2023 4:12 am
Leave it to Ray to make the best of an awful situation. Through his words, he’d gotten Jill on their side, and because of his positivity, Ripley decided he had to get excited too. He wrenched a smile from his lips, defying all the doubts and worries assailing him, and his feet shambled after Ray, carrying the rest of Ripley with them. All Ripley had to do was follow Ray.
He grabbed some Cheez-Its from the pile before leaving, sifting through the mound to ensure he didn’t accidentally pick up any glass. He needed to take the good and ignore the bad. Just leave it all behind. But it still hurt.
((Ripley continued in The Stand By Me Experience.))
He grabbed some Cheez-Its from the pile before leaving, sifting through the mound to ensure he didn’t accidentally pick up any glass. He needed to take the good and ignore the bad. Just leave it all behind. But it still hurt.
((Ripley continued in The Stand By Me Experience.))