Right now, Charlie’s brain continued to fizz and pop with emotions and racing thoughts.
She’d thrown up into one of the bins earlier, right when she’d woken up. It wasn’t the gas or anything. She knew what it was. It was nerves. She still wasn’t feeling good. She remembered crying as they piled everyone onto the bus. It might as well have been an execution. Her skin still continued to tremble, and her head pounding like someone was pounding from inside.
Afterwards, she just held onto the bin’s edge, her heart still racing, still pounding. Her thoughts continued to jumble about, like a poor TV signal.
Am I going to die? I’m going to die, We’ll all die. They’ll kill me, and do god knows what before. Maybe even after. I’m going to die. It’ll be painful. Remember the knife? Do you remember? That’s what it’ll be like. I don’t want to die.
She’d dry-heaved and expelled a bit more of her stomach contents, before eventually nothing came up. Her body feeling drained, she let go. She needed to do something. What, she didn’t know. But “something.” Hide?
Charlie let her eyes wander across the pub. It was kind of cozy, and like something she hadn’t seen before. It was full of interesting-looking murals, and there was text in something that wasn’t English. Spanish, maybe? She didn’t know. But she was sure there were places she could hide. Maybe a table, maybe a bar.
They’d left her bag on one of the tables, and with it, a pink box of some kind. Like… the one you’d put pastries in or something, she’d guess. Maybe. After some thought, she’d picked the bag up, along with the box, and glanced at the bar.
Somewhere to hide.
She stepped closer. She could look at her things there. She wasn’t sure.
But she felt something under her foot. She looked down.
A new brand of fear swept over Charlie.
From Dusk Till Dawn
Phase 1 (0-12 Hours)
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Un-Persona*
- Posts: 189
- Joined: Mon Sep 17, 2018 4:55 am
((Floyd Malinowski: B015 - PV3 - Begin))
This was a familiar setting. Not this, but the type of building he was in. Floyd was lying in a space under the counter, and could immediately tell he was in a bar. Replace the empty bottles with jars filled with coffee beans and it all would have been a little too homey. He would be more bemused if he wasn't nearly numb to the entire situation.
His life was over. The best he could do was set an example. For America. The America he believed in. Different from the one he lived in...the one that he had tried to stand by idly. He wouldn't have thought this way had it been some other kid up here. It would have been just the gears turning, and he would have moved on, as people do. That was the conscious. It all seemed bleak, which is why he didn't even want to do his best. Which, in turn, probably meant that he was gonna be set as an example for the America he had lived in.
It was almost paralyzing. He figured the right thing to do, once he figured out what that was, would only matter on a personal level. Even if he didn't do much to make a difference, at the end of the day, all that mattered is that he tried. That was the ideal aftermath, if he wasn't just another footnote that got listed down. Maybe that's what made it hard to move. The Program was, by nature, not personal. So he didn't take the thing personally. It just made him feel less.
It wouldn't have been different if he could have just gone on to be infantry like his dad was. But if would have felt that way, and he could have done more living. There was at least some good imagery in being one of many, as a grunt. Grunt. The word carried a lot of value in it, to him. It came with a sense of camaraderie and valor, and you got to yell HOOAH...and maybe at the end of the day he could buy a nice truck, marry early. Even now, that picture was hard to let go of.
Floyd began to crawl out from under the counter. He had to do something. He wouldn't be pathetic. If his mom and Esther were going to cry about it, it was going to be the same brand of tears they shed for his dad. They would be proud of him, love him, and remember him even when nobody else did. And they were going to remember him in his last, and best, moments.
As he thought that and began to raise his head, he felt the bottom part of someone's shoe scruff the back of his neck.
"C-could you not?"
Nice.
This was a familiar setting. Not this, but the type of building he was in. Floyd was lying in a space under the counter, and could immediately tell he was in a bar. Replace the empty bottles with jars filled with coffee beans and it all would have been a little too homey. He would be more bemused if he wasn't nearly numb to the entire situation.
His life was over. The best he could do was set an example. For America. The America he believed in. Different from the one he lived in...the one that he had tried to stand by idly. He wouldn't have thought this way had it been some other kid up here. It would have been just the gears turning, and he would have moved on, as people do. That was the conscious. It all seemed bleak, which is why he didn't even want to do his best. Which, in turn, probably meant that he was gonna be set as an example for the America he had lived in.
It was almost paralyzing. He figured the right thing to do, once he figured out what that was, would only matter on a personal level. Even if he didn't do much to make a difference, at the end of the day, all that mattered is that he tried. That was the ideal aftermath, if he wasn't just another footnote that got listed down. Maybe that's what made it hard to move. The Program was, by nature, not personal. So he didn't take the thing personally. It just made him feel less.
It wouldn't have been different if he could have just gone on to be infantry like his dad was. But if would have felt that way, and he could have done more living. There was at least some good imagery in being one of many, as a grunt. Grunt. The word carried a lot of value in it, to him. It came with a sense of camaraderie and valor, and you got to yell HOOAH...and maybe at the end of the day he could buy a nice truck, marry early. Even now, that picture was hard to let go of.
Floyd began to crawl out from under the counter. He had to do something. He wouldn't be pathetic. If his mom and Esther were going to cry about it, it was going to be the same brand of tears they shed for his dad. They would be proud of him, love him, and remember him even when nobody else did. And they were going to remember him in his last, and best, moments.
As he thought that and began to raise his head, he felt the bottom part of someone's shoe scruff the back of his neck.
"C-could you not?"
Nice.
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That “something” moved.
Charlie jolted her foot away, only to see it- um, him- lift a head. It was a boy. She could see curly brown hair, and red-tinged skin, and a lanky build. Someone was here, and he could do something. He could do something to hurt her, or make her suffer, or god only knew what. Was he hiding here because he was waiting for a kill? Or because he had the same idea? Or… or… what else could it be?
For a moment, she considered running the opposite direction. But her feet stayed still, as if they were in drying cement. She saw him lift his head.
Was he scared? Thinking of murder? Just annoyed? And a new thought popped in. Maybe he thought she was just… weird? Maybe. Maybe he thought she was someone looking for a kill.
An image popped into her head. She imagined herself lowering the same foot, down, down, onto his head, until there was a snap and a crack, until he stopped moving. On cue, she tightly closed her eyes. What was she thinking? Everyone would think she was a psycho if they knew she thought about that. Get that kind of thought out of your head, it’s disgusting.
Charlie opened her eyes again. Maybe she was thinking about this too hard. Maybe he wasn’t as annoyed as she thought. Maybe he was safe.
“Um… sorry… it’s just… uh…”
Say it. You know what you want to say.
“I just… urm… I thought I’d hide here, and… well, I didn’t see you, okay?”
She must have looked weird, holding a bag and a pink pastry box inside some bar-place.
Charlie jolted her foot away, only to see it- um, him- lift a head. It was a boy. She could see curly brown hair, and red-tinged skin, and a lanky build. Someone was here, and he could do something. He could do something to hurt her, or make her suffer, or god only knew what. Was he hiding here because he was waiting for a kill? Or because he had the same idea? Or… or… what else could it be?
For a moment, she considered running the opposite direction. But her feet stayed still, as if they were in drying cement. She saw him lift his head.
Was he scared? Thinking of murder? Just annoyed? And a new thought popped in. Maybe he thought she was just… weird? Maybe. Maybe he thought she was someone looking for a kill.
An image popped into her head. She imagined herself lowering the same foot, down, down, onto his head, until there was a snap and a crack, until he stopped moving. On cue, she tightly closed her eyes. What was she thinking? Everyone would think she was a psycho if they knew she thought about that. Get that kind of thought out of your head, it’s disgusting.
Charlie opened her eyes again. Maybe she was thinking about this too hard. Maybe he wasn’t as annoyed as she thought. Maybe he was safe.
“Um… sorry… it’s just… uh…”
Say it. You know what you want to say.
“I just… urm… I thought I’d hide here, and… well, I didn’t see you, okay?”
She must have looked weird, holding a bag and a pink pastry box inside some bar-place.
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Un-Persona*
- Posts: 189
- Joined: Mon Sep 17, 2018 4:55 am
As the foot came off his neck, Floyd decompressed, scrambling on the floor so he could at least see who was in the building with him. A girl. Bigger - larger than him, small voice. He felt he should remember her name, but he couldn't put a name to a face. It didn't seem to matter that much, given the situation.
Floyd placed one of his hands out in front of him. He wanted to show that he wasn't upset, or scared. He felt a little heated, a little embarrassed. He wanted to collect himself more than anything, even more so with how flustered she came off.
He began to stand, try to be on an eye level with her.
"Hey, hey, relax. It's okay."
He wanted to take back the lead.
"I just woke up. I'm not going to hurt you. Understand?"
Floyd placed one of his hands out in front of him. He wanted to show that he wasn't upset, or scared. He felt a little heated, a little embarrassed. He wanted to collect himself more than anything, even more so with how flustered she came off.
He began to stand, try to be on an eye level with her.
"Hey, hey, relax. It's okay."
He wanted to take back the lead.
"I just woke up. I'm not going to hurt you. Understand?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Un-Persona. 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.
Crush, crush. Even when her foot was away, that mental image was still coming up in her head like a knife to her skull. She could almost feel bones snapping under her foot, and hear each and every crack. So, Charlie was thankful that he finally stood up. Well, “thankful” is a rough word. It still meant he could do something, or-
He was comforting her.
Even though she was the one who stepped on him. Even though...
Charlie blinked. Not a tight blink, just a blink. She took another step backwards. Maybe she could toss whatever’s in the box at him and run away, if it turned out he was lying. Or maybe, maybe she could… no. She didn’t want to hurt someone.
She shook her head some.
“Um… um…”
Charlie didn’t know how to respond.
“If it helps… I don’t wanna hurt anyone, too.”
But you might have to. That’s what the Program is.
Charlie let her skin crawl. But she kept her eye on the boy.
He was comforting her.
Even though she was the one who stepped on him. Even though...
Charlie blinked. Not a tight blink, just a blink. She took another step backwards. Maybe she could toss whatever’s in the box at him and run away, if it turned out he was lying. Or maybe, maybe she could… no. She didn’t want to hurt someone.
She shook her head some.
“Um… um…”
Charlie didn’t know how to respond.
“If it helps… I don’t wanna hurt anyone, too.”
But you might have to. That’s what the Program is.
Charlie let her skin crawl. But she kept her eye on the boy.
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Un-Persona*
- Posts: 189
- Joined: Mon Sep 17, 2018 4:55 am
This was working out in his favor. The girl's name started to become clearer as the redness around his ears started to fade away. She was the girl called right before him during the call offs. Charlotte Pemberton. Charlie to her friends, as corrected during attendance.
"Charlotte - I appreciate that."
Floyd put his hand down, searching for his jacket pocket to stow it away in. He straightened his back out, lowered his face to parallel Charlotte's slouch. His glasses slipped down just slightly, giving a better view of promising, jade eyes.
"What do you wanna do though? Besides find a place to hide? You got any big plans?"
Box her in the same way he was. Find an edge, keep her at the corner. Make something out of this.
"Charlotte - I appreciate that."
Floyd put his hand down, searching for his jacket pocket to stow it away in. He straightened his back out, lowered his face to parallel Charlotte's slouch. His glasses slipped down just slightly, giving a better view of promising, jade eyes.
"What do you wanna do though? Besides find a place to hide? You got any big plans?"
Box her in the same way he was. Find an edge, keep her at the corner. Make something out of this.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Un-Persona. 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.
Charlie watched as the boy adjusted himself, pulling into a slouch of his own. Meanwhile, she simply kept her gaze, the box awkwardly waiting in her palms.
“Oh! Um…”
Shit, she didn’t think of a plan. She didn’t think of a plan, and now someone was going to kill her. Charlie knew that other people had an idea of what they’d do in the Program, and some people wanted to kill other people, and now she was a sitting duck. She was screwed, screwed.
The pastry box shook inside her hands.
“Um… um…”
Tell him. Spit it out. But what if he does have a plan? What if…?
“I was thinking… that I should look through my things? I mean… I found this box with my shi- my stuff, but I don’t know what’s inside? Maybe… food?”
She felt stupid.
“Oh! Um…”
Shit, she didn’t think of a plan. She didn’t think of a plan, and now someone was going to kill her. Charlie knew that other people had an idea of what they’d do in the Program, and some people wanted to kill other people, and now she was a sitting duck. She was screwed, screwed.
The pastry box shook inside her hands.
“Um… um…”
Tell him. Spit it out. But what if he does have a plan? What if…?
“I was thinking… that I should look through my things? I mean… I found this box with my shi- my stuff, but I don’t know what’s inside? Maybe… food?”
She felt stupid.
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Un-Persona*
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- Joined: Mon Sep 17, 2018 4:55 am
Floyd bit the inside of his cheek as Charlotte tried to pull herself together. His hand swept back his hair slowly.
"I guess that's a good plan as any. But you do know that you need to think ahead, right?"
Floyd took a step towards the girl and leaned himself forward.
"What's in the box? I mean, might as well find out, right?"
It'd be something.
"I guess that's a good plan as any. But you do know that you need to think ahead, right?"
Floyd took a step towards the girl and leaned himself forward.
"What's in the box? I mean, might as well find out, right?"
It'd be something.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Un-Persona. 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.
“Probably pastries,” Charlie blurted out.
Her skin still crawled. People were usually kind of hard to deal with, even outside of a death game. But in one? Yeah, it probably wasn’t a good thing she was talking to someone right now. She had no idea what he could do to her, and she didn’t want to dwell too much on that thought.
It didn’t help that he said that she needed a plan. She didn’t have one. She wasn’t a huge strategist, no doubt, but it would be a good idea to stay low? Maybe? She had no idea. Just stay hiding, and no one will find you. But he was here too, and she had no idea if she should run or do something else.
Deep breath. Keep calm. You can do this.
It was awkward, lifting up the lid. It wasn’t just the situation or that her bag was hanging off her arm still while she was at it. It was both. For a moment, it slipped. Charlie was scared she was going to drop it, but it stayed. Once she lifted, she saw red, white and blue frosting. With sprinkles? Yeah. She closed a second later.
“Donuts,” she blurted out again.
Please don’t do anything now that you know what I got.
She hoped he wouldn't.
But she gulped, and rubbed her shoulders.
"I need... time alone," she said.
And went into the back.
Kind of rude, she knew. But she didn't feel all that comfortable.
((Charlie Pemberton continued elsewhere))
Her skin still crawled. People were usually kind of hard to deal with, even outside of a death game. But in one? Yeah, it probably wasn’t a good thing she was talking to someone right now. She had no idea what he could do to her, and she didn’t want to dwell too much on that thought.
It didn’t help that he said that she needed a plan. She didn’t have one. She wasn’t a huge strategist, no doubt, but it would be a good idea to stay low? Maybe? She had no idea. Just stay hiding, and no one will find you. But he was here too, and she had no idea if she should run or do something else.
Deep breath. Keep calm. You can do this.
It was awkward, lifting up the lid. It wasn’t just the situation or that her bag was hanging off her arm still while she was at it. It was both. For a moment, it slipped. Charlie was scared she was going to drop it, but it stayed. Once she lifted, she saw red, white and blue frosting. With sprinkles? Yeah. She closed a second later.
“Donuts,” she blurted out again.
Please don’t do anything now that you know what I got.
She hoped he wouldn't.
But she gulped, and rubbed her shoulders.
"I need... time alone," she said.
And went into the back.
Kind of rude, she knew. But she didn't feel all that comfortable.
((Charlie Pemberton continued elsewhere))