Mae took Shawn's hand in her's lightly. Shawn nodded, to the literally, hot babe next to him and turned forward to the direction where their runaway team mate may have gone. He looked at the two guys in yellow talking with each other one last time. It was probably a good idea to start moving now, before the big dark guy and crossbow man decided to turn their attention to them.
"Alright let's move." He said. Shawn turned to check on Zach. "You ok man?"
He wasn't moving as easily as them, it seemed. Was there like a 10 pound weight in his bag or something? It was a good thing Shawn got rid of that Electric Saw when he had the chance. He'd hate to have struggled with it, as Zach was struggling with his bag, during their travels on their Death Island Vacation.
He gave Zach a chance to catch up. When he caught up, they started strolling through the rain forest again, and away from the Hot Spot.
Shawn started whistling "Ride of the Valkyries" as they marched on out.
[[Shawn Morrison Continued To: Kids.]]
I Won't Back Down
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Frozen Smoke
- Posts: 375
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
He tried to be happy for Mae and Shawn again, forcing a smile as they held hands and walked off. He stayed a few steps behind them, trying not to notice the little glances they shared. They were happy. That was good. He kept telling himself that thinking anything else was selfish.
Shawn asked him if he was ok. He brushed aside his concern simply, no emotion in his voice.
He was going to do some repacking when they got to the beach, he decided, as the straps dug into the flesh of his shoulders. He tightened the straps further, humming the undertones of "Rise of The Valkyries" as Shawn whistled. He'd always liked classical music. It was calming. He'd often used it to calm when he was on edge, like when he'd gone to the Ballet. It seemed so out of place, reminding him of a place he would likely never see again wouldnt see for a while.
It was a comfort.
(( Zachariah Andross Johnston continued in Kids ))
Shawn asked him if he was ok. He brushed aside his concern simply, no emotion in his voice.
He was going to do some repacking when they got to the beach, he decided, as the straps dug into the flesh of his shoulders. He tightened the straps further, humming the undertones of "Rise of The Valkyries" as Shawn whistled. He'd always liked classical music. It was calming. He'd often used it to calm when he was on edge, like when he'd gone to the Ballet. It seemed so out of place, reminding him of a place he would likely never see again wouldnt see for a while.
It was a comfort.
(( Zachariah Andross Johnston continued in Kids ))
Oh, son of a bitch. This is who he was going to be stuck with? Really? Couldn't he get someone... better? Instead of Anthony or Devonte or Jaszmine, he got stuck with Skye, host of the lamest party on this side of Detroit. White boys shouldn't be allowed to throw parties. But in the end, it could have been worse. He could have been stuck with Bobby. Or Jaszmine.
Man, she'll kill me for that little stunt...
Still, he couldn't help but laugh. Not just at his own memories of that night, but also at Todd's hasty retreat. He wouldn't have minded the opportunity to beat him some more, but he had to say, watching him run screaming and shitting his pants was absolutely fucking hilarious. Who knew Marcus could have that effect on people. If that was the extent of what that other group had to offer, Marcus had nothing to worry about. He was bigger, stronger and meaner. He could eat lightning and crap thunder here. Yeah, this was going to be his game. Screw the rest of them, Marcus was going home.
Hopefully with his friends in tow.
"Let's go see what Jersey wants."
He didn't really feel like it, but Skye was right. The bandanna was the same. They really were on the same team. That didn't mean Marcus had to be nice or do things like respect his teammates or anything. That would be a little much. No, he just had to avoid killing them, or something like that. Were there rules regarding teams? He didn't remember anything like that... Oh well. Either way, Marcus was on a team with Skye, but he didn't have to like it, he didn't have to enjoy it, and he certainly didn't have to show his teammates any semblance of respect. Or trust. Cause Marcus wouldn't trust Skye as far as he could throw him, and he could probably throw him far enough.
That weapon certainly made it tempting to throw Skye.
After making his way over to Skye, Marcus eyed the crossbow. He eyed it long and hard. Man, why couldn't he get a weapon like that?
"Tell you what. I won't take that from you, but you'll have to give me... say, two, maybe four of those bolts."
He may not like them, he may not want them, and he may not ever trust them, but Marcus wasn't above compromising and putting up with his so called team mates.
At least, as long as they were useful.
"After all, I don't have a weapon. Not exactly going to be very threatening without a weapon."
Oh, he knew that was a lie.
Man, she'll kill me for that little stunt...
Still, he couldn't help but laugh. Not just at his own memories of that night, but also at Todd's hasty retreat. He wouldn't have minded the opportunity to beat him some more, but he had to say, watching him run screaming and shitting his pants was absolutely fucking hilarious. Who knew Marcus could have that effect on people. If that was the extent of what that other group had to offer, Marcus had nothing to worry about. He was bigger, stronger and meaner. He could eat lightning and crap thunder here. Yeah, this was going to be his game. Screw the rest of them, Marcus was going home.
Hopefully with his friends in tow.
"Let's go see what Jersey wants."
He didn't really feel like it, but Skye was right. The bandanna was the same. They really were on the same team. That didn't mean Marcus had to be nice or do things like respect his teammates or anything. That would be a little much. No, he just had to avoid killing them, or something like that. Were there rules regarding teams? He didn't remember anything like that... Oh well. Either way, Marcus was on a team with Skye, but he didn't have to like it, he didn't have to enjoy it, and he certainly didn't have to show his teammates any semblance of respect. Or trust. Cause Marcus wouldn't trust Skye as far as he could throw him, and he could probably throw him far enough.
That weapon certainly made it tempting to throw Skye.
After making his way over to Skye, Marcus eyed the crossbow. He eyed it long and hard. Man, why couldn't he get a weapon like that?
"Tell you what. I won't take that from you, but you'll have to give me... say, two, maybe four of those bolts."
He may not like them, he may not want them, and he may not ever trust them, but Marcus wasn't above compromising and putting up with his so called team mates.
At least, as long as they were useful.
"After all, I don't have a weapon. Not exactly going to be very threatening without a weapon."
Oh, he knew that was a lie.
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ThePureLight7*
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 8:00 pm
As the big black guy who had just kicked the shit out of some spoiled-ass kid started approaching Skye, he started to recognize exactly who it was. Shit... he thought to himself, He's one of It's friends. Marcus or something like that.
Still, he was on his team and it was better to run into someone he actually knew first then some complete stranger. You mustn't look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when the gift horse is a big black guy who is the only thing keeping you from dying painfully and bloodily at the hands of those you most hold dear.
There was a short time for Marcus to walk up to him. He didn't look very ecstatic about the team assignments either, but at least he was talking. That was good. Maybe.
The first thing Marcus started doing upon reaching Skye was look at his weapon. Skye smiled smugly a little while still trying to show some restriction. The poor bastard's jealous, he thought, Then again, shit. That means he doesn't have anything fucking useful.
What he said next pretty much cemented that there was no more weapon advantage to be supplied by Marc. "Tell you what. I won't take that from you, but you'll have to give me... say, two, maybe four of those bolts. After all, I don't have a weapon. Not exactly going to be very threatening without a weapon."
That last thing was either a blatant lie or brutal modesty on his part.
Skye picked up his bag again and shuffled through it. He hadn't actually took the time to check how many bolts (Is that what they were called? Despite the fact that they're totally badass, Skye knew very little about crossbows) he had on him. Ten, it seemed. Maybe they're reusable, he hoped.
"Alright," he said, pulling out a small handful and giving them to Marcus, "I guess I can lend you a couple. By the way, my name's Skye. I figure you probably already know that, though. I believe you were at my party a while ago with Devonte, after all. It's Marcus, isn't it?" There's no need to get off on a wrong foot with his first teammate, now is there?
Still, he was on his team and it was better to run into someone he actually knew first then some complete stranger. You mustn't look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when the gift horse is a big black guy who is the only thing keeping you from dying painfully and bloodily at the hands of those you most hold dear.
There was a short time for Marcus to walk up to him. He didn't look very ecstatic about the team assignments either, but at least he was talking. That was good. Maybe.
The first thing Marcus started doing upon reaching Skye was look at his weapon. Skye smiled smugly a little while still trying to show some restriction. The poor bastard's jealous, he thought, Then again, shit. That means he doesn't have anything fucking useful.
What he said next pretty much cemented that there was no more weapon advantage to be supplied by Marc. "Tell you what. I won't take that from you, but you'll have to give me... say, two, maybe four of those bolts. After all, I don't have a weapon. Not exactly going to be very threatening without a weapon."
That last thing was either a blatant lie or brutal modesty on his part.
Skye picked up his bag again and shuffled through it. He hadn't actually took the time to check how many bolts (Is that what they were called? Despite the fact that they're totally badass, Skye knew very little about crossbows) he had on him. Ten, it seemed. Maybe they're reusable, he hoped.
"Alright," he said, pulling out a small handful and giving them to Marcus, "I guess I can lend you a couple. By the way, my name's Skye. I figure you probably already know that, though. I believe you were at my party a while ago with Devonte, after all. It's Marcus, isn't it?" There's no need to get off on a wrong foot with his first teammate, now is there?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler ThePureLight7. 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.
"Yeah, yeah, I know who you are. Your party was lame, y'know that? Who serves twinkies at a party, anyways?"
Marcus fingered the bolts and turned them over and over in his hands, getting a feel for them. He pricked his finger on the tip, tested out how sharp they were and held them in tight fists, thrusting a few times. He wasn't used to using weapons, but these would do. These would do nicely. Not that Marcus was expecting to use them any time soon. Skye wasn't about to start shit, and neither was Marcus, as long as it didn't serve a purpose. No use getting rid of a perfectly good tool. Like a blank piece of paper or a block of wood, Marcus could bend and mold Skye to serve a purpose. Even the dirtiest of wood could be sanded down, cut up, carved into something useful and polished with a stain or lacquer.
If he decided to stick with him, that is.
"So, here's how it is."
Like hell was Marcus giving Skye the chance to give him orders. If anyone was leading, it was Marcus. If he let Skye lead then Marcus might not make it, and that would make Laney cry, and Marcus couldn't let that happen now could he?
"I'm going to go looking for Devonte, Anthony and Jaszmine. You want to tag along, you're free to do so, I ain't got no beef with you. Just keep your head down and your ass out of the way, and don't pull that trigger unless I tell you."
Marcus, turning away from Skye and starting off, took a moment to check his shit. Backpack was sitting nicely with all of the useful things inside it. He tucked one of the bolts in a belt loop behind his back, covering it with his shirt, and he slipped another into the band of his watch. He may not have liked it, but he learned a few things about concealing weapons. Had to in some neighborhoods. You had to know who was palming a blade or packing heat, how to pick them out in a crowd and how to avoid them. Marcus had to know how to get rid of the weapon. Know where it was held and how to grab it quickly and keep it from becoming a problem in a fight. Marcus knew this would be his game. He was born for this stuff. He knew how to act, how to react, how to attack and defend. He lived in Detroit, and a pretty bad part of it at that. Marcus knew what it was like to get his ass kicked. He knew what it was liked to be jumped, mugged, cut, stabbed, shot.
Marcus wasn't keen on repeating any of that.
If this wasn't Marcus' game, he would make it his game. Shape the game or shape himself. More tools would make that easier. His teammates would make decent tools. Even if they were all like Skye, he could at least use them for... something.
"You coming?"
The game was just beginning. Alone, with his friends, or with some arbitrary team mates, Marcus would win this. He had to. Twisting and turning and flipping and spinning one of the bolts in his hand, Marcus headed off. He didn't know where he was going, exactly, but anywhere was better than here.
He was tired of sweating.
God damn, it's hot here.
[Yellow #4 - Marcus Walker. Continued in Putting in Work.]
Marcus fingered the bolts and turned them over and over in his hands, getting a feel for them. He pricked his finger on the tip, tested out how sharp they were and held them in tight fists, thrusting a few times. He wasn't used to using weapons, but these would do. These would do nicely. Not that Marcus was expecting to use them any time soon. Skye wasn't about to start shit, and neither was Marcus, as long as it didn't serve a purpose. No use getting rid of a perfectly good tool. Like a blank piece of paper or a block of wood, Marcus could bend and mold Skye to serve a purpose. Even the dirtiest of wood could be sanded down, cut up, carved into something useful and polished with a stain or lacquer.
If he decided to stick with him, that is.
"So, here's how it is."
Like hell was Marcus giving Skye the chance to give him orders. If anyone was leading, it was Marcus. If he let Skye lead then Marcus might not make it, and that would make Laney cry, and Marcus couldn't let that happen now could he?
"I'm going to go looking for Devonte, Anthony and Jaszmine. You want to tag along, you're free to do so, I ain't got no beef with you. Just keep your head down and your ass out of the way, and don't pull that trigger unless I tell you."
Marcus, turning away from Skye and starting off, took a moment to check his shit. Backpack was sitting nicely with all of the useful things inside it. He tucked one of the bolts in a belt loop behind his back, covering it with his shirt, and he slipped another into the band of his watch. He may not have liked it, but he learned a few things about concealing weapons. Had to in some neighborhoods. You had to know who was palming a blade or packing heat, how to pick them out in a crowd and how to avoid them. Marcus had to know how to get rid of the weapon. Know where it was held and how to grab it quickly and keep it from becoming a problem in a fight. Marcus knew this would be his game. He was born for this stuff. He knew how to act, how to react, how to attack and defend. He lived in Detroit, and a pretty bad part of it at that. Marcus knew what it was like to get his ass kicked. He knew what it was liked to be jumped, mugged, cut, stabbed, shot.
Marcus wasn't keen on repeating any of that.
If this wasn't Marcus' game, he would make it his game. Shape the game or shape himself. More tools would make that easier. His teammates would make decent tools. Even if they were all like Skye, he could at least use them for... something.
"You coming?"
The game was just beginning. Alone, with his friends, or with some arbitrary team mates, Marcus would win this. He had to. Twisting and turning and flipping and spinning one of the bolts in his hand, Marcus headed off. He didn't know where he was going, exactly, but anywhere was better than here.
He was tired of sweating.
God damn, it's hot here.
[Yellow #4 - Marcus Walker. Continued in Putting in Work.]
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ThePureLight7*
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 8:00 pm
Skye could tell that the team bonding experience from this point on would be rocky with Marcus' next comment. "Yeah, yeah, I know who you are. Your party was lame, y'know that? Who serves twinkies at a party, anyways?"
There are numerous things that one simply does not do, at least in Skye's mind. Allow me, Skye's narrator, to present the 10 Commandments of Skye-dom.
I. Thou shalt not hesitate when offered a free beer.
II. Thou shalt not use Andrew W.K.'s name in vain.
III. Thou shalt not pass out on the floor. At least have the decency to get to a futon or something.
IV. Thou shalt not have an orgy unless the girl-to-guy ratio is a balanced 3:1.
V. Thou shalt not eat the last chip unless the party's head says it is allowed.
VI. Thou shalt not leave the party early, with the exception of a close relative dying. Cousins don't count.
VII. Thou break it, thou buy it.
VIII. Thou shalt not use a preposition to end a sentence with.
IX. Thou shalt not mess with Texas.
And of course, the most important commandment: Thou shalt not criticize another man's party unless it has no alcohol. Especially if that man is Skyler fucking Thsani, Archangel of Party. Marcus had broken this commandment in Skye's face.
However, Skye played it off. Despite the fact that his entire system of beliefs had been mocked relentlessly, he was still on fucking Death Island. He would have to compromise with him, no matter how their personalities clashed. He didn't have to like it, though.
"Oh," he said, feigning a chuckle, "You have to pander to the lowest common denominator, y'know. In the case of a warehouse party, that usually refers to the stoners." Does he even know what that means? Skye asked himself, starting to quickly regret his partner choice, despite Marc's strength. Hopefully the others in the group would better meet Skye's standards.
"So, here's how it is," Marcus said after a very brief moment. Skye could tell he was about to start bossing him around.
Like hell was Skye giving Marcus the chance to give him orders. If anyone was leading, it was Skye. Still, Skye thought, He does seem a little violent and anger-prone. It's probably best to comply to his demands until we find the others. Racial profiling? Probably, but it's payback for never being allowed onto a airplane without being probed up the ass.
"I'm going to go looking for [It], Anthony and Jaszmine. You want to tag along, you're free to do so, I ain't got no beef with you. Just keep your head down and your ass out of the way, and don't pull that trigger unless I tell you."
Ah, hell naw! Skye said, We're looking for our fucking team first! What the hell are your friends going to do if they're all wearing frowny-face bandanas and pointing loaded Uzis at us? And on top of that, I'll use my weapon as much as I damn well please! I didn't have to give you those bolts, ass.
However, before he could say anything, Marcus had already started walking off. Skye would have to take these points with him later. Once he had calmed down. "You coming?" Marcus called.
Skye sighed and followed. He hummed to himself in an attempt to calm down.
And I said, 'It's alright...'
[Yellow #1 - Skye Thsani. Continued in Putting in Work.]
There are numerous things that one simply does not do, at least in Skye's mind. Allow me, Skye's narrator, to present the 10 Commandments of Skye-dom.
I. Thou shalt not hesitate when offered a free beer.
II. Thou shalt not use Andrew W.K.'s name in vain.
III. Thou shalt not pass out on the floor. At least have the decency to get to a futon or something.
IV. Thou shalt not have an orgy unless the girl-to-guy ratio is a balanced 3:1.
V. Thou shalt not eat the last chip unless the party's head says it is allowed.
VI. Thou shalt not leave the party early, with the exception of a close relative dying. Cousins don't count.
VII. Thou break it, thou buy it.
VIII. Thou shalt not use a preposition to end a sentence with.
IX. Thou shalt not mess with Texas.
And of course, the most important commandment: Thou shalt not criticize another man's party unless it has no alcohol. Especially if that man is Skyler fucking Thsani, Archangel of Party. Marcus had broken this commandment in Skye's face.
However, Skye played it off. Despite the fact that his entire system of beliefs had been mocked relentlessly, he was still on fucking Death Island. He would have to compromise with him, no matter how their personalities clashed. He didn't have to like it, though.
"Oh," he said, feigning a chuckle, "You have to pander to the lowest common denominator, y'know. In the case of a warehouse party, that usually refers to the stoners." Does he even know what that means? Skye asked himself, starting to quickly regret his partner choice, despite Marc's strength. Hopefully the others in the group would better meet Skye's standards.
"So, here's how it is," Marcus said after a very brief moment. Skye could tell he was about to start bossing him around.
Like hell was Skye giving Marcus the chance to give him orders. If anyone was leading, it was Skye. Still, Skye thought, He does seem a little violent and anger-prone. It's probably best to comply to his demands until we find the others. Racial profiling? Probably, but it's payback for never being allowed onto a airplane without being probed up the ass.
"I'm going to go looking for [It], Anthony and Jaszmine. You want to tag along, you're free to do so, I ain't got no beef with you. Just keep your head down and your ass out of the way, and don't pull that trigger unless I tell you."
Ah, hell naw! Skye said, We're looking for our fucking team first! What the hell are your friends going to do if they're all wearing frowny-face bandanas and pointing loaded Uzis at us? And on top of that, I'll use my weapon as much as I damn well please! I didn't have to give you those bolts, ass.
However, before he could say anything, Marcus had already started walking off. Skye would have to take these points with him later. Once he had calmed down. "You coming?" Marcus called.
Skye sighed and followed. He hummed to himself in an attempt to calm down.
And I said, 'It's alright...'
[Yellow #1 - Skye Thsani. Continued in Putting in Work.]
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