((OOC: Just filling in for Keaka, with full permission and all that. Tiffany Dexter continued from The Dark Prince))
Tiffany Dexter had not been having a good day. She was exhausted, she was too hot, she was thirsty beyond belief and her favourite cardigan had a freaking bullet hole in it. Not that she could have worn it in this heat, but that cardigan had been expensive.
The only thing keeping Tiffany going was the thought of the beautiful, delicious bottles of water she had seen in her bag and how incredible it would be to drink them. And then to beat the crap out of the gangly freak that had stolen them.
It wasn’t enough for Odile to make highschool miserable for her. It wasn’t enough to leave her to be killed, or worse, at the hands of Marvia and that freaky priest. No, she had to go and steal her bag on top of that. Mind you, Tiffany had certainly taught Reverend fatass a lesson in who-not-to-fuck-with, and she’d be happy to do the same for Odile.
Just as soon as she caught up with the bitch.
She thought she was so smart, didn’t she? Acting all friendly, giving her a gun, just to use her as a freaking distraction as soon as trouble showed up.
The gun, on that note, was heavier than she’d first realized. Tiffany had tucked it into her waistband to give her arm a rest, but the butt was barrel was digging into her ass and walking was causing the chambers to rub her lower back raw. It was starting to really hurt.
Her foot caught a root and she stumbled, almost falling. Reflexes, honed from hours of karate practice, sent Tiffany’s right arm shooting towards a nearby tree, and she managed to avoid a fall. She leaned against the tree, waiting for the adrenaline spike to subside.
It was getting dark, and she was getting tired. As much as Tiffany hated to admit it, she couldn’t realistically keep going. She could barely see the trees it was so dim, and her lack of sleep wasn’t helping. A night without water would hurt, but tripping her way through a rainforest for hours would hurt more. It looked like her revenge would have to wait until the morning.
Then she heard the shout.
“YO, TOP HAT!”
Top hat. Had she seen one of those in Odile’s bag? She slipped the gun from her pants, ignoring the scrape of the sight on her back’s now-tender skin. God, she’d waited years to give that bitch what was coming to her.
The shout had come from up somewhere up the hill. Tiffany didn’t relish walking up it, but the thought of the punishment she’d inflict on Odile when she got to the top made it just… just so worth it.
***
The bitch had found some friends. Lexi was with her, and another girl who looked familiar, plus some guy with a sword and a skank in a playboy costume. That was fine; her gun held six shots.
They were too busy talking to notice her. Tiffany took aim and pulled the hammer back, taking satisfaction in the audible click. Now they noticed her.
“What, Odile? Surprised to see me? Thought that I’d been killed by those psychopaths? That you could just take my stuff and nothing would happen?”
Odile raised her hands, smiling. Stupid bitch didn’t realize how serious Tiffany was. She spoke:
“I thought you might not want to be worrying about it, mid-firefight and all. Your bags here, untouched, so why not us all calm down?”
She waved her hand at a bag on the ground. Now Tiffany thought about it, Odile was the sort to take someone’s things and ditch them at the first opportunity, just for her sick idea of fun. Tiffany supposed she could at least be grateful that hadn’t happened.
She lowered her gun, but kept it in her hand.
“I’m Tiffany. I’ve had my clothes ruined, my pack stolen and a crazy priest try to kill me, so I’m in no mood for any kind of shit at the moment.” Tiffany held up her cardigan.
Tiffany opened the bag that Odile had gestured at, taking out water and drinking deep. It was warm, but good. She turned to Lexi, who looked shaken.
“By the way, our friend the reverend said his name was Harold... and I shot his fucking ear off.”
Give a Finger ...
The start of a good team?
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Chelsea recognized the new girl, the one who wasn't on her team. She couldn't remember her name, but as she walked forward and into better focus Chelsea was sure she knew her from somewhere.
The familiar face did not put her at ease, however, not just because the bandanna in her hand wasn't green. Not just because Chelsea had few positive memories of anyone at school.
No, it was the way she walked, and soon talked. She was so calm, so sure. To be that here, now, it was unsettling. SOTF was not a place to be calm or sure or charismatic, it was a place to kill and or be killed, nothing else.
Chelsea bit her lip as she finally admitted this to herself. Admitted that she was somewhere where people would, and probably already had, died. Admitted that she could easily be among them at any moment. Admitted the real reason her mind was such a mess. To delay this realization.
But now it was too late.
So, as the too-calm girl talked, her voice cooly relating her near death and introduced herself as Odile and the new green team member as Lexi. Chelsea thought. Really thought. She was planning, or plotting, or whatever someone would call it. Her mind had free rein and it was finally doing someth-
Then a voice sounded from just beneath her chin, snapping her back to reality so quickly she felt herself lift a few inches off the ground.
That destruction of focus would have been acceptable if the voice had said anything useful. Like, for instance, the directions to a weapons stash, or a helicopter that could autopilot itself off of this death trap, or even a nice cave. But no, instead it was some nut job shouting at Chelsea, telling her what to do spouting lines that sounded like they should've been in bad children's television.
The pure, unadulterated idiocy of the statement made her twitch. Was it some kind of joke? This was their mentor? A- a protester trying to get them to fight against "the man"?!
The blithe way Sidney told her the obvious made her tense.
The tone of David's voice when he spoke to the voice made her smile, and he took all the best lines, so Chelsea kept quiet.
She even kept quiet when another girl came into the clearing not long after, with a fucking gun in her hand.
She kept quiet, but her mind went into overdrive, and this time there wasn't any voice to disrupt her concentration, only another teenage girl trying to threaten her way into the group, and putting all of them in danger.
"Well, Tiffany, I don't give a damn about your clothes."
Only a girl who thought that it was perfectly acceptable to point guns at people you'd just met.
"I do, however care about the fact that you pointed a gun at us."
Only a girl that apparently did not know a crucial fact that Chelsea did.
"There is a rule," she said, her voice flat, "known as the 21-foot rule. It says, more or less, that if someone with a knife is within 21-feet of someone with a gun, the person with the gun might as well be dead. That is of course, if the person with the gun is a trained police officer instead of an untrained teenaged girl." She walked up to Tiffany. She didn't wave her bat around, she didn't try to menace the other girl, she just held it up and out, ready to swing, "Now, I might not have a knife, but you are much, much closer than 21-feet and this bat is very, very good for smashing things. I'm not in the mood for any shit either. Drop the gun."
The familiar face did not put her at ease, however, not just because the bandanna in her hand wasn't green. Not just because Chelsea had few positive memories of anyone at school.
No, it was the way she walked, and soon talked. She was so calm, so sure. To be that here, now, it was unsettling. SOTF was not a place to be calm or sure or charismatic, it was a place to kill and or be killed, nothing else.
Chelsea bit her lip as she finally admitted this to herself. Admitted that she was somewhere where people would, and probably already had, died. Admitted that she could easily be among them at any moment. Admitted the real reason her mind was such a mess. To delay this realization.
But now it was too late.
So, as the too-calm girl talked, her voice cooly relating her near death and introduced herself as Odile and the new green team member as Lexi. Chelsea thought. Really thought. She was planning, or plotting, or whatever someone would call it. Her mind had free rein and it was finally doing someth-
Then a voice sounded from just beneath her chin, snapping her back to reality so quickly she felt herself lift a few inches off the ground.
That destruction of focus would have been acceptable if the voice had said anything useful. Like, for instance, the directions to a weapons stash, or a helicopter that could autopilot itself off of this death trap, or even a nice cave. But no, instead it was some nut job shouting at Chelsea, telling her what to do spouting lines that sounded like they should've been in bad children's television.
The pure, unadulterated idiocy of the statement made her twitch. Was it some kind of joke? This was their mentor? A- a protester trying to get them to fight against "the man"?!
The blithe way Sidney told her the obvious made her tense.
The tone of David's voice when he spoke to the voice made her smile, and he took all the best lines, so Chelsea kept quiet.
She even kept quiet when another girl came into the clearing not long after, with a fucking gun in her hand.
She kept quiet, but her mind went into overdrive, and this time there wasn't any voice to disrupt her concentration, only another teenage girl trying to threaten her way into the group, and putting all of them in danger.
"Well, Tiffany, I don't give a damn about your clothes."
Only a girl who thought that it was perfectly acceptable to point guns at people you'd just met.
"I do, however care about the fact that you pointed a gun at us."
Only a girl that apparently did not know a crucial fact that Chelsea did.
"There is a rule," she said, her voice flat, "known as the 21-foot rule. It says, more or less, that if someone with a knife is within 21-feet of someone with a gun, the person with the gun might as well be dead. That is of course, if the person with the gun is a trained police officer instead of an untrained teenaged girl." She walked up to Tiffany. She didn't wave her bat around, she didn't try to menace the other girl, she just held it up and out, ready to swing, "Now, I might not have a knife, but you are much, much closer than 21-feet and this bat is very, very good for smashing things. I'm not in the mood for any shit either. Drop the gun."
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((OOC: All GMing is permissed))
Odile and Tiffany had never gotten on. All throughout high school, Odile had tormented the other girl, pushing her buttons and pulling her strings. Bullying her? Odile wouldn’t have called it that, but she couldn’t really deny it either.
It wasn’t personal, not by any means. Sure, she had no love for Tiffany, but that wasn’t why Odile picked on her.
It wasn’t even because it was fun. It was fun, there was no denying that, but Odile found fun in messing with anyone. Tiffany was different. Unique.
Tiffany was safe.
DHS was a rough school, and while Odile wasn’t exactly a coward, she was certainly not a fool. Manipulate Marvia? Taunt Devonte? Fuck off. There was risky and then there was throwing your life away.
But Tiffany? She was above all that, wanted to make something of herself. It showed in her superior little attitude, her stupid little cardigans. She’d never “stoop” to fighting back, and Odile had seen that and exploited it.
She’d learnt Tiffany’s triggers; her brother, her looks. She’d learnt her reactions; frustration, fear, impotent rage. It hadn’t even been hard, Tiffany was so deliciously obvious that after a year of school together Odile could read her just as easily as English.
Yes, Tiffany was easy. And this idiot girl was still fucking it up.
Could Chelsea not tell the mood she was in? Tiffany was clearly exhausted, too tired not to pick a fight, and the restraint that Odile had prized her for sure as fuck didn’t apply here, if her shooting people’s fucking ears off was anything to go by. Odile had been surprised to see her alive, but had placated her as best she could, and done a decent job at that. And Chelsea, genius that she was, had decided to just fuck all of that up and start waving baseball bats in people’s faces.
Honestly, some fucking people.
Should she intervene? Mediation wasn’t a hobby of Odile’s, but she was confident in her ability to defuse the situation. The question really was whether she wanted to.
Fucking with Tiffany had been fun, but Odile was beginning to regret giving her the gun. She’d survived for now on talking alone, but Odile knew that wouldn’t get her much further. Surrounded be armed people, with nothing but gaffer tape in her bag, Odile was beginning to feel a little helpless.
It was an emotion she was neither familiar not comfortable with.
Odile hated to admit it, but she’d been lucky. If Tiffany hadn’t been around when Marvia and apparently-Harold had shown up, if this new group hadn’t been friendly…
Without a weapon, she was an announcement waiting to happen.
She tried to think about it logically, putting her desire for protection in terms of pragmatism, rather than fear. Rationalize fear. Justify anxiety. How could she accomplish anything, if she were dead?
Really, not wanting to die was perfectly reasonable. Nothing to be ashamed of. Natural.
Control fear. Ignore anxiety.
She breathed deeply.
With a weapon she could act. She could do things, things other than just running and pleading. Odile knew the power of her persuasion, her ideas, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that these were insufficient.
She needed a weapon, and she doubted anyone would give theirs up willingly.
Someone would have to die.
Odile backed away, slowly. Chelsea seemed to think that her bat had an advantage over Tiffany’s gun, but Odile doubted it. Even unarmed, Tiffany had half a foot and a whole lot of kung fu bullshit over her aggressor.
The little girl was dead.
The real question in Odile’s mind was how the bunny would act. She hadn’t seemed too friendly towards Chelsea, and they didn’t share a school or team. Still Odile couldn’t imagine many people would want to let murder go unpunished. Would she retaliate?
That’d be best, really. She didn’t want Tiffany to die exactly, but despite what Chelsea was harping on about, a gun beat a bat any day of the week in Odile’s opinion. And who knows, maybe she’d actually manage to defend herself?
Bunny girl’s gun looked better anyway.
Odile looked around for any cover from wayward fire. There wasn’t anything close or substantial enough, but she guessed that dropping to the ground would suffice. She tensed, preparing herself.
Tiffany looked like she was about to speak.
“Yeah, thanks for the fucking tip, Little Miss Sunshine. Look, I’m not here to shoot you or to fight you, okay? I have nothing against you”
Not a promising start.
“So take that baseball bat out of my face.”
That was… uncharacteristic. Odile was bothered by the lack of murder to be sure, but more worried by Tiffany’s actions. She knew the girl by heart, or thought she did, and Odile had never seen that coming.
What the fuck was going on?
This was Tiffany here. Barely-contained-anger Tiffany. She didn’t seem angry now, barely even annoyed. She seemed resigned, if anything. Odile tried to put herself into the other girl’s shoes, figure out what was happening in her head.
She couldn’t.
Tiffany picked up her back.
“You know what? Fuck you guys.”
She turned to a camera, giving it the finger.
“And fuck you too.”
Tiffany started backing away.
“Don’t forget, your fat friend Harold is heading this way. He’s pretty fucking ballsy, maybe you can use your bat for something useful and crush them for me.”
Tiffany waved and turned, walking off. She twisted her head, shouting behind her.
“Then kill him. That’d be funny.”
And she was gone.
[[Tiffany Dexter Continued To: Finders Keepers.]]
What the fuck was that?
Odile knew Tiffany back to front. She knew her triggers, her tells, her thoughts. She had her figured out completely, and she’d predicted her every action.
And she’d been wrong.
Her lack of a good weapon was upsetting. This, being unable to predict people, was devastating. Her greatest advantage, her only advantage, stripped of her. She really was unarmed.
Odile didn’t even bother concealing how stunned she was.
What did she even have? Anyone she considered a friend was somewhere else, just as lost and in just as much danger as Odile was. With her here was a bunny, a quivering sack of uselessness, a bitch with a bat and some fucking other guy. She had no weapon. She had nothing she could do to people, apparently. She had fuck all.
She was fucked.
Odile felt helpless, and scared, and very alone.
Crushed by fear. Overwhelmed with anxiety.
She sat down.
Odile and Tiffany had never gotten on. All throughout high school, Odile had tormented the other girl, pushing her buttons and pulling her strings. Bullying her? Odile wouldn’t have called it that, but she couldn’t really deny it either.
It wasn’t personal, not by any means. Sure, she had no love for Tiffany, but that wasn’t why Odile picked on her.
It wasn’t even because it was fun. It was fun, there was no denying that, but Odile found fun in messing with anyone. Tiffany was different. Unique.
Tiffany was safe.
DHS was a rough school, and while Odile wasn’t exactly a coward, she was certainly not a fool. Manipulate Marvia? Taunt Devonte? Fuck off. There was risky and then there was throwing your life away.
But Tiffany? She was above all that, wanted to make something of herself. It showed in her superior little attitude, her stupid little cardigans. She’d never “stoop” to fighting back, and Odile had seen that and exploited it.
She’d learnt Tiffany’s triggers; her brother, her looks. She’d learnt her reactions; frustration, fear, impotent rage. It hadn’t even been hard, Tiffany was so deliciously obvious that after a year of school together Odile could read her just as easily as English.
Yes, Tiffany was easy. And this idiot girl was still fucking it up.
Could Chelsea not tell the mood she was in? Tiffany was clearly exhausted, too tired not to pick a fight, and the restraint that Odile had prized her for sure as fuck didn’t apply here, if her shooting people’s fucking ears off was anything to go by. Odile had been surprised to see her alive, but had placated her as best she could, and done a decent job at that. And Chelsea, genius that she was, had decided to just fuck all of that up and start waving baseball bats in people’s faces.
Honestly, some fucking people.
Should she intervene? Mediation wasn’t a hobby of Odile’s, but she was confident in her ability to defuse the situation. The question really was whether she wanted to.
Fucking with Tiffany had been fun, but Odile was beginning to regret giving her the gun. She’d survived for now on talking alone, but Odile knew that wouldn’t get her much further. Surrounded be armed people, with nothing but gaffer tape in her bag, Odile was beginning to feel a little helpless.
It was an emotion she was neither familiar not comfortable with.
Odile hated to admit it, but she’d been lucky. If Tiffany hadn’t been around when Marvia and apparently-Harold had shown up, if this new group hadn’t been friendly…
Without a weapon, she was an announcement waiting to happen.
She tried to think about it logically, putting her desire for protection in terms of pragmatism, rather than fear. Rationalize fear. Justify anxiety. How could she accomplish anything, if she were dead?
Really, not wanting to die was perfectly reasonable. Nothing to be ashamed of. Natural.
Control fear. Ignore anxiety.
She breathed deeply.
With a weapon she could act. She could do things, things other than just running and pleading. Odile knew the power of her persuasion, her ideas, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that these were insufficient.
She needed a weapon, and she doubted anyone would give theirs up willingly.
Someone would have to die.
Odile backed away, slowly. Chelsea seemed to think that her bat had an advantage over Tiffany’s gun, but Odile doubted it. Even unarmed, Tiffany had half a foot and a whole lot of kung fu bullshit over her aggressor.
The little girl was dead.
The real question in Odile’s mind was how the bunny would act. She hadn’t seemed too friendly towards Chelsea, and they didn’t share a school or team. Still Odile couldn’t imagine many people would want to let murder go unpunished. Would she retaliate?
That’d be best, really. She didn’t want Tiffany to die exactly, but despite what Chelsea was harping on about, a gun beat a bat any day of the week in Odile’s opinion. And who knows, maybe she’d actually manage to defend herself?
Bunny girl’s gun looked better anyway.
Odile looked around for any cover from wayward fire. There wasn’t anything close or substantial enough, but she guessed that dropping to the ground would suffice. She tensed, preparing herself.
Tiffany looked like she was about to speak.
“Yeah, thanks for the fucking tip, Little Miss Sunshine. Look, I’m not here to shoot you or to fight you, okay? I have nothing against you”
Not a promising start.
“So take that baseball bat out of my face.”
That was… uncharacteristic. Odile was bothered by the lack of murder to be sure, but more worried by Tiffany’s actions. She knew the girl by heart, or thought she did, and Odile had never seen that coming.
What the fuck was going on?
This was Tiffany here. Barely-contained-anger Tiffany. She didn’t seem angry now, barely even annoyed. She seemed resigned, if anything. Odile tried to put herself into the other girl’s shoes, figure out what was happening in her head.
She couldn’t.
Tiffany picked up her back.
“You know what? Fuck you guys.”
She turned to a camera, giving it the finger.
“And fuck you too.”
Tiffany started backing away.
“Don’t forget, your fat friend Harold is heading this way. He’s pretty fucking ballsy, maybe you can use your bat for something useful and crush them for me.”
Tiffany waved and turned, walking off. She twisted her head, shouting behind her.
“Then kill him. That’d be funny.”
And she was gone.
[[Tiffany Dexter Continued To: Finders Keepers.]]
What the fuck was that?
Odile knew Tiffany back to front. She knew her triggers, her tells, her thoughts. She had her figured out completely, and she’d predicted her every action.
And she’d been wrong.
Her lack of a good weapon was upsetting. This, being unable to predict people, was devastating. Her greatest advantage, her only advantage, stripped of her. She really was unarmed.
Odile didn’t even bother concealing how stunned she was.
What did she even have? Anyone she considered a friend was somewhere else, just as lost and in just as much danger as Odile was. With her here was a bunny, a quivering sack of uselessness, a bitch with a bat and some fucking other guy. She had no weapon. She had nothing she could do to people, apparently. She had fuck all.
She was fucked.
Odile felt helpless, and scared, and very alone.
Crushed by fear. Overwhelmed with anxiety.
She sat down.
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David had replied to the crazy broad's ranting by yelling at Chelsea's collar for her to give them actually useful advice, and then continued. Sidney smiled that smile once again. What could she say? He was echoing what pretty much everyone else had to say. Really, she seriously thought that they automatically knew what she meant by "FIGHT AGAINST IT". It could mean a shitload of things, once you really think about it.
Eh, she could only hope Yellow Team's were more... competent. Less optimistic, more actually fucking helpful. Like tell them something about who was crazed and such.
But oh look! What appeared to be Odile's friend showed up!
.... With a gun.
And clearly pissed off.
Well, fuck.
Odile had swiftly calmed her down, telling her that she got her bags and that she should calm down. So the girl had lowered her gun a bit and reached through her bag. And then she promptly introduced herself as Tiffany, explaining that her clothes were ruined, her bag was stolen, and the crazy guy in the church-y outfit had attacked them.
Apparently priest asshole had his ear shot off, though.
Chelsea, however...
Oh jesus, what was she doing now?
She proceeded to rattle off something about a "21 foot rule", explaining that a bat could kill someone that easily. Of course, a gun could easily just be shot from that distance.
Sidney's smile faded.
She was being stupid. The girl had calmed down enough and was now drinking her water, and she was all "BASEBALL BAT I GOT A MOTHERFUCKING BASEBALL BAT". The thing was, a gun was still a gun. Long distance versus melee.
And naturally, things turned out the way one would expect.
Tiffany got angry. Er.
Sidney stepped away backwards from her. Okay, where the hell was her gun, in case she got violent?
And then she remembered.
Her bag! She had placed it in clear view right on top of her bag which happened to be a foot away from her feet. Sidney reached behind her, and within seconds had it within her two hands.
But by then Tiffany had stormed off, making it unnecessary.
Well then. What to make of that?
"Your friend seems... friendly", she said, casually removing one hand from her gun and placing it on her hip, pouting.
Wait a second... Harold?
Couldn't be that Harold, right?
She knew a Harold. Harold Finston motherfucking Smythe. Bastard had a reputation of being a pervert. She had seen that blog. Everyone had. One noteworthy post involved him bitching and moaning about how some girl wasn't paying attention to him or whatever. Like any girl would pay attention to a fat perverted basement dweller who decided to base his entire wardrobe on a fictional character, and not even one who dressed awesomely, at that. But it seemed that he had switched from the all blue get-up to a reverend costume. She guessed that was his version of the bunny costume. She had no idea why he would wear it, though.
So, good news: someone Sidney loved to torment was here, so she could figure out a way to bug him if she ran into him. Bad news: he was attacking people. Somewhere along the line he was going to declare vengeance on... pretty much everyone, now that she thought of it.
"Hey David... we know Harold, right? Creepy-ass stalker who was crying about how a girl didn't notice him on his blog that one time? It... might be that Harold?"
A new mystery, though, was popping up. Why would a girl from Detroit team up with Harold? She guessed they were on the same team. That was the only reasonable explanation. She'd feel sorry for the girl if she wasn't apparently loony, as well. Oh! That explained it! They BOTH have issues, at least according to what those two said! Sidney would call it a match made in heaven if she wasn't repulsed by the idea of Harold even touching someone.
She smiled again.
Part of her wished never to see them in action. On the other... it was like a train wreck. You wanted to look away, but you also wanted to get a better look.
And from what she knew of Harold? Everything about him was a train wreck.
Eh, she could only hope Yellow Team's were more... competent. Less optimistic, more actually fucking helpful. Like tell them something about who was crazed and such.
But oh look! What appeared to be Odile's friend showed up!
.... With a gun.
And clearly pissed off.
Well, fuck.
Odile had swiftly calmed her down, telling her that she got her bags and that she should calm down. So the girl had lowered her gun a bit and reached through her bag. And then she promptly introduced herself as Tiffany, explaining that her clothes were ruined, her bag was stolen, and the crazy guy in the church-y outfit had attacked them.
Apparently priest asshole had his ear shot off, though.
Chelsea, however...
Oh jesus, what was she doing now?
She proceeded to rattle off something about a "21 foot rule", explaining that a bat could kill someone that easily. Of course, a gun could easily just be shot from that distance.
Sidney's smile faded.
She was being stupid. The girl had calmed down enough and was now drinking her water, and she was all "BASEBALL BAT I GOT A MOTHERFUCKING BASEBALL BAT". The thing was, a gun was still a gun. Long distance versus melee.
And naturally, things turned out the way one would expect.
Tiffany got angry. Er.
Sidney stepped away backwards from her. Okay, where the hell was her gun, in case she got violent?
And then she remembered.
Her bag! She had placed it in clear view right on top of her bag which happened to be a foot away from her feet. Sidney reached behind her, and within seconds had it within her two hands.
But by then Tiffany had stormed off, making it unnecessary.
Well then. What to make of that?
"Your friend seems... friendly", she said, casually removing one hand from her gun and placing it on her hip, pouting.
Wait a second... Harold?
Couldn't be that Harold, right?
She knew a Harold. Harold Finston motherfucking Smythe. Bastard had a reputation of being a pervert. She had seen that blog. Everyone had. One noteworthy post involved him bitching and moaning about how some girl wasn't paying attention to him or whatever. Like any girl would pay attention to a fat perverted basement dweller who decided to base his entire wardrobe on a fictional character, and not even one who dressed awesomely, at that. But it seemed that he had switched from the all blue get-up to a reverend costume. She guessed that was his version of the bunny costume. She had no idea why he would wear it, though.
So, good news: someone Sidney loved to torment was here, so she could figure out a way to bug him if she ran into him. Bad news: he was attacking people. Somewhere along the line he was going to declare vengeance on... pretty much everyone, now that she thought of it.
"Hey David... we know Harold, right? Creepy-ass stalker who was crying about how a girl didn't notice him on his blog that one time? It... might be that Harold?"
A new mystery, though, was popping up. Why would a girl from Detroit team up with Harold? She guessed they were on the same team. That was the only reasonable explanation. She'd feel sorry for the girl if she wasn't apparently loony, as well. Oh! That explained it! They BOTH have issues, at least according to what those two said! Sidney would call it a match made in heaven if she wasn't repulsed by the idea of Harold even touching someone.
She smiled again.
Part of her wished never to see them in action. On the other... it was like a train wreck. You wanted to look away, but you also wanted to get a better look.
And from what she knew of Harold? Everything about him was a train wreck.
CYBERS:
HARERAISER (Winter Castillo)The synthwave bunnygirl programmer roller weeb!
Currently: Confused? Horrified?
SECOND CHANCES
Junko KurosawaThink Johnny Knoxville but a teenage girl.
Currently: Ridng a shopping cart (in-between threads)
Bella Bianchi
Ballet dancer with pressure.
Currently: In the student lounge
(Meanwhile in the past...)
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Courtography
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- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
Lexi didn't like the way this was panning out. David had yelled back at the mentor lady in Chelsea's collar. And now Tiffany had shown up and almost got in a fight with her other teammate. She so did not want them fighting.
Her concern turned out to be unwarranted. Tiffany left. Lexi felt a wave of resentment towards her new teammate. Tiffany had protected her from Harold and she had to threaten her with a baseball bat. She couldn't fight with her though, she was too quiet. Too meek.
Then Sidney, who was oddly enough wearing some bunny outfit, started to talk. Lexi had to speak up. "Yeah it's that Harold." The feeling of revulsion when he tried to touch her was coming over again. He was just so creepy!
Her concern turned out to be unwarranted. Tiffany left. Lexi felt a wave of resentment towards her new teammate. Tiffany had protected her from Harold and she had to threaten her with a baseball bat. She couldn't fight with her though, she was too quiet. Too meek.
Then Sidney, who was oddly enough wearing some bunny outfit, started to talk. Lexi had to speak up. "Yeah it's that Harold." The feeling of revulsion when he tried to touch her was coming over again. He was just so creepy!
((OOC: GMing with permission from Nami. Sorry sorry sorry for breaking post order, Odile has deadlines to keep))
She kept her breathing shallow and even. She kept her face blank. She kept her posture loose but upright. She kept her hands from shaking.
Odile tried to keep calm.
She needed to get away, that much was becoming clear. Tiffany had acted in a way so unlike any conception Odile had of her, who was to say that the rest of the people around her wouldn’t do the same? Was the bunny girl a killer? The bland guy? Baseball bitch? Apparently she couldn’t tell.
Shit.
What had gone wrong? Odile was tired, to be sure, but no more so than after a long performance. She’d never been so wrong before.
Mind you, had she had the chance to be so wrong before? She’d never been in a situation like this, with the stakes so high and so much dang-
Danger! Of course! That changes people, right? Tiffany had shot someone, she was dangerous now. Her whole conception of herself would’ve changed, no wonder her actions did too.
Detroit had plenty of “dangerous” kids, but Odile had never felt inclined to get too close to any of them, for that very reason. Sure they were interesting, but not enough to justify the sort of harm they could cause her. Had that been a mistake? Given her current circumstances, Odile had to admit that it probably had been, yeah.
Still, she doubted it would prove to be a fatal one.
Odile was calmer now, thinking quickly and clearly. God, she couldn’t believe how scared she’d just been. Pathetic, really. She glanced around surreptitiously, trying to see if any of her team mates had noticed her moment of weakness. All of them appeared to be looking at Tiffany. Good.
The gun held loosely bunny-girl’s hand drew Odile’s attention. The girl was distracted, her attention elsewhere. Odile was almost certain she could grab it before anyone had time to react. She’d lunge over, grab the gun, and get go-
Fuck.
That Chelsea girl was coming over to her, asking if she was okay. Odile fiddled with her hat brim, using her hand to hide the disappointment on her face.
Had bat-bitch noticed anything? No, of course she hadn’t. She couldn’t’ve, not possible. The question was situational, not specific; most people would be a little shaken after having a gun waved in their face. This was in her favour if anything, she just needed to act calm and everyone would think she was in total control.
Would they, though? Lexi hadn’t shot anyone, but who was to say that bunny-skank hadn’t? Had sword boy got his shank on? Chelsea seemed pretty comfortable waving her bat about, had she done so before? The fact that her difficulty in foreseeing others actions was not Odile’s fault, did not make the difficulty any less real.
She needed to get out of here. Odile looked up at Chelsea.
“Pretty good going there, but you needn’t’ve worried about her. Bark worse than bite and all that”
She sprung to her feet. Movement implied energy. Height implied power. It was hard to condescend to someone when they could see clear over the top of your head. Odile looked down at Chelsea. It was tempting to pat her on the cheek or ruffle her hair, an affectionate little gesture of dominance. She dispelled those thoughts. Not worth the risk.
Think. Plan. Evaluate. Odile turned the words into a stage mantra, repeated over and over and committed to memory. She was feeling better, but her situation had not measurably improved. Still unarmed. Still basically alone. Still having difficulty reading people.
She needed to get away from this group.
Her planned relied a lot on luck. Find someone she knew, someone she knew well. Ideally, someone well armed. Relieve them of their weapons, rinse, repeat. Long term value? Not a lot. Short term value? A little better. Fun? Oh fuck yes.
She picked up her bag. Chelsea looked approving and suggested they all get moving. She was right of course, but they shouldn’t all be moving together. Odile smiled at her.
“That’s a good plan, and all the best with it. Think I might head out on my own, though. You’ve got a decent group going here, ya don’t need me dragging you down.”
Jaunty but firm, leaving no time for anyone to ask just why she’d drag them down, just what exactly she was planning to do.
“It’s been fun.”
Big grin. Little wave. Start to back pace.
Time for her final words; something poignant yet short. Bittersweet, yet subtly so. Something to remember her by.
“Stay safe”
Or that’d do, she guessed. Fuck it, odds on they were dead anyway.
Odile started walking.
((Odile Jones continued in We are the Dead))
She kept her breathing shallow and even. She kept her face blank. She kept her posture loose but upright. She kept her hands from shaking.
Odile tried to keep calm.
She needed to get away, that much was becoming clear. Tiffany had acted in a way so unlike any conception Odile had of her, who was to say that the rest of the people around her wouldn’t do the same? Was the bunny girl a killer? The bland guy? Baseball bitch? Apparently she couldn’t tell.
Shit.
What had gone wrong? Odile was tired, to be sure, but no more so than after a long performance. She’d never been so wrong before.
Mind you, had she had the chance to be so wrong before? She’d never been in a situation like this, with the stakes so high and so much dang-
Danger! Of course! That changes people, right? Tiffany had shot someone, she was dangerous now. Her whole conception of herself would’ve changed, no wonder her actions did too.
Detroit had plenty of “dangerous” kids, but Odile had never felt inclined to get too close to any of them, for that very reason. Sure they were interesting, but not enough to justify the sort of harm they could cause her. Had that been a mistake? Given her current circumstances, Odile had to admit that it probably had been, yeah.
Still, she doubted it would prove to be a fatal one.
Odile was calmer now, thinking quickly and clearly. God, she couldn’t believe how scared she’d just been. Pathetic, really. She glanced around surreptitiously, trying to see if any of her team mates had noticed her moment of weakness. All of them appeared to be looking at Tiffany. Good.
The gun held loosely bunny-girl’s hand drew Odile’s attention. The girl was distracted, her attention elsewhere. Odile was almost certain she could grab it before anyone had time to react. She’d lunge over, grab the gun, and get go-
Fuck.
That Chelsea girl was coming over to her, asking if she was okay. Odile fiddled with her hat brim, using her hand to hide the disappointment on her face.
Had bat-bitch noticed anything? No, of course she hadn’t. She couldn’t’ve, not possible. The question was situational, not specific; most people would be a little shaken after having a gun waved in their face. This was in her favour if anything, she just needed to act calm and everyone would think she was in total control.
Would they, though? Lexi hadn’t shot anyone, but who was to say that bunny-skank hadn’t? Had sword boy got his shank on? Chelsea seemed pretty comfortable waving her bat about, had she done so before? The fact that her difficulty in foreseeing others actions was not Odile’s fault, did not make the difficulty any less real.
She needed to get out of here. Odile looked up at Chelsea.
“Pretty good going there, but you needn’t’ve worried about her. Bark worse than bite and all that”
She sprung to her feet. Movement implied energy. Height implied power. It was hard to condescend to someone when they could see clear over the top of your head. Odile looked down at Chelsea. It was tempting to pat her on the cheek or ruffle her hair, an affectionate little gesture of dominance. She dispelled those thoughts. Not worth the risk.
Think. Plan. Evaluate. Odile turned the words into a stage mantra, repeated over and over and committed to memory. She was feeling better, but her situation had not measurably improved. Still unarmed. Still basically alone. Still having difficulty reading people.
She needed to get away from this group.
Her planned relied a lot on luck. Find someone she knew, someone she knew well. Ideally, someone well armed. Relieve them of their weapons, rinse, repeat. Long term value? Not a lot. Short term value? A little better. Fun? Oh fuck yes.
She picked up her bag. Chelsea looked approving and suggested they all get moving. She was right of course, but they shouldn’t all be moving together. Odile smiled at her.
“That’s a good plan, and all the best with it. Think I might head out on my own, though. You’ve got a decent group going here, ya don’t need me dragging you down.”
Jaunty but firm, leaving no time for anyone to ask just why she’d drag them down, just what exactly she was planning to do.
“It’s been fun.”
Big grin. Little wave. Start to back pace.
Time for her final words; something poignant yet short. Bittersweet, yet subtly so. Something to remember her by.
“Stay safe”
Or that’d do, she guessed. Fuck it, odds on they were dead anyway.
Odile started walking.
((Odile Jones continued in We are the Dead))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Kitten. 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.
Somebody came in from the distance. Odile mentioned her as Tiffany, and she didn't seem very happy.
“I’m Tiffany. I’ve had my clothes ruined, my pack stolen and a crazy priest try to kill me, so I’m in no mood for any kind of shit at the moment. By the way, our friend the reverend said his name was Harold... and I shot his fucking ear off.”
Harold. The only Harold that David knew of was Harold Smythe, who ... actually fit the description, other than being dressed as a priest, was large and named Harold. This then upset Chelsea, who out of nowhere, started saying something about how knives outdid guns within 21 feet. This pissed off Tiffany even more,
“Yeah, thanks for the fucking tip, Little Miss Sunshine. Look, I’m not here to shoot you or to fight you, okay? I have nothing against you. So take that baseball bat out of my face.” She paused, picking up her bag. “You know what? Fuck you guys.”
She then flipped off the camera and started backing away. “And fuck you too.”
“Don’t forget, your fat friend Harold is heading this way. He’s pretty fucking ballsy, maybe you can use your bat for something useful and crush them for me. Then kill him. That’d be funny.” Tiffany walked off. Odile then decided to sit down as Sidney spoke up.
"Hey David... we know Harold, right? Creepy-ass stalker who was crying about how a girl didn't notice him on his blog that one time? It... might be that Harold?" David thought about it for a second.
"Yeah. Might be. Don't know of any other Harold, so unless Detroit also has a fat guy named Harold, he's one of ours." He paused, not knowing if that was said right. "From Silver Dragon." He looked at Lexi. "Did he have a green bandana on him?" He probably didn't, if Lexi was with Odile and Odile had been shot at, it was likely that Lexi might have been shot at too. Or that Harold was on the green team and that he was so crazy that Lexi had tried to get out.
It was at that point that Odile said her goodbyes and started walking away. David looked around. He was standing close to a lava death pit with two (female) teammates and a sort-of friend. His chances for living were somewhat better, and they'd probably improve more when he got away from the fucking LAVA PIT that was making him practically combust.
"Well, at last we have some sort of a partnership going. Let's just get out of here. It's getting too fucking hot." David turned around and walked away from the intense heat, hoping his sort-of harem would follow him.
((David Myerez continued in Shun The Non-Believer))
“I’m Tiffany. I’ve had my clothes ruined, my pack stolen and a crazy priest try to kill me, so I’m in no mood for any kind of shit at the moment. By the way, our friend the reverend said his name was Harold... and I shot his fucking ear off.”
Harold. The only Harold that David knew of was Harold Smythe, who ... actually fit the description, other than being dressed as a priest, was large and named Harold. This then upset Chelsea, who out of nowhere, started saying something about how knives outdid guns within 21 feet. This pissed off Tiffany even more,
“Yeah, thanks for the fucking tip, Little Miss Sunshine. Look, I’m not here to shoot you or to fight you, okay? I have nothing against you. So take that baseball bat out of my face.” She paused, picking up her bag. “You know what? Fuck you guys.”
She then flipped off the camera and started backing away. “And fuck you too.”
“Don’t forget, your fat friend Harold is heading this way. He’s pretty fucking ballsy, maybe you can use your bat for something useful and crush them for me. Then kill him. That’d be funny.” Tiffany walked off. Odile then decided to sit down as Sidney spoke up.
"Hey David... we know Harold, right? Creepy-ass stalker who was crying about how a girl didn't notice him on his blog that one time? It... might be that Harold?" David thought about it for a second.
"Yeah. Might be. Don't know of any other Harold, so unless Detroit also has a fat guy named Harold, he's one of ours." He paused, not knowing if that was said right. "From Silver Dragon." He looked at Lexi. "Did he have a green bandana on him?" He probably didn't, if Lexi was with Odile and Odile had been shot at, it was likely that Lexi might have been shot at too. Or that Harold was on the green team and that he was so crazy that Lexi had tried to get out.
It was at that point that Odile said her goodbyes and started walking away. David looked around. He was standing close to a lava death pit with two (female) teammates and a sort-of friend. His chances for living were somewhat better, and they'd probably improve more when he got away from the fucking LAVA PIT that was making him practically combust.
"Well, at last we have some sort of a partnership going. Let's just get out of here. It's getting too fucking hot." David turned around and walked away from the intense heat, hoping his sort-of harem would follow him.
((David Myerez continued in Shun The Non-Believer))
(Sorry for the short post, >_>; )
It had been hard not to break into a sweat when she'd threatened Tiffany. A dozen, no, a hundred different things suddenly coming to mind as she'd stood there, menacing someone with a gun in her hand and not in a holster, someone ready to defend herself, someone bigger than Chelsea, someone- but she had left with nothing more than a poorly worded insult, still in possession of the gun.
Great.
Still, she had left, and so had Odile, although Chelsea still didn't understand why. After all Sidney was on her team, didn't the girl want to stay with them, several -- sort of -- armed people who weren't going to kill her?
Chelsea decided she didn't care about the girl's reasons. The fact that she, Lexi, and Tiffany were on the run from people who were definitely armed and did want to kill them was reason enough to get the hell out of here.
"Let's go, before anyone else turns up." she said, and started after David.
(Chelsea has gone to Shun The Non-Believer)
It had been hard not to break into a sweat when she'd threatened Tiffany. A dozen, no, a hundred different things suddenly coming to mind as she'd stood there, menacing someone with a gun in her hand and not in a holster, someone ready to defend herself, someone bigger than Chelsea, someone- but she had left with nothing more than a poorly worded insult, still in possession of the gun.
Great.
Still, she had left, and so had Odile, although Chelsea still didn't understand why. After all Sidney was on her team, didn't the girl want to stay with them, several -- sort of -- armed people who weren't going to kill her?
Chelsea decided she didn't care about the girl's reasons. The fact that she, Lexi, and Tiffany were on the run from people who were definitely armed and did want to kill them was reason enough to get the hell out of here.
"Let's go, before anyone else turns up." she said, and started after David.
(Chelsea has gone to Shun The Non-Believer)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Nami. 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.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Team mates were supposed to stay with each other, right? Then why the fuck was Odile leaving? Was Harold really that frightening? Sure, he was creepy, but she knew that the guy could be easily overpowered. He could say all that he wanted about killing people, but she had a feeling that it wouldn't get past the attempted stage. Or at least, she hoped.
Oh, and Dave? If there's a creepy stalker running around the island teaming up with a black bitch you don't ask whether or not they're on your side. Seriously. That's not exactly the best reaction here. She was already feeling sorry for whoever was on Harold's team, though. If he turned out to be a yellow team member...
Actually, she could now see David's point.
Wait, she was leaving because of Chelsea's little act, wasn't she, and was going off to look for her friend? Well! Thanks for fucking things up Chelsie dear! She needed some kind of medal for that. Oh hey, angry girl with a gun, let's tell her that she could be easily squashed with a bat! Surely nothing bad would happen!
Sidney said nothing as Odile walked off, not even stopping her.
Sidney, you see, was indeed a clever girl. But sometimes she thought herself more clever than she actually was. And when she saw something that contradicted it? Things didn't go so well.
And needless to say, all her plans went straight to the curb the minute Chelsea scared Tiffany and Odile off.
Chelsea needed to pay.
She couldn't kill her, though. She needed David's trust. Maybe something that would make her learn her place. Maybe a bit of humiliation, on live television no less. Something absolutely no one wants to see them do on live TV with the entirety of America watching. Something that would make her stop talking.
As David and Chelsea soon started to leave in the opposite direction, Sidney lingered for a few seconds.
"Pussies", she mumbled.
She didn't even know who she was referring to, actually. Sidney just felt like saying that. When in doubt, insult people, even if you don't know who you're insulting.
But Sidney soon after grabbed her things and followed.
((Sidney Rice continued in Shun The Non-Believer))
Team mates were supposed to stay with each other, right? Then why the fuck was Odile leaving? Was Harold really that frightening? Sure, he was creepy, but she knew that the guy could be easily overpowered. He could say all that he wanted about killing people, but she had a feeling that it wouldn't get past the attempted stage. Or at least, she hoped.
Oh, and Dave? If there's a creepy stalker running around the island teaming up with a black bitch you don't ask whether or not they're on your side. Seriously. That's not exactly the best reaction here. She was already feeling sorry for whoever was on Harold's team, though. If he turned out to be a yellow team member...
Actually, she could now see David's point.
Wait, she was leaving because of Chelsea's little act, wasn't she, and was going off to look for her friend? Well! Thanks for fucking things up Chelsie dear! She needed some kind of medal for that. Oh hey, angry girl with a gun, let's tell her that she could be easily squashed with a bat! Surely nothing bad would happen!
Sidney said nothing as Odile walked off, not even stopping her.
Sidney, you see, was indeed a clever girl. But sometimes she thought herself more clever than she actually was. And when she saw something that contradicted it? Things didn't go so well.
And needless to say, all her plans went straight to the curb the minute Chelsea scared Tiffany and Odile off.
Chelsea needed to pay.
She couldn't kill her, though. She needed David's trust. Maybe something that would make her learn her place. Maybe a bit of humiliation, on live television no less. Something absolutely no one wants to see them do on live TV with the entirety of America watching. Something that would make her stop talking.
As David and Chelsea soon started to leave in the opposite direction, Sidney lingered for a few seconds.
"Pussies", she mumbled.
She didn't even know who she was referring to, actually. Sidney just felt like saying that. When in doubt, insult people, even if you don't know who you're insulting.
But Sidney soon after grabbed her things and followed.
((Sidney Rice continued in Shun The Non-Believer))
CYBERS:
HARERAISER (Winter Castillo)The synthwave bunnygirl programmer roller weeb!
Currently: Confused? Horrified?
SECOND CHANCES
Junko KurosawaThink Johnny Knoxville but a teenage girl.
Currently: Ridng a shopping cart (in-between threads)
Bella Bianchi
Ballet dancer with pressure.
Currently: In the student lounge
(Meanwhile in the past...)
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Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
It was painful for Lexi to watch Odile leave. It almost felt like the first day of school, two people watch you for a little while, then they dump you off with another group. Of course at the end of most days Lexi would see her parents again. In this situation, there was no guarantee that she would see Odile or Tiffany ever again.
David asked about Harold. "I think his was black, or dark blue, something like that." She couldn't remember for sure; she could feel herself biting her lip in frustration. She needed to help her team. They needed to live.
Then her teammates plus Sidney started to leave.
She followed.
(Alexis Allwell continued in Shun The Non-Believer)
David asked about Harold. "I think his was black, or dark blue, something like that." She couldn't remember for sure; she could feel herself biting her lip in frustration. She needed to help her team. They needed to live.
Then her teammates plus Sidney started to leave.
She followed.
(Alexis Allwell continued in Shun The Non-Believer)