G01: Paige Strand: START
Uuuggghhh. Why is my foot wet?
Paige Strand slowly opened her eyes. Above her was a skyline covered in trees. Rubbing her eyes, Paige sat up before realizing the reason why her foot was wet: it was submerged in water.
"Ack!" Paige said as she quickly pulled her foot out.
"Damn, these Nikes were new."
Paige looked around. She was lying next to a large lake in the middle of a jungle. For the most part, it was kind of nice looking. But then Paige felt the metal ring around her neck and realized exactly where she was.
"Goddammit, what kind of shit is this?" she said.
Paige then realized that there was a bag next to her with "G01: Paige Strand" stitched onto it.
Miss Strand is girl number one? Ha ha ha. That's real funny you fat bastard.
Paige dragged the bag over and began to search the contents. Nothing much in the bag. Just some food, a map, a first aid kit, a tube of lipstick, some water. That's when Paige realized that her antidepressants weren't in the bag.
"FUCK!" shouted Paige, slamming her fist down on the bag.
She grabbed a rock and chucked it into the lake.
"There better be a swarm of helicopters heading to this island, because I am about to go nuclear!"
That's when Paige noticed a camera in a tree above her.
"HEY! AMERICA! What the fuck are you doing? You feel like rescuing me? I'd kind of like to get off this island! You seriously expect to just watch me and my classmates kill each other? Kind of hard when they didn't even give me a weapon! AAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGH!!!"
That's when Paige kicked the tree the camera was attached to. Immediately, she felt a sharp pain in her foot.
"DAMMIT!" she screamed as she began to hobble back.
Paige forgot how close she was to the lake. As she hopped around, she slipped on her good foot and fell into the lake. Fortunately, Paige knew how to swim thanks to her time in swim team, so she quickly swam to the surface and pulled herself to the edge of the lake.
Real smooth Paige. Real smooth. Now I'm freezing cold and my foot hurts like crazy.
Pressure Point
Pressure Point
G014: Mayumi Tendou
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:23 pm
B08: Start
Nick Reid sat on a rock, hunched over with his head in his hands. He rubbed his eyes, fought off a yawn, slid long, slender hands over his face as he sat up straight. It had been a good 15 minutes since he'd awoken, lying at the edge of a clearing and nursing a killer headache. And now he was sitting on a rock, nursing a killer headache.
How far he'd come.
He sighed, straightening up with a groan as his train of thought revved itself back into its customary overdrive. It hurt to think, not like that had ever stopped him before. He started - or, rather, restarted - with the basics. He'd seen someone die already, or heard it at least. He'd been too busy being uninterested in what he thought was some needlessly dramatic droll prank to watch it all unfold, but he did learn from the whole ordeal that gunshots were bloody loud. And that that Danya guy meant business.
He picked up his pack, shaking his head as if it clear it manually of the persistent fog in his thoughts, and started walking.
The pack. His "weapon". He didn't unzip the bag to check against it all being some fevered dream, because he couldn't have made that particular bit of misfortune up if he tried. Even the stenciled marker on his bag was a big, bold, unlucky number eight. For a certain degree of unlucky, of course. He couldn't think of any actual culture that held eight as unlucky, though he didn't doubt that someone, somewhere saw it that way. At any rate, it was all just superstition anyways. If it was unlucky on the Disc it might as well be unlucky here.
He found himself unconsciously steering towards the sound of rushing water, then shrugged and continued to steer himself manually. "Follow the running water" was seldom bad advice, after all. He didn't know what exactly would constitute good fortune over bad when he had a bomb strapped to his neck and orders to kill a busload of his peers with a box of condoms, but he didn't savor the thought of discovering what bad fortune meant. It was already a million-to-one sh-
No, he thought. Not a million-to-one shot. Thirty-five, forty-to-one, maybe. However many people fit on one bus, assuming it was just one bus. Of course, he did practice using a deadly weapon for fun, not to mention whacking people wearing armor with sticks, so that had to confer some sort of advantage. Closer to 20:1, then, perhaps.
That made his heart sink. Million-to-one shots cropped up nine times out of ten, everybody knew that. 20:1 just meant you were in for a certain, bloody death. Getting off the island would be a miracle at that rate. Maybe it was a million-to-one shot after all...
I got this.
A sharp yell derailed his train of thought. A yell followed by what sounded like a splash. Had someone fallen in the river? He must be close then, because he -
- was standing on the edge of a lake in the middle of the forest. Jungle. Thing. Leafy biome. Hot leafy biome. Anyways, he was standing on the edge of a lake and before him was stretched out a sizable expanse of sparkling water. That, along with a rather wet Paige Strand. He stepped forward, opening his mouth to say something witty, maybe about exemplary devotion to sport or whatever, before deciding that that wasn't actually witty but that he might as well say something while his mouth was going.
"Um, you're ok, right? You're not, er, dying or anything?"
...yet.
Nick Reid sat on a rock, hunched over with his head in his hands. He rubbed his eyes, fought off a yawn, slid long, slender hands over his face as he sat up straight. It had been a good 15 minutes since he'd awoken, lying at the edge of a clearing and nursing a killer headache. And now he was sitting on a rock, nursing a killer headache.
How far he'd come.
He sighed, straightening up with a groan as his train of thought revved itself back into its customary overdrive. It hurt to think, not like that had ever stopped him before. He started - or, rather, restarted - with the basics. He'd seen someone die already, or heard it at least. He'd been too busy being uninterested in what he thought was some needlessly dramatic droll prank to watch it all unfold, but he did learn from the whole ordeal that gunshots were bloody loud. And that that Danya guy meant business.
He picked up his pack, shaking his head as if it clear it manually of the persistent fog in his thoughts, and started walking.
The pack. His "weapon". He didn't unzip the bag to check against it all being some fevered dream, because he couldn't have made that particular bit of misfortune up if he tried. Even the stenciled marker on his bag was a big, bold, unlucky number eight. For a certain degree of unlucky, of course. He couldn't think of any actual culture that held eight as unlucky, though he didn't doubt that someone, somewhere saw it that way. At any rate, it was all just superstition anyways. If it was unlucky on the Disc it might as well be unlucky here.
He found himself unconsciously steering towards the sound of rushing water, then shrugged and continued to steer himself manually. "Follow the running water" was seldom bad advice, after all. He didn't know what exactly would constitute good fortune over bad when he had a bomb strapped to his neck and orders to kill a busload of his peers with a box of condoms, but he didn't savor the thought of discovering what bad fortune meant. It was already a million-to-one sh-
No, he thought. Not a million-to-one shot. Thirty-five, forty-to-one, maybe. However many people fit on one bus, assuming it was just one bus. Of course, he did practice using a deadly weapon for fun, not to mention whacking people wearing armor with sticks, so that had to confer some sort of advantage. Closer to 20:1, then, perhaps.
That made his heart sink. Million-to-one shots cropped up nine times out of ten, everybody knew that. 20:1 just meant you were in for a certain, bloody death. Getting off the island would be a miracle at that rate. Maybe it was a million-to-one shot after all...
I got this.
A sharp yell derailed his train of thought. A yell followed by what sounded like a splash. Had someone fallen in the river? He must be close then, because he -
- was standing on the edge of a lake in the middle of the forest. Jungle. Thing. Leafy biome. Hot leafy biome. Anyways, he was standing on the edge of a lake and before him was stretched out a sizable expanse of sparkling water. That, along with a rather wet Paige Strand. He stepped forward, opening his mouth to say something witty, maybe about exemplary devotion to sport or whatever, before deciding that that wasn't actually witty but that he might as well say something while his mouth was going.
"Um, you're ok, right? You're not, er, dying or anything?"
...yet.
Paige slowly moved her right arm onto the shore of the lake. The water was a lot colder than she thought, and she knew she needed to get out before hypothermia set in.
God, there better not be any leeches in this lake. That would only make things worse.
Um, you're ok, right? You're not, er, dying or anything?
Or maybe this will.
Paige turned and saw Nick Reid standing near the shoreline. She didn't know much about him. He was supposed to be good at archery, at least better than Sally Connelly. Supposedly, he had depression like her.
"No, I'm not dying. I'm just slowly turning into an idiot."
Paige then pushed down on the ground in order to lift herself out of the lake and onto the shore. She pulled herself onto the ground and stretched out.
It was on the ground that Paige realized her foot still hurt.
Shit.
Paige sat up and pulled her right foot closer to her. Removing the Nike, she saw that her sock had some blood on it. She slowly removed the wet sock and realized what happened. When she kicked the tree, she struck it at the wrong angle. Now the toenail on her big toe had split.
"Ah fuck my life," groaned Paige.
Paige turned to her bag and dragged it over. She began searching the first aid kit for some band-aids.
"So, how's Murder Island treating ya?" she asked Nick as she unwrapped an adhesive bandage.
God, there better not be any leeches in this lake. That would only make things worse.
Um, you're ok, right? You're not, er, dying or anything?
Or maybe this will.
Paige turned and saw Nick Reid standing near the shoreline. She didn't know much about him. He was supposed to be good at archery, at least better than Sally Connelly. Supposedly, he had depression like her.
"No, I'm not dying. I'm just slowly turning into an idiot."
Paige then pushed down on the ground in order to lift herself out of the lake and onto the shore. She pulled herself onto the ground and stretched out.
It was on the ground that Paige realized her foot still hurt.
Shit.
Paige sat up and pulled her right foot closer to her. Removing the Nike, she saw that her sock had some blood on it. She slowly removed the wet sock and realized what happened. When she kicked the tree, she struck it at the wrong angle. Now the toenail on her big toe had split.
"Ah fuck my life," groaned Paige.
Paige turned to her bag and dragged it over. She began searching the first aid kit for some band-aids.
"So, how's Murder Island treating ya?" she asked Nick as she unwrapped an adhesive bandage.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:23 pm
Nick stood dumbly by as Paige clung to the shoreline, trying to make sense of the situation he'd been dropped so suddenly into. He considered the girl, the lake, the jungle, the island. It all seemed so surreal. They had been ordered to kill each other, and what was he doing? Standing around watching his classmate take an impromptu swim. And by this time tomorrow, she could be dead. Or a murderer. Three days hence, would he be someone she'd try to kill on sight? Or, more frighteningly, would she be someone he'd try to kill on sight?
That was too surreal. It made his heart beat uncomfortably, made him think of some faceless former friend bearing down on him with a katana, made him envision himself firing an arrow through someone's throat. Profoundly disturbed, he searched for something constructive to do.
Ah, right, I guess I should probably give her a hand there.
He took half a step towards her as she hauled herself out of the water. Silently cursing, he stuttered, changing course to a nearby log, trying to find a spot dry enough that it wouldn't send water soaking immediately through his jeans. He sat down on wet moss, sending water soaking immediately through his jeans, scowling as he dropped his chin into waiting hands. Paige seemed almost criminally unconcerned about the possibility of him trying to kill her, which increased his annoyance at the whole thing for some unfathomable reason. He was slipping into a bad mood, and realizing that annoyed him further. It didn't help seeing Paige peel off her sock and reveal a bloody toenail, which made him wince and try to block out thoughts about running for his life.
It came as a relief to him when she asked how he was doing. It was just a courtesy, probably, the way "how are you" doesn't mean "tell me about that diagnosis", but if it was he didn't really care. He took the invitation to break his silence, and he ran with it.
"Well," he said, "I haven't died yet so far. That's not bad, I guess. Unless this headache finishes the job for me." He rubbed his forehead as the words left his mouth, then straightened up, dropping his hands as speech picked up tempo. "I mean, just flat-out gassing us like that, no regard for dosing it out or anything, are they trying to..." Sigh. "Yes, I suppose they are trying to kill us, aren't they?"
He looked down at his hands.
"Oh, and I've got blood on my sleeve," he said with rising annoyance, as if she'd been the one responsible.
"This sucks."
That was too surreal. It made his heart beat uncomfortably, made him think of some faceless former friend bearing down on him with a katana, made him envision himself firing an arrow through someone's throat. Profoundly disturbed, he searched for something constructive to do.
Ah, right, I guess I should probably give her a hand there.
He took half a step towards her as she hauled herself out of the water. Silently cursing, he stuttered, changing course to a nearby log, trying to find a spot dry enough that it wouldn't send water soaking immediately through his jeans. He sat down on wet moss, sending water soaking immediately through his jeans, scowling as he dropped his chin into waiting hands. Paige seemed almost criminally unconcerned about the possibility of him trying to kill her, which increased his annoyance at the whole thing for some unfathomable reason. He was slipping into a bad mood, and realizing that annoyed him further. It didn't help seeing Paige peel off her sock and reveal a bloody toenail, which made him wince and try to block out thoughts about running for his life.
It came as a relief to him when she asked how he was doing. It was just a courtesy, probably, the way "how are you" doesn't mean "tell me about that diagnosis", but if it was he didn't really care. He took the invitation to break his silence, and he ran with it.
"Well," he said, "I haven't died yet so far. That's not bad, I guess. Unless this headache finishes the job for me." He rubbed his forehead as the words left his mouth, then straightened up, dropping his hands as speech picked up tempo. "I mean, just flat-out gassing us like that, no regard for dosing it out or anything, are they trying to..." Sigh. "Yes, I suppose they are trying to kill us, aren't they?"
He looked down at his hands.
"Oh, and I've got blood on my sleeve," he said with rising annoyance, as if she'd been the one responsible.
"This sucks."
Nick sat down on the log and discussed his time since waking up in this hellhole. Paige wasn't really surprised that he was feeling bad about watching a classmate die, getting kidnapped, and finding himself in this place. Strangely, he had a headache from the gas on the bus. Paige realized her head didn't hurt. Then again, her toenail had split, and she fell in a freezing lake. It seemed reasonable that she would be distracted by something else.
Still, there was one thing that somewhat concerned Paige. Nick said he had blood on his sleeve.
"Uh, yeah, how did you hurt yourself? Did you hit something on your way over?"
Aw shit, does that make me sound like I'm suspicious of him? Wait, no one can be dead already? That's fucking insane.
"Cause, if you're bleeding, I'd be willing to pass some bandages over."
Paige placed an adhesive strip over her toe. She probably should have dried her foot off a little bit, but she's completely wet.
"Good as new. Now I know how friggin' strong these trees are."
Paige made a quick scan around the lake area.
"Okay.....so......now what?"
Still, there was one thing that somewhat concerned Paige. Nick said he had blood on his sleeve.
"Uh, yeah, how did you hurt yourself? Did you hit something on your way over?"
Aw shit, does that make me sound like I'm suspicious of him? Wait, no one can be dead already? That's fucking insane.
"Cause, if you're bleeding, I'd be willing to pass some bandages over."
Paige placed an adhesive strip over her toe. She probably should have dried her foot off a little bit, but she's completely wet.
"Good as new. Now I know how friggin' strong these trees are."
Paige made a quick scan around the lake area.
"Okay.....so......now what?"
G014: Mayumi Tendou
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:23 pm
Nick looked up at Paige as she spoke, offering him a bandage for a wound he didn't have. He berated himself mentally in frustration, railing at his pick of smalltalk, at Paige's decision to follow it through, at the whole awkward situation.
He sighed deeply.
"Um, I'm not hurt. It's just... I was sitting near the front of the bus."
He stared down at the red blotch on the frayed end of his sleeve, tracing the irregular outline with his eyes. It seemed odd once he thought about it, but horribly reasonable once he thought about it some more. It should have been just a mist that reached him, but there were... pieces that might leave that kind of mark, drop a round glob of blood on impact and roll off in a thin taper of gore. The thought was as disturbing as it was fascinating; It could well have been part of Kiel's brain that had landed on him. Something he used to think with. That was his consciousness, spattered on Nick's sleeve, daubing the seats red, riding outwards on the muzzle blast of Danya's pistol in a billion atomized droplets. The indignity of it all unsettled him deeply.
I'll die before I let myself end as a rusty stain on someone's sleeve.
...Or someone will.
He tried not to put that last intrusive thought out of his mind. He searched for a ready distraction and it seemed he was in luck, because Paige seemed to decide that their conversation had produced the perfect segue into a comment on the strength of the trees in the area. Nick wondered if he was hearing her right for half a second, but quickly occupied himself putting two and two together into a groan-inducing four. He was ready to tune her out altogether and start cooking up some excuse to leave, but her next question was startlingly in line with his own thoughts. He thought for a moment, readied a calm, well-reasoned response, and then discarded it entirely.
"Honestly, I have no clue. Actually, no, I guess I do have a clue. See if anyone in a search plane's got half a brain, not like that'll help 'cause there are about a billion little islands like this in the Pacific. And in the meantime, we run around and kill each other because we all know the other guy's thinking it, or we just die because we thought kickboxing trees was a good idea or whatever it is you did."
He found that he was leaning unconsciously towards his pack. Whatever part of his brain was in charge of posture had stopped focusing on making his hands fidget in favor of the fact that he probably wouldn't be welcome much longer, and whatever uncertainty lay within "probably" fell under command of the part that wanted him gone already. He refrained from picking it up for the moment, though. Something in him wanted to make it all worse, spiral the situation downwards until he had an excuse to lash out, to let off his frustrations in earnest, see how far he could push it before whatever happened when he pushed it too far, happened.
He sighed deeply.
"Um, I'm not hurt. It's just... I was sitting near the front of the bus."
He stared down at the red blotch on the frayed end of his sleeve, tracing the irregular outline with his eyes. It seemed odd once he thought about it, but horribly reasonable once he thought about it some more. It should have been just a mist that reached him, but there were... pieces that might leave that kind of mark, drop a round glob of blood on impact and roll off in a thin taper of gore. The thought was as disturbing as it was fascinating; It could well have been part of Kiel's brain that had landed on him. Something he used to think with. That was his consciousness, spattered on Nick's sleeve, daubing the seats red, riding outwards on the muzzle blast of Danya's pistol in a billion atomized droplets. The indignity of it all unsettled him deeply.
I'll die before I let myself end as a rusty stain on someone's sleeve.
...Or someone will.
He tried not to put that last intrusive thought out of his mind. He searched for a ready distraction and it seemed he was in luck, because Paige seemed to decide that their conversation had produced the perfect segue into a comment on the strength of the trees in the area. Nick wondered if he was hearing her right for half a second, but quickly occupied himself putting two and two together into a groan-inducing four. He was ready to tune her out altogether and start cooking up some excuse to leave, but her next question was startlingly in line with his own thoughts. He thought for a moment, readied a calm, well-reasoned response, and then discarded it entirely.
"Honestly, I have no clue. Actually, no, I guess I do have a clue. See if anyone in a search plane's got half a brain, not like that'll help 'cause there are about a billion little islands like this in the Pacific. And in the meantime, we run around and kill each other because we all know the other guy's thinking it, or we just die because we thought kickboxing trees was a good idea or whatever it is you did."
He found that he was leaning unconsciously towards his pack. Whatever part of his brain was in charge of posture had stopped focusing on making his hands fidget in favor of the fact that he probably wouldn't be welcome much longer, and whatever uncertainty lay within "probably" fell under command of the part that wanted him gone already. He refrained from picking it up for the moment, though. Something in him wanted to make it all worse, spiral the situation downwards until he had an excuse to lash out, to let off his frustrations in earnest, see how far he could push it before whatever happened when he pushed it too far, happened.
Oh. He was next to Kiel when it happened. Paige shuddered at that. Sure, she didn't know Kiel that much. He seemed like kind of a douche. But, he was a human, and that bastard shot him in the head without any hesitation.
Nick didn't seem to have much of an idea. He did make a sly joke about how Paige split her toenail. Paige frankly didn't like to be reminded of her fuckup, but then again, she did make a crack about kicking the trees, so it's not like she was that immune to finding the black comedy in the situation.
"Well, I'm thinking I ought to try and get a little dried off now," Paige said.
She reached into her bag and found the island map. Quickly scanning over it, she realized that she had to be at the Inland Lake. Paige then spotted a building labeled Resort Hotel.
A hotel? Nice. Hopefully I can get some towels to dry myself with. Maybe find some clothes as well. Plus, I can hide in one of the many rooms, probably wait out this game. Now, what should I do with Nick?
"Kay, so, I'm probably going to head out. You're free to come with me, if you really want to. I'm just going to try and find a better place to get my shit together."
Paige began to pack up her stuff. She put the wet sock over her foot before slipping it into her groggy shoe. She also began to clean up her first aid kit.
Alright, time to see what Nick's plan is.
Nick didn't seem to have much of an idea. He did make a sly joke about how Paige split her toenail. Paige frankly didn't like to be reminded of her fuckup, but then again, she did make a crack about kicking the trees, so it's not like she was that immune to finding the black comedy in the situation.
"Well, I'm thinking I ought to try and get a little dried off now," Paige said.
She reached into her bag and found the island map. Quickly scanning over it, she realized that she had to be at the Inland Lake. Paige then spotted a building labeled Resort Hotel.
A hotel? Nice. Hopefully I can get some towels to dry myself with. Maybe find some clothes as well. Plus, I can hide in one of the many rooms, probably wait out this game. Now, what should I do with Nick?
"Kay, so, I'm probably going to head out. You're free to come with me, if you really want to. I'm just going to try and find a better place to get my shit together."
Paige began to pack up her stuff. She put the wet sock over her foot before slipping it into her groggy shoe. She also began to clean up her first aid kit.
Alright, time to see what Nick's plan is.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
-
Rattlesnake
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:23 pm
Nick watched, astounded, as Paige continued to talk about nothing more than her split toenail. Was that all she cared about? Smoldering resentment flared up, grasping at straws, then burnt out, falling as icy shame into his stomach. She wasn't taking the bait, because there was no bait to take. She was being inoffensive, even friendly, and he'd just sat there being resentful for it. Heck, even his insult wasn't much of an insult. He'd basically just told her she was stupid after she joked about being stupid. Had he just found the most inoffensive way known to man of telling someone they were going to kill themselves out of stupidity?
He didn't know what to say. Luckily, she broke the silence for him by announcing that she was leaving, which was good. And then she offered to let him come with her, which was less so. He found it terribly tempting even after standing there, wishing he could just bolt off into the woods and drop any responsibility over the matter. She obviously had no intentions of killing him, and he certainly wasn't about to kill her. There would be safety in numbers, no doubt. Anyone looking for an easy kill would look elsewhere, at least at first. He hadn't wanted to be in her presence for another second just a minute ago, but with potential danger so clear, so present, it all seemed so appealing. If they ran into danger, he would protect her - or, like as not, she would protect him. Honestly, there didn't seem much reason not to...
No. He couldn't. Ignore the fact that he'd just felt like strangling her (figuratively, of course, he reminded himself), and he still wouldn't do it. He needed some time by himself to sit down, think everything through, decide on his course of action, his survival strategy. Being with someone wouldn't help, because it was his ideas that would be the ones he wanted. The big breakthroughs, the triple-A strategy. Working with some weak, second-hand strategy wouldn't do. He needed to puzzle it all out - alone. Definitely alone.
But if someone so happens to attack one of us after we split...
Well, it's not like nobody's going to die anyways, right?
He stood up.
"Right. I'm going..."
He looked over the lake, squinting at the trees beyond the far shore. He didn't actually know which direction he intended to set out in. He had no idea which direction would bring him where, or, come to think of it, where the lake was even located on the island. Obviously the inlet came from inland and the outlet (wherever it emerged) would take him to the shore. But besides that, he was completely clueless. Asking to see Paige's map was definitely not something he felt like doing. And so he picked a direction that would afford him the luxury of disappearing quickly behind the treeline, and pointed decisively.
"...That way."
He picked up his pack and set off, stopping after a couple steps and turning around briefly.
"Um, See you around, then."
I'll never see you again.
((Nick Reid continued in They Could Have at Least Left Me Something...))
He didn't know what to say. Luckily, she broke the silence for him by announcing that she was leaving, which was good. And then she offered to let him come with her, which was less so. He found it terribly tempting even after standing there, wishing he could just bolt off into the woods and drop any responsibility over the matter. She obviously had no intentions of killing him, and he certainly wasn't about to kill her. There would be safety in numbers, no doubt. Anyone looking for an easy kill would look elsewhere, at least at first. He hadn't wanted to be in her presence for another second just a minute ago, but with potential danger so clear, so present, it all seemed so appealing. If they ran into danger, he would protect her - or, like as not, she would protect him. Honestly, there didn't seem much reason not to...
No. He couldn't. Ignore the fact that he'd just felt like strangling her (figuratively, of course, he reminded himself), and he still wouldn't do it. He needed some time by himself to sit down, think everything through, decide on his course of action, his survival strategy. Being with someone wouldn't help, because it was his ideas that would be the ones he wanted. The big breakthroughs, the triple-A strategy. Working with some weak, second-hand strategy wouldn't do. He needed to puzzle it all out - alone. Definitely alone.
But if someone so happens to attack one of us after we split...
Well, it's not like nobody's going to die anyways, right?
He stood up.
"Right. I'm going..."
He looked over the lake, squinting at the trees beyond the far shore. He didn't actually know which direction he intended to set out in. He had no idea which direction would bring him where, or, come to think of it, where the lake was even located on the island. Obviously the inlet came from inland and the outlet (wherever it emerged) would take him to the shore. But besides that, he was completely clueless. Asking to see Paige's map was definitely not something he felt like doing. And so he picked a direction that would afford him the luxury of disappearing quickly behind the treeline, and pointed decisively.
"...That way."
He picked up his pack and set off, stopping after a couple steps and turning around briefly.
"Um, See you around, then."
I'll never see you again.
((Nick Reid continued in They Could Have at Least Left Me Something...))
Paige waited as Nick thought over what to do. Seemed like he wasn't sure about going with her. She didn't blame him. Some cruel God of Fate could dictate that he follows her and then she leads him into the mouth of a volcano. Then again, she didn't even tell him where she was going. If he was going to kill her, she would rather he not know that.
Finally Nick stood up. He then announced to Paige he was leaving in a different direction. He bid her farewell and immediately took off.
"Uh, bye! Try not to die!" she said as he made his way around the lake.
Jeez, couldn't even politely decline? Just decides to go off in his own direction. Whatever, I don't need some guy like him. If I can find my friends, we don't need to worry. Then again, all I got is lipstick. Might have to improvise on that.
Paige looked around the surrounding area. She then saw it. A nice rock, just sitting on the ground. A rock that spent millions of years eroding from a much larger rock, ending up right there on the ground.
Paige picked the rock up from the ground. She tossed it into the air, catching it with her other hand. It was pretty heavy, but still easy for her to carry.
"This will have to do until I get a better weapon," she muttered to herself.
Just how will I get a better weapon?
Paige thought about it. Getting a better weapon meant taking it from someone. Taking it isn't easy. Some people will give you things if you ask nicely. But would anyone part with a weapon in a place where having a weapon can ensure survival?
Paige then looked at the rock. She realized she grabbed it so that she could smack someone in the head with it if she had to. What if she had to? What if Carol tired attacking her with a chainsaw? What if Amber was all that stood in the way of getting an machine gun? Could she actually bash their heads in?
...........................
Fuck, I'm gonna have to, aren't I?
Paige looked back at the camera hanging from the tree she kicked. She then took the rock and began carving into the tree bark. She continued to chip away at the bark for a while. When she finished, she stepped back.
"Hey, fat fuck. I hope your cameras can see that. You be sure to follow me."
Paige grabbed her bags and began to head off. She had no idea which way was the Resort Hotel, but she hoped she was heading in the right direction.
Before she left, she took one last look at the message on the tree.
THIS IS WHERE PAIGE STRAND DECIDED NOT TO DIE
She then disappeared into the jungle, off to prove that message correct.
((Paige Strand continued in With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility))
Finally Nick stood up. He then announced to Paige he was leaving in a different direction. He bid her farewell and immediately took off.
"Uh, bye! Try not to die!" she said as he made his way around the lake.
Jeez, couldn't even politely decline? Just decides to go off in his own direction. Whatever, I don't need some guy like him. If I can find my friends, we don't need to worry. Then again, all I got is lipstick. Might have to improvise on that.
Paige looked around the surrounding area. She then saw it. A nice rock, just sitting on the ground. A rock that spent millions of years eroding from a much larger rock, ending up right there on the ground.
Paige picked the rock up from the ground. She tossed it into the air, catching it with her other hand. It was pretty heavy, but still easy for her to carry.
"This will have to do until I get a better weapon," she muttered to herself.
Just how will I get a better weapon?
Paige thought about it. Getting a better weapon meant taking it from someone. Taking it isn't easy. Some people will give you things if you ask nicely. But would anyone part with a weapon in a place where having a weapon can ensure survival?
Paige then looked at the rock. She realized she grabbed it so that she could smack someone in the head with it if she had to. What if she had to? What if Carol tired attacking her with a chainsaw? What if Amber was all that stood in the way of getting an machine gun? Could she actually bash their heads in?
...........................
Fuck, I'm gonna have to, aren't I?
Paige looked back at the camera hanging from the tree she kicked. She then took the rock and began carving into the tree bark. She continued to chip away at the bark for a while. When she finished, she stepped back.
"Hey, fat fuck. I hope your cameras can see that. You be sure to follow me."
Paige grabbed her bags and began to head off. She had no idea which way was the Resort Hotel, but she hoped she was heading in the right direction.
Before she left, she took one last look at the message on the tree.
THIS IS WHERE PAIGE STRAND DECIDED NOT TO DIE
She then disappeared into the jungle, off to prove that message correct.
((Paige Strand continued in With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility))
G014: Mayumi Tendou