Chuck couldn't give Kyran the full story. He hadn't been there for it. He'd hoped that Michael had had that sort of vantage point over the narrative, but nope. He knew more than Chuck, sure, but only minutes.
It must be rather discombobulating for Kyran. To be with one group of people, succumb to the stresses of the island, wake up in some miraculous recovery, only to find the entire group had changed. Friendly faces (well, and Natali...and Michael wasn't exactly looking like a friendly face, but he could scarcely help that), which was another stroke of almost divine luck. But again, very confusing. Another source of uncertainty and unease, another set of bewildering questions to drag down your mind...
Chuck did not envy Kyran in that moment. He lifted up the improvised eye patch, scratching around the cut. It was healing up nicely-ish. Kinda hard to forget Lance, and his audacious plans for escape, with such a visceral reminder in place.
"Basically," Chuck commenced, eager to give as much information as he possibly could, "Alba followed Saachi. She uh..." Chuck bit his lip. His own memory was faulty. Hazy. He wasn't the sort to bullshit. Not to someone in need, anyway. He could probably make up some over the top origin story, some convoluted mess of lies that would doubtless be spotted immediately, and hopefully taken as the joke they were intended to be. But Chuck couldn't be bothered to do that. So he lifted his hands up as he sat down, a mea culpa to his own ignorance. "Saachi basically taunted him. Drew him away. I'm..." He was going to say 'not hopeful'.
Speculation wouldn't help anyone.
"No idea."
It took Chuck a few minutes to realise he'd said 'I'm no idea'.
....
Scarlett joined the group, and something...resembling normalcy resumed? People were talking. Chatting. It was all affable. Tainted with the traumas of the island, the horrors around them never forgotten, the risk of some psycho bursting through the door or sending a Molotov cocktail hurtling through the windows never forgotten. Chuck made sure to keep an eye out for any Molotovs. Everyone else, by Chuck's reckoning at least, seemed more wary of the doors, anyway. A division of labour, so to speak. They kept the doors safe, Chuck...
Well, he couldn't exactly stop a Molotov cocktail. But he'd do something if it happened. Something beyond just screaming about the fire and the sacrilege and the impending doom. Of that, he was ninety percent sure.
And then Michael took the podium. He had charisma. That quickly became apparent. Not a...traditional sort, no. Not rehearsed, or effortless, or decorated with rhetorical flourishes and hypnotic soundbites. A more spontaneous charisma. A natural sort. Raw and genuine, the emotional pathos, the brutal honesty, driving the speech. Chuck listened, and made sure to nod vigorously and cheer boisterously at the appropriate points.
He was being a hype man. Murmured 'damn right' at the realistic indictment of the group's prospects. Recoiled in audible shock at the neck slashing motion. Repeated 'that's the golden question' at Michael's rhetorical question about how to bring people to them.
"Oh damn. A plan." Oh. This was Chuck's moment.
"You know what, Michael? You deserve a backrub for that speech." He climbed to his feet, emphatically clapping his hands. "So, uhm, if I can get behind you and...?"
He hoped all would become apparent shortly.
The Whole Enchilada
Day Five, Daytime!
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General Goose
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Primrosette
- Posts: 900
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- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Scarlett thought that as soon as she joined the group that it was quite an odd-looking group. Michael, Kyran, Chuck (she was relieved to see that he was okay and that she found her kind of crush), Natali and herself. But still, she felt safer with a group. Being alone out there with no one had not been a fun experience for her. She had been lonely, sad and lost. But now she wasn't anymore and she was glad about that.
She watched as Michael took the stage and gave them a speech. Granted it was a speech that was different from the ones that she would normally hear. But at least Michael had the personality while doing so until the others that had been boring and tiring.
A plan. She felt herself perk up at that.
"Oh, I see-" She was suddenly cut off by Chuck's words and she couldn't help but take his words to be a little misunderstand. She didn't know why her face was getting red and she turned her head away from the others.
She watched as Michael took the stage and gave them a speech. Granted it was a speech that was different from the ones that she would normally hear. But at least Michael had the personality while doing so until the others that had been boring and tiring.
A plan. She felt herself perk up at that.
"Oh, I see-" She was suddenly cut off by Chuck's words and she couldn't help but take his words to be a little misunderstand. She didn't know why her face was getting red and she turned her head away from the others.
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Somersault
- Posts: 236
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:21 am
Natali nodded as she tried her best to listen to Chuck's brief explanation of what happened to Adonis, face now morphing into something more closely resembling understanding. It was nice, in a way, that they were just speaking with less obvious distaste for one another, or none at all, really. It still wasn't like home, would never be like that, but still, it was pleasant, in a way.
Back to being the confidant and simply taking in what others had to say, that was it. Like she had found something within the storm that was this island, but still, no matter the temporary calm, it was always as if her heart was two steps ahead of her brain, or even the current situation.
It was always beating, always humming, as if it was trying to already prepare itself for the inevitability of running away from it all once more. Wasn't that why she had holed herself up with these people anyways? In search of a safe haven, somewhere to hide away until she felt at least a little bit braver?
Brave, though? Natali knew she had to be that, in order to live, in order to keep on fighting to see the sun every time it rose in the sky. Had to have some sort of inner strength, something more than plain fear for her to keep on going, and right now, she didn't know if she had anything close to that. Maybe it would happen, one day. Or, maybe not, and so she continued to listen and sit on the pews, waiting with her bag next to her. Safety first.
Before all of this, listening was something that came to Nat fairly easily, even if she wasn't being particularly boastful. It wasn't just about nodding and shaking one's head at appropriate times, it was about reading the other person, seeing what they wanted out of it, being careful not to trigger an emotional fault-line or something of the sort. Here, though, bags under her eyes and a faint ringing in her head, trying to do the same was harder than ever.
From what she could vaguely understand, Michael seemed very passionate about what he was speaking about, which was good, which probably meant the speech was good, also taking into account Chuck's whoops and cheers.
She tried to listen in a bit closer, try to make out just a little bit more of whatever he was saying, and slowly the gears started popping into place. Find a way out. Escape. He still believed that there was a way out of this place without killing. Maybe Natali on Day 1 would've bought into that, believed it with all her heart, but now? There wasn't enough time, enough brains within their batch to create a plan to outwit the terrorists. She should've just stood up then, told them all what she thought, and left.
Instead, she continued sitting, as if something was anchoring her to the pew. Still, a little piece of her wanted to hope that they could do it, the underdogs triumphing against the odds, but really?
A nervous hand fumbled with a bag. Maybe she just had to be ready to get out of there when the time came, just a contingency plan in case everything went to shit. Slowly, though, her heartbeat calmed, replaced by the usual steady thumps on the island, although she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Chuck's offer of a backrub.
There had to be more to it than that, but she wasn't going to pry. At least, not now. Too aggressive.
Back to being the confidant and simply taking in what others had to say, that was it. Like she had found something within the storm that was this island, but still, no matter the temporary calm, it was always as if her heart was two steps ahead of her brain, or even the current situation.
It was always beating, always humming, as if it was trying to already prepare itself for the inevitability of running away from it all once more. Wasn't that why she had holed herself up with these people anyways? In search of a safe haven, somewhere to hide away until she felt at least a little bit braver?
Brave, though? Natali knew she had to be that, in order to live, in order to keep on fighting to see the sun every time it rose in the sky. Had to have some sort of inner strength, something more than plain fear for her to keep on going, and right now, she didn't know if she had anything close to that. Maybe it would happen, one day. Or, maybe not, and so she continued to listen and sit on the pews, waiting with her bag next to her. Safety first.
Before all of this, listening was something that came to Nat fairly easily, even if she wasn't being particularly boastful. It wasn't just about nodding and shaking one's head at appropriate times, it was about reading the other person, seeing what they wanted out of it, being careful not to trigger an emotional fault-line or something of the sort. Here, though, bags under her eyes and a faint ringing in her head, trying to do the same was harder than ever.
From what she could vaguely understand, Michael seemed very passionate about what he was speaking about, which was good, which probably meant the speech was good, also taking into account Chuck's whoops and cheers.
She tried to listen in a bit closer, try to make out just a little bit more of whatever he was saying, and slowly the gears started popping into place. Find a way out. Escape. He still believed that there was a way out of this place without killing. Maybe Natali on Day 1 would've bought into that, believed it with all her heart, but now? There wasn't enough time, enough brains within their batch to create a plan to outwit the terrorists. She should've just stood up then, told them all what she thought, and left.
Instead, she continued sitting, as if something was anchoring her to the pew. Still, a little piece of her wanted to hope that they could do it, the underdogs triumphing against the odds, but really?
A nervous hand fumbled with a bag. Maybe she just had to be ready to get out of there when the time came, just a contingency plan in case everything went to shit. Slowly, though, her heartbeat calmed, replaced by the usual steady thumps on the island, although she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Chuck's offer of a backrub.
There had to be more to it than that, but she wasn't going to pry. At least, not now. Too aggressive.
Michael definitely caught their attention. That was good. That was real fuckin' good. He was ready to go into the detail when Chuck said something that... most likely changed the focus of the whole thing.
"Errrr, uhhh, what?"
A backrub? Ummm, okay? "Ehhh, yeah, I'll get back to you on that one, Chuck. I gotta get to what the plan is though before we actually do it though."
To be fair, it kind of helped if you knew what you were doing, and there was going to be a lot of knowing needed, this plan involved a hell of a lot of synergy.
"Right on, so we're gonna need more people here to get ourselves a better way to get out right? Well, I got just the plan for getting people to see us..."
Michael found himself walking down towards one of the rooms in the back to meet with Chuck about the 'backrub'. Michael wasn't sure what that meant, or if it really even meant anything, after all, a backrub could just be a backrub. But it could also lead into something else.
Michael hoped it didn't lead into anything else, because that'd be real fucking awkward to explain. Especially if it led into... y'know. In any other circumstance, he wouldn't mind it, which only made it worse that if it was that scenario, he couldn't do it. The first time someone offers you some, and you're so fucked up you can't even say yes. Fuckin' Blaine...
If it was just a backrub though, he wasn't gonna say no. Dragging Kyran across the island would make anyone sore, and that's not including the other fun times at Camp FuckMyShitUp. It didn't matter though, shit happened, and all he had to focus now was on what was ahead. After this he'd go back to Shitshow Land, because of course the worst shit had to happen in the place with the essential items needed.
Michael opened the door, unsure how to start the conversation. "So, uhhh... Backrubs?"
"Errrr, uhhh, what?"
A backrub? Ummm, okay? "Ehhh, yeah, I'll get back to you on that one, Chuck. I gotta get to what the plan is though before we actually do it though."
To be fair, it kind of helped if you knew what you were doing, and there was going to be a lot of knowing needed, this plan involved a hell of a lot of synergy.
"Right on, so we're gonna need more people here to get ourselves a better way to get out right? Well, I got just the plan for getting people to see us..."
Michael found himself walking down towards one of the rooms in the back to meet with Chuck about the 'backrub'. Michael wasn't sure what that meant, or if it really even meant anything, after all, a backrub could just be a backrub. But it could also lead into something else.
Michael hoped it didn't lead into anything else, because that'd be real fucking awkward to explain. Especially if it led into... y'know. In any other circumstance, he wouldn't mind it, which only made it worse that if it was that scenario, he couldn't do it. The first time someone offers you some, and you're so fucked up you can't even say yes. Fuckin' Blaine...
If it was just a backrub though, he wasn't gonna say no. Dragging Kyran across the island would make anyone sore, and that's not including the other fun times at Camp FuckMyShitUp. It didn't matter though, shit happened, and all he had to focus now was on what was ahead. After this he'd go back to Shitshow Land, because of course the worst shit had to happen in the place with the essential items needed.
Michael opened the door, unsure how to start the conversation. "So, uhhh... Backrubs?"
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
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Okay. Yeah. He deserved that. Deserved that...not scorn, exactly, but stupefaction, incredulity. Because without context, it sounded like a complete non-sequitur. Chuck understood that. Even with context...well, not everyone was going to be as game as he was. Chuck’d probably been the perfect person for Lance to teach that strategy too. Carrying on that essential survival know-how. Lance’s legacy, in a way.
No. He couldn’t think about it that way. Kinda belittling to Lance.
And after that astonishingly gentle rejection, courtesy of Michael, he half-turned around, looking everyone else in the eye. He paused on Scarlett, threw her a smile. Scarlett was a friend of his, and Chuck had been far too glib and apathetic about her arrival (not entirely - he’d given her the due greetings, but nothing more). Hoped his smile would convey that warmth and friendliness.
He still stood there, clapping, like a self-appointed hype man should. Chuck did not exactly have the typical frame or silhouette of a hype man, or muscle, or a second in command, or lancer, or whatever you wanted to call it.
But just as Michael had thrown himself into the hero role, Chuck had thrown himself into that deputy role. Maybe it was his privilege or his political passions or some innate delusions within himself conditioning him to think that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he possessed latent and untapped potential as...not a leader. But a co-leader.
Okay. Maybe not as a leader. Chuck couldn’t see himself as that. But as a facilitator? A Malcolm Tucker type, but nice and ethical? Sure.
---
And like a deputy, he was the first to have a private chat with Michael after that stirring speech, as the crowd was left wanting more, left invigorated, left-
Okay. Chuck’s internal monologue was getting a bit too grandiose. Dial it back there, buddy. Add a little bit of humility into the proceedings.
And that question was totally warranted. “So, uh, about the whole backrub thing. I’m no coming oto you. The thing is, and trust me on this, is that it might help us.” Gently, with deliberate and placid movements, making sure to signal each twitch so as not to trigger any suppressed island-induced PTSD, Chuck reached out.
He grabbed Michael’s hand, and began drawing out, painstakingly, with exaggerated motions, some letters. Chuck pressed into the skin, but not so much as to hurt. As an extra precaution, he used the thick fabric of his hoodie as a cover against the cameras. Hopefully this wasn’t violating any rules. It that Chuck cared about the deontological integrity of the game, but he liked having an unexploded neck.
The words he spelled out? ‘Secret communication method.’ He was never one for brevity. Hoped that would suffice.
And with purposeful eye contact and the occasional soft shushing, Chuck spoke, in between the words, creating an elaborate facade to satisfy the curiosity of the inevitably amused terrorists. “See, I’ve gotten into...tantric old new age rituals lately, and this sort of touching can really help relieve knots and cleanse toxins.” He was spouting so much pseudoscientific bullshit, and he hoped Michael saw through it.
And didn’t believe in this nonsense in the first place. “Just, you know, quietly ruminating upon it. Meditating. Piecing things together.”
“It works better on the back.” You can draw bigger letters, for a start. More space for errors. Punctuation, maybe. “Because that’s where the spine is, and the spine carries..good toxins. Good vibes. Spreads them throughout the body.” Overkill, Chuck. Dial it back a bit. “Eases the pain. Just like sweet liquor. Yeah, I’ve been thinking about old articles on coping techniques I saw for crisis situations, and drawing old runic letters on skin is one of them,” and flying way too close to the sun there, “and yeah. That’s it.”
And with Michael’s consent, he placed his fingers under Michael’s shirt - careful for any scars and burns because his face was pretty effed up - and wrote out another message. ‘Sorry abt bullshit.’ He resisted the urge to do punctuation or proper spelling. Hated text speak. But it had to be done. Because this was pretty awkward. ‘Was thinking of atacking cameras.’ He ignored the...typo? Fingero?
“So, what do you think? You can return the favour if you want.”
No. He couldn’t think about it that way. Kinda belittling to Lance.
And after that astonishingly gentle rejection, courtesy of Michael, he half-turned around, looking everyone else in the eye. He paused on Scarlett, threw her a smile. Scarlett was a friend of his, and Chuck had been far too glib and apathetic about her arrival (not entirely - he’d given her the due greetings, but nothing more). Hoped his smile would convey that warmth and friendliness.
He still stood there, clapping, like a self-appointed hype man should. Chuck did not exactly have the typical frame or silhouette of a hype man, or muscle, or a second in command, or lancer, or whatever you wanted to call it.
But just as Michael had thrown himself into the hero role, Chuck had thrown himself into that deputy role. Maybe it was his privilege or his political passions or some innate delusions within himself conditioning him to think that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he possessed latent and untapped potential as...not a leader. But a co-leader.
Okay. Maybe not as a leader. Chuck couldn’t see himself as that. But as a facilitator? A Malcolm Tucker type, but nice and ethical? Sure.
---
And like a deputy, he was the first to have a private chat with Michael after that stirring speech, as the crowd was left wanting more, left invigorated, left-
Okay. Chuck’s internal monologue was getting a bit too grandiose. Dial it back there, buddy. Add a little bit of humility into the proceedings.
And that question was totally warranted. “So, uh, about the whole backrub thing. I’m no coming oto you. The thing is, and trust me on this, is that it might help us.” Gently, with deliberate and placid movements, making sure to signal each twitch so as not to trigger any suppressed island-induced PTSD, Chuck reached out.
He grabbed Michael’s hand, and began drawing out, painstakingly, with exaggerated motions, some letters. Chuck pressed into the skin, but not so much as to hurt. As an extra precaution, he used the thick fabric of his hoodie as a cover against the cameras. Hopefully this wasn’t violating any rules. It that Chuck cared about the deontological integrity of the game, but he liked having an unexploded neck.
The words he spelled out? ‘Secret communication method.’ He was never one for brevity. Hoped that would suffice.
And with purposeful eye contact and the occasional soft shushing, Chuck spoke, in between the words, creating an elaborate facade to satisfy the curiosity of the inevitably amused terrorists. “See, I’ve gotten into...tantric old new age rituals lately, and this sort of touching can really help relieve knots and cleanse toxins.” He was spouting so much pseudoscientific bullshit, and he hoped Michael saw through it.
And didn’t believe in this nonsense in the first place. “Just, you know, quietly ruminating upon it. Meditating. Piecing things together.”
“It works better on the back.” You can draw bigger letters, for a start. More space for errors. Punctuation, maybe. “Because that’s where the spine is, and the spine carries..good toxins. Good vibes. Spreads them throughout the body.” Overkill, Chuck. Dial it back a bit. “Eases the pain. Just like sweet liquor. Yeah, I’ve been thinking about old articles on coping techniques I saw for crisis situations, and drawing old runic letters on skin is one of them,” and flying way too close to the sun there, “and yeah. That’s it.”
And with Michael’s consent, he placed his fingers under Michael’s shirt - careful for any scars and burns because his face was pretty effed up - and wrote out another message. ‘Sorry abt bullshit.’ He resisted the urge to do punctuation or proper spelling. Hated text speak. But it had to be done. Because this was pretty awkward. ‘Was thinking of atacking cameras.’ He ignored the...typo? Fingero?
“So, what do you think? You can return the favour if you want.”
So right away Chuck told Michael the details. This wasn't some meet'n'fuck before the suicide mission gig. Michael felt partially relieved in that he didn't have to explain why he couldn't do that, but also partially offended in that he wasn't offered it. Fuck it, he was here for something that could potentially help them both or something like that, so it was obviously more than just a backrub.
Chuck took Mike's hand and began trailing his finger across it. Michael wasn't sure what this was all about, it seemed like a buildup to something, but he wasn't sure what. It only occurred to Mike that he was writing letters on his hand. He didn't know what the message was, to be honest, he only picked up -i-o-n method from the whole thing.
Chuck didn't make it easy to understand, he was talking out his ass about some hippie mumbo jumbo, but Michael was pretty sure it was a front for the actual message. When Chuck moved to message on his back, Michael made sure to pay attention, to listen-errr, like, feel what Chuck had to say.
Chuck had his own plan something related to the cameras. To be honest, Michael was intrigued with that, he wanted to know more about it. Chuck asked Michael to return the favor.
Michael obliged.
'Elaborate plz' was what he marked on Chuck's back in reply.
Chuck took Mike's hand and began trailing his finger across it. Michael wasn't sure what this was all about, it seemed like a buildup to something, but he wasn't sure what. It only occurred to Mike that he was writing letters on his hand. He didn't know what the message was, to be honest, he only picked up -i-o-n method from the whole thing.
Chuck didn't make it easy to understand, he was talking out his ass about some hippie mumbo jumbo, but Michael was pretty sure it was a front for the actual message. When Chuck moved to message on his back, Michael made sure to pay attention, to listen-errr, like, feel what Chuck had to say.
Chuck had his own plan something related to the cameras. To be honest, Michael was intrigued with that, he wanted to know more about it. Chuck asked Michael to return the favor.
Michael obliged.
'Elaborate plz' was what he marked on Chuck's back in reply.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
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The risk was that Chuck would get so involved in the...performance for the cameras that he would forget to actually notice on the messages being relayed. He wailed and keened at Michael's touch, urging him on with mutterings such as "oh, that's the spot", and "oooh, I can feel my karmic energy being sated", hitting all the notes of quasi-sensual massage appreciation and woo-swallowing gullibility Chuck could imagine. He almost got so enthralled in the acting - a final chance to make some satirical point before his likely demise - that he forgot the reason he was putting up this flimsy facade.
Luckily, Michael's touch was deliberate. His fingers did not daintily trace across flesh. Instead, they moved confidently, no pauses to hesitate, no uming and erring as he pondered whether to use text speak or not. It was a simple question. A retort. More information.
Chuck would...have to improvise at this point.
"Here, let me show you. You need to...if I remember the WikiHow article right, you gotta do the massage like this." And again, they swapped positions. Chuck continued writing. Trying to press his finger slightly deeper into Michael's skin, hoping that would provide some clarity.
'Not sure on details yet. Tie cameras up or something, yank em down in 1 go.'
He should have written 'details unsure'. He hoped the '1' wouldn't be confused for an I.
Luckily, Michael's touch was deliberate. His fingers did not daintily trace across flesh. Instead, they moved confidently, no pauses to hesitate, no uming and erring as he pondered whether to use text speak or not. It was a simple question. A retort. More information.
Chuck would...have to improvise at this point.
"Here, let me show you. You need to...if I remember the WikiHow article right, you gotta do the massage like this." And again, they swapped positions. Chuck continued writing. Trying to press his finger slightly deeper into Michael's skin, hoping that would provide some clarity.
'Not sure on details yet. Tie cameras up or something, yank em down in 1 go.'
He should have written 'details unsure'. He hoped the '1' wouldn't be confused for an I.
So he was gonna do something with the cameras? Shit, and Michael thought his idea was crazy... That sounds like an awful, trashy, dumb as all hell plan that'd get everyone killed.
Michael liked it.
The idea behind it anyways, there'd need to be more details if they wanted a way to get that shit done right. It was an idea he could get behind though. "Right, I think I understand what you mean about it. Lemme try again one more time."
Michael turned and sent his message to Chuck, writing out short, blunt, messages.
'I can cover for you.'
He moved on to the second message.
'Just need your help with this, need everyone's help.'
Third message.
'Outside world will see what I'm doing. Too big for them not to.'
Fourth.
'I have to go get supplies now.'
And final message.
'Tell me what you need.'
Michael liked it.
The idea behind it anyways, there'd need to be more details if they wanted a way to get that shit done right. It was an idea he could get behind though. "Right, I think I understand what you mean about it. Lemme try again one more time."
Michael turned and sent his message to Chuck, writing out short, blunt, messages.
'I can cover for you.'
He moved on to the second message.
'Just need your help with this, need everyone's help.'
Third message.
'Outside world will see what I'm doing. Too big for them not to.'
Fourth.
'I have to go get supplies now.'
And final message.
'Tell me what you need.'
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
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"Oooh, that's the spot!" The timbre of Chuck's voice, the cadence of his words, the way he quivered and shook, was almost reminiscent of orgasm. Incredibly overacted, of course. But that was all part of the plan. Have the terrorists laugh at his atrocious overcompensating, rather than on the minute details of the scene.
Plus, Chuck loved being hammy. An understated pleasure. Immature, maybe, but Chuck loved it.
"Alright, here's a reward for your quick learning."
The two switched positions. As much fun as he was having, this was getting a bit tiresome.
'Rope. Lotsa rope.'
Plus, Chuck loved being hammy. An understated pleasure. Immature, maybe, but Chuck loved it.
"Alright, here's a reward for your quick learning."
The two switched positions. As much fun as he was having, this was getting a bit tiresome.
'Rope. Lotsa rope.'
Jeeze, that was a first-class speech. Not just the content either. Michael had charisma to spare.
The hope he had filled the room with was almost enough to get his mind off the other things. Like how he had been with one group and woken up with a completely different set of people. How Adonis had seemingly chased after Saachi who was becoming the bane of his time here, the recurring side pain that keeps flaring up every-time you think you're over it and Adonis' fate wasn't looking hopeful.
Like the fact no one really had an answer to what happened to himself, so he could only assume from how he was feeling from the aches and the pains and the thirst/hunger: that he'd collapsed unconsciously from a lack of supplies still left in that forest and had to be careful not to let that happen again. Still, they had saved his life somehow, even the newly noted killer Natali became, had helped.
They had turned his home base stronghold idea into a reality.
He could even sit in the background again, take a step back for the others who had taken the lead. Kyran preferred that. Find someone who knew what to do, because he sure didn't was the main objective and looks like he had succeeded. Michael and Chuck seemed to have plans, legitimate thorough ideas to save everyone from this whole thing. The larger picture of terroristic kidnapping. Not just whatever petty island game B.S was supposed to be going on. Everyone had to remember to keep things into perspective.
For a moment, Kyran was feeling kind of optimistic. Maybe it was the infectious personalities (and sour face Natali) around him, but yeah things were looking bright for once. He looked at Scarlett, briefly lifting one hand 'hi'.
The hope he had filled the room with was almost enough to get his mind off the other things. Like how he had been with one group and woken up with a completely different set of people. How Adonis had seemingly chased after Saachi who was becoming the bane of his time here, the recurring side pain that keeps flaring up every-time you think you're over it and Adonis' fate wasn't looking hopeful.
Like the fact no one really had an answer to what happened to himself, so he could only assume from how he was feeling from the aches and the pains and the thirst/hunger: that he'd collapsed unconsciously from a lack of supplies still left in that forest and had to be careful not to let that happen again. Still, they had saved his life somehow, even the newly noted killer Natali became, had helped.
They had turned his home base stronghold idea into a reality.
He could even sit in the background again, take a step back for the others who had taken the lead. Kyran preferred that. Find someone who knew what to do, because he sure didn't was the main objective and looks like he had succeeded. Michael and Chuck seemed to have plans, legitimate thorough ideas to save everyone from this whole thing. The larger picture of terroristic kidnapping. Not just whatever petty island game B.S was supposed to be going on. Everyone had to remember to keep things into perspective.
For a moment, Kyran was feeling kind of optimistic. Maybe it was the infectious personalities (and sour face Natali) around him, but yeah things were looking bright for once. He looked at Scarlett, briefly lifting one hand 'hi'.
Meanwhile, Michael and Chuck had gone to the backroom where he had woken earlier. Probably for some highly confidential war meeting or something cool like that. They had been there for a while though so Kyran stood up and slowly made his way to the door.
Sure enough, Kyran could hear Chuck saying some weird nonsensical stuff on the other side of the door, but that was nothing new. Both those guys were goofballs. He turned the handle and creaked the door open.
Kyran stood at the doorway just in time to hear some pleasured words of ecstasy and see Chuck's body trembling at Michael's touch, with both guys shifting positions.
He calmly closed the door and backed away.
Sure enough, Kyran could hear Chuck saying some weird nonsensical stuff on the other side of the door, but that was nothing new. Both those guys were goofballs. He turned the handle and creaked the door open.
Kyran stood at the doorway just in time to hear some pleasured words of ecstasy and see Chuck's body trembling at Michael's touch, with both guys shifting positions.
He calmly closed the door and backed away.
Michael's eyes noticed the door closing again midway through Chuck's next message. He only got a glimpse of Kyran, but the look on his face said it all. So that happened...
So the next thing to add on Mike's shopping list was rope, shouldn't be too hard. The warehouse was a Costco of murder after all, and rope is never in short supply when it comes to that shit. It seemed that they had everything together now, all's was left was to get what was needed, then do what was needed, and boom, one step closer to getting out of this shithole.
There was just one thing left he needed.
He turned to deliver the definitive, final message to Chuck before he went out on his quest for TP and rope in what must be the weirdest items ever needed together.
'Before I go, I have 2 ask.'
First part done.
'Can I get an actual backrub?'
To be fair this was exactly what he walked in here for, as awkward as Chuck put it earlier during the speech, and yeah, Michael knew it was probably going to be related to something else, but still, expectations and all that.
At the very least though, Mike should give Chuck some clarifications as to why, so this isn't all awkward 'n shit.
'I am sore as motherfucker'
That should be a good enough reason.
So the next thing to add on Mike's shopping list was rope, shouldn't be too hard. The warehouse was a Costco of murder after all, and rope is never in short supply when it comes to that shit. It seemed that they had everything together now, all's was left was to get what was needed, then do what was needed, and boom, one step closer to getting out of this shithole.
There was just one thing left he needed.
He turned to deliver the definitive, final message to Chuck before he went out on his quest for TP and rope in what must be the weirdest items ever needed together.
'Before I go, I have 2 ask.'
First part done.
'Can I get an actual backrub?'
To be fair this was exactly what he walked in here for, as awkward as Chuck put it earlier during the speech, and yeah, Michael knew it was probably going to be related to something else, but still, expectations and all that.
At the very least though, Mike should give Chuck some clarifications as to why, so this isn't all awkward 'n shit.
'I am sore as motherfucker'
That should be a good enough reason.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Chuck, meanwhile, had not noticed Kyran. His hat, however, bobbing and weaving with the flow of its master's movements, waved at him though.
And then came the final request.
Chuck stammered at first. Almost incredulously asked 'a backrub?' out loud, which might have spoiled their foolproof cover, inviting all manner of explosive reprimands from terrorists not fond of secret messages. "Uh....alright, I've never thought about how to do that before, but, I'll give it a shot. New technique, you know?"
But he nodded, switched places, and tried his very best. Mixing up just how hard his rubs were (phrasing), hoping that, within the erratic variety of his techniques, he would stumble upon gold.
And then came the final request.
Chuck stammered at first. Almost incredulously asked 'a backrub?' out loud, which might have spoiled their foolproof cover, inviting all manner of explosive reprimands from terrorists not fond of secret messages. "Uh....alright, I've never thought about how to do that before, but, I'll give it a shot. New technique, you know?"
But he nodded, switched places, and tried his very best. Mixing up just how hard his rubs were (phrasing), hoping that, within the erratic variety of his techniques, he would stumble upon gold.
Michael set back and let Chuck do his magic. It was a simple request, and a simple action. Just a backrub, something that people would've taken for granted if they weren't on a death island. It was nice, relaxing, made Mike almost forget about those constant aches from the warehouse. From a neutral perspective anyone would make this choice, there was no reason not to, the island meant pain, suffering, loss. Home was the opposite.
The real reason for requesting something as simple as a backrub might've seemed odd, but it was pure and simple relief. It dulled the pain, and made things hurt less. Not only that, it reminded you that all wasn't lost into the clusterfuck void of this shithole. It reminded you that things were gonna get better, and you were still gonna make it out.
Something as simple as a backrub can help with that, weirdly. It reminds you of just what's waiting for you if you make it out. Michael was gonna make it out, he knew that was coming one way or another; but he was doing it on his terms, not Danya's. He was gonna be bringing people with him on the way out, he was gonna make this happen.
Another thing was it gave him more time to think. Chuck had his own plans, take the cameras down all at once. All he needed was rope. Mike knew he'd need a lot of rope for how big this fucking island was, but all he needed was rope, so he was gonna get it. Michael had his own plan. He didn't tell the church crew the full story but this was more than just a breadcrumb trail. This message wasn't just for the people on this island.
This was gonna be bigger than that. One way or another, the whole world was gonna know his face very soon.
"Thank you, buddy."
Michael pulled himself out of the chair and started going towards the doorway.
"You ready for this, Chuck? Shit's about to get real."
((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
The real reason for requesting something as simple as a backrub might've seemed odd, but it was pure and simple relief. It dulled the pain, and made things hurt less. Not only that, it reminded you that all wasn't lost into the clusterfuck void of this shithole. It reminded you that things were gonna get better, and you were still gonna make it out.
Something as simple as a backrub can help with that, weirdly. It reminds you of just what's waiting for you if you make it out. Michael was gonna make it out, he knew that was coming one way or another; but he was doing it on his terms, not Danya's. He was gonna be bringing people with him on the way out, he was gonna make this happen.
Another thing was it gave him more time to think. Chuck had his own plans, take the cameras down all at once. All he needed was rope. Mike knew he'd need a lot of rope for how big this fucking island was, but all he needed was rope, so he was gonna get it. Michael had his own plan. He didn't tell the church crew the full story but this was more than just a breadcrumb trail. This message wasn't just for the people on this island.
This was gonna be bigger than that. One way or another, the whole world was gonna know his face very soon.
"Thank you, buddy."
Michael pulled himself out of the chair and started going towards the doorway.
"You ready for this, Chuck? Shit's about to get real."
((Michael Crowe continued elsewhere.))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Chuck enjoyed giving backrubs more than he expected. Made him feel useful. Plus, idle hands are the devil's playthings and all that.
"I'm ready, man." He nodded. This was like a scene in a movie. So very unreal. But still, Chuck wasn't gonna call him out on that.
And as he entered the main room, rejoining the rest of the team, he held his hands up. "Anyone else fancy a backrub?"
"I'm ready, man." He nodded. This was like a scene in a movie. So very unreal. But still, Chuck wasn't gonna call him out on that.
And as he entered the main room, rejoining the rest of the team, he held his hands up. "Anyone else fancy a backrub?"