As Leah exited the court, the voices became crisper. Aidan was talking to a girl; probably the one who vomited, judging by the state of her skirt. Thankfully the two seemed preoccupied with each other, so she could steal away unnoticed. Before she could, though, something Aidan said glued her to the spot.
"Is that alright, Lucia?"
Lucia. The name was familiar, and it didn't take too long for her to remember. Lucia's name was on the announcements, something about shooting a boy. The exact phrasing escaped her, but either way she had blood on her hands.
She was in the vicinity of an experienced killer.
Lucia said something in a panicky voice, questioning who "th-the girl" was. Aidan's blabbermouth probably let Leah slip to her, but luckily he didn't know her name, nor did he seem to care. Lucia very well did, though.
Her breathing got shallow. Leah involuntarily squeaked, staring at the other girl with bulging eyes. She didn't look too good, but she was fairly pretty; Lucia might've been a friendly face if they'd gone to school together. But they weren't at school, they were on Survival of the Fittest: a dog-eat-dog world where Leah made easy prey. Her mentor's words were echoing in her mind.
These people aren't safe, you know that. Don't let them follow you back like the last ones.
Her mind told her to run, to get as far away from this place as possible. To not give them a change to follow, to disappear like the wind. As if she wasn't there.
Her mind told her to run.
So she did.
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Pippi
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Aidan didn’t get the chance to tell Lucia the name of the other girl in the sports centre. There was a sound from behind him. It was quiet, almost unnoticeable. But with Lucia completely on edge, every unusual sound and every unexpected action stuck out like a sore thumb to her.
A figure had appeared in the doorway leading to the rest of the sports complex. A girl. A complete unknown. A stranger with what looked like a weapon in her hands.
Lucia’s attention had left Aidan completely now. Her eyes were now fixed on the other girl. Lucia didn’t know whether it was Laura or the other girl he had mentioned, but judging by the way she looked, she guessed it was the latter. She looked... well, Lucia couldn’t tell. That was the most terrifying part. She didn’t know what was running through the other girl’s mind. Was it fear or anger on her face? Would her next actions be driven by a desire for peace or for vengeance? Lucia had no idea.
She briefly wondered whether she looked the same.
But there was no time to think any further than that, because the girl was moving and moving fast, moving towards Lucia, gaining speed. There was a weapon in her hands, a gun, much bigger than Lucia’s, much more threatening looking. She was getting closer, closer still and Lucia needed to do something before it was all too late and
Once again, it was fear that made the decision for her as Lucia pulled the trigger.
A figure had appeared in the doorway leading to the rest of the sports complex. A girl. A complete unknown. A stranger with what looked like a weapon in her hands.
Lucia’s attention had left Aidan completely now. Her eyes were now fixed on the other girl. Lucia didn’t know whether it was Laura or the other girl he had mentioned, but judging by the way she looked, she guessed it was the latter. She looked... well, Lucia couldn’t tell. That was the most terrifying part. She didn’t know what was running through the other girl’s mind. Was it fear or anger on her face? Would her next actions be driven by a desire for peace or for vengeance? Lucia had no idea.
She briefly wondered whether she looked the same.
But there was no time to think any further than that, because the girl was moving and moving fast, moving towards Lucia, gaining speed. There was a weapon in her hands, a gun, much bigger than Lucia’s, much more threatening looking. She was getting closer, closer still and Lucia needed to do something before it was all too late and
Once again, it was fear that made the decision for her as Lucia pulled the trigger.
Running towards Lucia was a fatal misjudgment on Leah's part.
Her mind was racing with her mentor's words and surging with memories if the encounter with the other boy. She was fearing for her life and hating the prospect of a repeat of last time. Her arm ached and her legs weren't fully rested. Amidst the muddled thoughts and feelings only the command run rose above the rest. Sadly, the command turn around didn't make it through.
So the soles of her sneakers pushed off the ground as she bolted, pumping her legs and hoping that they'd carry her far away from here. Unbeknownst to her, she was heading straight towards the danger she was trying desperately to avoid.
Leah would never realize it.
She quite literally ran into the bullet, crossing its path and allowing it to hit her square in the chest. The force of impact stop Leah dead in her tracks, making her stumble backwards instead. The gun fell from her now limp hands, clattering to the ground as she took a few shaky steps back. Her legs gave out soon enough, and Leah found herself staring at the rapidly dimming ceiling.
She didn't know of her fatal mistake, but she did know that Lucia shot her. Leah only had time to identify her killer before the world faded to black.
The last thing she felt was regret.
Her mind was racing with her mentor's words and surging with memories if the encounter with the other boy. She was fearing for her life and hating the prospect of a repeat of last time. Her arm ached and her legs weren't fully rested. Amidst the muddled thoughts and feelings only the command run rose above the rest. Sadly, the command turn around didn't make it through.
So the soles of her sneakers pushed off the ground as she bolted, pumping her legs and hoping that they'd carry her far away from here. Unbeknownst to her, she was heading straight towards the danger she was trying desperately to avoid.
Leah would never realize it.
She quite literally ran into the bullet, crossing its path and allowing it to hit her square in the chest. The force of impact stop Leah dead in her tracks, making her stumble backwards instead. The gun fell from her now limp hands, clattering to the ground as she took a few shaky steps back. Her legs gave out soon enough, and Leah found herself staring at the rapidly dimming ceiling.
She didn't know of her fatal mistake, but she did know that Lucia shot her. Leah only had time to identify her killer before the world faded to black.
The last thing she felt was regret.
EW2: LEAH BISSARD- DECEASED
58 STUDENTS LEFT
58 STUDENTS LEFT
((So sorry everybody, no real excuse for disappearing except being an eejit who forgot))
Gunshot. Noise. Danger.
Bad.
The girl was dead. The girl from Whittree was dead. Somebody for the first time had just been gunned down in front of her. Didn't matter that she couldn't remember who she was. Somebody had just shot her. Aidan's new buddy had just gunned her down for no reason. No reason she could see, at least.
So she walked in the room. A bit late now to calm things down, bit late to walk in and introduce herself, but there was nothing else for her to do. "What just happened?"
Well, that was a stupid question, she had just saw what had happened, but what was being asked was why had it happened. Why was somebody dead when they- well, they just shouldn't have been. Not when they had just been alive moments before.
"Why'd you do it? Why'd you shoot her?"
Demanding answers from a killer with a gun wasn't a brilliant survival plan, but at that point, who cared? Some things need to be said. Just like some questions aren't meant to have answers.
"What the hell'd you shoot her for?"
Gunshot. Noise. Danger.
Bad.
The girl was dead. The girl from Whittree was dead. Somebody for the first time had just been gunned down in front of her. Didn't matter that she couldn't remember who she was. Somebody had just shot her. Aidan's new buddy had just gunned her down for no reason. No reason she could see, at least.
So she walked in the room. A bit late now to calm things down, bit late to walk in and introduce herself, but there was nothing else for her to do. "What just happened?"
Well, that was a stupid question, she had just saw what had happened, but what was being asked was why had it happened. Why was somebody dead when they- well, they just shouldn't have been. Not when they had just been alive moments before.
"Why'd you do it? Why'd you shoot her?"
Demanding answers from a killer with a gun wasn't a brilliant survival plan, but at that point, who cared? Some things need to be said. Just like some questions aren't meant to have answers.
"What the hell'd you shoot her for?"
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How was Aidan supposed to react to all of this? Was he supposed to watch his life flash by his eyes, or something cliché like that? Was he supposed to see all those last loose threads he’d left behind before being cast? Was he going to make some last minute declarations; something about loving his mother and sister, maybe even coming out to his dad on live tv? Something poetic for his last moments was what every actor dreamed of.
Fantine, Eponine from Les Miserables did it right. Not a single dry eye in the audience.
Yet as Aidan stood rigidly still, waiting for gravity to carry his body to the hard basketball court floor, he couldn’t think of anything dramatic. If this was it, Aidan should have something better to say. Going out with a bang came to mind, but that was a pun. Comedy is the lowest form of theater, besides puppets.
Aidan opened his eyes. How bad could the shot have been if he wasn’t feeling it? Either he was in complete body shock. Or he hadn’t been shot at all.
The shot had luckily fired right past Aidan’s side, striking the rapid footsteps that approached Lucia and Aidan. Little Miss Wendy’s was the intended target after all. She’d come running at them, Assault Rifle in hand. Or at least, it had been in hand, right before the force of the shot scattered her items, gun included, across the floor. Aidan was alive, for now.
He was eyeing the gun hungrily. A gun here meant protection. Words and niceties were temporary Band-Aids to gain alliances, but those were temporary protections. Guns fired quicker than any amount of rehearsed dialogue could. Lucia had proven that when she’d mowed down the first kid, half a day earlier. If he had that gun, even if he didn’t fire it until the final day, still could mean protection. In the end, it would be the kids who managed to grab guns that would survive. Not the kids who were fabulous linguists, or convincing friends. Aidan wanted the world to love him, but more than that, he wanted to stay alive.
It may have been about twelve feet away, but it seemed miles away. Lucia’s trained gun had already mowed down two people before a day had even come to a close. Gingervitis had made the mistake of scaring Lucia. If Aidan even flinched in that direction, he’d be shot bloody. Red wasn’t his color.
“I-It’s okay.” Oh honey, it wasn’t. A girl got shot mere feet away from Aidan. None of this was okay. Aidan was standing face to face with her killer. “She was running right towards us. It’s okay.”
Laura chose a damn good time to finally interject herself. If she heard gunfire, the bitch should have run. Aidan was going to be able to win Lucia over on his own, Laura just threw a big ol’ wrench in that plan.
“It was an accident, Laura!” Aidan briefly turned his head, calling out to his “ally.” She was friendly towards Aidan, but right about now, she was already making a bad situation worse.
“Right girl? An accident.” Lucia looked abysmally terrible. She wasn’t that Jewel chick, killing for fun. The vomit on her skirt betrayed any killer aura that her actions might give off. She was a murderer, yes, but deeper than that, she was a scared teenager.
“It’s okay.” Aidan was still trying to convince Lucia, but maybe he was also trying to convince himself.
Fantine, Eponine from Les Miserables did it right. Not a single dry eye in the audience.
Yet as Aidan stood rigidly still, waiting for gravity to carry his body to the hard basketball court floor, he couldn’t think of anything dramatic. If this was it, Aidan should have something better to say. Going out with a bang came to mind, but that was a pun. Comedy is the lowest form of theater, besides puppets.
Aidan opened his eyes. How bad could the shot have been if he wasn’t feeling it? Either he was in complete body shock. Or he hadn’t been shot at all.
The shot had luckily fired right past Aidan’s side, striking the rapid footsteps that approached Lucia and Aidan. Little Miss Wendy’s was the intended target after all. She’d come running at them, Assault Rifle in hand. Or at least, it had been in hand, right before the force of the shot scattered her items, gun included, across the floor. Aidan was alive, for now.
He was eyeing the gun hungrily. A gun here meant protection. Words and niceties were temporary Band-Aids to gain alliances, but those were temporary protections. Guns fired quicker than any amount of rehearsed dialogue could. Lucia had proven that when she’d mowed down the first kid, half a day earlier. If he had that gun, even if he didn’t fire it until the final day, still could mean protection. In the end, it would be the kids who managed to grab guns that would survive. Not the kids who were fabulous linguists, or convincing friends. Aidan wanted the world to love him, but more than that, he wanted to stay alive.
It may have been about twelve feet away, but it seemed miles away. Lucia’s trained gun had already mowed down two people before a day had even come to a close. Gingervitis had made the mistake of scaring Lucia. If Aidan even flinched in that direction, he’d be shot bloody. Red wasn’t his color.
“I-It’s okay.” Oh honey, it wasn’t. A girl got shot mere feet away from Aidan. None of this was okay. Aidan was standing face to face with her killer. “She was running right towards us. It’s okay.”
Laura chose a damn good time to finally interject herself. If she heard gunfire, the bitch should have run. Aidan was going to be able to win Lucia over on his own, Laura just threw a big ol’ wrench in that plan.
“It was an accident, Laura!” Aidan briefly turned his head, calling out to his “ally.” She was friendly towards Aidan, but right about now, she was already making a bad situation worse.
“Right girl? An accident.” Lucia looked abysmally terrible. She wasn’t that Jewel chick, killing for fun. The vomit on her skirt betrayed any killer aura that her actions might give off. She was a murderer, yes, but deeper than that, she was a scared teenager.
“It’s okay.” Aidan was still trying to convince Lucia, but maybe he was also trying to convince himself.
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Pippi
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Leah stumbled backwards. Leah’s gun fell from her hands and clattered against the floor, droplets of blood staining the once smooth, off-white surface. Leah took a few more steps backwards. Leah, eventually, fell.
Lucia watched it all happening in slow motion, knuckles white as her grip on the gun never wavered. It took several more seconds for the ramifications of her actions to truly hit her. She had killed somebody, a second person now. Another person was lying dead on the floor in front of her. She didn’t know the girl, hadn’t ever met her before this very moment, and yet she’d just shot her. Simple as that.
Lucia didn’t know whether to scream or run or cry, or just stay frozen in position. Aidan was saying something. Was he trying to... reassure her? Why? What would it gain him? That girl had been his ally, his friend, hadn’t she? Lucia didn’t understand what he was trying to do by acting nice towards her. She looked at him, confusion and terror in her eyes, feeling tears forming in them.
Why didn’t he just run?
Another girl suddenly appeared, and Lucia spun round to face her, gun raised. Laura. She guessed this other girl was Laura. She didn’t have a weapon, but accusations and questions were flying thick and fast. Why had she shot Leah? That answer was simple enough. She had been terrified. Leah had been running at her with a weapon. Lucia had done the only thing she’d thought she could do. And yet Lucia couldn’t find her voice before Aidan spoke up. Again, Lucia’s attention was drawn back to him.
An accident? No. No, Lucia could never pretend that was what it had been. No matter how much she tried to justify it, she’d killed two people now. Two people with families and friends who would never see them again. She was a murderer. And Aidan’s actions still didn’t make any sense. He was still trying to defend her, comfort her. His words were doing the exact opposite, right now.
“I-I... she w-was running... I...” Lucia tried to reply to Laura, tried to stay focused on that more than anything, but she couldn’t hold back the confusion and fear she was feeling. She rounded on Aidan. Took a few steps back. Aimed the gun at him instead.
“S-stop it... stop sp-speaking like th-that! Sh-she was y-your friend! What... wh-what do you want... wh-why...”
Lucia could take it no longer. She sunk to the floor and buried her head in her hands.
She was completely and utterly lost.
Lucia watched it all happening in slow motion, knuckles white as her grip on the gun never wavered. It took several more seconds for the ramifications of her actions to truly hit her. She had killed somebody, a second person now. Another person was lying dead on the floor in front of her. She didn’t know the girl, hadn’t ever met her before this very moment, and yet she’d just shot her. Simple as that.
Lucia didn’t know whether to scream or run or cry, or just stay frozen in position. Aidan was saying something. Was he trying to... reassure her? Why? What would it gain him? That girl had been his ally, his friend, hadn’t she? Lucia didn’t understand what he was trying to do by acting nice towards her. She looked at him, confusion and terror in her eyes, feeling tears forming in them.
Why didn’t he just run?
Another girl suddenly appeared, and Lucia spun round to face her, gun raised. Laura. She guessed this other girl was Laura. She didn’t have a weapon, but accusations and questions were flying thick and fast. Why had she shot Leah? That answer was simple enough. She had been terrified. Leah had been running at her with a weapon. Lucia had done the only thing she’d thought she could do. And yet Lucia couldn’t find her voice before Aidan spoke up. Again, Lucia’s attention was drawn back to him.
An accident? No. No, Lucia could never pretend that was what it had been. No matter how much she tried to justify it, she’d killed two people now. Two people with families and friends who would never see them again. She was a murderer. And Aidan’s actions still didn’t make any sense. He was still trying to defend her, comfort her. His words were doing the exact opposite, right now.
“I-I... she w-was running... I...” Lucia tried to reply to Laura, tried to stay focused on that more than anything, but she couldn’t hold back the confusion and fear she was feeling. She rounded on Aidan. Took a few steps back. Aimed the gun at him instead.
“S-stop it... stop sp-speaking like th-that! Sh-she was y-your friend! What... wh-what do you want... wh-why...”
Lucia could take it no longer. She sunk to the floor and buried her head in her hands.
She was completely and utterly lost.
((Getting close to inactivity. Sorry for the skippage))
What Aidan was selling, Lucia wasn’t buying. Years of theatrical charm for persona, years of athleticism for looks, and years of meticulous appointments with his dermatologist, his monthly eyebrow plucking, his bi-weekly, and his obviously important obligations running Davison as the queen bee, all added up to a whole lot of nothing. The girl pointed her gun at Aidan, frightfully reminding him how easy a little slip-up could be so costly. Sister wasn’t going to give him a bad review when he fucked up his little dialogue; she was going to shoot him.
He could be charming, but that still didn’t get him that gun. Lucia had it, and it was pointed square in his chest. Aidan opened his mouth, ready to unload the perfect line, but he come up empty. His lips traced around words that ultimately never left past his tongue.
Friends? With that girl? Aidan had no idea who she was. More than that, he had no idea who Laura really was, either. These people were strangers from another school, as far as Aidan was concerned. As nice as Laura had been so far, Aidan had no idea how that might change. What if she ran into people she knew? What if they had a better plan, maybe one that involved killing off the Davison kids? Aidan simply couldn’t trust Laura all that fully.
But then again, he had even less trust for Lucia.
When Lucia suddenly fell to her knees, cupping her face with both hands, all Aidan could think about was her gun. No pity for the broken, sobbing girl. Aidan was past that. What he wanted instead, was either her gun, or the gun the other girl had left on the ground. Twelve feet never seemed so far away.
He could make a run for it. The major difference between Aidan and that other girl was their athleticism. Aidan was physically defined from lacrosse. The other girl looked like the kind of girl who considered “power walking” an exercise. Aidan could run for it. Maybe he’d manage to grab hold of the handle. But Lucia would probably shoot him square in the back before he’d even get a chance to aim it.
Hell, she might even shoot Laura too, going from at least two kills, to four. Maybe even more. Lucia went to his school, but Aidan was honestly not able to say that he knew her better than Laura. He didn’t think that stuck up, weird artist, would be holding a gun at him, seconds after shooting a girl stone cold dead. Laura had been a friend so far. Well, maybe not a friend in the traditional sense, but whatever friendship meant here, she’d been the closest. Certainly more than Gene, and certainly more than Lucia.
“Get out. She’s crazy.” Aidan mouthed the words to Laura. His command, though muted, was forceful. Leave. Aidan liked Laura, but Lucia was crazy. She hadn’t hesitated to kill in the past. While Lucia was focused on Aidan, Laura could escape. She could go off and find a way out of here. All she had to do was take the bait. “Please.”
Aidan turned his head back to Lucia, hoping to god that anything could go to plan.
“I didn’t know the poor girl. Honestly.” Aidan looked down at the dead girl. She certainly wasn’t smart to come running over, weapon in hand, but she was terrified. The girl didn't serve to die for it, and Lucia didn’t deserve to be the one crying. Lucia wasn’t the one dead on the floor. “I’m sure she was scared. Absolutely terrified. We all are.”
Aidan took a step back, padding his movements with words. “I always wanted to be famous. I think everybody does. I wanted to be the next theatrical sensation, deep down. I wanted to see my name on the top of every playbill listing in New York.” He paused. “But not like this. What we’re doing isn’t TV. We’re stuck in a horrible situation, and I’m not subscribing.”
He was wondering if he’d piqued Lucia’s interest. God knows he’d been feeding her all these last minutes of tortured uncertainty. The only thing that was certain, however, was how close he was getting to the gun. Just a few more seconds, just a few more moments…
“Escape is possible, doll. We could make it back home. You, me. Will Brackenrig, everybody from Davison.” For some reason, Will found it in his generous, lovely heart, to like Lucia. Aidan couldn’t fathom it, but at the moment, it worked in his favor. “We aren’t bad people. We don’t deserve to be in this cold, tacky ass luau version of hell they call ‘tv.’”
What Aidan was selling, Lucia wasn’t buying. Years of theatrical charm for persona, years of athleticism for looks, and years of meticulous appointments with his dermatologist, his monthly eyebrow plucking, his bi-weekly, and his obviously important obligations running Davison as the queen bee, all added up to a whole lot of nothing. The girl pointed her gun at Aidan, frightfully reminding him how easy a little slip-up could be so costly. Sister wasn’t going to give him a bad review when he fucked up his little dialogue; she was going to shoot him.
He could be charming, but that still didn’t get him that gun. Lucia had it, and it was pointed square in his chest. Aidan opened his mouth, ready to unload the perfect line, but he come up empty. His lips traced around words that ultimately never left past his tongue.
Friends? With that girl? Aidan had no idea who she was. More than that, he had no idea who Laura really was, either. These people were strangers from another school, as far as Aidan was concerned. As nice as Laura had been so far, Aidan had no idea how that might change. What if she ran into people she knew? What if they had a better plan, maybe one that involved killing off the Davison kids? Aidan simply couldn’t trust Laura all that fully.
But then again, he had even less trust for Lucia.
When Lucia suddenly fell to her knees, cupping her face with both hands, all Aidan could think about was her gun. No pity for the broken, sobbing girl. Aidan was past that. What he wanted instead, was either her gun, or the gun the other girl had left on the ground. Twelve feet never seemed so far away.
He could make a run for it. The major difference between Aidan and that other girl was their athleticism. Aidan was physically defined from lacrosse. The other girl looked like the kind of girl who considered “power walking” an exercise. Aidan could run for it. Maybe he’d manage to grab hold of the handle. But Lucia would probably shoot him square in the back before he’d even get a chance to aim it.
Hell, she might even shoot Laura too, going from at least two kills, to four. Maybe even more. Lucia went to his school, but Aidan was honestly not able to say that he knew her better than Laura. He didn’t think that stuck up, weird artist, would be holding a gun at him, seconds after shooting a girl stone cold dead. Laura had been a friend so far. Well, maybe not a friend in the traditional sense, but whatever friendship meant here, she’d been the closest. Certainly more than Gene, and certainly more than Lucia.
“Get out. She’s crazy.” Aidan mouthed the words to Laura. His command, though muted, was forceful. Leave. Aidan liked Laura, but Lucia was crazy. She hadn’t hesitated to kill in the past. While Lucia was focused on Aidan, Laura could escape. She could go off and find a way out of here. All she had to do was take the bait. “Please.”
Aidan turned his head back to Lucia, hoping to god that anything could go to plan.
“I didn’t know the poor girl. Honestly.” Aidan looked down at the dead girl. She certainly wasn’t smart to come running over, weapon in hand, but she was terrified. The girl didn't serve to die for it, and Lucia didn’t deserve to be the one crying. Lucia wasn’t the one dead on the floor. “I’m sure she was scared. Absolutely terrified. We all are.”
Aidan took a step back, padding his movements with words. “I always wanted to be famous. I think everybody does. I wanted to be the next theatrical sensation, deep down. I wanted to see my name on the top of every playbill listing in New York.” He paused. “But not like this. What we’re doing isn’t TV. We’re stuck in a horrible situation, and I’m not subscribing.”
He was wondering if he’d piqued Lucia’s interest. God knows he’d been feeding her all these last minutes of tortured uncertainty. The only thing that was certain, however, was how close he was getting to the gun. Just a few more seconds, just a few more moments…
“Escape is possible, doll. We could make it back home. You, me. Will Brackenrig, everybody from Davison.” For some reason, Will found it in his generous, lovely heart, to like Lucia. Aidan couldn’t fathom it, but at the moment, it worked in his favor. “We aren’t bad people. We don’t deserve to be in this cold, tacky ass luau version of hell they call ‘tv.’”
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Demanding an explanation from a killer was probably not the best idea in the world. Staying in the room with a distressed person armed with a gun was probably less of an idea. The gun wasn't being pointed at her, but that wasn't exactly reassurance.
Of course, nothing here was reassuring. Apparently she had ran or there was an accident or... something. People tried that excuse all the time, right? "Oh, I didn't mean to turn you into Swiss cheese, it was an accident." If the girl had tried to feed her that, she'd be out the door before an accident happened to her as well. But it was Aidan who was saying it. He was her teammate, he knew the girl with the gun, he was actually in the room when it happened... Yeah, she could buy that.
And he was telling her to leave. Despite everything he had just said. Great. He probably had a plan. And all she had to do was leave.
Yeah, there was no way she was gonna walk out there without him. Teammates looked after each other. They were gonna get off the island together, goddamnit. One way or another.
"He's right. We've got a plan. And it wouldn't be the first time it happened. Once we get out of here we're done. We escape, we get popular, they have no choice but to let us live." Hell, maybe escape was actually worth a try. But the most important thing was to not get shot, if that was even possible anymore.
Of course, nothing here was reassuring. Apparently she had ran or there was an accident or... something. People tried that excuse all the time, right? "Oh, I didn't mean to turn you into Swiss cheese, it was an accident." If the girl had tried to feed her that, she'd be out the door before an accident happened to her as well. But it was Aidan who was saying it. He was her teammate, he knew the girl with the gun, he was actually in the room when it happened... Yeah, she could buy that.
And he was telling her to leave. Despite everything he had just said. Great. He probably had a plan. And all she had to do was leave.
Yeah, there was no way she was gonna walk out there without him. Teammates looked after each other. They were gonna get off the island together, goddamnit. One way or another.
"He's right. We've got a plan. And it wouldn't be the first time it happened. Once we get out of here we're done. We escape, we get popular, they have no choice but to let us live." Hell, maybe escape was actually worth a try. But the most important thing was to not get shot, if that was even possible anymore.
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Pippi
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Lucia didn’t want to listen to Aidan, no matter what it was he had to say. She tried to focus on everything else, her other senses instead. The floor felt cool against her bare legs, as did the side of the gun pressed against her face, still clenched tight in her hand even as she continued sobbing. She could see nothing but darkness, hands covering her eyes, but there was still an acidic taste in her mouth and the telltale smell of blood was beginning to fill the once sterile sports centre.
When she tried to distract herself from Aidan, the only things in Lucia’s head were Austin and Leah’s bodies. She didn’t understand why Aidan was talking the way he was, and it scared and confused her, but listening to him was the lesser of two evils in this case.
Yet again, his words didn’t match the way he was saying them. He claimed to be scared, but why then did he sound so assured of himself? Maybe not calm, calm wasn’t an accurate way of describing the way Aidan was speaking; he was just so... detached. Even if he hadn’t known Leah for more than a few minutes, was that any reason for him to speak like that, referring to her as ‘the girl?’
Aidan kept on prattling on, seemingly talking simply for the sake of talking, doing nothing to exactly convince Lucia that she should stay. The simple matter was that she didn’t trust Aidan right now, or Laura if she was closely aligned with him. She didn’t know what his motives were, whether he was truly content to let Lucia go scot free or whether he was simply waiting for a chance to stab her in the back... quite possibly literally.
So it was quite fortunate that Aidan mentioned the word ‘escape’. Lucia raised her head a little, before slowly lowering her hands, looking up at Aidan with tear-filled eyes. Aidan wanted to escape, and his idea of escape didn’t just involve himself; it involved everyone. Aidan, Laura, Lucia, Will, Colin, Sebastian, all of Lucia’s friends. For a moment, an inkling of suspicion remained in Lucia; maybe he’d made the idea up on the spot, or something similar to that. But no; Laura backed him up, adding that they had a plan.
Lucia had never watched Survival of the Fittest to any great extent. She’d stumbled upon highlight reels of some of the gorier moments, and had felt sick and ashamed immediately after watching them, but never a full season. She didn’t know whether any escape attempts had been made, or if they had, whether they were successful or not. But what could they do but try? The only other way she would be able to survive this whole thing would be by living through everything and everyone to the very end, preferably with the other members of her team, or by reaching the ten kills limit.
Eight kills now, Lucia remembered, feeling like she might throw up again.
Taking care not to startle Laura or Aidan by keeping the pistol pointed down at the ground, Lucia shakily, ungainly got to her feet.
“I... I j-just wanted to live a n-normal life...” Lucia said, voice barely above a whisper. “I had... I h-had no real goals... I j-just wanted to live like a n-normal person...”
Lucia looked from Aidan to Laura, back and forth between the two. She swallowed, blinked a couple of times. The smell and feel of the vomit on her skirt was almost getting too much to handle.
“Do you... do you really think that we can escape?”
When she tried to distract herself from Aidan, the only things in Lucia’s head were Austin and Leah’s bodies. She didn’t understand why Aidan was talking the way he was, and it scared and confused her, but listening to him was the lesser of two evils in this case.
Yet again, his words didn’t match the way he was saying them. He claimed to be scared, but why then did he sound so assured of himself? Maybe not calm, calm wasn’t an accurate way of describing the way Aidan was speaking; he was just so... detached. Even if he hadn’t known Leah for more than a few minutes, was that any reason for him to speak like that, referring to her as ‘the girl?’
Aidan kept on prattling on, seemingly talking simply for the sake of talking, doing nothing to exactly convince Lucia that she should stay. The simple matter was that she didn’t trust Aidan right now, or Laura if she was closely aligned with him. She didn’t know what his motives were, whether he was truly content to let Lucia go scot free or whether he was simply waiting for a chance to stab her in the back... quite possibly literally.
So it was quite fortunate that Aidan mentioned the word ‘escape’. Lucia raised her head a little, before slowly lowering her hands, looking up at Aidan with tear-filled eyes. Aidan wanted to escape, and his idea of escape didn’t just involve himself; it involved everyone. Aidan, Laura, Lucia, Will, Colin, Sebastian, all of Lucia’s friends. For a moment, an inkling of suspicion remained in Lucia; maybe he’d made the idea up on the spot, or something similar to that. But no; Laura backed him up, adding that they had a plan.
Lucia had never watched Survival of the Fittest to any great extent. She’d stumbled upon highlight reels of some of the gorier moments, and had felt sick and ashamed immediately after watching them, but never a full season. She didn’t know whether any escape attempts had been made, or if they had, whether they were successful or not. But what could they do but try? The only other way she would be able to survive this whole thing would be by living through everything and everyone to the very end, preferably with the other members of her team, or by reaching the ten kills limit.
Eight kills now, Lucia remembered, feeling like she might throw up again.
Taking care not to startle Laura or Aidan by keeping the pistol pointed down at the ground, Lucia shakily, ungainly got to her feet.
“I... I j-just wanted to live a n-normal life...” Lucia said, voice barely above a whisper. “I had... I h-had no real goals... I j-just wanted to live like a n-normal person...”
Lucia looked from Aidan to Laura, back and forth between the two. She swallowed, blinked a couple of times. The smell and feel of the vomit on her skirt was almost getting too much to handle.
“Do you... do you really think that we can escape?”
When Aidan was six, he decided that he wanted to learn how to ride a bicycle. Not just any bicycle, but a two-wheeler. When kids were maybe, at best, rocking their tricycles, patterned with Barbie’s pink and purple color motif, Aidan was going to be different. He wanted something huge, impressive. Upstaging everyone was Aidan’s forte, after all.
Aidan’s birthday was in October. Even with the wonderfully dry weather in Vegas, October was hardly the time to take up bicycling. Autumn cast over like sheet of orange, somehow burnt by the sparse sunlight. It was beautiful, really. The few trees that flirted around the suburbs of Vegas existed with such beauty. Ambers and Coppers and Siennas, beautiful colors that, with the exception of a multitude of strippers on the main stretch of casino, were unique to that time of year. Aidan it was still gracefully warm out. With the exception of a thin, peach colored Burburry sweater, the weather didn’t require him to bundle up like a garish, conflicting cocoon of different patterns and fabrics. He wanted to feel the cool air on his back, coasting down the strip on his bicycle. He begged, God, did he beg, for a bike for his birthday.
“Without training wheels.” Six-year-old Aidan added, talking between the gaps in his teeth. He was old enough to lose baby teeth, certainly he was old enough for the real deal bicycle. His mother harped on her worries, worrying that he might get hurt. His father was a different story.
“Aidan, miliy, training wheels are important. You fall down many times when learning.” His mother frowned through her heavily accented warning. “We go to store together, buy bicycle, and we ride together.”
“Tatiana, let the boy learn. He says he doesn’t want training wheels, or our help.” Aidan’s father glanced across the table, clutching an IPad between his square fingers. “If you’re such a big boy, I’m not gonna stop you kiddo.”
Aidan didn’t care what his father said. He didn’t offer his help, and Aidan wasn’t going to ask for it, either. His father expected him to crack his head on the pavement, cut himself up a little bit, then come crying home for Mommy and Daddy. He had that sneer to him that suggested it. His dad never liked being challenged like that. He was vindictively satisfied with the knowledge that he was right and Aidan was going to be wrong.
Whatever the case, Aidan wasn’t going to need him help. He didn’t want it either. When the bicycle arrived two weeks later, Aidan greedily unwrapped it and set out, determined to show everyone that he didn’t need their help.
---
Aidan didn’t need help then, and he didn’t need it now. He fully expected Laura to take the bait. She didn’t owe him anything. All they had done was travel together for a day. Sure he took charge, and saved her from that sneaky little shrimp’s attempts at ‘cunning,’ but how much loyalty did an absolute stranger owe him? Lucia was clearly unhinged, and had a gun. Laura could run, get with her school and survive. Aidan backed himself into this situation with Lucia, why should Laura throw herself down with him.
Lucia still had the gun in her hand. At any moment, she could decide that Aidan’s rehearsed lines were tired, trite, or downright not quite jiving, and she could end all of Aidan’s preparation. He said his lines and planted the seeds of trust.
Maybe he should have been the one who should have been more trusting. Laura hadn’t taken her chance to betray or utilize Aidan, but instead to help him, he was taken by surprise. He didn’t think he had anything to offer her, but here she was.
“They call this a TV show. They package all of us up in their editing offices and make us into these characatures. I’m probably going to be this huge, limp-wristed stereotype a’la Liberace. I don’t know what they’ll do to you, but I do know that they’ll do whatever they can to take away our humanity.”
Moments ago, he hated Lucia. Not because she was a chilly, distant little artist, but because of the power she held. Aidan was never powerless for a moment in his life. He had his money and he had his charm. Lucia, with her gun aimed square at his chest, represented everything he had lost. He was the little guy, faced against the world. It wasn’t fair, and he hated her for it.
Through breathy sobs, Lucia continued on. She was still a person. But so was he. So was that girl. So was Austin. He shouldn’t feel sorry for her, a two-time murderess with ugly split ends. Yet, he did.
“Yes. Escape is still on the table here. They might not care about us as people, but they damn sure care about us as a show. We can capture the American hearts in a fabulous display of heroism and trumping the odds.”
Aidan was a mere couple feet from the gun now. The thought crossed his mind to grab hold and fire at her while she was under his spell. It was a thought the producers had tried to cram into their heads since the minute they woke up to the wretched auditorium filled with scared teenagers and smug adults with cameras and fugly wrinkled business suits. As much as they would love for him to splatter Lucia’s blood all over his Brioni dress shirt, Aidan sided against it. He thought he was talking out of his ass, but the more he was trying to convince Lucia and Laura that he had a whole plan for this, the more he thought it could very well be a possibility. He had no idea how to go about pulling off a dashing escape plot. They didn’t exactly give him a script to rehearse and rehash to a trite memorization. Everything from here on out was improv.
Aidan’s birthday was in October. Even with the wonderfully dry weather in Vegas, October was hardly the time to take up bicycling. Autumn cast over like sheet of orange, somehow burnt by the sparse sunlight. It was beautiful, really. The few trees that flirted around the suburbs of Vegas existed with such beauty. Ambers and Coppers and Siennas, beautiful colors that, with the exception of a multitude of strippers on the main stretch of casino, were unique to that time of year. Aidan it was still gracefully warm out. With the exception of a thin, peach colored Burburry sweater, the weather didn’t require him to bundle up like a garish, conflicting cocoon of different patterns and fabrics. He wanted to feel the cool air on his back, coasting down the strip on his bicycle. He begged, God, did he beg, for a bike for his birthday.
“Without training wheels.” Six-year-old Aidan added, talking between the gaps in his teeth. He was old enough to lose baby teeth, certainly he was old enough for the real deal bicycle. His mother harped on her worries, worrying that he might get hurt. His father was a different story.
“Aidan, miliy, training wheels are important. You fall down many times when learning.” His mother frowned through her heavily accented warning. “We go to store together, buy bicycle, and we ride together.”
“Tatiana, let the boy learn. He says he doesn’t want training wheels, or our help.” Aidan’s father glanced across the table, clutching an IPad between his square fingers. “If you’re such a big boy, I’m not gonna stop you kiddo.”
Aidan didn’t care what his father said. He didn’t offer his help, and Aidan wasn’t going to ask for it, either. His father expected him to crack his head on the pavement, cut himself up a little bit, then come crying home for Mommy and Daddy. He had that sneer to him that suggested it. His dad never liked being challenged like that. He was vindictively satisfied with the knowledge that he was right and Aidan was going to be wrong.
Whatever the case, Aidan wasn’t going to need him help. He didn’t want it either. When the bicycle arrived two weeks later, Aidan greedily unwrapped it and set out, determined to show everyone that he didn’t need their help.
---
Aidan didn’t need help then, and he didn’t need it now. He fully expected Laura to take the bait. She didn’t owe him anything. All they had done was travel together for a day. Sure he took charge, and saved her from that sneaky little shrimp’s attempts at ‘cunning,’ but how much loyalty did an absolute stranger owe him? Lucia was clearly unhinged, and had a gun. Laura could run, get with her school and survive. Aidan backed himself into this situation with Lucia, why should Laura throw herself down with him.
Lucia still had the gun in her hand. At any moment, she could decide that Aidan’s rehearsed lines were tired, trite, or downright not quite jiving, and she could end all of Aidan’s preparation. He said his lines and planted the seeds of trust.
Maybe he should have been the one who should have been more trusting. Laura hadn’t taken her chance to betray or utilize Aidan, but instead to help him, he was taken by surprise. He didn’t think he had anything to offer her, but here she was.
“They call this a TV show. They package all of us up in their editing offices and make us into these characatures. I’m probably going to be this huge, limp-wristed stereotype a’la Liberace. I don’t know what they’ll do to you, but I do know that they’ll do whatever they can to take away our humanity.”
Moments ago, he hated Lucia. Not because she was a chilly, distant little artist, but because of the power she held. Aidan was never powerless for a moment in his life. He had his money and he had his charm. Lucia, with her gun aimed square at his chest, represented everything he had lost. He was the little guy, faced against the world. It wasn’t fair, and he hated her for it.
Through breathy sobs, Lucia continued on. She was still a person. But so was he. So was that girl. So was Austin. He shouldn’t feel sorry for her, a two-time murderess with ugly split ends. Yet, he did.
“Yes. Escape is still on the table here. They might not care about us as people, but they damn sure care about us as a show. We can capture the American hearts in a fabulous display of heroism and trumping the odds.”
Aidan was a mere couple feet from the gun now. The thought crossed his mind to grab hold and fire at her while she was under his spell. It was a thought the producers had tried to cram into their heads since the minute they woke up to the wretched auditorium filled with scared teenagers and smug adults with cameras and fugly wrinkled business suits. As much as they would love for him to splatter Lucia’s blood all over his Brioni dress shirt, Aidan sided against it. He thought he was talking out of his ass, but the more he was trying to convince Lucia and Laura that he had a whole plan for this, the more he thought it could very well be a possibility. He had no idea how to go about pulling off a dashing escape plot. They didn’t exactly give him a script to rehearse and rehash to a trite memorization. Everything from here on out was improv.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shangela. 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.
Nobody had been shot yet. That was a good start. And Aidan was still going on about escape. He didn't really believe they could, did he? Nah, course he didn't. Escape plots were all well and good until people started getting killed for them.
"Yeah, he's right. They need a show, right? All these people care about is ratings, on what the public want. I know people have escaped before, ages ago. They had to let them go because people were rooting for them." She remembered that vaguely. "We have a plan between us. Problem is, if we start talking about it, they'll hear it, right? Makes it a little difficult to work out the kinks, but we've got something to go on. If we get the collars off, we're golden."
Too bad her collar wasn't actually broken. Thank you, Gene. "Anyway, trying to get out of here, it's gotta be better than the alternative, doesn't it?" Of course it had to be. What was better, six people getting out or possibly everyone leaving? The answer was obvious.
"We work together, we protect each other, we get out, we win. Nobody else has to get hurt." Hopefully, nobody would get hurt. But if somebody had to go, Laura was pretty sure which of them she'd pick. Maybe that would be best. Two guns for the two of them, for her and somebody who wouldn't shoot her in the back. "I'd rather take a chance on that then out there alone."
"Yeah, he's right. They need a show, right? All these people care about is ratings, on what the public want. I know people have escaped before, ages ago. They had to let them go because people were rooting for them." She remembered that vaguely. "We have a plan between us. Problem is, if we start talking about it, they'll hear it, right? Makes it a little difficult to work out the kinks, but we've got something to go on. If we get the collars off, we're golden."
Too bad her collar wasn't actually broken. Thank you, Gene. "Anyway, trying to get out of here, it's gotta be better than the alternative, doesn't it?" Of course it had to be. What was better, six people getting out or possibly everyone leaving? The answer was obvious.
"We work together, we protect each other, we get out, we win. Nobody else has to get hurt." Hopefully, nobody would get hurt. But if somebody had to go, Laura was pretty sure which of them she'd pick. Maybe that would be best. Two guns for the two of them, for her and somebody who wouldn't shoot her in the back. "I'd rather take a chance on that then out there alone."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Impereld. 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.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3451
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
A voice echoes quietly from Aidan's collar.
"Hello, Aidan. My name is Dr. Warren. I'm your mentor. You've done very well so far. Just remember that that girl has already proven herself unpredictable and dangerous. Don't let your guard down around her, even if you're able to work out your immediate differences."
"Hello, Aidan. My name is Dr. Warren. I'm your mentor. You've done very well so far. Just remember that that girl has already proven herself unpredictable and dangerous. Don't let your guard down around her, even if you're able to work out your immediate differences."
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Pippi
- Posts: 1122
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
It had taken all this time, but Lucia finally had a clear idea of what she needed to do.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t entirely trust Aidan and still didn’t like the offhand, aloof way he’d described Leah and her death. It didn’t matter that she knew nothing about Laura, or what she was currently thinking. It didn’t matter that the actual details of their escape plot were sketchy at best. What mattered was that Lucia really didn’t have any choice besides attempting to escape.
Oh, sure, she could try going it alone again, walking back into the cold with only her gun by her side. How long would she survive if she tried that, though? She had almost completely broken down after her second murder. Maybe she could force herself to kill again in self-defence. Maybe not. She definitely couldn’t actively go for the ten kills, that was for certain.
She was going along with Aidan’s plan, but he had been going about appealing to Lucia in completely the wrong way. She didn’t give a damn as to how the TV producers would manipulate her. They could edit footage, but they couldn’t add things she hadn’t done. Maybe they would paint her as a monster. When she looked at Leah’s body a few feet away from her, she sure felt like one.
Laura’s insistence that people had escaped before and that they at least had some working idea of a plan gave Lucia the confidence she needed. She looked down at the floor for a couple of moments, before looking at both Aidan and Laura and nodding once.
“A-alright. If you truly do h-have a plan for escape, then I shall join you. I shall do what I c-can to help with this g-goal.”
Lucia looked down at the floor again as soon as she’d finished speaking. Yes, the fact that the producers would be able to hear almost everything thanks to the cameras would make this all a lot trickier. They would have to try and find somewhere out of sight of everybody, or find some way of communicating without actually speaking.
On the subject of finding a place out of sight, the vomit on her skirt was even more noticeable now that Lucia was looking down. It was about time she dealt with it, now that everything, for the most part, seemed to have simmered down.
“I, um... I need to change. Do... do either of you have a change of clothing? I do not-“ A thought suddenly struck Lucia mid sentence, and she raised her head again.
“I haven't had a chance to look through the rest of my bag... so...”
It didn’t matter that she didn’t entirely trust Aidan and still didn’t like the offhand, aloof way he’d described Leah and her death. It didn’t matter that she knew nothing about Laura, or what she was currently thinking. It didn’t matter that the actual details of their escape plot were sketchy at best. What mattered was that Lucia really didn’t have any choice besides attempting to escape.
Oh, sure, she could try going it alone again, walking back into the cold with only her gun by her side. How long would she survive if she tried that, though? She had almost completely broken down after her second murder. Maybe she could force herself to kill again in self-defence. Maybe not. She definitely couldn’t actively go for the ten kills, that was for certain.
She was going along with Aidan’s plan, but he had been going about appealing to Lucia in completely the wrong way. She didn’t give a damn as to how the TV producers would manipulate her. They could edit footage, but they couldn’t add things she hadn’t done. Maybe they would paint her as a monster. When she looked at Leah’s body a few feet away from her, she sure felt like one.
Laura’s insistence that people had escaped before and that they at least had some working idea of a plan gave Lucia the confidence she needed. She looked down at the floor for a couple of moments, before looking at both Aidan and Laura and nodding once.
“A-alright. If you truly do h-have a plan for escape, then I shall join you. I shall do what I c-can to help with this g-goal.”
Lucia looked down at the floor again as soon as she’d finished speaking. Yes, the fact that the producers would be able to hear almost everything thanks to the cameras would make this all a lot trickier. They would have to try and find somewhere out of sight of everybody, or find some way of communicating without actually speaking.
On the subject of finding a place out of sight, the vomit on her skirt was even more noticeable now that Lucia was looking down. It was about time she dealt with it, now that everything, for the most part, seemed to have simmered down.
“I, um... I need to change. Do... do either of you have a change of clothing? I do not-“ A thought suddenly struck Lucia mid sentence, and she raised her head again.
“I haven't had a chance to look through the rest of my bag... so...”
There were a couple thoughts that fought each other as they rattled underneath Aidan’s impeccably groomed fauxhawk.
First, as inappropriate a thought as it was, he wondered exactly what he looked like right about now. He’d cried when he heard the first announcements; cried hard. His eyes were probably swollen, puffy messes with distraught red cracks that dissected the whites of his eyes. His prerosacea was probably making his cheeks an equally horrendous shade of red. Without a mirror, or a small compact of light ivory Maybelline foundation, Aidan had no way of telling how ghastly he looked, or better yet, how to fix it.
When you’re cast on any reality tv platform, you begin to accept, and even embrace the fact that the cameras are always on you. The fact that even in your most private moments, you’re the spectacle of millions, gets lost on you eventually. It all becomes a second nature, even in the best of circumstances. In the worst cases, you push out any semblance of camera readiness for much more pressing concerns. Dying was a big one. Making alliances to save your own, stress-blemished skin, was another. It wasn’t until Aidan himself mentioned the whole captive audience, that he wanted a cool compress, a nice facial scrub, and a generous coating of foundation. They were facing a hell of an audience, one that would decide whether his empty promise of an escape would be a reality, or a little feature on the highlights reel.
Secondly, as the competing thoughts still whirled around his head like a confused flurry, was the whole promise of escape itself. Lucia’s gun was fixated square onto his chest seconds ago, demanding that he give her a damn good reason to not become a garish gore decoration on the floor of this gymnasium. Escape.
Like a game of improv, the small flirtation of a thought became a hefty promise. He promised not only Lucia, but Laura too, that he’d grand mastered this whole ingenious escape plot. Aidan wasn’t a script writer, he was a performer. He wasn’t a schemer, he was the one that took action. He wasn’t some calculating, pseudo-intellectual SOTF TV fan, who’d planned every single intricacy of how and when to escape unscathed. He was the same as Laura and Lucia. He was a scared, half-starved, half crazed, teenager, who wanted to hold on to these last fleeting moments of optimism before some Karen Ruiz wannabe came to snatch them away.
Moments earlier, his only direction was a simple one: Find Will Brackenrig. Find Jaxon Street. Find Sebastien Bellamy. Find Bella Bianchi. He couldn’t even begin to guess what he thought he’d do once he assembled the whole gang together. Will watched this show religiously, and Seby was smart as a whip. Bella was sweet and intiuitive, and Jaxon could easily sass the group into shape when they were feeling hopeless. “Bitch, Five G’s. Good. God. Get. A Grip. Girl.” He could hear it now.
Now, he promised an escape. A lofty idea with absolutely no direction how to get there. But it was too late to retract that. Aidan could feel four sets of eyes drilling into him, waiting for the moment he started to sweat. Their gaze assumed physical form, contorting around his chest, locking it in tight. A vice grip of expectation, demands, a call for him to make good on his shallow promises. His chest violently pulsated. Cool sweat attempted to sate the flash of heat that sparked through his chest. His face stung, burning in agony as stress buckled down.
Yet his face remained cradled with a plastic smile. “I won’t let you down. Either of you. I promise.” As good as his intentions were, he could help but feel that he was lying. How could he promise something like that? An escape? A reprieve from death and anguish that became their reality every waking minute. He couldn’t promise them anything like that.
Finally, a third thought was triggered by, oddly enough, a voice he had completely forgot existed. On the topic of feeling eyes boring their way into him, he’d forgotten about a set of very important ones; his advisor. She, as she turned out to be, commended him. He’d been doing “very well so far,” even if he didn’t feel like it. Her advice was simple and direct: Don’t let his guard down around Lucia. What she told him wasn’t something he wasn’t already thinking. After all, what happened when this optimism died out? When Aidan failed to deliver those comforting promises? Aidan couldn’t trust that he could keep talking his way out of near death. So no, Dr. Warren, Aidan didn’t think he was doing “very well.” Aidan thought he was fucked beyond belief.
Neither Lucia or Laura, or the entirety of the faithful viewing audience, had to know that at all. “I know it might be hard to trust us, but that’s all we have left. Human compassion. We’re not savage animals here.”
Aidan’s smile still stretched across his cheeks, imitating real human empathy. He cared about Lucia in the same sense an animal handler cared about a caged lion. You empathized with them from afar, but as long as the kitty had claws, you were absolutely not at complete ease.
Something else uneased him; the smell of vomit. Lucia’s stench clung to the air, amalgamating with the horrific copper scent of the dead girl’s spilled blood. The wretched smell was endemic to this stage, yet still jarring. Aidan figured he’d have to get used to the stench of spilled blood eventually, but for now it churned his stomach.
“They gave us some spare clothes in these bags. Sweats and tank tops. I think there were some girls’ changing rooms back down the hall. I’ll come wi—“ Aidan clamped on his tongue. For a gay guy, Aidan had seen a lot of girls naked. Because he had absolutely no vested interest in what the girls were packing, they felt completely comfortable letting him into many dressing rooms. In being helpful, Aidan almost offered his gay presence while Lucia disrobed. “Uh, Laura, why don’t you take Lucia’s bag and head to the changing room with her? I’ll be right here in case you two need me.”
Aidan was inches away from the rifle.
First, as inappropriate a thought as it was, he wondered exactly what he looked like right about now. He’d cried when he heard the first announcements; cried hard. His eyes were probably swollen, puffy messes with distraught red cracks that dissected the whites of his eyes. His prerosacea was probably making his cheeks an equally horrendous shade of red. Without a mirror, or a small compact of light ivory Maybelline foundation, Aidan had no way of telling how ghastly he looked, or better yet, how to fix it.
When you’re cast on any reality tv platform, you begin to accept, and even embrace the fact that the cameras are always on you. The fact that even in your most private moments, you’re the spectacle of millions, gets lost on you eventually. It all becomes a second nature, even in the best of circumstances. In the worst cases, you push out any semblance of camera readiness for much more pressing concerns. Dying was a big one. Making alliances to save your own, stress-blemished skin, was another. It wasn’t until Aidan himself mentioned the whole captive audience, that he wanted a cool compress, a nice facial scrub, and a generous coating of foundation. They were facing a hell of an audience, one that would decide whether his empty promise of an escape would be a reality, or a little feature on the highlights reel.
Secondly, as the competing thoughts still whirled around his head like a confused flurry, was the whole promise of escape itself. Lucia’s gun was fixated square onto his chest seconds ago, demanding that he give her a damn good reason to not become a garish gore decoration on the floor of this gymnasium. Escape.
Like a game of improv, the small flirtation of a thought became a hefty promise. He promised not only Lucia, but Laura too, that he’d grand mastered this whole ingenious escape plot. Aidan wasn’t a script writer, he was a performer. He wasn’t a schemer, he was the one that took action. He wasn’t some calculating, pseudo-intellectual SOTF TV fan, who’d planned every single intricacy of how and when to escape unscathed. He was the same as Laura and Lucia. He was a scared, half-starved, half crazed, teenager, who wanted to hold on to these last fleeting moments of optimism before some Karen Ruiz wannabe came to snatch them away.
Moments earlier, his only direction was a simple one: Find Will Brackenrig. Find Jaxon Street. Find Sebastien Bellamy. Find Bella Bianchi. He couldn’t even begin to guess what he thought he’d do once he assembled the whole gang together. Will watched this show religiously, and Seby was smart as a whip. Bella was sweet and intiuitive, and Jaxon could easily sass the group into shape when they were feeling hopeless. “Bitch, Five G’s. Good. God. Get. A Grip. Girl.” He could hear it now.
Now, he promised an escape. A lofty idea with absolutely no direction how to get there. But it was too late to retract that. Aidan could feel four sets of eyes drilling into him, waiting for the moment he started to sweat. Their gaze assumed physical form, contorting around his chest, locking it in tight. A vice grip of expectation, demands, a call for him to make good on his shallow promises. His chest violently pulsated. Cool sweat attempted to sate the flash of heat that sparked through his chest. His face stung, burning in agony as stress buckled down.
Yet his face remained cradled with a plastic smile. “I won’t let you down. Either of you. I promise.” As good as his intentions were, he could help but feel that he was lying. How could he promise something like that? An escape? A reprieve from death and anguish that became their reality every waking minute. He couldn’t promise them anything like that.
Finally, a third thought was triggered by, oddly enough, a voice he had completely forgot existed. On the topic of feeling eyes boring their way into him, he’d forgotten about a set of very important ones; his advisor. She, as she turned out to be, commended him. He’d been doing “very well so far,” even if he didn’t feel like it. Her advice was simple and direct: Don’t let his guard down around Lucia. What she told him wasn’t something he wasn’t already thinking. After all, what happened when this optimism died out? When Aidan failed to deliver those comforting promises? Aidan couldn’t trust that he could keep talking his way out of near death. So no, Dr. Warren, Aidan didn’t think he was doing “very well.” Aidan thought he was fucked beyond belief.
Neither Lucia or Laura, or the entirety of the faithful viewing audience, had to know that at all. “I know it might be hard to trust us, but that’s all we have left. Human compassion. We’re not savage animals here.”
Aidan’s smile still stretched across his cheeks, imitating real human empathy. He cared about Lucia in the same sense an animal handler cared about a caged lion. You empathized with them from afar, but as long as the kitty had claws, you were absolutely not at complete ease.
Something else uneased him; the smell of vomit. Lucia’s stench clung to the air, amalgamating with the horrific copper scent of the dead girl’s spilled blood. The wretched smell was endemic to this stage, yet still jarring. Aidan figured he’d have to get used to the stench of spilled blood eventually, but for now it churned his stomach.
“They gave us some spare clothes in these bags. Sweats and tank tops. I think there were some girls’ changing rooms back down the hall. I’ll come wi—“ Aidan clamped on his tongue. For a gay guy, Aidan had seen a lot of girls naked. Because he had absolutely no vested interest in what the girls were packing, they felt completely comfortable letting him into many dressing rooms. In being helpful, Aidan almost offered his gay presence while Lucia disrobed. “Uh, Laura, why don’t you take Lucia’s bag and head to the changing room with her? I’ll be right here in case you two need me.”
Aidan was inches away from the rifle.
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"Yeah, okay." Going off with a killer wasn't exactly her idea of a good time, but she didn't think Lucia would attack her. Not while she thought they could still escape. Plus, Aidan was just a shout away. There wasn't really anything that she could do but go along with it.
Plus, getting rid of the smell would be worth it. Once they were finished, there was no reason they'd be sticking around the sports centre. Well, no reason worth staying with a dead girl's corpse. She'd had enough of the place.
"Come on, then. Let's go get you cleaned up, and then we can leave." Laura didn't think that the gunshots would attract any unwanted attention, but it was better to be safe then sorry. Picking up Lucia's bag, she nodded in the direction of the exit. The sooner they were done with the place, the better.
"Once we get out of here, we can talk about what comes next." Didn't matter where they went. Didn't matter if Aidan had a plan. Didn't matter that they teamed up with a killer. As long as they left soon, she didn't care about any of that. Well, as long as Lucia didn't shoot her. That would be a problem.
She left the room, hoping Lucia would follow her without putting a bullet in her back.
Plus, getting rid of the smell would be worth it. Once they were finished, there was no reason they'd be sticking around the sports centre. Well, no reason worth staying with a dead girl's corpse. She'd had enough of the place.
"Come on, then. Let's go get you cleaned up, and then we can leave." Laura didn't think that the gunshots would attract any unwanted attention, but it was better to be safe then sorry. Picking up Lucia's bag, she nodded in the direction of the exit. The sooner they were done with the place, the better.
"Once we get out of here, we can talk about what comes next." Didn't matter where they went. Didn't matter if Aidan had a plan. Didn't matter that they teamed up with a killer. As long as they left soon, she didn't care about any of that. Well, as long as Lucia didn't shoot her. That would be a problem.
She left the room, hoping Lucia would follow her without putting a bullet in her back.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Impereld. 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.