Oh, a wise guy, eh?
Whoever it was in the girl's bathroom, it was a girl (Perish the thought). It was a distressed, partially crying girl. Who didn't seem happy about his presence.
Mason, who was not keen on being called a dickhead, shot some acid back.
"Well excuse me for asking, goddammit."
He put his hand to the door and pushed it open, covering the opening with his gun hand.
"If you wanna pull up your panties and stop crying for a minute, we can have a talk. Like grown folks."
Mason thumbed the select fire stud on the Beretta to single-shot. This close, he didn't think he needed to spray. A blind double amputee could have made a shot in these tight quarters.
Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
"Cool?"
Oracular Spectacular
Endgame
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Courtography
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The voice didn't sound friendly. And it wasn't Shawn, to say the least. A girl. The voice sounded familiar, but that didn't mean much. After all, three of the others were girls. Two from school and Odile.
She kept quiet beside Mason. Talking up more wouldn't help things, and honestly, she was more comfortable letting him handle it.
Tempers were rising. Mason wasn't pleased, he was blunt. Moreso than before. The light joking about hotel rooms was gone. This was serious.
How serious, she would find out.
She kept quiet beside Mason. Talking up more wouldn't help things, and honestly, she was more comfortable letting him handle it.
Tempers were rising. Mason wasn't pleased, he was blunt. Moreso than before. The light joking about hotel rooms was gone. This was serious.
How serious, she would find out.
Shawn did a double take when Nate's head suddenly jerked upward.
Help. It was what he offered, but Nate was offering it right back. She wanted to help him take out the bad people. She wanted to team up.
At first, Shawn didn't know what to say, surprised at her abrupt decision to do so. He wondered what the girl had been thinking about before bringing up the offer. From what he could tell or assume just by looking at her; it didn't seem like Nate was in best condition to do so. But maybe -- maybe he was underestimating her.
Nate had lasted this long, so she must have been stronger and could handle herself better than he thought. She was definitely a survivor.
One side of him didn't want her to go in over her head and get herself killed, but the other side was pumped at the idea. After all, didn't he want to do the same thing? Who was he to deny the girl an opportunity to team up and take out the real threats? Those who did "mean it" as she said.
A grin began to form on Shawn's face accompanied by a slight chuckle. He looked at Nate again, eye to eye and responded with one word.
"Groovy."
The young man searched his pockets and bag, then carefully stood up; snake over his shoulders, shotgun in one hand and newly lit blunt in the other.
"Hey Natalie," he said looking at the still sitting girl on the ground. "You were saying you don't have any friends?"
Shawn placed the stoke between his lips and kept it there.
"Well..." Shawn said, trailing off and extending his free hand to help Nate up.
"You just made one."
Help. It was what he offered, but Nate was offering it right back. She wanted to help him take out the bad people. She wanted to team up.
At first, Shawn didn't know what to say, surprised at her abrupt decision to do so. He wondered what the girl had been thinking about before bringing up the offer. From what he could tell or assume just by looking at her; it didn't seem like Nate was in best condition to do so. But maybe -- maybe he was underestimating her.
Nate had lasted this long, so she must have been stronger and could handle herself better than he thought. She was definitely a survivor.
One side of him didn't want her to go in over her head and get herself killed, but the other side was pumped at the idea. After all, didn't he want to do the same thing? Who was he to deny the girl an opportunity to team up and take out the real threats? Those who did "mean it" as she said.
A grin began to form on Shawn's face accompanied by a slight chuckle. He looked at Nate again, eye to eye and responded with one word.
"Groovy."
The young man searched his pockets and bag, then carefully stood up; snake over his shoulders, shotgun in one hand and newly lit blunt in the other.
"Hey Natalie," he said looking at the still sitting girl on the ground. "You were saying you don't have any friends?"
Shawn placed the stoke between his lips and kept it there.
"Well..." Shawn said, trailing off and extending his free hand to help Nate up.
"You just made one."
Nate's response to Shawn was a tight and pained little smile, just about the best that she could manage at that moment in time - with what felt like half the blood in her body dribbling all over the floor. She took the hand offered, one of the lucid parts of her brain noting that even the palm not pressed to her injury was covered in blood. No big deal. Soon enough everybody would be, either theirs or somebody else's.
Being brought to her feet was a painful process. Her legs didn't want to support her weight, and she most definitely didn't want to put her hand down to push herself up. Nate was more or less a dead weight as Shawn pulled her up, face a mask of pain as the movements sent fresh stresses across the wound. Eventually though, she made it, no doubt helped by her own lightness. For a moment, she teetered, legs lacking steadiness, but then she managed to find her balance.
She looked into Shawn's face, and nodded.
"Nate. It's Nate. Help with my gun?"
Nate tipped her head towards the rifle. No way in hell was she leaning down for that.
Being brought to her feet was a painful process. Her legs didn't want to support her weight, and she most definitely didn't want to put her hand down to push herself up. Nate was more or less a dead weight as Shawn pulled her up, face a mask of pain as the movements sent fresh stresses across the wound. Eventually though, she made it, no doubt helped by her own lightness. For a moment, she teetered, legs lacking steadiness, but then she managed to find her balance.
She looked into Shawn's face, and nodded.
"Nate. It's Nate. Help with my gun?"
Nate tipped her head towards the rifle. No way in hell was she leaning down for that.
No, fuck him.
Odile didn't want to talk like a grown adult, or like any other form of adult or anything, for that matter. She didn't want to stop crying, because god dammit she had earned a good cry.
And she didn't want to have to deal with his bullshit.
"That's a pretty cool plan there." Her voice caught, and she swallowed. Her throat hurt. "But how about this one: you fuck off, and I don't have to have some retarded conversation with some idiot who can't figure out what the silhouette-in-a-skirt symbol on the fucking door means."
God, her throat hurt a lot. There was water in her pack, but that was outside, and Amber's and the boy's didn't seem to be anywhere near, either. She started to crawl toward the sink, but stopped, seeing a bullet hole in the pipe underneath it.
For fuck's sake.
The toilet? Not particularly dignified, especially if her new best friend decided to ignore her requests and come in anyway. Killed while drinking out of the toilet? Jesus. Odile had thought she'd stopped caring about what others thought entirely, but she was still reluctant to go out like that.
She sighed.
"If you happen to have water on you, though, I suppose we could have a little chat".
Odile didn't want to talk like a grown adult, or like any other form of adult or anything, for that matter. She didn't want to stop crying, because god dammit she had earned a good cry.
And she didn't want to have to deal with his bullshit.
"That's a pretty cool plan there." Her voice caught, and she swallowed. Her throat hurt. "But how about this one: you fuck off, and I don't have to have some retarded conversation with some idiot who can't figure out what the silhouette-in-a-skirt symbol on the fucking door means."
God, her throat hurt a lot. There was water in her pack, but that was outside, and Amber's and the boy's didn't seem to be anywhere near, either. She started to crawl toward the sink, but stopped, seeing a bullet hole in the pipe underneath it.
For fuck's sake.
The toilet? Not particularly dignified, especially if her new best friend decided to ignore her requests and come in anyway. Killed while drinking out of the toilet? Jesus. Odile had thought she'd stopped caring about what others thought entirely, but she was still reluctant to go out like that.
She sighed.
"If you happen to have water on you, though, I suppose we could have a little chat".
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Shawn could see the semblance of a smile form on Nate's face. He didn't expect her to be capable of doing so anymore, not after getting used to her consistent expression of pain and emotional numbness. That look alone, made Shawn smile too, despite the stoke of pot between his lips and this time he didn't need to force it. It came automatically.
He pulled her up, as carefully as he could to make it easier. The process looked painful and Nate struggled quite a bit, being that she was still leaking some tiny drips of blood. She spoke again, saying that she wanted to be called by the nickname Nate rather than her full name Natalie. Shawn nodded at her request. It was just a habit of his to refer to most girls by their full names, like Alexis for Lexi. It was a sign of a gentleman, his grandmother would always say.
Nate teetered, but Shawn moved close by to help her regain her balance. She wanted some help in picking up her rifle and Shawn complied, reaching down and then handing the gun over to her. There was certainly a strange trust there, being that they could have shot each other easily at any time, but didn't. Shawn pulled the stoke out of his mouth and spoke to her again.
"Let's find a comfortable bed for you to rest on a little bit. Maybe I can take a look and see if we can do something about that wound."
Shawn paused and looked at the stoke in his hand once again. She trusted him now, so maybe she would accept his offer.
"You know, I always share with my friends. Here Nate, have some medicine."
He pulled her up, as carefully as he could to make it easier. The process looked painful and Nate struggled quite a bit, being that she was still leaking some tiny drips of blood. She spoke again, saying that she wanted to be called by the nickname Nate rather than her full name Natalie. Shawn nodded at her request. It was just a habit of his to refer to most girls by their full names, like Alexis for Lexi. It was a sign of a gentleman, his grandmother would always say.
Nate teetered, but Shawn moved close by to help her regain her balance. She wanted some help in picking up her rifle and Shawn complied, reaching down and then handing the gun over to her. There was certainly a strange trust there, being that they could have shot each other easily at any time, but didn't. Shawn pulled the stoke out of his mouth and spoke to her again.
"Let's find a comfortable bed for you to rest on a little bit. Maybe I can take a look and see if we can do something about that wound."
Shawn paused and looked at the stoke in his hand once again. She trusted him now, so maybe she would accept his offer.
"You know, I always share with my friends. Here Nate, have some medicine."
Mason looked back at Lexi, then nodded to her to open up his bag. He had a little bit of water left, as he'd mostly been sipping at it throughout their stay on the island. He leaned in and pushed the door open a little wider, so it became apparent by his voice that he was intending to come in.
"Yeah, we got some. You gonna come out or you want me to go where most men dare not tread?"
"Yeah, we got some. You gonna come out or you want me to go where most men dare not tread?"
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Courtography
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Okay, things worked out. Water, that was the key. Or something like that. Mason had pointed at his bag, so okay. Good. They were going to be nice and give water. They didn't have to get in a blazing gun battle.
She searched through the bag, finding a partially full bottle. With a nod she handed it to Mason.
Now who was in there anyway?
She searched through the bag, finding a partially full bottle. With a nod she handed it to Mason.
Now who was in there anyway?
Walking through the hall Madelyn doubted more and more that she was in as much control of endgame as she thought. It wasn't that long, but she should've have run into someone by now, right? Maybe they had teamed up, or they thought by hiding this would end.
Or she was crap at finding them.
Allowing herself to relax Madelyn lowered the gun and sat on a bench in the hall. Breathing deep she tried to think of where someone could be. The air had a horrible stench to it though. As if someone stuffed a skunk carcass with dog shit. For a moment she wondered what it was until she remembered.
Someone is seriously smoking pot, here? Madelyn rolled her eyes and she whispered,
"Damnit, Shawn." He was the only one of the five of them she knew smoked it, and ignored the Detroit chick as a variable in her guess. Walking towards the fetid oder Madelyn made herself hold in her breath to avoid giving herself away, and so she wouldn't have to smell it anymore.
When she got close enough she heard voices. One of them was Shawn offering medicine. She decided to wait behind the doorframe to see if there was something important to hear.
Or she was crap at finding them.
Allowing herself to relax Madelyn lowered the gun and sat on a bench in the hall. Breathing deep she tried to think of where someone could be. The air had a horrible stench to it though. As if someone stuffed a skunk carcass with dog shit. For a moment she wondered what it was until she remembered.
Someone is seriously smoking pot, here? Madelyn rolled her eyes and she whispered,
"Damnit, Shawn." He was the only one of the five of them she knew smoked it, and ignored the Detroit chick as a variable in her guess. Walking towards the fetid oder Madelyn made herself hold in her breath to avoid giving herself away, and so she wouldn't have to smell it anymore.
When she got close enough she heard voices. One of them was Shawn offering medicine. She decided to wait behind the doorframe to see if there was something important to hear.
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"I'll come out, I'll come out." Odile stood. "Gimme a minute to fix my face."
Looking in a mirror, it was clear that it would take a lot more than a minute to clear up the mess of make up, dirt and blood that caked not only her face, but a good portion of her arms and upper body. What she really wanted the time for was a chance to hide the two dead bodies on the floor, and avoid some potentially awkward questions.
Could she fit them in the stall? The sides didn't go very low: it'd be pretty obvious if anyone was lying on the floor. She supposed she could get them higher, maybe balance them on the toilet or something, but not quickly, or quietly or cleanly. As far as awkward questions went, "why are you trying to wedge that dead guy into a cistern" wasn't one of the better ones, and the odds of them walking in with her doing that seemed pretty high.
Fuck it. She'd just get out of there quick, and hope her new best bud and whatever friends he'd brought with him didn't need to pee.
The gun was the other issue. Should she leave it be? Take it with her? Hide it somewhere? Wandering out with a gun in hand was liable to get her shot, but going unarmed could leave her open to some pretty nasty shit, too. She resolved to compromise, tucking it back into its familiar place in the back of her waistband, and untucking her shirt above it, letting the tails hang down and hide the handle.
"Ahh, fuck it. A million people have already seen me with my sad face on, now. Who gives a shit if a couple more do." Just letting them know that if the second person was meant to be a surprise or whatever, Odile Jones didn't surprise easily.
She gave the mirror another quick glance, just to see how she was looking.
Like shit. Fantastic.
Wiping blood from her hands onto some scraps of toilet paper, Odile left the bathroom.
Looking in a mirror, it was clear that it would take a lot more than a minute to clear up the mess of make up, dirt and blood that caked not only her face, but a good portion of her arms and upper body. What she really wanted the time for was a chance to hide the two dead bodies on the floor, and avoid some potentially awkward questions.
Could she fit them in the stall? The sides didn't go very low: it'd be pretty obvious if anyone was lying on the floor. She supposed she could get them higher, maybe balance them on the toilet or something, but not quickly, or quietly or cleanly. As far as awkward questions went, "why are you trying to wedge that dead guy into a cistern" wasn't one of the better ones, and the odds of them walking in with her doing that seemed pretty high.
Fuck it. She'd just get out of there quick, and hope her new best bud and whatever friends he'd brought with him didn't need to pee.
The gun was the other issue. Should she leave it be? Take it with her? Hide it somewhere? Wandering out with a gun in hand was liable to get her shot, but going unarmed could leave her open to some pretty nasty shit, too. She resolved to compromise, tucking it back into its familiar place in the back of her waistband, and untucking her shirt above it, letting the tails hang down and hide the handle.
"Ahh, fuck it. A million people have already seen me with my sad face on, now. Who gives a shit if a couple more do." Just letting them know that if the second person was meant to be a surprise or whatever, Odile Jones didn't surprise easily.
She gave the mirror another quick glance, just to see how she was looking.
Like shit. Fantastic.
Wiping blood from her hands onto some scraps of toilet paper, Odile left the bathroom.
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Mason and Lexi had backed away from the door before Odile came out. His gun hand was still covering the threshold, and the bottle of water was clutched in his free hand, which he held out an inch or two past the muzzle.
The girl looked like hell; which Mason figured made sense. He knew damn well he wasn't looking his best at this point either. She was a stick, the lack of girth on her probably exacerbated by, what Mason's uncle Tom would say were "slim pickin's" as to food around this place.
She had to have been from Detroit, so Mason, from the depths of what he had left of his joviality, spoke to her an an exaggeratedly hilarious Texas drawl.
"Well, darlin', glad we got you to come out of that hole. Got your libations right here."
He pointed the gun away so it didn't quite rest on her form and moved closer so she could take the bottle.
The girl looked like hell; which Mason figured made sense. He knew damn well he wasn't looking his best at this point either. She was a stick, the lack of girth on her probably exacerbated by, what Mason's uncle Tom would say were "slim pickin's" as to food around this place.
She had to have been from Detroit, so Mason, from the depths of what he had left of his joviality, spoke to her an an exaggeratedly hilarious Texas drawl.
"Well, darlin', glad we got you to come out of that hole. Got your libations right here."
He pointed the gun away so it didn't quite rest on her form and moved closer so she could take the bottle.
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Courtography
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She watched the girl walk out of the bathroom, obviously covered in blood combined with makeup. It took Lexi a moment to recognize her but she knew who she was. "O-Odile?"
She didn't know what to think of Odile. She was one of the Detroit kids, the ones who had caused so much bloodshed. On the other hand, she had helped Tiffany save her from Harold and his ally.
She felt her hands shaking. Odile had saved her before she had killed. Who was to say the same would be true now?
She didn't know what to think of Odile. She was one of the Detroit kids, the ones who had caused so much bloodshed. On the other hand, she had helped Tiffany save her from Harold and his ally.
She felt her hands shaking. Odile had saved her before she had killed. Who was to say the same would be true now?
Odile accepted the bottle with gratitude, and took a deep swig. Christ that was good. Her throat felt like sandpaper. And... holy shit, was that Lexi?
"It's good to see ya again. Didn't think I'd heard your name." Still parched. Another quick drink. "I'm impressed."
She snuck a look at the boy who'd proffered the bottle. Good looking, but not familiar, and very Texan sounding, suggesting he was from those parts. There was the possibility that the accent was faked, and he was someone trying to not be recognized, of course, but that didn't seem consistent with the company he was keeping. A friend of Lexi's, then? That'd probably mean that the gun pointed at her was probably more for show than anything else: she couldn't imagine Lexi being complicit in luring someone out for an execution. Still, that was... how many days ago? This place changed people, she knew well, and if they were going to shoot her?
That would be that, then.
She handed the bottle back to them. Her throat was still a little sore, but it was bearable, and she didn't want to appear greedy.
"You would not even believe how much I needed that. Seriously, thanks." She'd meant it as sarcastic, but it came out sincere, and in truth, she was very grateful. Not wanting to live was one thing, though the jury was still out on exactly where she stood on that, but wanting to live in thirst and misery? That's just damn foolish.
She brushed a stray lock of hair from in front of her eye, faux-coquettish, not unaware that it was the very least of her appearance issues, at the moment. Still, every little bit helps (said the old woman as she pissed into the sea). Odile nearly smiled there, remembering an old favourite saying of her Uncle's.
No! Bad Odile! No getting distracted! Now that she was out of the bathroom, she wanted to get her bearings. She needed to figure out the lay of the land, see who was left alive, whether there were teams, who was a threat, and cetera and cetera.
To do that, she should probably make some introductions. She knew Lexi, of course, but Texan boy was still an unknown quantity. She should rectify that.
Odile turned to him.
"You got a name, handsome?"
"It's good to see ya again. Didn't think I'd heard your name." Still parched. Another quick drink. "I'm impressed."
She snuck a look at the boy who'd proffered the bottle. Good looking, but not familiar, and very Texan sounding, suggesting he was from those parts. There was the possibility that the accent was faked, and he was someone trying to not be recognized, of course, but that didn't seem consistent with the company he was keeping. A friend of Lexi's, then? That'd probably mean that the gun pointed at her was probably more for show than anything else: she couldn't imagine Lexi being complicit in luring someone out for an execution. Still, that was... how many days ago? This place changed people, she knew well, and if they were going to shoot her?
That would be that, then.
She handed the bottle back to them. Her throat was still a little sore, but it was bearable, and she didn't want to appear greedy.
"You would not even believe how much I needed that. Seriously, thanks." She'd meant it as sarcastic, but it came out sincere, and in truth, she was very grateful. Not wanting to live was one thing, though the jury was still out on exactly where she stood on that, but wanting to live in thirst and misery? That's just damn foolish.
She brushed a stray lock of hair from in front of her eye, faux-coquettish, not unaware that it was the very least of her appearance issues, at the moment. Still, every little bit helps (said the old woman as she pissed into the sea). Odile nearly smiled there, remembering an old favourite saying of her Uncle's.
No! Bad Odile! No getting distracted! Now that she was out of the bathroom, she wanted to get her bearings. She needed to figure out the lay of the land, see who was left alive, whether there were teams, who was a threat, and cetera and cetera.
To do that, she should probably make some introductions. She knew Lexi, of course, but Texan boy was still an unknown quantity. She should rectify that.
Odile turned to him.
"You got a name, handsome?"
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Nate blanched at Shawn's extended hand. 'Medicine' was probably the worst possible term that he could have used, considering her previous experience. Her only other response was a vehement and somewhat desperate shake of the head. She tried to tell herself that Shawn meant well, but the wounds weren't easily healed, nor was her attitude going to change after a few minutes of conversation and companionship.
"No point resting." Nate leant heavily on her rifle, putting the barrel against the ground to help her balance. A flick of the head moved blood-matted hair from her eyes. "Bled too much already." she straightened up at that, balancing the gun on her shoulder. She swayed again, but maintained her balance, this time. "Might as well just get it over with."
She didn't say what 'it' was. At this point, she didn't think the clarification was necessary.
"No point resting." Nate leant heavily on her rifle, putting the barrel against the ground to help her balance. A flick of the head moved blood-matted hair from her eyes. "Bled too much already." she straightened up at that, balancing the gun on her shoulder. She swayed again, but maintained her balance, this time. "Might as well just get it over with."
She didn't say what 'it' was. At this point, she didn't think the clarification was necessary.
"Sure 'bout that? It'll make you feel better!"
Shawn chuckled to himself and maybe a bit for Nate's emotional benefit as well, while he placed the rollie back to his lips.
"I'm just messing. It's cool. I get it." He coughed a bit of the smoke up.
"Damn, my grandma Patty would kill me if she saw this... but I guess someone could beat her to it." He turned to a camera and waved.
"Hi, grandma!"
He laughed a little more, feeling the familiar jolly rising through his system as he pet Brian's limp head. Shawn didn't know how he could have handled the island without his stash of herb. Things would've been much more stressful, that much was for certain.
Nate on the other hand seemed to have accepted her fate. She didn't want rest. She didn't want medical aide. Not even herbal remedy to make things easier on her body and mind. She just wanted to help him take out the bad guys like she promised and that was fine with him. They could deal with any hindrances after they were done with what they needed to do. He pushed away the table he had used to barricade the door and then returned to the table where Nate was standing near, to grab his bag.
"Alright. Let's track 'em down."
Shawn pumped his shotgun to signal his readiness.
Shawn chuckled to himself and maybe a bit for Nate's emotional benefit as well, while he placed the rollie back to his lips.
"I'm just messing. It's cool. I get it." He coughed a bit of the smoke up.
"Damn, my grandma Patty would kill me if she saw this... but I guess someone could beat her to it." He turned to a camera and waved.
"Hi, grandma!"
He laughed a little more, feeling the familiar jolly rising through his system as he pet Brian's limp head. Shawn didn't know how he could have handled the island without his stash of herb. Things would've been much more stressful, that much was for certain.
Nate on the other hand seemed to have accepted her fate. She didn't want rest. She didn't want medical aide. Not even herbal remedy to make things easier on her body and mind. She just wanted to help him take out the bad guys like she promised and that was fine with him. They could deal with any hindrances after they were done with what they needed to do. He pushed away the table he had used to barricade the door and then returned to the table where Nate was standing near, to grab his bag.
"Alright. Let's track 'em down."
Shawn pumped his shotgun to signal his readiness.