“I was, like, joking. ‘Course you wouldn’t kill us.”
God, he was pathetic. Both him and Mr. Bri’ish over there. Vasily didn’t really know what to do- he thought about just gunning the other guy down at first. Was that fucked up? It probably wasn’t that fucked up- violence was easy, here. Ridding someone full of bullets takes just the pull of a trigger (well, more than that- there’s the reloading and the recoil and a bunch of gun terminology but that’s not the point.) But now he has to talk to Anthony.
“Yeah, yeah, allright. No shooting Anthony. Got it. Like, I know that to be honest friends are gonna kill friends but, sure. Whatever you say. So you wanna chill here with us, or run away before someone who cares less about you comes along? ‘Cause we have one gun between the four of us and, like, dude I’m so fucking sorry that your weapon was shit. Mine was a snack pack of chips. You gotta learn to find people and improvise.”
He tilted his head at Fisk and smiled, hand still on the gun, but pointing it away for now.
“But, yeah, I trust you. Like, in comparison to a lot of the other peeps in here. I mean, I don’t see a weapon on you. What are you gonna do, punch the gun? Don’t do any stupid shit and you’ll be fine with us.”
He laughed. Of course, Anthony could have a glock in his backpack for all he knew, but if he saw any suspicious movements he’d… shoot, hopefully.
“Soooo… truce? For now?”
And only for now, because he knew that Anthony will hate him when the announcements ring out and mark them all as murderers.
Funtime in the Sunshine
A PM-to-enter pool party~
"Yeah, we wouldn't have had much to worry about here. Intentions or not." Fisk eyed Anthony then Vasily holding his gun. "No offence." He smirked.
As of right now, Anthony was safe. Giselle and Vasily had no intention to harm him, and because of that, Fisk had no intention of harming him. This was a democracy, not a dictatorship. The sum of the group is greater than it's parts and all that. Well, it was partially a dictatorship, Fisk was the giant rat that made all of the rules, but he took into account the other's choices, because a happy organization is a functioning organization.
"So, as the others said, you're safe. Shame you got a bad deck, but you're not alone on that one. Granted I'm not one of those people, as that's my gun Vasily's playing around with, but, y'know, you have my condolences." Fisk gave the most half-hearted of half hearted shrugs. It was really more of a head tilt if anything.
He swam over to the edge of the pool. Anthony was very shaky. That was good. Nervous people aren't aggressive people. Plus, with the fact that he gave away that he wasn't carrying, made this whole thing so much easier. "Hey buddy, you can relax..." Fisk pulled himself out of the pool with a grunt. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Anthony or Vasily at this point. Maybe both. Upon standing up, he grabbed his mask and tossed it to his pile of clothes. "Trust me, nobody here is going to hurt you. It would be incredibly unwise for someone to 'flex' on us, so not a single hair on your head will be harmed, for the time being." This one was directed to Anthony.
"Anywho, what brings you here? How's your tenure been on this marvelous day in this marvelous game." Fisk said, spitting the words marvelous out with sarcastic vitrol as he reached a hand down at the edge of the pool to help Vasily out, his head still turned towards Anthony, car-salesman smile peeled upon his scarred lips.
"You look awkward standing over there, and I'm sure you and Giselle don't want to shout across the pool at each other all day. Come over here. Have a seat." Fisk tilted his head to one of the pool recliners next to Giselle.
As of right now, Anthony was safe. Giselle and Vasily had no intention to harm him, and because of that, Fisk had no intention of harming him. This was a democracy, not a dictatorship. The sum of the group is greater than it's parts and all that. Well, it was partially a dictatorship, Fisk was the giant rat that made all of the rules, but he took into account the other's choices, because a happy organization is a functioning organization.
"So, as the others said, you're safe. Shame you got a bad deck, but you're not alone on that one. Granted I'm not one of those people, as that's my gun Vasily's playing around with, but, y'know, you have my condolences." Fisk gave the most half-hearted of half hearted shrugs. It was really more of a head tilt if anything.
He swam over to the edge of the pool. Anthony was very shaky. That was good. Nervous people aren't aggressive people. Plus, with the fact that he gave away that he wasn't carrying, made this whole thing so much easier. "Hey buddy, you can relax..." Fisk pulled himself out of the pool with a grunt. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Anthony or Vasily at this point. Maybe both. Upon standing up, he grabbed his mask and tossed it to his pile of clothes. "Trust me, nobody here is going to hurt you. It would be incredibly unwise for someone to 'flex' on us, so not a single hair on your head will be harmed, for the time being." This one was directed to Anthony.
"Anywho, what brings you here? How's your tenure been on this marvelous day in this marvelous game." Fisk said, spitting the words marvelous out with sarcastic vitrol as he reached a hand down at the edge of the pool to help Vasily out, his head still turned towards Anthony, car-salesman smile peeled upon his scarred lips.
"You look awkward standing over there, and I'm sure you and Giselle don't want to shout across the pool at each other all day. Come over here. Have a seat." Fisk tilted his head to one of the pool recliners next to Giselle.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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Sh4dE
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 8:27 pm
- Location: Whittree, Oklahoma
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
Anthony was so angry that he slipped back to a heavier accent. She could understand. Everybody was angry.
"Anthony, I'm glad to see you," Giselle said in a cheery way with hopes of calming him down with her friendly tone.
She stood up from the chair and walked to the boys for some steps until Fisk offered Anthony to sit down, so she returned to the chair and leaned back. She felt comfortable in that chair. There was no conflict, no tension. Well, a little tension. A bit from Vasily's craziness and Anthony's anger could be felt in the atmosphere, but no guns have been fired and no fists have been swung, so that was good in her eyes.
Vasily's craze seemed to have worn down, too. He was now more talky to Anthony, which was fine as he at least seemed less distraught now. Giselle wasn't in the mood for big talks. She smiled at Anthony.
"Well, I also didn't have any luck on the weapon draw. They gave me an ice cube mold. Luckily, Fisk thought of a solution and gave us some makeshift weapons."
She grabbed her shiv from her bag and showed it to Anthony. Her facial expression was kept neutral.
"That was pretty creative of Fisk. The idea came quick, too. I think this thing is going to be useful."
"Anthony, I'm glad to see you," Giselle said in a cheery way with hopes of calming him down with her friendly tone.
She stood up from the chair and walked to the boys for some steps until Fisk offered Anthony to sit down, so she returned to the chair and leaned back. She felt comfortable in that chair. There was no conflict, no tension. Well, a little tension. A bit from Vasily's craziness and Anthony's anger could be felt in the atmosphere, but no guns have been fired and no fists have been swung, so that was good in her eyes.
Vasily's craze seemed to have worn down, too. He was now more talky to Anthony, which was fine as he at least seemed less distraught now. Giselle wasn't in the mood for big talks. She smiled at Anthony.
"Well, I also didn't have any luck on the weapon draw. They gave me an ice cube mold. Luckily, Fisk thought of a solution and gave us some makeshift weapons."
She grabbed her shiv from her bag and showed it to Anthony. Her facial expression was kept neutral.
"That was pretty creative of Fisk. The idea came quick, too. I think this thing is going to be useful."
I'm so glad to be back !
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
"Oh Fisk, it’s been a lovely day. First off, I woke up in this hellhole of a show. Next, I got kicked full force in the fucking balls and rolled around the floor of a yacht for like, ten minutes in agony while pretty much nobody there helped me. And now I’m here. Absolutely fucking brilliant, 10/10. How about you guys? Having fun in the pool?" Anthony sighed. Today was the worst day of his life, and he was only what, an hour or two into it? It's not like the bastards had the common decency of giving them a watch. Instead they got some old fucking shit from the 1700s that barely anyone knew how to use. And he didn't even know if Tottenham had beat Chelsea or not.
At the suggestion of a truce, he nodded. Something wasn't right here, but like hell was he going to try and question it. Maybe this was just some alliance of convenience. They all just woke up together and decided that hey, they'd just stick together until they found their teammates or something. But then, why spend time in the pool instead of literally anything else? If he had a gun, he could have just shot the three of them and made off with their gear while they bled to death.
He wouldn't do anything like that, of course. But he could have, and that was the important thing.
Vasily seemed nervous, somehow, but that was starting to fade as he got more comfortable with this all. Fisk had some kind of smug asshole aura around him, the kind of one that indicated that he'd stab Anthony and root through his pockets if the other two weren't there. The comment he made about how Anthony wasn't much to worry about caught him off guard. Was he that non-threatening? Sure, he was a pacifist, he didn't want to be threatening, but was he implying that he was just fodder? That he was just living purely because of their so-called mercy at not pumping him full of lead the second he walked through that door? For a second, he realised that yes, he was actually starting to get annoyed about the complete dismissal.
But no, forget about it. It's fine. Everything here is fine. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked towards the recliners, taking a seat next to Giselle. At least there was something here he could rely on. They'd get out of this thing together, and preferably without having to spill blood.
"It's good to see you, Giselle. Fucking- assholes had to pick us, didn't they? Couldn't just leave us alone and happy, no, they had to throw us into this fucking murder game! Swear to God, I'm going to... fucking kill them!" He quietly ranted to her. It would be fine if he just vented about how pissed off he was, it's not like she would consider him a threat.
And then she pulled out the glass shiv to show him. "That was pretty creative of Fisk.", she said. "I think this thing is going to be useful.", she said, and the alarm bells in his head started ringing louder and louder. Fisk made Giselle and presumably Vasily weapons. And she thought it was going to be useful. No, no, that's wrong. Giselle wouldn't hurt anyone, she hated this show. She wouldn't dance to the producer's tune. What was more worrying, though, was that it sounded like they had met and consciously decided to team. You wouldn't just give a temporary partner a deadly weapon unless you trusted them not to stab you in the back. And frankly, Giselle and the other two boys were strange bedfellows.
Something wasn't right.
"What do... what do you mean, it's going to be useful?"
At the suggestion of a truce, he nodded. Something wasn't right here, but like hell was he going to try and question it. Maybe this was just some alliance of convenience. They all just woke up together and decided that hey, they'd just stick together until they found their teammates or something. But then, why spend time in the pool instead of literally anything else? If he had a gun, he could have just shot the three of them and made off with their gear while they bled to death.
He wouldn't do anything like that, of course. But he could have, and that was the important thing.
Vasily seemed nervous, somehow, but that was starting to fade as he got more comfortable with this all. Fisk had some kind of smug asshole aura around him, the kind of one that indicated that he'd stab Anthony and root through his pockets if the other two weren't there. The comment he made about how Anthony wasn't much to worry about caught him off guard. Was he that non-threatening? Sure, he was a pacifist, he didn't want to be threatening, but was he implying that he was just fodder? That he was just living purely because of their so-called mercy at not pumping him full of lead the second he walked through that door? For a second, he realised that yes, he was actually starting to get annoyed about the complete dismissal.
But no, forget about it. It's fine. Everything here is fine. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked towards the recliners, taking a seat next to Giselle. At least there was something here he could rely on. They'd get out of this thing together, and preferably without having to spill blood.
"It's good to see you, Giselle. Fucking- assholes had to pick us, didn't they? Couldn't just leave us alone and happy, no, they had to throw us into this fucking murder game! Swear to God, I'm going to... fucking kill them!" He quietly ranted to her. It would be fine if he just vented about how pissed off he was, it's not like she would consider him a threat.
And then she pulled out the glass shiv to show him. "That was pretty creative of Fisk.", she said. "I think this thing is going to be useful.", she said, and the alarm bells in his head started ringing louder and louder. Fisk made Giselle and presumably Vasily weapons. And she thought it was going to be useful. No, no, that's wrong. Giselle wouldn't hurt anyone, she hated this show. She wouldn't dance to the producer's tune. What was more worrying, though, was that it sounded like they had met and consciously decided to team. You wouldn't just give a temporary partner a deadly weapon unless you trusted them not to stab you in the back. And frankly, Giselle and the other two boys were strange bedfellows.
Something wasn't right.
"What do... what do you mean, it's going to be useful?"
“Welp, that sucks. Hope your balls are fine, dude. Got into a fight already?”
Vasily sighed at Anthony’s semi-rant as it started. Something about killing the producers. As Fisk left, he let go of the gun and looked a bit gloomily at the pool floatie. His skin was kind of red from the sun right now, sure, but dammit he wanted to, like, share the alligator floatie with Fisk or something. More fun pool stuff. Oh well, always a next time. Hopefully. He added that to his mental bucket list as he grabbed onto Fisk’s hand, letting his hand roam off the gun for just a second as he half-hauled himself out and also marveled a bit at Fisk’s arm strength.
''Who's gonna tell him?'' He stage-whispered at the rest of the group, and then sighed again, picking up the Chicago Typewriter with one hand just in case.
''Hey, Anthony, man, look. We're in Survival of the Fucking Fittest. People will want to kill us, and we'll probably wanna kill some other people too, for… whatever reason. Like maybe they wanted to fight us, or if we need their supplies, or maybe they’re just in our way.”
“Uh, kidding ‘bout the last one, man. You gotta be able to defend yourself and fight- fight back, especially, you know? You need to be prepared, and shouting death threats at the executives ain’t gonna achieve anything.”
He sighed again. Rolled his eye a little bit before speedily snatching up his eyepatch with one hand and covering the empty socket. Felt a little uncomfortable that his wet body was dripping water onto the floor, so he placed the gun down and cocooned himself with the towel as he sat down.
“I mean, I’m going to be honest here- raising your hands and hoping the other party don't have a weapon better than their fists and won’t shoot isn’t the best strat, mm-kay? Find a buddy- well, I mean I guess Giselle’s your buddy and maybe me too, at least try to make an effort to be prepared, and pray. Pray a lot. And be ready to stab a bitch.”
Vasily sighed at Anthony’s semi-rant as it started. Something about killing the producers. As Fisk left, he let go of the gun and looked a bit gloomily at the pool floatie. His skin was kind of red from the sun right now, sure, but dammit he wanted to, like, share the alligator floatie with Fisk or something. More fun pool stuff. Oh well, always a next time. Hopefully. He added that to his mental bucket list as he grabbed onto Fisk’s hand, letting his hand roam off the gun for just a second as he half-hauled himself out and also marveled a bit at Fisk’s arm strength.
''Who's gonna tell him?'' He stage-whispered at the rest of the group, and then sighed again, picking up the Chicago Typewriter with one hand just in case.
''Hey, Anthony, man, look. We're in Survival of the Fucking Fittest. People will want to kill us, and we'll probably wanna kill some other people too, for… whatever reason. Like maybe they wanted to fight us, or if we need their supplies, or maybe they’re just in our way.”
“Uh, kidding ‘bout the last one, man. You gotta be able to defend yourself and fight- fight back, especially, you know? You need to be prepared, and shouting death threats at the executives ain’t gonna achieve anything.”
He sighed again. Rolled his eye a little bit before speedily snatching up his eyepatch with one hand and covering the empty socket. Felt a little uncomfortable that his wet body was dripping water onto the floor, so he placed the gun down and cocooned himself with the towel as he sat down.
“I mean, I’m going to be honest here- raising your hands and hoping the other party don't have a weapon better than their fists and won’t shoot isn’t the best strat, mm-kay? Find a buddy- well, I mean I guess Giselle’s your buddy and maybe me too, at least try to make an effort to be prepared, and pray. Pray a lot. And be ready to stab a bitch.”
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Sh4dE
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 8:27 pm
- Location: Whittree, Oklahoma
- Team Affiliation: Claudia's Krakens
"Fucking assholes, indeed," she replied to Anthony's rant and nodded. They had picked them instead of any other class in the US. Giselle blamed some of her classmates for that. If she had normal, boring classmates, she would've been safe from being picked, but some people from her class were pretty loco or quote unquote interesting. Sure, Giselle probably also is partially responsible for being picked with her personality and views against SOTF and that little stunt at the SOTF-Convention, but there were other big personalities in this game she could blame as well, with their bizarre hobbies and personalities. If everyone had been boring, this wouldn't have happened to them.
This must be harder for Anthony than anybody else in her class, though, as he was brought up in the UK. Here, everyone kind of expects this game as it was omnipresent and normalized in society, even though Giselle, Anthony and their friends had fought hard to not accept this being a normal thing. It was exceptionally cruel to Anthony being picked, so she could understand him being angry at the unfairness of the situation.
Then Vasily opened his mouth and rambled like an idiot. Rambled about murder, rambled about prepping. Giselle was feeling uncomfortable. Anthony was not going like what Vasily said, as it was formulated by a fan of the game and back in school there was nothing more frustrating for Giselle than listening to small-minded and empty-brained SOTF-fans trying to convince her of their ideas.
Now she imagined a Fisk speech trying to explain the situation to Anthony and nope. Not gonna go there. A Fisk speech would not convince Anthony. She knew both of them well and Fisk can be a talented speaker, but she imagined that Anthony would not be convinced simply due to how different these two boys were.
She had been long friends with both of them. Fisk way longer than Anthony, though. They were childhood friends growing up in the same street, so Fisk and James were probably the longest friends she had in her class. She had no one else back when she was young. Before she met Diana she had Fisk and they would watch movies together or lend them or watch SOTF back when she was a dumb kid who didn't know better. Now she was older and she knew what's right and wrong. And she did disagree with Fisk about some of his media choices, but she also agreed with him on other stances and she could respect him as a person.
She knew Anthony from school, but didn't pay much attention to him initially. He was just the british dude to her for a long time. They never hung out during lunch break and barely had assignments together. This changed when she recognised him at a local anti-SOTF meeting and they began to talk more to each other and eventually hang out in their freetime, but also in school. She didn't know him as long as Fisk, but he was still one of her closest friends.
Now, how could she explain the whole situation to him?
It was probably the best to do it herself. It probably would be done best to do it privately, without the presence of two SOTF mega-fans. Giselle stood up from her chair and pinched Anthony by his arm.
"Could we talk privately?"
Giselle grabbed her bag and began to walk. Normally the plan was to not split from the group, but she only needed some private time with Anthony to explain why the Respects were a good thing for both Giselle and Anthony. It was also just temporarily, she'd return with Anthony after having him convinced. She also wasn't concernced with Anthony attacking her without the present of Vas and Fisk, because she was armed and Anthony wasn't.
He wouldn't do anything like that, of course. But he could, and that was the important thing.
"Anthony and I will take a walk, alright?"
((FR05 Giselle Fillmore continued in this leaves me quite discheesed))
This must be harder for Anthony than anybody else in her class, though, as he was brought up in the UK. Here, everyone kind of expects this game as it was omnipresent and normalized in society, even though Giselle, Anthony and their friends had fought hard to not accept this being a normal thing. It was exceptionally cruel to Anthony being picked, so she could understand him being angry at the unfairness of the situation.
Then Vasily opened his mouth and rambled like an idiot. Rambled about murder, rambled about prepping. Giselle was feeling uncomfortable. Anthony was not going like what Vasily said, as it was formulated by a fan of the game and back in school there was nothing more frustrating for Giselle than listening to small-minded and empty-brained SOTF-fans trying to convince her of their ideas.
Now she imagined a Fisk speech trying to explain the situation to Anthony and nope. Not gonna go there. A Fisk speech would not convince Anthony. She knew both of them well and Fisk can be a talented speaker, but she imagined that Anthony would not be convinced simply due to how different these two boys were.
She had been long friends with both of them. Fisk way longer than Anthony, though. They were childhood friends growing up in the same street, so Fisk and James were probably the longest friends she had in her class. She had no one else back when she was young. Before she met Diana she had Fisk and they would watch movies together or lend them or watch SOTF back when she was a dumb kid who didn't know better. Now she was older and she knew what's right and wrong. And she did disagree with Fisk about some of his media choices, but she also agreed with him on other stances and she could respect him as a person.
She knew Anthony from school, but didn't pay much attention to him initially. He was just the british dude to her for a long time. They never hung out during lunch break and barely had assignments together. This changed when she recognised him at a local anti-SOTF meeting and they began to talk more to each other and eventually hang out in their freetime, but also in school. She didn't know him as long as Fisk, but he was still one of her closest friends.
Now, how could she explain the whole situation to him?
It was probably the best to do it herself. It probably would be done best to do it privately, without the presence of two SOTF mega-fans. Giselle stood up from her chair and pinched Anthony by his arm.
"Could we talk privately?"
Giselle grabbed her bag and began to walk. Normally the plan was to not split from the group, but she only needed some private time with Anthony to explain why the Respects were a good thing for both Giselle and Anthony. It was also just temporarily, she'd return with Anthony after having him convinced. She also wasn't concernced with Anthony attacking her without the present of Vas and Fisk, because she was armed and Anthony wasn't.
He wouldn't do anything like that, of course. But he could, and that was the important thing.
"Anthony and I will take a walk, alright?"
((FR05 Giselle Fillmore continued in this leaves me quite discheesed))
I'm so glad to be back !
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
"Two girls teamed up to steal someone else's crossbow. I tried to stop them, then the bitch kicked me in the fucking balls. Watch out for Olivia del Rio and Lucia... I think Valdez is her surname? I don't fucking know, but they're armed and dangerous and they'd probably kill you rather than look at you." Was that true? Probably not, but if they had resorted to violence that early, who knows what they'd be willing to do with that crossbow. If he ran into her, god knows what she'd do. Flirt with him more? Finish the job? Or would he be the one who emerged from that scuffle with his life intact?
He shouldn't think about that. But why shouldn't he? He wasn't gonna die here, after all. It couldn't hurt just to defend himself. After all, he was a pacifist, but he wasn't a fucking idiot. He'd rather punch someone in the face than die, but he wasn't gonna kill anyone. No matter what. He had a code, and nobody was gonna make him break it.
Vasily's words made him pause. If they needed their supplies... They had enough food for the rest of them, right? They had a decent amount of food in the bags they got, why the fuck would they need to kill someone just for supplies? 'We'll probably wanna kill some people' You don't just fucking kill people because you want to! If everyone just did that, society, humanity would never get anything fucking done because they'd just keep murdering people over perceived slights! Something was wrong here. He could feel a knot of anxiety tighten around his stomach, and Anthony started to assess ways out. He could make a run for the way he came in, but he'd get mowed down by Fisk and his tommy gun. Or, he could go out the dining hall, but that was an unknown.
"I don't particularly want to 'stab a bitch', Vasily. And- Sure, maybe the superfans-" He pointedly cast his gaze between the two of them. "Might be willing to ah, murder based on something silly like needing supplies when you already have enough in your bag, or, ah, them being in your way." A hint of scorn had crept into his tone. Vasily wasn't joking about that one. You didn't just fucking joke about murdering people just because they were in your goddamned way. Jesus Christ, did every teenage emo in America act like Vasily fucking Ivanov?
He could feel the anger starting to build up in him. It didn't feel bad, but he was determined to just simmer it down until he could direct it at the producers of this show once he had escaped this fucking game. Preferably, via a good fucking kicking. He opened his mouth, wanting to retort again, but then Giselle spoke up. Pinched him. Go for a walk. Yes, that sounded good.
"Before you ask, I'm not gonna try anything, you two. I don't want to be stabbed and left for dead." This was directed at Vasily and Fisk as Anthony stood up, shrugging the straps of his bag up to a more comfortable place.
He was going to get some answers.
((Anthony Golden continued in this leaves me quite discheesed))
He shouldn't think about that. But why shouldn't he? He wasn't gonna die here, after all. It couldn't hurt just to defend himself. After all, he was a pacifist, but he wasn't a fucking idiot. He'd rather punch someone in the face than die, but he wasn't gonna kill anyone. No matter what. He had a code, and nobody was gonna make him break it.
Vasily's words made him pause. If they needed their supplies... They had enough food for the rest of them, right? They had a decent amount of food in the bags they got, why the fuck would they need to kill someone just for supplies? 'We'll probably wanna kill some people' You don't just fucking kill people because you want to! If everyone just did that, society, humanity would never get anything fucking done because they'd just keep murdering people over perceived slights! Something was wrong here. He could feel a knot of anxiety tighten around his stomach, and Anthony started to assess ways out. He could make a run for the way he came in, but he'd get mowed down by Fisk and his tommy gun. Or, he could go out the dining hall, but that was an unknown.
"I don't particularly want to 'stab a bitch', Vasily. And- Sure, maybe the superfans-" He pointedly cast his gaze between the two of them. "Might be willing to ah, murder based on something silly like needing supplies when you already have enough in your bag, or, ah, them being in your way." A hint of scorn had crept into his tone. Vasily wasn't joking about that one. You didn't just fucking joke about murdering people just because they were in your goddamned way. Jesus Christ, did every teenage emo in America act like Vasily fucking Ivanov?
He could feel the anger starting to build up in him. It didn't feel bad, but he was determined to just simmer it down until he could direct it at the producers of this show once he had escaped this fucking game. Preferably, via a good fucking kicking. He opened his mouth, wanting to retort again, but then Giselle spoke up. Pinched him. Go for a walk. Yes, that sounded good.
"Before you ask, I'm not gonna try anything, you two. I don't want to be stabbed and left for dead." This was directed at Vasily and Fisk as Anthony stood up, shrugging the straps of his bag up to a more comfortable place.
He was going to get some answers.
((Anthony Golden continued in this leaves me quite discheesed))
Fisk watched. Fisk waited. He kept a hand on his chin as Anthony and Giselle disappeared from eyeshot, and then, earshot. He turned to Vasily.
“Be prepared to kill him.”
He paused. “Not yet, mind you.” Fisk cocked his head to watch the shadows. “ Too early to tell, and he is one of Giselle’s friends, so she may not be able to do what needs to be done.”
Fisk toweled the water off of his face and out of his hair. “You know how those Anti-SOTF hypocrites are. Mostly all talk until words come to actions, he’s just as likely as playing as anyone else, and if that’s the case, we may have use for him. If he dissents however, and he becomes a nuisance?”
Fisk shrugged. “We grease him. As quickly and painlessly as we can to not traumatize Giselle, but we get rid of him.” Fisk continued to dry himself off. “He doesn’t appreciate how close to death he was, so I believe it will come to the latter, but you never know.”
Fisk smiled at Vasily. “This game’s full of surprises after all, and Ivan certainly was surprised.” His smile waned. “We can be surprised too. Always stay on your guard.”
“Be prepared to kill him.”
He paused. “Not yet, mind you.” Fisk cocked his head to watch the shadows. “ Too early to tell, and he is one of Giselle’s friends, so she may not be able to do what needs to be done.”
Fisk toweled the water off of his face and out of his hair. “You know how those Anti-SOTF hypocrites are. Mostly all talk until words come to actions, he’s just as likely as playing as anyone else, and if that’s the case, we may have use for him. If he dissents however, and he becomes a nuisance?”
Fisk shrugged. “We grease him. As quickly and painlessly as we can to not traumatize Giselle, but we get rid of him.” Fisk continued to dry himself off. “He doesn’t appreciate how close to death he was, so I believe it will come to the latter, but you never know.”
Fisk smiled at Vasily. “This game’s full of surprises after all, and Ivan certainly was surprised.” His smile waned. “We can be surprised too. Always stay on your guard.”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Oh. Oh, they left.
He furrowed his brows a bit at Fisk’s bluntness, but to be fair- he was the one who pointed the gun first. It feels a little more comfortable when other people were being just as bad as he was. Doesn’t that sound weird? ‘Oh, I’m prepared to commit murder but Bacchia was just a little meaner than I am, so I’m at least not the worst person here.’
He swallowed that white noise in his mind down.
“Mm-hm, I know. Can’t let the pesky friendships and empathy get in the way of murder. Ha.”
Vasily laughed. It was a quick, humorless burst.
“But, yeah, I understand. He’s lucky Giselle’s his friend, but… I don't think he’d be a good presence on Giselle. But, then again… any of us having close friends in here is gonna hurt.”
What he was saying didn’t feel real. This whole thing didn’t feel real. He almost couldn’t lie to himself well enough to join in on the whole Ivan plan, so how would he be able to pretend that the next few days aren’t going to be as bad as they would be?
That thought didn’t seem real.
But they were here, now, and doing what they were doing and will keep on killing, and hurting, and dealing out the hurting. He thought about killing Lucia, again. He’s been thinking about that for a long time.
He un-wrapped himself, laying the towel down on the chair. His hand grabbed some random clothes from his clothes-pile. His lungs let out a breath, deep and shuddering. His skin shivered from the slight cold. He let himself be himself. He put the gun down next to Fisk, on the pool chair.
One task at a time, one reaction at a time.
“I’m, um, gonna change behind this chair. Don’t look. I mean, I don’t get why you’d wanna look, but It’s just. A thing that I say.”
He furrowed his brows a bit at Fisk’s bluntness, but to be fair- he was the one who pointed the gun first. It feels a little more comfortable when other people were being just as bad as he was. Doesn’t that sound weird? ‘Oh, I’m prepared to commit murder but Bacchia was just a little meaner than I am, so I’m at least not the worst person here.’
He swallowed that white noise in his mind down.
“Mm-hm, I know. Can’t let the pesky friendships and empathy get in the way of murder. Ha.”
Vasily laughed. It was a quick, humorless burst.
“But, yeah, I understand. He’s lucky Giselle’s his friend, but… I don't think he’d be a good presence on Giselle. But, then again… any of us having close friends in here is gonna hurt.”
What he was saying didn’t feel real. This whole thing didn’t feel real. He almost couldn’t lie to himself well enough to join in on the whole Ivan plan, so how would he be able to pretend that the next few days aren’t going to be as bad as they would be?
That thought didn’t seem real.
But they were here, now, and doing what they were doing and will keep on killing, and hurting, and dealing out the hurting. He thought about killing Lucia, again. He’s been thinking about that for a long time.
He un-wrapped himself, laying the towel down on the chair. His hand grabbed some random clothes from his clothes-pile. His lungs let out a breath, deep and shuddering. His skin shivered from the slight cold. He let himself be himself. He put the gun down next to Fisk, on the pool chair.
One task at a time, one reaction at a time.
“I’m, um, gonna change behind this chair. Don’t look. I mean, I don’t get why you’d wanna look, but It’s just. A thing that I say.”
“I suppose it is.” Having friends on this game would hurt. Granted, Fisk got all the people he really cared about in The Respects, there were a few others here he was on good speaking terms.
“Losing them would hurt, but that’s why I plan on not losing mine. Would much prefer it to be the ones against us who lose their friends rather than us.”
Fisk sat down, dried himself. “I know you got friends too. Like Giselle does with Anthony. I know you all do. I’m not gonna ask you to kill them, but don’t let them get into your head. They may have benevolent motives starting out, I suppose everyone does when they’re naive, but give it a day or two, and you’ll see people for the real them, and not the mask they wear.”
Following Vasily’s request, Fisk turned away as he covered his own waist with the towel while he took his swim trunks off, reaching for his compression shorts. Sliding them on, Fisk moved the towel out of the way and began reaching for the rest of his clothes. “I know it hurts, but everyone else outside of us is alone, and ‘teams’ or not, they’re only in it for themselves.” Pants on. Socks on. Belt and buttons still undone. “Same colors aside, nearly everyone here will sell you out to save themselves, more so if you’re on different teams. The people who won’t, the people who’d die for you, they’d do it the first day. Good people have a tendency to throw their lives away, like termites for their queen.”
Socks on. Shoes on next. Clank clank. “Granted, we’re not good people, but we fight for a good cause, at least in our point of view. I don’t want you to die for me. I want you to make others die for their causes, so our cause is the last standing.” Fisk put on a white tank top. Then white button up. “The last thing I want to see is any of you die, and the thing that worries me, is that your old friends wouldn’t think this way. ‘Hey go join me’ they say; ‘I got an escape plan’, then it becomes ‘let me use your collar’, and it ends with, ‘at least I got another friend to test this on’.” Fisk almost turned his head then remembered Vasily was also changing. He jerked his head away again.
“You see where I’m getting at though, yes?” Fisk buttoned his shirt up. “Like look at Anthony. He said ‘if he wanted to kill us, he’d do this and that’ and so on. Maybe that’s not the idea right now, but it’s not off his agenda. He considered it.” He stood up, tucked his shirt in. Buttoned his pants and belt. “A friend may like you, but just because they’re a friend doesn’t mean they care about you.”
He put his vest on, zipped it up. Jacket next. Buttoned it. Captain’s scarf draped over his shoulders. “Remember, we can be surprised too. If there’s anything you take away from this, we can be surprised too.”
Fisk picked up the mask. Looked at the macabre face painted into it. Jagged mouth a parody of his own drawn on.
“Losing them would hurt, but that’s why I plan on not losing mine. Would much prefer it to be the ones against us who lose their friends rather than us.”
Fisk sat down, dried himself. “I know you got friends too. Like Giselle does with Anthony. I know you all do. I’m not gonna ask you to kill them, but don’t let them get into your head. They may have benevolent motives starting out, I suppose everyone does when they’re naive, but give it a day or two, and you’ll see people for the real them, and not the mask they wear.”
Following Vasily’s request, Fisk turned away as he covered his own waist with the towel while he took his swim trunks off, reaching for his compression shorts. Sliding them on, Fisk moved the towel out of the way and began reaching for the rest of his clothes. “I know it hurts, but everyone else outside of us is alone, and ‘teams’ or not, they’re only in it for themselves.” Pants on. Socks on. Belt and buttons still undone. “Same colors aside, nearly everyone here will sell you out to save themselves, more so if you’re on different teams. The people who won’t, the people who’d die for you, they’d do it the first day. Good people have a tendency to throw their lives away, like termites for their queen.”
Socks on. Shoes on next. Clank clank. “Granted, we’re not good people, but we fight for a good cause, at least in our point of view. I don’t want you to die for me. I want you to make others die for their causes, so our cause is the last standing.” Fisk put on a white tank top. Then white button up. “The last thing I want to see is any of you die, and the thing that worries me, is that your old friends wouldn’t think this way. ‘Hey go join me’ they say; ‘I got an escape plan’, then it becomes ‘let me use your collar’, and it ends with, ‘at least I got another friend to test this on’.” Fisk almost turned his head then remembered Vasily was also changing. He jerked his head away again.
“You see where I’m getting at though, yes?” Fisk buttoned his shirt up. “Like look at Anthony. He said ‘if he wanted to kill us, he’d do this and that’ and so on. Maybe that’s not the idea right now, but it’s not off his agenda. He considered it.” He stood up, tucked his shirt in. Buttoned his pants and belt. “A friend may like you, but just because they’re a friend doesn’t mean they care about you.”
He put his vest on, zipped it up. Jacket next. Buttoned it. Captain’s scarf draped over his shoulders. “Remember, we can be surprised too. If there’s anything you take away from this, we can be surprised too.”
Fisk picked up the mask. Looked at the macabre face painted into it. Jagged mouth a parody of his own drawn on.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
A sigh.
“We aren’t good people, are we…” A rhetorical question.
He put his underwear and pants on. The legs stuck to him a little, with the moisture still on his ankles.
“Of course we aren’t. But I know what you’re saying. It’s a comfortable slide to being selfish, your whole collar scenario. I get that. Don’t worry about me, I know what that’s like and I won’t fall for it.” Like hitting your alarm clock to wait for another five minutes until you miss the class, like an extra candy becomes two, and then a whole bag, like telling yourself “just this once” became a habit of doing it over and over again.
Vasily’s got a lot of experience with these slippery slopes. He’s in one right now. Multiple.
He put his long-sleeved undershirt on, and then the black t-shirt. It stuck to him a lot, moisture dripping from cotton candy hair, darkening the already-black fabric.
He took Fisk’s voice in, like a drag of a cigarette (or some other analogy, he isn’t really a smoker) and re-tied his bandanna around his wrist.
He popped the glass eye into his socket and sat down on another drier chair, under a little beach umbrella.
He yawned, ate a bugle and held the bag out towards Fisk.
“Uh… you wanna share? Don’t wanna jinx this, but I think it’s gonna be a while before we get some peace. Don’t wanna be surprised again before we could eat.”
He thought about Anya, who would watch him kill someone on TV when she gets home after teaching little children ballet- she watches the television while she eats dinner at 7:30 on the weekday and 6:45 on the weekends, approximately, and he hopes that she wouldn’t have to puke it all out when he spills guts on the pixel screen. She was always the most against this show out of the family, the most sensitive to gore and viscera, the one who tutted her tongue at him when he expressed undeserving, unadulterated joy at the people who he used to view from a detached lens fighting and clawing their weapons into flesh, bashing skulls in and performing spectacular acts of violence just for the sake of staying alive for one more day, one death at a time.
He thought about mother, who would design promotional posters with his face plastered on there, forever immortalizing his teenage self into the person he’s pretending to be. He wondered if she knew that he might have been chosen, if she cooked him five-cheese lasagna last night while fearing for his life. Maybe not. She was nothing but a simple graphic designer, after all, who liked to combine bold, bright lines and large letters over photographs of doomed kids.
He thought about Lucia again. Killing her. Her killing someone. Her getting killed by someone. He needed to stop thinking about Lucia where there were about seventy-five other classmates to be aware of.
He thought about Fisk and his creepy, smoke-and-honey words and about how he shouldn’t be listening or believing in him. About his speeches and the way it felt like he has control of everything, when he doesn’t and Vasily knew it, he knew the rules, he knew the way this game always plays out. But he listened to Fisk anyways. Took his words in, to heart.
He thought about stopping his thinking.
He took his mask out.
“We aren’t good people, are we…” A rhetorical question.
He put his underwear and pants on. The legs stuck to him a little, with the moisture still on his ankles.
“Of course we aren’t. But I know what you’re saying. It’s a comfortable slide to being selfish, your whole collar scenario. I get that. Don’t worry about me, I know what that’s like and I won’t fall for it.” Like hitting your alarm clock to wait for another five minutes until you miss the class, like an extra candy becomes two, and then a whole bag, like telling yourself “just this once” became a habit of doing it over and over again.
Vasily’s got a lot of experience with these slippery slopes. He’s in one right now. Multiple.
He put his long-sleeved undershirt on, and then the black t-shirt. It stuck to him a lot, moisture dripping from cotton candy hair, darkening the already-black fabric.
He took Fisk’s voice in, like a drag of a cigarette (or some other analogy, he isn’t really a smoker) and re-tied his bandanna around his wrist.
He popped the glass eye into his socket and sat down on another drier chair, under a little beach umbrella.
He yawned, ate a bugle and held the bag out towards Fisk.
“Uh… you wanna share? Don’t wanna jinx this, but I think it’s gonna be a while before we get some peace. Don’t wanna be surprised again before we could eat.”
He thought about Anya, who would watch him kill someone on TV when she gets home after teaching little children ballet- she watches the television while she eats dinner at 7:30 on the weekday and 6:45 on the weekends, approximately, and he hopes that she wouldn’t have to puke it all out when he spills guts on the pixel screen. She was always the most against this show out of the family, the most sensitive to gore and viscera, the one who tutted her tongue at him when he expressed undeserving, unadulterated joy at the people who he used to view from a detached lens fighting and clawing their weapons into flesh, bashing skulls in and performing spectacular acts of violence just for the sake of staying alive for one more day, one death at a time.
He thought about mother, who would design promotional posters with his face plastered on there, forever immortalizing his teenage self into the person he’s pretending to be. He wondered if she knew that he might have been chosen, if she cooked him five-cheese lasagna last night while fearing for his life. Maybe not. She was nothing but a simple graphic designer, after all, who liked to combine bold, bright lines and large letters over photographs of doomed kids.
He thought about Lucia again. Killing her. Her killing someone. Her getting killed by someone. He needed to stop thinking about Lucia where there were about seventy-five other classmates to be aware of.
He thought about Fisk and his creepy, smoke-and-honey words and about how he shouldn’t be listening or believing in him. About his speeches and the way it felt like he has control of everything, when he doesn’t and Vasily knew it, he knew the rules, he knew the way this game always plays out. But he listened to Fisk anyways. Took his words in, to heart.
He thought about stopping his thinking.
He took his mask out.
“Sure, yeah I suppose I’ll take a few.” Fisk sat next to Vasily as he offered his bugles. Fisk set aside his mask and rested the machine gun by his leg, in case any more guests show up. Vasily offering to share snacks just added to the surreal sensation that this day was really just some dream and not reality. The type of dream you tell your friends because it’s so implausible that you don’t forget it the moment you wake up. Yeah, we got casted for sotf on a cluster of boats straight out of an old fps and I killed Ivan with my friends and then it turned into a pool party and you were there and you were there and so on.
To be honest, he didn’t mind the dreamlike stupor all of the previous encounters added. Made it much easier to rationalize events. Of course this dream could just as easily become a nightmare, but Fisk didn’t see any clowns nearby, so he doubted it.
Fisk took a handful of bugles. “Thanks pal, I appreciate it.” Ate a couple. Drank water, swallowed. “Been meaning to ask this, but is there anyone off limits for you? Not just like, people you’d have trouble with, but people you don’t want any of us to touch. It’s fine if there is, as of now I’m assuming Anthony’s off limits unless Giselle says otherwise, and I don’t want anyone to accidentally whack the wrong person if I can help it.”
Fisk ate a few more. Wiped his hand with a handkerchief. Wait, was it the same one he wiped the blood off his face with? Yep, ew. Won’t take anymore of Vasily’s bugles then, that’s bad manners, (and a bloodborne pathogen risk). At least it was dried by now.
“Err, granted, things’ll change if they attack first, but barring that, or risk of that, I can see what I can do to mitigate that from happening.”
To be honest, he didn’t mind the dreamlike stupor all of the previous encounters added. Made it much easier to rationalize events. Of course this dream could just as easily become a nightmare, but Fisk didn’t see any clowns nearby, so he doubted it.
Fisk took a handful of bugles. “Thanks pal, I appreciate it.” Ate a couple. Drank water, swallowed. “Been meaning to ask this, but is there anyone off limits for you? Not just like, people you’d have trouble with, but people you don’t want any of us to touch. It’s fine if there is, as of now I’m assuming Anthony’s off limits unless Giselle says otherwise, and I don’t want anyone to accidentally whack the wrong person if I can help it.”
Fisk ate a few more. Wiped his hand with a handkerchief. Wait, was it the same one he wiped the blood off his face with? Yep, ew. Won’t take anymore of Vasily’s bugles then, that’s bad manners, (and a bloodborne pathogen risk). At least it was dried by now.
“Err, granted, things’ll change if they attack first, but barring that, or risk of that, I can see what I can do to mitigate that from happening.”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
The bugle stuck on his index finger. He waggled it, because he just couldn't resist the urge to interact with bugles that way. It made him feel like a kid again.
"I... I mean, I don't really have anyone explicitly off-limits. Would rather you not kill Lucia without me, though. Childhood friends and all. Or at least tell her my regards. Uh, if you don't know her, though you probably do- buff, Hispanic, short brown hair. About our height, a little shorter. Probably wearing earthy colors and cargo pants. And yeah, feel free to... uh, shoot her if she goes for you, but fair warning she's pretty good at karate. "
He munched on the bugle.
He needed to stop thinking about Lucia, but since he couldn't stop thinking he should at least take these thoughts and use them.
"Anyone off-limits for you?
"I... I mean, I don't really have anyone explicitly off-limits. Would rather you not kill Lucia without me, though. Childhood friends and all. Or at least tell her my regards. Uh, if you don't know her, though you probably do- buff, Hispanic, short brown hair. About our height, a little shorter. Probably wearing earthy colors and cargo pants. And yeah, feel free to... uh, shoot her if she goes for you, but fair warning she's pretty good at karate. "
He munched on the bugle.
He needed to stop thinking about Lucia, but since he couldn't stop thinking he should at least take these thoughts and use them.
"Anyone off-limits for you?
“Not really, to be honest. If they were, they’d be wearing bags on their heads. If you see Seo Yun, Mary, or Rupert though, just be quick. They don’t need to see it coming.”
Fisk clanked his heels together. “Everyone else is fair game. Do what you want with them as long as the others are fine with it. You get bonus points if you ice Junji, but I’m positive we all share that sentiment.” Fisk laughed.
“Anyone you wanna target in specific? Any ‘worthy opponents’ or just people you don’t like?”
Fisk clanked his heels together. “Everyone else is fair game. Do what you want with them as long as the others are fine with it. You get bonus points if you ice Junji, but I’m positive we all share that sentiment.” Fisk laughed.
“Anyone you wanna target in specific? Any ‘worthy opponents’ or just people you don’t like?”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
"Seo-yun, Mary and Rupert... Got it."
Vasily pondered for a while. Barked out a laugh.
"I don't think I'm that petty. I don't... There are people that I don't like 'round here but at the end of the day, I don't really care. I'd, uh, 'ice' Junji though. Ha."
There were people he wanted to 'get rid of' first, but he didn't want to waste time and effort getting to someone just for stupid high school drama that ended a long time ago. Still, he compiled a small, vague list in his head.
"But if we're going for a more strategic approach, I guess we need to know what kind of people need to do in first. Like... I dunno, do we gun down specific groups first? Specific people who have a better or worse chance of making out? I think that's what we need to think about instead of individual grudges."
He re-tied a shoelace that had gotten loose.
"So I suppose we... go look for people to shank, now? I don't think deliberately picking a lot of fights is the best idea, if we get someone with a gun or a large group or something, but I'd like to get the, uh, competition out of the way as fast as I could."
Vasily pondered for a while. Barked out a laugh.
"I don't think I'm that petty. I don't... There are people that I don't like 'round here but at the end of the day, I don't really care. I'd, uh, 'ice' Junji though. Ha."
There were people he wanted to 'get rid of' first, but he didn't want to waste time and effort getting to someone just for stupid high school drama that ended a long time ago. Still, he compiled a small, vague list in his head.
"But if we're going for a more strategic approach, I guess we need to know what kind of people need to do in first. Like... I dunno, do we gun down specific groups first? Specific people who have a better or worse chance of making out? I think that's what we need to think about instead of individual grudges."
He re-tied a shoelace that had gotten loose.
"So I suppose we... go look for people to shank, now? I don't think deliberately picking a lot of fights is the best idea, if we get someone with a gun or a large group or something, but I'd like to get the, uh, competition out of the way as fast as I could."