B05- CRAIG HOYLE: START
What's going on...?
That was the first thought that ran through Craig Hoyle's head when he woke up in the middle of a jungle. The last thing he remembered, he was on the bus, merrily on his way to the junior trip, when...
...oh, right, the terrorists.
He had seen it all. He even had a close-up view of their leader blowing poor Kiel's brains out, although he was lucky enough not to be splattered by the contents of Kiel's head as they flew through the air. Still, to call it the most horrifying moment of Craig's young life would be entirely accurate. Craig had to admit that he thought that it might have all been a joke at first, but once Kiel got shot, he knew that it was for real.
Now here he was, in the middle of a jungle on an island where he was expected to kill his classmates to satisfy some freaky terrorist group that thinks that this qualifies as entertainment. This was the kind of thing that he reads about in comic books, not what happens in real life, for crying out loud!
Finally raising himself from his prone position, he examined his posessions. His new X-Men T-shirt was still relatively clean, so at least he could take some small solace in that. There was a nondescript duffel bag next to him neatly labled B05- HOYLE, which he assumed the terrorists had given him. Finally, he came to his trusty black Batman backpack that had seen him through the past two years of school. He still had his personal items, which was another blessing in itself.
Sighing with frustration, Craig pulled his sketchbook out of his backpack and started looking through it. Looking at the superhero duo that he had created, and how they would probably never see the light of day. All because a bunch of sick jerks thought that it would be funny to make a bunch of high schoolers kill each other.
With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility
Craig Hoyle Start
Well, that was weird.
Like most people, Marty's initial thoughts upon regaining consciousness were about the strange dream they had been experiencing just moments. This one in particular had been particularly vivid, almost as if it had actually been real. Of course, now that he was awake, Marty was gradually beginning to realise that it couldn't possibly of been real. Nothing about it had made any sense, and things that he had accepted at the time now just seemed weird and peculiar in hindsight.
Still, at any rate he was unlikely to forget about it any time soon. For now though, he had to deal with the fact that he was getting blinded by sunlight. Christ, stupid curtain-less windows. When the hell is dad going to get around to fixing them anyway?
...Wait a second. Something ain't right.
......
...Oh god!
Oh fucking shit, oh god! This can't be happening to me!
"Oh SHIT, I'm late!"
A few seconds ago, Marty was lying back in his messy bed staring at the poster of Rorschach he put on the ceiling. Then, after quickly glancing at his clock, he was up and about quickly putting his clothes on as his thoughts babbled on in panic. Shitshit, I can't believe I overslept! Is it still worth going? No, I can make it, I just gotta be quick about it that's all. Wait, fuck, do I need a shower? I don't smell THAT bad... Ah fuck it, I can have one when I get back.
Thankfully, seeing as he knew well in advance that he'd have to wake up extra early that morning, Marty had already laid out most of his clothes and packed his backpack. That said, in the end he still ended up wasting a couple of precious minutes desperately searching for where he last left his iPod, followed by a second desperate search for where he'd left his earphones as well. Once he'd gathered up all his things, the panic-ridden boy quickly dashed downstairs, not even bothering to stop in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat as he rushed for the door.
"Morning honey! Would you like me to make you some waffles?"
"Can'tmomgottagetgoingbyeseeya!"
And on that note, Marty slammed the door shut behind him as he ran down the street, praying that the bus hadn't already left without him. In all honesty, Marty wasn't usually all that fond of school trips in the past. After all, he barely knew anyone at Colehurst well enough to call them friends, and even then his most friendliest acquaintances usually didn't bother going on trips like this in the first place. Plus, having never been the type of person who enjoyed spending two hours in a line just to go on a terrifyingly dangerous roller-coaster, Marty was still not 100% convinced why he was so desperate to go on this trip in the first place. Was it just because this was one of the last social events of the year, and deep down he wanted to use this opportunity to actually socialise with his classmates for once? Maybe it was just because he genuinely had nothing better to do that day other than continue working on that castle he was making in Minecraft. Hell, maybe it was just because he heard that Carol happened to be going on this trip as well?
Who knows. In any case, once Marty finally made it onto the bus, he was so tired from the run that he practically fell back asleep the moment he got himself seated...
...Only to then be rudely awoken when the bus came to a complete halt. Wuh? We're there already?
As it happened, no. They were not. In fact, they had gone down a complety separate route altogether, and at that moment in time their bus was being boarded by a number of guys carrying assault rifles.
...M'kay. This is definitely a dream. Any moment now, the fat guy in the middle's going to turn into a giraffe or something.
Much to Marty's surprise however, he didn't. In fact, said fat guy (who later referred to himself as Victor Danya) claimed to be a terrorist, and that they were all about to be kidnapped and dumped on an island with the expectation of killing each other until only one was left standing.
Naturally, it took a while before Marty could fully comprehend that this was all actually happening, and that for the first time in his entire life he was in actual danger. One this realisation started to kick in, Marty quickly found himself getting into yet another panicked state. If it weren't for the fact that there were three very intimidating terrorist barely a few metres away, he would have probably started screaming his head off.
Oh shit... Oh shit! What am I going to do!?! How the hell is this even happening?!? Where the hell is the fucking CIA when you need them?!?
Just to confirm his worst fears, Kiel decided to start acting rebellious, and ended up getting a bullet to the cranium for all his trouble. Despite the fact that deep down he could just tell what was about to happen, Marty still couldn't believe that they just outright shot him like that. Right in front of everyone too! Jesus fuck, I just saw a guy get shot in the head!
He was beginning to panic more and more with each passing second, sweat dripping from his brow as he clawed at his seat. He felt trapped and claustrophobic in his small seat, knowing full well that he had no chance of leaving with his life intact. It took every inch of willpower he had to not just empty the content of his bladder right there in the middle of the bus as he and the rest of his classmates were given the details on how just how monumentally screwed they all were.
Then, just to top it all off, once the bus started to move again Marty found himself falling back to sleep again.
Well, that was weird.
As Marty's eyes opened slowly, his vision slowly adjusting the the harsh sunlight, he was beginning to wonder whether or not that had all just been another weird dream after all. After all, it was ridiculous to think that such a thing could actually happen. Surely there's no way that...
Hang on. This wasn't his bed. Nor was it his seat on the school bus. This was grass. He was lying on grass in the middle of some forest. No, not a forest. A jungle. And what the heck was that metal thing around his...
...Oh no. Nonono, don't tell me that all really happened. Don't tell me that I'm stuck in the middle of some godforsaken jungle on some godforsaken island with a fucking explosive collar around my neck!
Once Marty's eyes finally got used to their surroundings, there wasn't a doubt in his mind as he got up onto his feet. Before he even had a chance to plan some kind of strategy, the games had already begun.
And Marty J. Lovett didn't have a hope in hell.
B14: Marty J. Lovett - START
Like most people, Marty's initial thoughts upon regaining consciousness were about the strange dream they had been experiencing just moments. This one in particular had been particularly vivid, almost as if it had actually been real. Of course, now that he was awake, Marty was gradually beginning to realise that it couldn't possibly of been real. Nothing about it had made any sense, and things that he had accepted at the time now just seemed weird and peculiar in hindsight.
Still, at any rate he was unlikely to forget about it any time soon. For now though, he had to deal with the fact that he was getting blinded by sunlight. Christ, stupid curtain-less windows. When the hell is dad going to get around to fixing them anyway?
...Wait a second. Something ain't right.
......
...Oh god!
Oh fucking shit, oh god! This can't be happening to me!
"Oh SHIT, I'm late!"
A few seconds ago, Marty was lying back in his messy bed staring at the poster of Rorschach he put on the ceiling. Then, after quickly glancing at his clock, he was up and about quickly putting his clothes on as his thoughts babbled on in panic. Shitshit, I can't believe I overslept! Is it still worth going? No, I can make it, I just gotta be quick about it that's all. Wait, fuck, do I need a shower? I don't smell THAT bad... Ah fuck it, I can have one when I get back.
Thankfully, seeing as he knew well in advance that he'd have to wake up extra early that morning, Marty had already laid out most of his clothes and packed his backpack. That said, in the end he still ended up wasting a couple of precious minutes desperately searching for where he last left his iPod, followed by a second desperate search for where he'd left his earphones as well. Once he'd gathered up all his things, the panic-ridden boy quickly dashed downstairs, not even bothering to stop in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat as he rushed for the door.
"Morning honey! Would you like me to make you some waffles?"
"Can'tmomgottagetgoingbyeseeya!"
And on that note, Marty slammed the door shut behind him as he ran down the street, praying that the bus hadn't already left without him. In all honesty, Marty wasn't usually all that fond of school trips in the past. After all, he barely knew anyone at Colehurst well enough to call them friends, and even then his most friendliest acquaintances usually didn't bother going on trips like this in the first place. Plus, having never been the type of person who enjoyed spending two hours in a line just to go on a terrifyingly dangerous roller-coaster, Marty was still not 100% convinced why he was so desperate to go on this trip in the first place. Was it just because this was one of the last social events of the year, and deep down he wanted to use this opportunity to actually socialise with his classmates for once? Maybe it was just because he genuinely had nothing better to do that day other than continue working on that castle he was making in Minecraft. Hell, maybe it was just because he heard that Carol happened to be going on this trip as well?
Who knows. In any case, once Marty finally made it onto the bus, he was so tired from the run that he practically fell back asleep the moment he got himself seated...
...Only to then be rudely awoken when the bus came to a complete halt. Wuh? We're there already?
As it happened, no. They were not. In fact, they had gone down a complety separate route altogether, and at that moment in time their bus was being boarded by a number of guys carrying assault rifles.
...M'kay. This is definitely a dream. Any moment now, the fat guy in the middle's going to turn into a giraffe or something.
Much to Marty's surprise however, he didn't. In fact, said fat guy (who later referred to himself as Victor Danya) claimed to be a terrorist, and that they were all about to be kidnapped and dumped on an island with the expectation of killing each other until only one was left standing.
Naturally, it took a while before Marty could fully comprehend that this was all actually happening, and that for the first time in his entire life he was in actual danger. One this realisation started to kick in, Marty quickly found himself getting into yet another panicked state. If it weren't for the fact that there were three very intimidating terrorist barely a few metres away, he would have probably started screaming his head off.
Oh shit... Oh shit! What am I going to do!?! How the hell is this even happening?!? Where the hell is the fucking CIA when you need them?!?
Just to confirm his worst fears, Kiel decided to start acting rebellious, and ended up getting a bullet to the cranium for all his trouble. Despite the fact that deep down he could just tell what was about to happen, Marty still couldn't believe that they just outright shot him like that. Right in front of everyone too! Jesus fuck, I just saw a guy get shot in the head!
He was beginning to panic more and more with each passing second, sweat dripping from his brow as he clawed at his seat. He felt trapped and claustrophobic in his small seat, knowing full well that he had no chance of leaving with his life intact. It took every inch of willpower he had to not just empty the content of his bladder right there in the middle of the bus as he and the rest of his classmates were given the details on how just how monumentally screwed they all were.
Then, just to top it all off, once the bus started to move again Marty found himself falling back to sleep again.
Well, that was weird.
As Marty's eyes opened slowly, his vision slowly adjusting the the harsh sunlight, he was beginning to wonder whether or not that had all just been another weird dream after all. After all, it was ridiculous to think that such a thing could actually happen. Surely there's no way that...
Hang on. This wasn't his bed. Nor was it his seat on the school bus. This was grass. He was lying on grass in the middle of some forest. No, not a forest. A jungle. And what the heck was that metal thing around his...
...Oh no. Nonono, don't tell me that all really happened. Don't tell me that I'm stuck in the middle of some godforsaken jungle on some godforsaken island with a fucking explosive collar around my neck!
Once Marty's eyes finally got used to their surroundings, there wasn't a doubt in his mind as he got up onto his feet. Before he even had a chance to plan some kind of strategy, the games had already begun.
And Marty J. Lovett didn't have a hope in hell.
B14: Marty J. Lovett - START
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
-
Super Llama*
- Posts: 27
- Joined: Thu Aug 16, 2018 12:48 am
Maria Graham had her fears, just like any other person.
Spiders.
Heights.
The soul-crushing insignificance of her existence in the vast, infinite expanse of the cosmos.
Mean British people.
Getting kidnapped by terrorists and forced to participate in a deadly blood sport, though, was an unexpected one, but it was quickly added to the list as she woke up and quickly realized her situation. At first, she didn't really react. How the hell DO you react in a situation like this, anyway? Then she looked over and saw the duffle bag lying next to her. She didn't even try to open it. She just picked the thing up, slung it over her shoulder, and then started walking.
And walking.
And walking.
And running.
And running.
And running.
She didn't even know why she was running. It was if if she ran far enough, somehow she could escape. Of course, she'd already been told that she was on an island, so running wouldn't do any good. But it didn't stop her from trying.
If only there was someone would could save her. Hell, it didn't even have to be a person, like...a bear or something. Possibly a robot bear. Like, you know, some kind of Robo-Bear 5000.
But that was just silly. Seriously, a robot bear? What kind of crazy person would come up with an idea like tha-
Oh shit.
Maria suddenly burst out of the trees and found herself on a collision course with a heavy-set guy. With no time to change direction, there was nothing to do but yell dramatically in slow motion.
"LOOOOOOOOOOK OOOOOOOOOOOOUT!"
Spiders.
Heights.
The soul-crushing insignificance of her existence in the vast, infinite expanse of the cosmos.
Mean British people.
Getting kidnapped by terrorists and forced to participate in a deadly blood sport, though, was an unexpected one, but it was quickly added to the list as she woke up and quickly realized her situation. At first, she didn't really react. How the hell DO you react in a situation like this, anyway? Then she looked over and saw the duffle bag lying next to her. She didn't even try to open it. She just picked the thing up, slung it over her shoulder, and then started walking.
And walking.
And walking.
And running.
And running.
And running.
She didn't even know why she was running. It was if if she ran far enough, somehow she could escape. Of course, she'd already been told that she was on an island, so running wouldn't do any good. But it didn't stop her from trying.
If only there was someone would could save her. Hell, it didn't even have to be a person, like...a bear or something. Possibly a robot bear. Like, you know, some kind of Robo-Bear 5000.
But that was just silly. Seriously, a robot bear? What kind of crazy person would come up with an idea like tha-
Oh shit.
Maria suddenly burst out of the trees and found herself on a collision course with a heavy-set guy. With no time to change direction, there was nothing to do but yell dramatically in slow motion.
"LOOOOOOOOOOK OOOOOOOOOOOOUT!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
((Paige Strand continued from Pressure Point))
Paige soon found herself wishing that she had a watch. She had no idea how long she had been walking, or even where she was going. She sort of had to assume she was heading towards the Resort Hotel, considering she had no orienteering skills. But she felt she was nowhere near the hotel. All Paige saw around her were trees, trees, trees, a rock, trees, trees, and another rock.
"Fuck," Paige said as she plopped her bags on the ground.
She put her back against a tree and slowly lowered her body to the ground, setting her rock next to her right hand. Her foot still hurt from her tree kicking kerfuffle. She quickly took her shoe and sock off to look at it. Still nicely wrapped in that band aid. She put her sock and shoe back on and looked at the bag the terrorists gave her.
Something tells me I'm going to need my band aids. Damn I'm thirsty.
She pulled the issued bag over and pulled out one of the water bottles. Quickly screwing the cap off, she took a quick swig of that bottle. Paige knew that conserving water was important, especially since her body will lose as much water as it gains. As far as she could tell, that lake was the only source of fresh water (unless the hotel or mall had some storage rooms she could raid), so she would have to ensure she didn't waste water.
Paige then heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She set the water bottle down and clutched her rock.
LOOOOOOOOOOK OOOOOOOOOOOOUT!
There was a crashing sound. Two kids must have run into each other.
Heh. That's why you don't run blindly in unfamiliar areas.
Paige then realized something.
It's possible that these kids might have the weapons I need to survive. I better check out what I can get.
Paige peered out from behind her tree. Who was there?
Paige soon found herself wishing that she had a watch. She had no idea how long she had been walking, or even where she was going. She sort of had to assume she was heading towards the Resort Hotel, considering she had no orienteering skills. But she felt she was nowhere near the hotel. All Paige saw around her were trees, trees, trees, a rock, trees, trees, and another rock.
"Fuck," Paige said as she plopped her bags on the ground.
She put her back against a tree and slowly lowered her body to the ground, setting her rock next to her right hand. Her foot still hurt from her tree kicking kerfuffle. She quickly took her shoe and sock off to look at it. Still nicely wrapped in that band aid. She put her sock and shoe back on and looked at the bag the terrorists gave her.
Something tells me I'm going to need my band aids. Damn I'm thirsty.
She pulled the issued bag over and pulled out one of the water bottles. Quickly screwing the cap off, she took a quick swig of that bottle. Paige knew that conserving water was important, especially since her body will lose as much water as it gains. As far as she could tell, that lake was the only source of fresh water (unless the hotel or mall had some storage rooms she could raid), so she would have to ensure she didn't waste water.
Paige then heard the sound of approaching footsteps. She set the water bottle down and clutched her rock.
LOOOOOOOOOOK OOOOOOOOOOOOUT!
There was a crashing sound. Two kids must have run into each other.
Heh. That's why you don't run blindly in unfamiliar areas.
Paige then realized something.
It's possible that these kids might have the weapons I need to survive. I better check out what I can get.
Paige peered out from behind her tree. Who was there?
G014: Mayumi Tendou
Craig continued to look at his personal creations. He looked at the adventures he had drawn them in, as well as the designs he had slaved over for hours.
Stone, the boy who could become stone, and Shock, the girl who could generate electrical currents. How I would have loved to see them on the shelves of the comic book store. I guess it just wasn't meant to be...
LOOOOOOOOOOK OOOOOOOOOOOOUT!
Craig's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout. He looked in the direction of the shout, and saw a girl running full speed towards him. At the rate she was going, there was no way he could get out of the way in time.
What the-*THUMP*
The girl crashed straight into his sizable gut, knocking the wind out of him. Craig staggered back a couple steps before falling flat on his backside, right next to his new duffel bag. His sketchbook fell on the ground in front of him. Trying to ignore his pained posterior, he looked at the girl who had just barreled into him. It was Maria Graham, whom he had last remembered seeing chasing a seagull across the beach back in Highland Beach. It seemed that everyone that had been on the bus was here now. Well, everyone except Kiel, that is. He was a little too busy being dead. Attempting to compose himself, Craig addressed the punk-haired girl.
"Uh, hi. How've you been?"
Stone, the boy who could become stone, and Shock, the girl who could generate electrical currents. How I would have loved to see them on the shelves of the comic book store. I guess it just wasn't meant to be...
LOOOOOOOOOOK OOOOOOOOOOOOUT!
Craig's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shout. He looked in the direction of the shout, and saw a girl running full speed towards him. At the rate she was going, there was no way he could get out of the way in time.
What the-*THUMP*
The girl crashed straight into his sizable gut, knocking the wind out of him. Craig staggered back a couple steps before falling flat on his backside, right next to his new duffel bag. His sketchbook fell on the ground in front of him. Trying to ignore his pained posterior, he looked at the girl who had just barreled into him. It was Maria Graham, whom he had last remembered seeing chasing a seagull across the beach back in Highland Beach. It seemed that everyone that had been on the bus was here now. Well, everyone except Kiel, that is. He was a little too busy being dead. Attempting to compose himself, Craig addressed the punk-haired girl.
"Uh, hi. How've you been?"
Okay Marty, no need to panic. Sure, you've just woken up to find yourself god knows how many miles from home in the middle of some jungle, wherein you're expected to hunt down and brutally murder all of your classmates, all of whom probably want to hunt you down brutally murder you as well. But since when has THAT ever been a good reason to panic?!?
Oddly enough, in the end Marty didn't end up panicking. At least, not outwardly so. He did however spend the next ten minutes or so curled up in a fetal position, repeatedly telling himself over and over again to wake up from this nightmare. Of course, as much as he wanted to believe that he was either still at home or asleep on the bus, he knew deep down that there was no way that this was just a dream. After all, whenever you have a dream it never occurs to you just how weird the world is around you. Instead, you just accept it for what it is, and it's only after you've woken up that you suddenly realize just how little sense it made at the time. That's just the way dreams worked. So strangely enough, assuming that you're just dreaming is a sure-fire way of confirming that you're not dreaming, and that everything that's going on around you is in fact 100% real.
Once Marty finally came to terms with the fact that this was definitely not some screwed up nightmare, he slowly opened his eyes again to take a good look at his surroundings. Yup, this was a jungle alright, no doubt about it. Tall trees, vines, weird looking plants and the constant noise of wildlife all around him. Having never been on any particularly exciting holidays before, this was actually the first time Marty had ever found himself in such a place. It was actually kind of beautiful in a way, although the fact that somewhere out there was the lucky bastard who would inevitably kill him kind of ruined it, not to mention the countless ways in which jungles like this got unwary travelers like himself killed. Poisonous plants, predators and god knows how many breeds of vicious insects that want to burrow underneath his skin to lay their eggs. Just thinking about it was making his skin crawl, and before long Marty's eyes were darting about the place trying to make sure he wasn't sitting on a bull ant nest or something.
As he did this, he eventually spotted a bag lying just a few feet away from him with the number B14 on it. Oh yeah, that's right! Didn't the guy say that we were all being given bags with weapons and stuff?
Curious as to what object he was expected to slaughter his classmates with, Marty scrambled over the the bag and opened it, rummaging through the content to see what he was given.
Alright, lets see... Well, at least they gave us some food and water. I'd be damned if I have to eat anything in this germ-infested hellhole. What else have we got... A compass, a map, first aid kit, flashlight, some book and a...
Marty did a double take as he saw his allotted weapon, unsure for a moment whether or not it was really what he thought it was. Sure enough, as he picked it up for a closer inspection, it was exactly what he thought it was.
"Holy shit..." he muttered under his breath as he inspected the rather large revolver he had been assigned with. When he was told that they would all be getting weapons, he was expecting something more melee orientated, like a sword or an axe or something. It never occurred to him that they would actually be given firearms like the gun he was currently holding, which he couldn't help but have mixed feelings about. One the one hand, at least this meant that he wouldn't be completely defenceless. Sure, he'd never actually fired a gun before in his life, but it didn't take a genius to know that all you have to do is point it at the thing you don't like and pull the trigger. Hell, he probably wouldn't even have to do that, just having a gun in the first place would be more than enough to make anyone back off.
On the other hand, if he had a gun, than surely than means that some of his other classmates had guns too? Bigger ones at that. What if someone out there had a shotgun, or an uzi, or even an AK47? Hell, why stop there, who's to say that they haven't given people explosives as well? Or flamethrowers? Or...
For fuck's sake Marty, get a grip of yourself. You're not going to last five seconds on this island if you start getting yourself worked up again...
A little under five seconds later, Marty nearly leaped out of his skin as he heard someone in the distance shout out loud. He clutched onto his gun and started pointing it in random directions, expecting a dozen ambushers to leap out of the undergrowth at any second. Once he was certain that there was nobody out there, he then began to wonder where the noise came from in the first place.
That voice... It sounded a familiar. Was it a girl? Sounded feminine, but from all I know it could have just been some guy with an incredibly girlish scream. Could it be...
A sudden thought occurred to him, one which filled him with so much dread he couldn't shake it off no matter what. It hadn't actually occurred to him until now that if everyone who was on the coach had been kidnapped too, then that also meant that Carol was somewhere on the island as well. That thought alone just made Marty feel sick on the inside. Sure, the two of them weren't exactly friends. Hell, he hardly ever spoke to her outside of cookery class. But... Well, to put it simply, he kind of had a crush on her. Hell, she's probably one of the few classmates he genuinely liked. She was just so... Well, nice. It was kind of hard to explain really. He just always thought she was really nice, not to mention pretty cute. So to think that someone like her was on this island as well just made Marty feel ill on the inside.
Fuck this island. Seriously, this is all just bullshit. Do they really expect us to all gun each other down like we're in a video game or something? Fuck that, there's no way I'm going to...
...Wait a second, what if that voice really WAS Carol? And what if she's... Oh shit!
After quickly zipping his bag up and putting it on, he quickly but quietly made his way in the direction of the noise, praying that this wouldn't turn out to be the single dumbest decision in his entire life. He hadn't even considered what he would do if it really was Carol, or if she really was in danger. Or if it happened to be someone completely different who was still in danger. If that was the case, should he help them out anyway? Would there be any point in doing so, given how only one of them was expected to live in the end?
No, of course there would be. You'd have to be an asshole to just sit and watch other people get killed. But... Did Marty have the guts to step in and help if whoever was out there was in danger?
Before he could think on it any longer, he slowed down to a crawl as he heard the sound of people conversing in the distance. He couldn't make out the voices all that well, but as far as he could tell it didn't sound as though anyone was in any particular danger. Still curious as to who it was who was shouting earlier, Marty crept slowly forward, eventually finding himself a nice little spot behind a tree to see what was going on.
Sure enough, sitting in the middle of a small clearing was none other than Craig Hoyle and Maria Graham. Oh, thank god. Neither Craig and Maria would ever harm a fly, let alone flat out murder anyone...
However, just as he was beginning to consider sneaking off before anyone noticed him, he suddenly spotted what looked like yet another one of his classmates poking their head out from behind a tree on the opposite side of the clearing.
Is that... Paige?
Oddly enough, in the end Marty didn't end up panicking. At least, not outwardly so. He did however spend the next ten minutes or so curled up in a fetal position, repeatedly telling himself over and over again to wake up from this nightmare. Of course, as much as he wanted to believe that he was either still at home or asleep on the bus, he knew deep down that there was no way that this was just a dream. After all, whenever you have a dream it never occurs to you just how weird the world is around you. Instead, you just accept it for what it is, and it's only after you've woken up that you suddenly realize just how little sense it made at the time. That's just the way dreams worked. So strangely enough, assuming that you're just dreaming is a sure-fire way of confirming that you're not dreaming, and that everything that's going on around you is in fact 100% real.
Once Marty finally came to terms with the fact that this was definitely not some screwed up nightmare, he slowly opened his eyes again to take a good look at his surroundings. Yup, this was a jungle alright, no doubt about it. Tall trees, vines, weird looking plants and the constant noise of wildlife all around him. Having never been on any particularly exciting holidays before, this was actually the first time Marty had ever found himself in such a place. It was actually kind of beautiful in a way, although the fact that somewhere out there was the lucky bastard who would inevitably kill him kind of ruined it, not to mention the countless ways in which jungles like this got unwary travelers like himself killed. Poisonous plants, predators and god knows how many breeds of vicious insects that want to burrow underneath his skin to lay their eggs. Just thinking about it was making his skin crawl, and before long Marty's eyes were darting about the place trying to make sure he wasn't sitting on a bull ant nest or something.
As he did this, he eventually spotted a bag lying just a few feet away from him with the number B14 on it. Oh yeah, that's right! Didn't the guy say that we were all being given bags with weapons and stuff?
Curious as to what object he was expected to slaughter his classmates with, Marty scrambled over the the bag and opened it, rummaging through the content to see what he was given.
Alright, lets see... Well, at least they gave us some food and water. I'd be damned if I have to eat anything in this germ-infested hellhole. What else have we got... A compass, a map, first aid kit, flashlight, some book and a...
Marty did a double take as he saw his allotted weapon, unsure for a moment whether or not it was really what he thought it was. Sure enough, as he picked it up for a closer inspection, it was exactly what he thought it was.
"Holy shit..." he muttered under his breath as he inspected the rather large revolver he had been assigned with. When he was told that they would all be getting weapons, he was expecting something more melee orientated, like a sword or an axe or something. It never occurred to him that they would actually be given firearms like the gun he was currently holding, which he couldn't help but have mixed feelings about. One the one hand, at least this meant that he wouldn't be completely defenceless. Sure, he'd never actually fired a gun before in his life, but it didn't take a genius to know that all you have to do is point it at the thing you don't like and pull the trigger. Hell, he probably wouldn't even have to do that, just having a gun in the first place would be more than enough to make anyone back off.
On the other hand, if he had a gun, than surely than means that some of his other classmates had guns too? Bigger ones at that. What if someone out there had a shotgun, or an uzi, or even an AK47? Hell, why stop there, who's to say that they haven't given people explosives as well? Or flamethrowers? Or...
For fuck's sake Marty, get a grip of yourself. You're not going to last five seconds on this island if you start getting yourself worked up again...
A little under five seconds later, Marty nearly leaped out of his skin as he heard someone in the distance shout out loud. He clutched onto his gun and started pointing it in random directions, expecting a dozen ambushers to leap out of the undergrowth at any second. Once he was certain that there was nobody out there, he then began to wonder where the noise came from in the first place.
That voice... It sounded a familiar. Was it a girl? Sounded feminine, but from all I know it could have just been some guy with an incredibly girlish scream. Could it be...
A sudden thought occurred to him, one which filled him with so much dread he couldn't shake it off no matter what. It hadn't actually occurred to him until now that if everyone who was on the coach had been kidnapped too, then that also meant that Carol was somewhere on the island as well. That thought alone just made Marty feel sick on the inside. Sure, the two of them weren't exactly friends. Hell, he hardly ever spoke to her outside of cookery class. But... Well, to put it simply, he kind of had a crush on her. Hell, she's probably one of the few classmates he genuinely liked. She was just so... Well, nice. It was kind of hard to explain really. He just always thought she was really nice, not to mention pretty cute. So to think that someone like her was on this island as well just made Marty feel ill on the inside.
Fuck this island. Seriously, this is all just bullshit. Do they really expect us to all gun each other down like we're in a video game or something? Fuck that, there's no way I'm going to...
...Wait a second, what if that voice really WAS Carol? And what if she's... Oh shit!
After quickly zipping his bag up and putting it on, he quickly but quietly made his way in the direction of the noise, praying that this wouldn't turn out to be the single dumbest decision in his entire life. He hadn't even considered what he would do if it really was Carol, or if she really was in danger. Or if it happened to be someone completely different who was still in danger. If that was the case, should he help them out anyway? Would there be any point in doing so, given how only one of them was expected to live in the end?
No, of course there would be. You'd have to be an asshole to just sit and watch other people get killed. But... Did Marty have the guts to step in and help if whoever was out there was in danger?
Before he could think on it any longer, he slowed down to a crawl as he heard the sound of people conversing in the distance. He couldn't make out the voices all that well, but as far as he could tell it didn't sound as though anyone was in any particular danger. Still curious as to who it was who was shouting earlier, Marty crept slowly forward, eventually finding himself a nice little spot behind a tree to see what was going on.
Sure enough, sitting in the middle of a small clearing was none other than Craig Hoyle and Maria Graham. Oh, thank god. Neither Craig and Maria would ever harm a fly, let alone flat out murder anyone...
However, just as he was beginning to consider sneaking off before anyone noticed him, he suddenly spotted what looked like yet another one of his classmates poking their head out from behind a tree on the opposite side of the clearing.
Is that... Paige?
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
B16: QUINCY ARCHER - START
Quincy Archer sat at the base of a tree, leaning forward on raised knees and staring at the carton of cigarettes that lay on the ground in front of him. For minutes at a time he focused on the sight of that little white box, watching it as if it would grow legs and crawl back to him. Every so often his finger twitched, peeling itself away from his knee, only for him to make all his fingers clench and dig into his knees like octopus tentacles.
Sooner or later he would have to decide what to do with them. They might very well be the last cigarettes he ever had, and yet they would make it that much easier for him to die here. The wispy trail of smoke, the foul smell, and the pinpoint of red light from the lit end would all be dead giveaways, red flags, signs reading “Shoot here, you stupid cunt.” These people had guns, proper ones unlike the bright orange facsimile leaning against the tree with him. For the first time in a while, drawing attention to himself had drawbacks he couldn’t ignore.
What the fuck was he supposed to do with all of this? He turned his head to the Nerf rifle and the box of darts that came with it. Using it for its intended purpose would only be good for a laugh, and indeed he had taken a long laugh right after waking up. It wasn’t just the Nerf gun that made him laugh, but the memory of that Kiel kid getting shot for wearing his hat sideways, which Quincy distinctly remembered wishing death upon him for at some point in last semester, before everything got fucked up. He only had to look down to see cherry on top of the tragicomic mess he’d gotten into: a t-shirt featuring one Rainbow Dash posing like a boss, sporting nifty shades and declaring her ‘radicalness’. This was his choice in apparel for the bus ride over mostly because he wanted to see what sorts of looks he’d get. Now he’d gotten used to the very real possibility that he was going to die wearing a fucking cartoon pony. Unless of course he took off his shirt, but he looked even worse without it.
He finally reached out for the carton, scooping it off the ground with his hand. Before he knew it he was reaching for the plastic wrap, preparing to open it and pull out a cigarette. Not now, he decided. He had to make these last, for however long he was stuck here. Instead the fully sealed carton went into his daypack, and he scrounged around for his special lighter. It was a metal flip-top model with a plastic Union Jack on either side, fitting comfortably between his fingers. Thank God he got it refueled before he left for the trip. He might end up needing it later. Maybe he could light those darts on fire.
Sounds of other people rustling through the woods made him get up. He sighed and grabbed his stuff, holding his gun as if he were an actual soldier instead of a punk kid, then crept over to see who was nearby. In a clearing, he saw a tiny little girl run right into a fat guy. Nothing to get worried about, really. With a deep breath, he stepped into the open, doing his best to keep himself calm. Here more than ever, it was important not to let them see him sweat.
Quincy Archer sat at the base of a tree, leaning forward on raised knees and staring at the carton of cigarettes that lay on the ground in front of him. For minutes at a time he focused on the sight of that little white box, watching it as if it would grow legs and crawl back to him. Every so often his finger twitched, peeling itself away from his knee, only for him to make all his fingers clench and dig into his knees like octopus tentacles.
Sooner or later he would have to decide what to do with them. They might very well be the last cigarettes he ever had, and yet they would make it that much easier for him to die here. The wispy trail of smoke, the foul smell, and the pinpoint of red light from the lit end would all be dead giveaways, red flags, signs reading “Shoot here, you stupid cunt.” These people had guns, proper ones unlike the bright orange facsimile leaning against the tree with him. For the first time in a while, drawing attention to himself had drawbacks he couldn’t ignore.
What the fuck was he supposed to do with all of this? He turned his head to the Nerf rifle and the box of darts that came with it. Using it for its intended purpose would only be good for a laugh, and indeed he had taken a long laugh right after waking up. It wasn’t just the Nerf gun that made him laugh, but the memory of that Kiel kid getting shot for wearing his hat sideways, which Quincy distinctly remembered wishing death upon him for at some point in last semester, before everything got fucked up. He only had to look down to see cherry on top of the tragicomic mess he’d gotten into: a t-shirt featuring one Rainbow Dash posing like a boss, sporting nifty shades and declaring her ‘radicalness’. This was his choice in apparel for the bus ride over mostly because he wanted to see what sorts of looks he’d get. Now he’d gotten used to the very real possibility that he was going to die wearing a fucking cartoon pony. Unless of course he took off his shirt, but he looked even worse without it.
He finally reached out for the carton, scooping it off the ground with his hand. Before he knew it he was reaching for the plastic wrap, preparing to open it and pull out a cigarette. Not now, he decided. He had to make these last, for however long he was stuck here. Instead the fully sealed carton went into his daypack, and he scrounged around for his special lighter. It was a metal flip-top model with a plastic Union Jack on either side, fitting comfortably between his fingers. Thank God he got it refueled before he left for the trip. He might end up needing it later. Maybe he could light those darts on fire.
Sounds of other people rustling through the woods made him get up. He sighed and grabbed his stuff, holding his gun as if he were an actual soldier instead of a punk kid, then crept over to see who was nearby. In a clearing, he saw a tiny little girl run right into a fat guy. Nothing to get worried about, really. With a deep breath, he stepped into the open, doing his best to keep himself calm. Here more than ever, it was important not to let them see him sweat.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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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Super Llama*
- Posts: 27
- Joined: Thu Aug 16, 2018 12:48 am
*WHUMP*
It didn't take long for the inevitable to happen as Maria slammed right into the guy, practically bouncing off him as she stumbled backwards and fell right on her posterior.
"Ow..." She groaned, wincing as it came to her knowledge that her butt hurt. A lot. She didn't think it'd hurt that much to take it in the behind like that.
...
NO NO NO NO SHE DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT GODDAMMIT
"Uh, hi. How've you been?"
"I'm fine!" Maria blurted out, a little louder than she probably needed to as she looked at who she smashed into. Wait a minute, did she know this guy? Maria racked her brain trying to remember, when suddenly...
"Blast you, vile feathery fiend!" Maria had a hard time chasing after the seagull in her fancy Victorian-era dress. Why the hell did these things have to be so long? She was getting sand all over it just by running. "Relinquish my tubed meat at once!"
Unfortunately, the seagull did no such thing, and instead went on its merry way across the ocean, victuals in tow. The sheer audacity of the bird really put her corset in a twist.
"I say, what is the meaning of this, madame?" A voice bellowed behind her, belonging to a dapper, rotund gentleman, who looked at her with eyes full of concern for her mental well-being as he twirled his cane and adjusted his monocle.
"I was just enjoying my delicacy of tubed meet here on the docks, when that flying rodent absconded with my meal!" Maria explained. "He's probably relaxing at his home right now, regaling his seagull family of his daring tale of thievery!"
The gentleman wrinkled his nose and wiggled his full, curly mustache back and forth comically. "I see. That is quite the predicament HARRUMPHHPPHPHPHPHPH!"
"Oh yeah, it's you!" She said, recognizing the boy from before. "You looked better with the mustache."
It was just then that two other people converged on their location. Maria looked back and forth between them uneasily. She didn't really recognize the boy, but she thought she might've seen the girl at a party or two. Not really enough to gather whether they'd be willing to shoot her in the face, though. She started to get up, but her butt still hurt, sort of hindering her ability to make any quick movements.
"Uh...could you maybe...not shoot us?" She said, trying to put on her best friendly, reassuring smile, but it was pretty clear that she was worried.
It didn't take long for the inevitable to happen as Maria slammed right into the guy, practically bouncing off him as she stumbled backwards and fell right on her posterior.
"Ow..." She groaned, wincing as it came to her knowledge that her butt hurt. A lot. She didn't think it'd hurt that much to take it in the behind like that.
...
NO NO NO NO SHE DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT GODDAMMIT
"Uh, hi. How've you been?"
"I'm fine!" Maria blurted out, a little louder than she probably needed to as she looked at who she smashed into. Wait a minute, did she know this guy? Maria racked her brain trying to remember, when suddenly...
"Blast you, vile feathery fiend!" Maria had a hard time chasing after the seagull in her fancy Victorian-era dress. Why the hell did these things have to be so long? She was getting sand all over it just by running. "Relinquish my tubed meat at once!"
Unfortunately, the seagull did no such thing, and instead went on its merry way across the ocean, victuals in tow. The sheer audacity of the bird really put her corset in a twist.
"I say, what is the meaning of this, madame?" A voice bellowed behind her, belonging to a dapper, rotund gentleman, who looked at her with eyes full of concern for her mental well-being as he twirled his cane and adjusted his monocle.
"I was just enjoying my delicacy of tubed meet here on the docks, when that flying rodent absconded with my meal!" Maria explained. "He's probably relaxing at his home right now, regaling his seagull family of his daring tale of thievery!"
The gentleman wrinkled his nose and wiggled his full, curly mustache back and forth comically. "I see. That is quite the predicament HARRUMPHHPPHPHPHPHPH!"
"Oh yeah, it's you!" She said, recognizing the boy from before. "You looked better with the mustache."
It was just then that two other people converged on their location. Maria looked back and forth between them uneasily. She didn't really recognize the boy, but she thought she might've seen the girl at a party or two. Not really enough to gather whether they'd be willing to shoot her in the face, though. She started to get up, but her butt still hurt, sort of hindering her ability to make any quick movements.
"Uh...could you maybe...not shoot us?" She said, trying to put on her best friendly, reassuring smile, but it was pretty clear that she was worried.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
Paige squinted her eyes at the two kids who collided with each other.
Didn't I see that girl chasing a seagull once? So she's here now. And now she's running into guys like Craig. Well, if they have good weapons, I might have to try to get my hands on it.
Paige looked around. She then realized that there was a guy across the way from them. What was his name again? Marty? Whatever. Lot of people gathering.
That's when Paige realized that the blue and black haired girl had noticed her.
Uh...could you maybe...not shoot us?
"Uh, kind of hard to do with a rock," Paige sarcastically replied.
Kay, maybe I just need to smoothly get close to them and then see if they can give me something.
Paige crouched to the ground, putting the cap on her water bottle and putting it in her bag. She then picked her bags up and moved into the clearing, clutching her rock in her other hand.
"Yeah, these bastards gave me lipstick, so I'm forced to rely on a rock. Don't worry, I don't plan on using it, unless provoked."
Paige stood over Maria and Craig.
"So, looks like I'm not the only one who hurt themselves early on. Need help? They gave us first aid kits. Glad to share."
This isn't high school. These guys need to be a bit more trusting. I would really love it if they would trust me.
Didn't I see that girl chasing a seagull once? So she's here now. And now she's running into guys like Craig. Well, if they have good weapons, I might have to try to get my hands on it.
Paige looked around. She then realized that there was a guy across the way from them. What was his name again? Marty? Whatever. Lot of people gathering.
That's when Paige realized that the blue and black haired girl had noticed her.
Uh...could you maybe...not shoot us?
"Uh, kind of hard to do with a rock," Paige sarcastically replied.
Kay, maybe I just need to smoothly get close to them and then see if they can give me something.
Paige crouched to the ground, putting the cap on her water bottle and putting it in her bag. She then picked her bags up and moved into the clearing, clutching her rock in her other hand.
"Yeah, these bastards gave me lipstick, so I'm forced to rely on a rock. Don't worry, I don't plan on using it, unless provoked."
Paige stood over Maria and Craig.
"So, looks like I'm not the only one who hurt themselves early on. Need help? They gave us first aid kits. Glad to share."
This isn't high school. These guys need to be a bit more trusting. I would really love it if they would trust me.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
"I'm fine!"
Maria's sudden shout caught Craig off guard, causing him to jump a little. At least she seemed to be okay, so that was a plus.
"Oh yeah, it's you! You looked better with the mustache."
I've never had a mustache in my life. Did she meet a bizarro world clone of me or something?
Clearly she remembered him, albeit with a mustache, and she wasn't trying to hurt him. This gave him a little bit of relief. But still, the whole situation had him kind of on edge. At any moment, some gun-wielding crazy person could jump out of the trees and riddle the both of them with bullets. As if right on cue, Paige Strand walked onto the scene. Fortunately, however, she wasn't threatening them, and was holding a rock instead of a gun.
Yeah, these bastards gave me lipstick, so I'm forced to rely on a rock. Don't worry, I don't plan on using it, unless provoked."
Craig wondered for a moment how exactly Paige planned on taking someone out with a rock. After those thoughts left, he wondered what he had been assigned as a weapon. Since Paige got lipstick, surely he had gotten something crappy too, like a sponge or an unsharpened pencil. After all, luck wasn't exactly his strong suit.
"So, looks like I'm not the only one who hurt themselves early on. Need help? They gave us first aid kits. Glad to share."
Craig shook his head in response. "Nah. Just a little fall. Maybe a bruise, but nothing too bad. I'll walk it off." True, he wasn't hurt too seriously, especially considering that in this situation he could have a bullet in his liver. Comparatively, falling on his butt wasn't too bad. He picked himself up off the ground, retrieving his sketchbook as he did so. He looked at the two girls next to him, and nervously asked them a question that had been burning in the back of his mind since he woke up.
"So...what are we supposed to do now?"
Maria's sudden shout caught Craig off guard, causing him to jump a little. At least she seemed to be okay, so that was a plus.
"Oh yeah, it's you! You looked better with the mustache."
I've never had a mustache in my life. Did she meet a bizarro world clone of me or something?
Clearly she remembered him, albeit with a mustache, and she wasn't trying to hurt him. This gave him a little bit of relief. But still, the whole situation had him kind of on edge. At any moment, some gun-wielding crazy person could jump out of the trees and riddle the both of them with bullets. As if right on cue, Paige Strand walked onto the scene. Fortunately, however, she wasn't threatening them, and was holding a rock instead of a gun.
Yeah, these bastards gave me lipstick, so I'm forced to rely on a rock. Don't worry, I don't plan on using it, unless provoked."
Craig wondered for a moment how exactly Paige planned on taking someone out with a rock. After those thoughts left, he wondered what he had been assigned as a weapon. Since Paige got lipstick, surely he had gotten something crappy too, like a sponge or an unsharpened pencil. After all, luck wasn't exactly his strong suit.
"So, looks like I'm not the only one who hurt themselves early on. Need help? They gave us first aid kits. Glad to share."
Craig shook his head in response. "Nah. Just a little fall. Maybe a bruise, but nothing too bad. I'll walk it off." True, he wasn't hurt too seriously, especially considering that in this situation he could have a bullet in his liver. Comparatively, falling on his butt wasn't too bad. He picked himself up off the ground, retrieving his sketchbook as he did so. He looked at the two girls next to him, and nervously asked them a question that had been burning in the back of his mind since he woke up.
"So...what are we supposed to do now?"
Holy shit, that IS Paige. The hell is she doing here?
...Uh, same reason you are, dumbass. Not like she had a choice in the matter or anything. Oh fuck, I think she just saw me!
Almost immediately after he realised that Paige had spotted him, Marty ducked back behind the tree, resisting the urge to let out a yelp of terror as he quickly considered his next course of action. Ideally, running would be the best thing to do, seeing as there was no fucking way that he was going to engage in an actual shootout. Presuming that Paige had a gun in the first place, that is. And that she was actually willing to use it.
There was of course the slim possibility that he was wrong, and Paige hadn't actually noticed him at all, but that thought was quickly swept aside when Maria then asked someone out loud if they would refrain from shooting her.
Oh shit, did she see me too?!? I thought she was too busy crashing into Craig to notice?!? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...
He would have just bolted up and ran away it if weren't for the fact that he was too petrified to move. All he could do was clutch his weapon tightly whilst he used his free hand to wipe perspiration from his brow. Come to think of it, the fact that he had a gun in the first place was probably the only thing stopping him from completely losing it. At least if Maria and the others DID intend to attack him, he could always defend himself.
Come to think of it, nobody else there seemed to have any guns apart from him. Judging from the conversation, Maria had been referring to some third party rather than Marty specifically, seeing as nobody brought him up. In which case, why the hell was he the one who was so scared? If anything, THEY should be scared of HIM. He was the one with the gun after all. Why, it'd be so easy to...
No. Don't even fucking go there Marty. Christ man, you've barely been awake for an hour and already this game's beginning to screw with your head! This is Maria, Craig and Paige we're talking about, not the Manson family or something! Save those kind of thoughts for the REAL killers...
...Although, it wouldn't hurt to make sure this gun's properly cocked. Just in case.
Easier said than done. Marty wasn't exactly the strongest kid in the world, and given the weird shape of his gun's hammer it took a lot of effort to pull it back hard enough to move.
For fuck's sake, why won't this stupid thing...
Click!
It was at that point that Marty learned the hard way that the sound of a gun being cocked was significantly louder than he thought it would.
...Shit!
...Uh, same reason you are, dumbass. Not like she had a choice in the matter or anything. Oh fuck, I think she just saw me!
Almost immediately after he realised that Paige had spotted him, Marty ducked back behind the tree, resisting the urge to let out a yelp of terror as he quickly considered his next course of action. Ideally, running would be the best thing to do, seeing as there was no fucking way that he was going to engage in an actual shootout. Presuming that Paige had a gun in the first place, that is. And that she was actually willing to use it.
There was of course the slim possibility that he was wrong, and Paige hadn't actually noticed him at all, but that thought was quickly swept aside when Maria then asked someone out loud if they would refrain from shooting her.
Oh shit, did she see me too?!? I thought she was too busy crashing into Craig to notice?!? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...
He would have just bolted up and ran away it if weren't for the fact that he was too petrified to move. All he could do was clutch his weapon tightly whilst he used his free hand to wipe perspiration from his brow. Come to think of it, the fact that he had a gun in the first place was probably the only thing stopping him from completely losing it. At least if Maria and the others DID intend to attack him, he could always defend himself.
Come to think of it, nobody else there seemed to have any guns apart from him. Judging from the conversation, Maria had been referring to some third party rather than Marty specifically, seeing as nobody brought him up. In which case, why the hell was he the one who was so scared? If anything, THEY should be scared of HIM. He was the one with the gun after all. Why, it'd be so easy to...
No. Don't even fucking go there Marty. Christ man, you've barely been awake for an hour and already this game's beginning to screw with your head! This is Maria, Craig and Paige we're talking about, not the Manson family or something! Save those kind of thoughts for the REAL killers...
...Although, it wouldn't hurt to make sure this gun's properly cocked. Just in case.
Easier said than done. Marty wasn't exactly the strongest kid in the world, and given the weird shape of his gun's hammer it took a lot of effort to pull it back hard enough to move.
For fuck's sake, why won't this stupid thing...
Click!
It was at that point that Marty learned the hard way that the sound of a gun being cocked was significantly louder than he thought it would.
...Shit!
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
Quincy wasn’t making much of an attempt to hide. He stood out in the open, in plain sight should the fat boy or the tiny girl or the girl with the rock feel inclined to turn their heads in his direction. But for whatever reason, they focused entirely on each other, not entirely realizing the enormity of the situation they found themselves in. Fucking retards. What if Quincy had a real gun? He could get himself a fucking hat trick right now. In addition, he could hear every word they said, so he knew that at least one of them had no gun herself. He had no clue about the other two, but it didn’t sound like they were in the mindset to use them even if they had ‘em.
When the boy asked what they were supposed to do, acknowledging the elephant in the room after he’d had his fill of small talk, Quincy decided to step forward and make his presence known. “That’s an excellent question,” he said, affecting his usual accent. In the back of his mind, he knew how ridiculous he must look with his toy gun and his pony shirt and his ugly mug, but he didn’t feel much like snickering. “May I be so kind as to suggest-”
All it took was the sound of a mechanical click to shred Quincy’s dignity like wet tissue paper. “Shit!” It wasn’t the sort of click that came from something like his lighter, oh no. There was only one thing that could make that sound, and there’d be another, much louder sound soon after. Quincy wasted no time in running back behind a big tree like his ass was on fire. His head bobbed up and down as he ran, and he panted and breathed through his open mouth. Right after he reached what he thought was a safe spot, he peeked out from cover for a split second to check on the trio he’d seen. “Hide before they shoot yeh, dumbass!” he shouted.
Why did he give himself away with that shout? It was a good question. After all, if he was to survive, those other three would have to die too. But it wasn’t like he wanted them to or anything. Besides, it would be nice to have some companionship on the last days of his life, wouldn’t it? Face the reaper with dignity and peace, as if that made death more acceptable or some shit. He’d take whatever he could get.
When the boy asked what they were supposed to do, acknowledging the elephant in the room after he’d had his fill of small talk, Quincy decided to step forward and make his presence known. “That’s an excellent question,” he said, affecting his usual accent. In the back of his mind, he knew how ridiculous he must look with his toy gun and his pony shirt and his ugly mug, but he didn’t feel much like snickering. “May I be so kind as to suggest-”
All it took was the sound of a mechanical click to shred Quincy’s dignity like wet tissue paper. “Shit!” It wasn’t the sort of click that came from something like his lighter, oh no. There was only one thing that could make that sound, and there’d be another, much louder sound soon after. Quincy wasted no time in running back behind a big tree like his ass was on fire. His head bobbed up and down as he ran, and he panted and breathed through his open mouth. Right after he reached what he thought was a safe spot, he peeked out from cover for a split second to check on the trio he’d seen. “Hide before they shoot yeh, dumbass!” he shouted.
Why did he give himself away with that shout? It was a good question. After all, if he was to survive, those other three would have to die too. But it wasn’t like he wanted them to or anything. Besides, it would be nice to have some companionship on the last days of his life, wouldn’t it? Face the reaper with dignity and peace, as if that made death more acceptable or some shit. He’d take whatever he could get.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Solitair. 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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Super Llama*
- Posts: 27
- Joined: Thu Aug 16, 2018 12:48 am
Okay, so ONE of them was apparently alright, and in fact didn't even have an effective weapon, as well as being willing to lend a hand (though it might be a little embarrassing to seek help about a hurt posterior. You might even say she was...BUTTHURT about the situation.
...
"I'm sorry." She said. That was so terrible she just had to apologize out loud even though it was entirely in her head.
Come to think of it, what did SHE have? She'd been carting around this bag the whole time and didn't even know what was in it. Kneeling down and zipping the bag open, she fished around. There was a map, and there was some pretty grody-looking rations, and a flashlight, and a bottle of wa-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?
Maria pulled out a nice-shiny pistol, magazine already in place and ready to go. She hadn't even fully registered what it was she was holding when suddenly...
*CLICK*
Maria wheeled around to the source of the click to see a boy holding a gun as well, hammer quite obviously cocked judging from the sound she just heard.
ohgodohgodohgodohgodishegonnashootohgodpleasedontshoot
"H-h-hey. Uh...h-how's it going?" She stammered, starting to panic. "There's no need to shoot anybody, okay? I-I mean, there's probably a good reason to shoot somebody because that's what we're supposed to do, but...uh...I mean, not right now." Maria raised her hands up slightly. "So...uh...l-let's just not shoot anybody and be civil for now, oka-"
*BANG!*
And that's why you don't leave your finger on the trigger.
...
"I'm sorry." She said. That was so terrible she just had to apologize out loud even though it was entirely in her head.
Come to think of it, what did SHE have? She'd been carting around this bag the whole time and didn't even know what was in it. Kneeling down and zipping the bag open, she fished around. There was a map, and there was some pretty grody-looking rations, and a flashlight, and a bottle of wa-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?
Maria pulled out a nice-shiny pistol, magazine already in place and ready to go. She hadn't even fully registered what it was she was holding when suddenly...
*CLICK*
Maria wheeled around to the source of the click to see a boy holding a gun as well, hammer quite obviously cocked judging from the sound she just heard.
ohgodohgodohgodohgodishegonnashootohgodpleasedontshoot
"H-h-hey. Uh...h-how's it going?" She stammered, starting to panic. "There's no need to shoot anybody, okay? I-I mean, there's probably a good reason to shoot somebody because that's what we're supposed to do, but...uh...I mean, not right now." Maria raised her hands up slightly. "So...uh...l-let's just not shoot anybody and be civil for now, oka-"
*BANG!*
And that's why you don't leave your finger on the trigger.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Super Llama.
Okay, neither of these morons were grievously hurt. Paige figured that that was the case, but it didn't hurt to offer some of her first aid kit. It might help her get in their good graces and possibly allow her to wield a good weapon.
Craig asked what they had to do next, when some guy stepped out. Paige looked at the large plastic gun he held.
Well, this guy certainly couldn't help me out. Man, where did he come from? Wasn't Marty just around here-
CLICK
What the fuck was that?
Immediately, the new guy was running away. Paige looked around the area, her hand clutching her rock tighter than before.
The punk girl had searched through her bag and pulled a gun out.
Woah! She got lucky. Can she even use that?
The girl was stammering, trying to ensure that the assailant wouldn't hurt them. Paige held her ground. Just then, there was a loud popping sound. She froze.
Fuck this.
Paige immediately bolted towards some tall grass away from the area. All those years in track suddenly came to her in that moment, and she ran as fast as she could, even though she was weighed down by two bags. She couldn't die, and if the blue haired girl was going to fire her gun at random, then surely it meant that there would be more bullets flying.
She quickly entered the grass, throwing herself to the ground, hoping she was concealed enough
No way am I going to fucking die here by some stray bullet. Just wait till it blows over. Don't get involved. You might be able to raid their stuff.
Paige peeped out from behind the tall grass. Her vision was somewhat obscured by the brush, but she knew she needed to see the result of this. Her classmates might die here. She was certain she wouldn't, but she needed their weapons.
Showtime.
Craig asked what they had to do next, when some guy stepped out. Paige looked at the large plastic gun he held.
Well, this guy certainly couldn't help me out. Man, where did he come from? Wasn't Marty just around here-
CLICK
What the fuck was that?
Immediately, the new guy was running away. Paige looked around the area, her hand clutching her rock tighter than before.
The punk girl had searched through her bag and pulled a gun out.
Woah! She got lucky. Can she even use that?
The girl was stammering, trying to ensure that the assailant wouldn't hurt them. Paige held her ground. Just then, there was a loud popping sound. She froze.
Fuck this.
Paige immediately bolted towards some tall grass away from the area. All those years in track suddenly came to her in that moment, and she ran as fast as she could, even though she was weighed down by two bags. She couldn't die, and if the blue haired girl was going to fire her gun at random, then surely it meant that there would be more bullets flying.
She quickly entered the grass, throwing herself to the ground, hoping she was concealed enough
No way am I going to fucking die here by some stray bullet. Just wait till it blows over. Don't get involved. You might be able to raid their stuff.
Paige peeped out from behind the tall grass. Her vision was somewhat obscured by the brush, but she knew she needed to see the result of this. Her classmates might die here. She was certain she wouldn't, but she needed their weapons.
Showtime.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
Craig looked back and forth between Maria and Paige. So far, neither of them had tried to kill the other, so that was a stroke of luck. If things stayed calm, they might be able to stick it out until the end of the game. Craig hoped so, because it would probably be difficult to find allies in this sort of situation.
CLICK
Is... is that a gun?
Craig jerked his head in the direction of the sound. Someone was watching them! Even worse, they had a gun! Craig began to panic at the sight of the potential shooter. He saw Maria holding a pistol, stammering and trying to talk down the gunman. Hopefully she could keep him from shooting, and maybe even get him to join th-
*BANG!*
Craig felt a sharp, burning pain as the bullet passed through his chest. He let out a cry of pain as he fell to the ground. The shot had missed his heart, but the damage had been done nonetheless. Craig was going to die, and he knew it.
Strangely enough, Craig didn't blame Maria for shooting him. Her gun had misfired, and he had been unlucky enough to stand in the way. He felt bad for her, knowing that she would have this on her conscience for the rest of her life, constantly reminding her that she had killed someone. Craig didn't want her to have to deal wih that. Nobody should have to live with that. Using the last of his strength, Craig looked at Maria and weakly called out to her.
"I-it's not your fault. I... I... forgive you..."
Craig's head fell back and he looked towards the sky. The pain was fading, as was his life. His only remaining wish was that he could see his mother in Heaven.
Through his fading vision, Craig thought that he could see a dark-haired woman smilng kindly at him from the clouds...
B05- CRAIG HOYLE: DECEASED
36 STUDENTS REMAIN
CLICK
Is... is that a gun?
Craig jerked his head in the direction of the sound. Someone was watching them! Even worse, they had a gun! Craig began to panic at the sight of the potential shooter. He saw Maria holding a pistol, stammering and trying to talk down the gunman. Hopefully she could keep him from shooting, and maybe even get him to join th-
*BANG!*
Craig felt a sharp, burning pain as the bullet passed through his chest. He let out a cry of pain as he fell to the ground. The shot had missed his heart, but the damage had been done nonetheless. Craig was going to die, and he knew it.
Strangely enough, Craig didn't blame Maria for shooting him. Her gun had misfired, and he had been unlucky enough to stand in the way. He felt bad for her, knowing that she would have this on her conscience for the rest of her life, constantly reminding her that she had killed someone. Craig didn't want her to have to deal wih that. Nobody should have to live with that. Using the last of his strength, Craig looked at Maria and weakly called out to her.
"I-it's not your fault. I... I... forgive you..."
Craig's head fell back and he looked towards the sky. The pain was fading, as was his life. His only remaining wish was that he could see his mother in Heaven.
Through his fading vision, Craig thought that he could see a dark-haired woman smilng kindly at him from the clouds...
B05- CRAIG HOYLE: DECEASED
36 STUDENTS REMAIN