((Enter Nicole Husher))
Panting as she climbed the ladder to the top of the lookout tower, bag hanging awkwardly from her shoulder, Nicole tried not to contemplate what had happened too deeply. It wasn't so easy to push the images from her mind. She'd been right next to David on the ride, which was why she hadn't even noticed that the bus had slipped out of line until Kiel commented. She hadn't paid the driver's response much mind, but now she could easily figure out that the whole thing must have been planned from the start, probably down to executing a student to prove that things were serious. They'd thought everything out quite well, except that they'd assumed that high schoolers would start killing each other. Nicole wasn't so sure that would happen. Yeah, maybe one or two would crack under the pressure, but there was a decent chance they'd be subdued by those who hadn't gone crazy. There was a good chance they could work together and stop everything from going completely out of control.
And then what?
Then they would wait for a rescue, and they would all die, or they'd spend too long with no deaths, and they'd all die, or the resolve of even the strong would break, and they'd all die except for one. Even then, that assumed that the terrorists were telling the truth, that they really would release the final survivor. Maybe they'd just kill them and be done with it. And, of course, that assumed that things went well. There was, much as she hated to admit it, a chance that her friends and classmates would play straight into this awful game.
Nicole wasn't so thrilled with any of those prospects. Death was supposed to be far in the future, the finishing point after a life well-lived. Now, she and David and her peers were about to have their time cut short.
At least she wasn't helpless. As she reached the top of the lookout tower and sat down, she pulled the bag off her shoulder and opened it for the second time, double-checking what she already knew.
She had been given a gun and a box of bullets. The gun was a revolver. It looked almost antique. She shook six bullets out of the box and loaded them into the cylinder before clicking it back into place. Best to be prepared, just in case. She didn't plan to hurt anyone. She could probably make more of an impact in this awful competition with the provided first aid kits, the contents of which she at least understood. She'd rather help people than hurt them. She wasn't about to be someone's easy prey, though. She could play nurse, but no way was she going to die doing so.
There was a manual for the gun. She'd skimmed it enough to know how to load it. She figured she'd read the rest once she'd had a moment to get her bearings.
From the tower, situated as it was atop a hill, she could see much of the rest of the island, which was largely covered in jungle, with a few buildings scattered around and a beach in the distance. There seemed to be two other notably raised areas: a helipad in the jungle and a lighthouse off by the coast.
She also surveyed the area near the tower, searching for any movement. Nobody was sneaking up. There was, in fact, nobody in sight.
Perfect. Nicole would want to seek out other people soon. She'd need to find David at the very least. She was sure he could take care of himself, though, and she needed to make sure she wouldn't be a liability or risk getting hurt before she shot off looking for him.
She crouched down, using the half-wall of the lookout tower to shield herself from sight, and began to read the manual. She'd never expected to need to know how to fire a gun, but if it was going to be the difference between life and death, it was probably a good skill to pick up.
Look Out!
Open
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MurderWeasel
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((B09: Anthony Rollins; Start))
Anthony was going to play.
He had had an inkling that this was his course of action when Danya had blown off Kiel's head. He had pictured himself like that, with his brains splattered, or otherwise disembowled, or gravely injured. And somewhere, in the back of his head, a voice had told him fuck that.
When he had woken up, and found in his pack underneath the supplies and such that he had been given a switchblade, that glittering, menacing prop of movie thugs and murderers the theatrical canon over, he had made the decision. He didn't want to kill people. Not at all. But he had shit to do.
You couldn't shoot the next great American film when you were fucking dead.
He figured it wouldn't be so hard. He could just pretend he was behind a camera or something, a filmmaker shooting a bold new first-person slasher movie (not that found footage shit) for the consumption of the entertainment starved masses. It would be daring, it would be different (the black guy was the killer, and not the first motherfucker dead? Astounding!), and most importantly, it had an ending that he really liked.
He just hoped to God Megan would bite it long before he ran across her. She might've been the one person he couldn't put down. Stars of web shows were replaceable; best friends weren't. Would there be a tearful confession of his sins, wherein the plucky heroine tried to redeem her friend before ending it all? Or would he be able to subvert the status quo, keep the audience on its toes, and go for the miserable twist ending?
The thoughts made him a little nauseous, so he quelled them for the moment.
So he had shouldered his pack and his resolve, the knife tucked away in his pocket for easy but hidden access (he figured until he had a gun or something that surprise was his best weapon), and started heading for higher ground, to get his bearings.
He found the lookout tower an hour or so after he had woken up, and it looked like it fit his needs pretty well. He hadn't heard any gunshots or anything during his search, so hopefully everyone else was in the part of the movie where they were freaking out and/or contemplating their motives. Made him feel better, like he was one of those in control.
He made the tower with little incident, and he stopped to gather himself at the base, next to the ladder. He leaned his weight against the wall and dropped his hand to his pocket, feeling the weight of the knife in his pocket. It was reassuring to feel.
Anthony was going to play.
He had had an inkling that this was his course of action when Danya had blown off Kiel's head. He had pictured himself like that, with his brains splattered, or otherwise disembowled, or gravely injured. And somewhere, in the back of his head, a voice had told him fuck that.
When he had woken up, and found in his pack underneath the supplies and such that he had been given a switchblade, that glittering, menacing prop of movie thugs and murderers the theatrical canon over, he had made the decision. He didn't want to kill people. Not at all. But he had shit to do.
You couldn't shoot the next great American film when you were fucking dead.
He figured it wouldn't be so hard. He could just pretend he was behind a camera or something, a filmmaker shooting a bold new first-person slasher movie (not that found footage shit) for the consumption of the entertainment starved masses. It would be daring, it would be different (the black guy was the killer, and not the first motherfucker dead? Astounding!), and most importantly, it had an ending that he really liked.
He just hoped to God Megan would bite it long before he ran across her. She might've been the one person he couldn't put down. Stars of web shows were replaceable; best friends weren't. Would there be a tearful confession of his sins, wherein the plucky heroine tried to redeem her friend before ending it all? Or would he be able to subvert the status quo, keep the audience on its toes, and go for the miserable twist ending?
The thoughts made him a little nauseous, so he quelled them for the moment.
So he had shouldered his pack and his resolve, the knife tucked away in his pocket for easy but hidden access (he figured until he had a gun or something that surprise was his best weapon), and started heading for higher ground, to get his bearings.
He found the lookout tower an hour or so after he had woken up, and it looked like it fit his needs pretty well. He hadn't heard any gunshots or anything during his search, so hopefully everyone else was in the part of the movie where they were freaking out and/or contemplating their motives. Made him feel better, like he was one of those in control.
He made the tower with little incident, and he stopped to gather himself at the base, next to the ladder. He leaned his weight against the wall and dropped his hand to his pocket, feeling the weight of the knife in his pocket. It was reassuring to feel.
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MurderWeasel
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Nicole finished reading through the manual in pretty short order. The ability to read quickly while retaining information was one of the more useful skills she'd acquired during her high school career. It was almost funny that it was turning out to have such practical real-life applications. Maybe in a better time, she'd have laughed or made a joke. As it was, she held the revolver, trying to get a good feel for the weight, practicing aiming it at the wall opposite her. She wasn't planning on using it, wasn't planning on needing to, but she also wasn't about to die because she couldn't aim.
She wasn't feeling all that confident. Six shots before reloading wasn't much, especially not if more than one person was coming after her. She was familiar enough with medicine and injuries to know that, contrary to popular conception, bullets often did not kill people instantly, or even instantly incapacitate them particularly immediately. Given that the gun she was armed with seemed largely archaic, she wasn't about to trust it to be more efficient than the modern weapons she'd heard more about.
She hoped that they hadn't given everybody guns. That would make things a whole lot more dangerous and less predictable.
There would be time to worry more about that once she knew whether her concerns were founded or not. For now, it was time to decide what to do. She could move out, go looking for David and her other friends, but that would mean leaving her safe haven. Staying in the tower limited her mobility and stopped her from covering much ground in her search, but it left her in a relatively advantageous defensive position. It'd be tough to sneak up on her if she stayed vigilant. She also had a good field of view, much better than what she would enjoy on the ground.
Thinking about the visibility from the tower caused Nicole's eyes to widen slightly as she realized that she'd been absorbed enough in the manual that she hadn't checked her surroundings in a bit. She lifted herself up a little and quickly surveyed the area, peering over the walls. Nothing seemed different. Good.
She wanted to find David, but rushing out seemed rash. He was smart. There was a good chance he'd head for high ground as well, or maybe make a signal of some sort. Nicole decided to remain in the tower for the moment. She suspected she'd be forced to move before too long by the horrible collar on her neck, or by her own anxiety if David failed to materialize, but for now, it seemed better to stay somewhere safe.
Well, safer than other places.
She kept the revolver in her hand, just in case.
She wasn't feeling all that confident. Six shots before reloading wasn't much, especially not if more than one person was coming after her. She was familiar enough with medicine and injuries to know that, contrary to popular conception, bullets often did not kill people instantly, or even instantly incapacitate them particularly immediately. Given that the gun she was armed with seemed largely archaic, she wasn't about to trust it to be more efficient than the modern weapons she'd heard more about.
She hoped that they hadn't given everybody guns. That would make things a whole lot more dangerous and less predictable.
There would be time to worry more about that once she knew whether her concerns were founded or not. For now, it was time to decide what to do. She could move out, go looking for David and her other friends, but that would mean leaving her safe haven. Staying in the tower limited her mobility and stopped her from covering much ground in her search, but it left her in a relatively advantageous defensive position. It'd be tough to sneak up on her if she stayed vigilant. She also had a good field of view, much better than what she would enjoy on the ground.
Thinking about the visibility from the tower caused Nicole's eyes to widen slightly as she realized that she'd been absorbed enough in the manual that she hadn't checked her surroundings in a bit. She lifted herself up a little and quickly surveyed the area, peering over the walls. Nothing seemed different. Good.
She wanted to find David, but rushing out seemed rash. He was smart. There was a good chance he'd head for high ground as well, or maybe make a signal of some sort. Nicole decided to remain in the tower for the moment. She suspected she'd be forced to move before too long by the horrible collar on her neck, or by her own anxiety if David failed to materialize, but for now, it seemed better to stay somewhere safe.
Well, safer than other places.
She kept the revolver in her hand, just in case.
Nothing happened for a few moments while Anthony caught his bearings. He came into the area alone, and it looked like he was going to stay alone. That was alright with him. He wanted some time to himself before this particular movie took the plunge and he showed he was more than just a small black guy who was easy pickings.
He rolled his arms in their sockets, limbering up the joints, and mounted the ladder. Soon his shoes were clanking on the rungs as he started to make his way up. He hadn't thought about trying to quiet his steps. He didn't need to. There was no one around for miles, it looked like.
He reached the top without incident, and his hands touched the lip of the tower where the ladder terminated. He was already thinking he could hole up in the tower and let some of the other kids weed each other out before he had to go to work himself.
He rolled his arms in their sockets, limbering up the joints, and mounted the ladder. Soon his shoes were clanking on the rungs as he started to make his way up. He hadn't thought about trying to quiet his steps. He didn't need to. There was no one around for miles, it looked like.
He reached the top without incident, and his hands touched the lip of the tower where the ladder terminated. He was already thinking he could hole up in the tower and let some of the other kids weed each other out before he had to go to work himself.
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MurderWeasel
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Nicole started when she heard the sound of someone beginning to climb the ladder. Okay. Something had definitely changed while she was reading the manual. Someone must have crossed the open space while she'd been absorbed. Really, though, the worst thing about this was the surprise. In all likelihood, the person coming up was completely harmless. They weren't making any effort to silence their movement, that was for sure. Nicole kept the gun in her hand, ready to point it if there was trouble, but not getting into a defensive position just yet. It could even be David coming up. She hoped it was David.
A hand reach up, grabbing the floor above the ladder. The hand was African-American. It was definitely not David's hand. Nicole still didn't point the gun. She didn't want to escalate things or start a fight. She also hesitated for a brief moment, considering whether calling out would be the right choice. She didn't want to startle whoever it was and make them fall.
They'd probably be just as startled to find her sitting there, though, assuming they hadn't seen her from afar, which seemed unlikely.
"Hello?" she said. "It's Nicole. I don't want any trouble, but I have a gun."
A hand reach up, grabbing the floor above the ladder. The hand was African-American. It was definitely not David's hand. Nicole still didn't point the gun. She didn't want to escalate things or start a fight. She also hesitated for a brief moment, considering whether calling out would be the right choice. She didn't want to startle whoever it was and make them fall.
They'd probably be just as startled to find her sitting there, though, assuming they hadn't seen her from afar, which seemed unlikely.
"Hello?" she said. "It's Nicole. I don't want any trouble, but I have a gun."
The sound of a girl's voice froze Anthony's hands in mid-lift. Ok, so his initial assessment was wrong. He could work with that. He guessed.
"I don't want any trouble, either."
Slowly, he started pulling himself up over the lip, to keep the armed girl from popping a round off at him. His head crested the tower, and he caught sight of her.
He had heard her name was Nicole, probably around school. Redheaded. Had a build that wasn't big, but would be labeled (in the positive sense) thick. Or, as a more crass representative of his ethnicity might say, "That white girl got ass". In all, not an unpleasant person to run into first.
He was sure he'd regret killing her if (when) it got around to it. As Vonnegut would have written, "So it goes".
His eyes caught sight of the weapon in the girl's hand, and he was struck by triggered memories of John Wayne films, the kind with tough men of the frontier taking on injustice with blazing six guns. The image was so striking he had to comment on it.
"Looks like you got yourself a good draw, pilgrim." He drawled in what he felt was a passable imitiation of The Duke's voice. He smiled, awkwardly, so it almost came across as a smirk.
"Just you up here?" Anthony asked, keeping his position half-on the ladder. He knew he was highly vulnerable, open on the back and in no position to defend himself if the girl started firing. But maybe that was best for developing some trust.
"I don't want any trouble, either."
Slowly, he started pulling himself up over the lip, to keep the armed girl from popping a round off at him. His head crested the tower, and he caught sight of her.
He had heard her name was Nicole, probably around school. Redheaded. Had a build that wasn't big, but would be labeled (in the positive sense) thick. Or, as a more crass representative of his ethnicity might say, "That white girl got ass". In all, not an unpleasant person to run into first.
He was sure he'd regret killing her if (when) it got around to it. As Vonnegut would have written, "So it goes".
His eyes caught sight of the weapon in the girl's hand, and he was struck by triggered memories of John Wayne films, the kind with tough men of the frontier taking on injustice with blazing six guns. The image was so striking he had to comment on it.
"Looks like you got yourself a good draw, pilgrim." He drawled in what he felt was a passable imitiation of The Duke's voice. He smiled, awkwardly, so it almost came across as a smirk.
"Just you up here?" Anthony asked, keeping his position half-on the ladder. He knew he was highly vulnerable, open on the back and in no position to defend himself if the girl started firing. But maybe that was best for developing some trust.
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MurderWeasel
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The boy coming up the ladder turned out to be Anthony Rollins. Nicole knew him from school, just like pretty much everyone on the bus. He said he didn't want trouble, and she was inclined to believe him. Anthony seemed like a nice boy, always glued to his camera. It was difficult to imagine him going crazy and trying to attack her.
It was not impossible, though. Nicole didn't want to think badly of Anthony, but she also wasn't going to trust him instantly. For the moment, he remained an unknown factor. He was making a good showing for himself with his sarcastic little joke about the gun, but his next question, about whether she was alone, raised new questions for Nicole. It could mean a lot of things. It could mean he wanted to kill her, or it could mean he was terrified that she wanted to kill him.
She decided that she wouldn't get anywhere if she was completely suspicious. Besides, nothing she could tell Anthony would change the fact that there wasn't anybody else around.
"Yeah," she said. "I was keeping watch, and didn't see anyone else nearby. I guess you slipped under while I was reading the manual for this."
She wanted Anthony to know that she had a pretty good idea how to fire the gun, just in case. It was also a good way to segue to the next topic on her mind.
"What did they give you?"
Whatever it was, Anthony had presumably left it stowed in his pack while climbing, just like Nicole had. That was another little unforeseen benefit of this location: it made it very hard for someone to bring a weapon to bear in any useful way immediately after reaching the top.
It was not impossible, though. Nicole didn't want to think badly of Anthony, but she also wasn't going to trust him instantly. For the moment, he remained an unknown factor. He was making a good showing for himself with his sarcastic little joke about the gun, but his next question, about whether she was alone, raised new questions for Nicole. It could mean a lot of things. It could mean he wanted to kill her, or it could mean he was terrified that she wanted to kill him.
She decided that she wouldn't get anywhere if she was completely suspicious. Besides, nothing she could tell Anthony would change the fact that there wasn't anybody else around.
"Yeah," she said. "I was keeping watch, and didn't see anyone else nearby. I guess you slipped under while I was reading the manual for this."
She wanted Anthony to know that she had a pretty good idea how to fire the gun, just in case. It was also a good way to segue to the next topic on her mind.
"What did they give you?"
Whatever it was, Anthony had presumably left it stowed in his pack while climbing, just like Nicole had. That was another little unforeseen benefit of this location: it made it very hard for someone to bring a weapon to bear in any useful way immediately after reaching the top.
Several answers to Nicole's question started running through Anthony's head, with scenarios attached to each. He could tell the truth, present his switchblade and go with "honesty is the best policy". He could lie, tell her he lost his weapon, or got something bad that he tossed away, and risk her seeing he had a weapon after all. He could slide back down the ladder and ignore her altogether, maybe storm off and act like he was offended.
Trust seemed like it would be a precious commodity during their stay here. Trust might get him further than blind murder, at least now.
Anthony slowly pulled himself the rest of the way over the lip and planted his feet in the tower, keeping his distance (although Nicole could plug him with that piece she had and close his particular casket). He reached into his pocket and slid out the switchblade. He pushed the little button that released the blade. It gave a satisfying ka-click as it popped out of the handle to its full three inches of length and locked into place.
"They gave me this right here. Not as good as," he nodded to Nicole's Colt, "that, but I guess I can scare someone. Better than nothing."
Anthony unlocked the blade and pushed it back into the handle before stowing the switchblade back in his pocket.
He leaned back against the wall and slid down into a sitting position.
"This is some clusterfuck, isn't it?"
Trust seemed like it would be a precious commodity during their stay here. Trust might get him further than blind murder, at least now.
Anthony slowly pulled himself the rest of the way over the lip and planted his feet in the tower, keeping his distance (although Nicole could plug him with that piece she had and close his particular casket). He reached into his pocket and slid out the switchblade. He pushed the little button that released the blade. It gave a satisfying ka-click as it popped out of the handle to its full three inches of length and locked into place.
"They gave me this right here. Not as good as," he nodded to Nicole's Colt, "that, but I guess I can scare someone. Better than nothing."
Anthony unlocked the blade and pushed it back into the handle before stowing the switchblade back in his pocket.
He leaned back against the wall and slid down into a sitting position.
"This is some clusterfuck, isn't it?"
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MurderWeasel
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Anthony pulled himself fully onto the upper level of the tower. He was moving slowly, carefully, and Nicole felt a little bit bad about making him nervous like this. It was best to be safe, though. She could relax, maybe apologize if he'd been offended, once everything was cleared up.
Anthony produced his weapon: a switchblade. He said he could maybe scare someone with it. It sounded like he had self defense on his mind more than causing trouble. That was a very good thing. Nicole felt herself relaxing a little bit, calming down. She wasn't going to let her guard down entirely, but Anthony had proved himself fairly reasonable. Combined with his demeanor back at school, she was fairly certain he wasn't about to lunge for her throat. As Anthony put his knife away and leaned back, Nicole allowed her posture to relax further, leaning a bit herself.
"It really is," she said. She nearly commented on how improbable it all seemed, but in the end decided that doing so would be pretty pointless. Like it or not, they were here.
There was something else on her mind, though. Just like she'd want to get in touch with David before long, hadn't Anthony had a close friend? She was pretty sure he'd always been following that Megan girl around, and she was pretty sure Megan had been on the bus. There might be a chance for some mutual assistance here.
"I think we'll be pretty safe up here for now," Nicole said. "We can also get a pretty good look around, maybe even find other people, if there's anyone you're looking for."
She didn't want to leap straight in, of course. It was possible she was wrong, possible Megan wasn't here, or that she and Anthony had had some kind of falling out. Maybe his response would help elucidate the situation.
Anthony produced his weapon: a switchblade. He said he could maybe scare someone with it. It sounded like he had self defense on his mind more than causing trouble. That was a very good thing. Nicole felt herself relaxing a little bit, calming down. She wasn't going to let her guard down entirely, but Anthony had proved himself fairly reasonable. Combined with his demeanor back at school, she was fairly certain he wasn't about to lunge for her throat. As Anthony put his knife away and leaned back, Nicole allowed her posture to relax further, leaning a bit herself.
"It really is," she said. She nearly commented on how improbable it all seemed, but in the end decided that doing so would be pretty pointless. Like it or not, they were here.
There was something else on her mind, though. Just like she'd want to get in touch with David before long, hadn't Anthony had a close friend? She was pretty sure he'd always been following that Megan girl around, and she was pretty sure Megan had been on the bus. There might be a chance for some mutual assistance here.
"I think we'll be pretty safe up here for now," Nicole said. "We can also get a pretty good look around, maybe even find other people, if there's anyone you're looking for."
She didn't want to leap straight in, of course. It was possible she was wrong, possible Megan wasn't here, or that she and Anthony had had some kind of falling out. Maybe his response would help elucidate the situation.
Anthony ignored the question about whether or not he was looking for somebody. In truth, he was avoiding Megan. He was sure running into her would make it much harder for him to accomplish what he had committed to before this whole thing started. He didn't need anyone reminding him that he was, in fact, a human and not the potential slasher he was hoping he could be.
"Yeah. Nobody at the moment." He looked out over the edge of the tower. The trees, he saw, had been planted or otherwise trimmed so the view wasn't impeded from the top of the structure. Definitely a good place to be. Be better if one of them had a sniper rifle or something.
"How about you? You looking for anyone important in this particular farce?" He asked as he turned back to her. His eyes flicked downward for the breadth of a second before returning to her eyes, taking note of the line of Nicole's cleavage showing just above the dip of her v-neck collar. The swell of her bosom was impressive.
There were definitely worse people he could have run into for starters.
"Yeah. Nobody at the moment." He looked out over the edge of the tower. The trees, he saw, had been planted or otherwise trimmed so the view wasn't impeded from the top of the structure. Definitely a good place to be. Be better if one of them had a sniper rifle or something.
"How about you? You looking for anyone important in this particular farce?" He asked as he turned back to her. His eyes flicked downward for the breadth of a second before returning to her eyes, taking note of the line of Nicole's cleavage showing just above the dip of her v-neck collar. The swell of her bosom was impressive.
There were definitely worse people he could have run into for starters.
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MurderWeasel
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Anthony wasn't looking for anyone. That meant Megan was off limits for discussion, at least for the moment. Nicole didn't want to upset Anthony by bringing up distressing memories. No need to make this horrible situation worse by poking at emotional pain. Her skeptical side whispered that maybe Anthony had already killed Megan, but that was ridiculous. His knife had been perfectly clean, and he was uninjured and showed no signs of bloodstains. More than that, he was a nice kid, a good kid.
He returned the question, and Nicole responded without even needing to think about it much.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm looking for David Jackson, my boyfriend."
She was pretty sure most of the school knew that she and David were together, but it was good to bring things up, just in case Anthony hadn't heard. It was a nice, easy shortcut to explaining why she wanted to find David. It was also a good reply given that little glance Anthony had taken. She couldn't tell if he'd noticed that she'd noticed, and didn't really care. Yeah, okay, being checked out in a death match was a little awkward and annoying, but that paled in comparison to being in a death match in the first place. Nicole was willing to forgive and ignore, just so long as Anthony knocked it off.
She glanced around again, unwilling to let anyone else sneak up on her while she was distracted.
He returned the question, and Nicole responded without even needing to think about it much.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm looking for David Jackson, my boyfriend."
She was pretty sure most of the school knew that she and David were together, but it was good to bring things up, just in case Anthony hadn't heard. It was a nice, easy shortcut to explaining why she wanted to find David. It was also a good reply given that little glance Anthony had taken. She couldn't tell if he'd noticed that she'd noticed, and didn't really care. Yeah, okay, being checked out in a death match was a little awkward and annoying, but that paled in comparison to being in a death match in the first place. Nicole was willing to forgive and ignore, just so long as Anthony knocked it off.
She glanced around again, unwilling to let anyone else sneak up on her while she was distracted.
"Ah."
It was less a word and more a disappointed expulsion of air, as she reminded him that she was looking for her boyfriend. Not like he was here to get some ass anyway.
Didn't hurt to look though, right?
She checked the area, and since she didn't jump in alarm he figured they were still alone.
Maybe some more trust-building was in order. He could help her find her man. Maybe when they were in the throes of reunion he could put the kibosh on both while they were distracted. That was the only way he could've even thought about dealing with David. Kid was a big, powerful athlete. And Anthony was....well, Anthony was fun-sized.
Plans. Make a script, a shooting schedule. Get this show on the road. He nodded almost imperceptibly to himself.
"You think we should go look for him?
It was less a word and more a disappointed expulsion of air, as she reminded him that she was looking for her boyfriend. Not like he was here to get some ass anyway.
Didn't hurt to look though, right?
She checked the area, and since she didn't jump in alarm he figured they were still alone.
Maybe some more trust-building was in order. He could help her find her man. Maybe when they were in the throes of reunion he could put the kibosh on both while they were distracted. That was the only way he could've even thought about dealing with David. Kid was a big, powerful athlete. And Anthony was....well, Anthony was fun-sized.
Plans. Make a script, a shooting schedule. Get this show on the road. He nodded almost imperceptibly to himself.
"You think we should go look for him?
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MurderWeasel
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Anthony asked Nicole if she thought they should go looking for David. Part of her, a not insubstantial part, wanted to immediately say yes. She wanted to go and try to find him, because he was important to her and she wanted to make sure he was safe. She wanted to do what she could to prevent this game from going wrong. She wanted to make sure she didn't lose him.
The problem was, she had enough of a pragmatic side to realize that stumbling blindly around the island would not be a good way to find David at all. If he was moving too, they could easily miss each other. She strongly suspected David would be on the move. He wasn't the sort to sit idle in a tough situation.
Even if there was a small chance he was waiting somewhere, traversing the island would also most likely bring her into contact with many other students. Anthony was sane and reasonable enough, but there was no guarantee that would be true of the others. Here, she was fairly secure and had better visibility than she would anywhere else. No matter how much her heart urged her to go looking, the smart choice—the right choice—was to sit tight.
"I want to, but I think we should stay here," Nicole said, "at least for now. David's tough, and he's smart. He may come here to look for us. I bet we'll have to move before too long anyways, so we may as well make the most of this place while we can."
She hoped Anthony wouldn't be too against that plan of action. She didn't know if he was the sort who could sit tight in a stressful situation. She hoped he was. It was hard enough for her without having someone pushing her to take action.
The problem was, she had enough of a pragmatic side to realize that stumbling blindly around the island would not be a good way to find David at all. If he was moving too, they could easily miss each other. She strongly suspected David would be on the move. He wasn't the sort to sit idle in a tough situation.
Even if there was a small chance he was waiting somewhere, traversing the island would also most likely bring her into contact with many other students. Anthony was sane and reasonable enough, but there was no guarantee that would be true of the others. Here, she was fairly secure and had better visibility than she would anywhere else. No matter how much her heart urged her to go looking, the smart choice—the right choice—was to sit tight.
"I want to, but I think we should stay here," Nicole said, "at least for now. David's tough, and he's smart. He may come here to look for us. I bet we'll have to move before too long anyways, so we may as well make the most of this place while we can."
She hoped Anthony wouldn't be too against that plan of action. She didn't know if he was the sort who could sit tight in a stressful situation. She hoped he was. It was hard enough for her without having someone pushing her to take action.
((Janet Claymont continued from Magical Reaper Girl Warrior Sidney-Chan))
Once Janet had put distance between herself and Sidney she could finally stop to breathe. Her pace had unconsciously quickened as she was leaving, practically becoming an all-out sprint by the time she had left the mall, away from that crazy half pint Texan. It wasn’t Sidney that had made her run, not her crazy attitude and fondness for sharp objects, but it was what she represented. She had been intent on killing her, making her dead, ending her life right there and then and moving on, and Janet had realised that as she had been leaving her to wheeze out on the floor. That was what made her concerned, made her scared: someone she’d been going to school with, some smartass but otherwise harmless kid, had just tried to kill her.
Would she be the only one?
She hadn’t had any clue where to go at first, not that she was supposed to, but eventually the look-out tower had caught her eye. Tall, standing above the rest of the island, it looked secure and safe; two words Janet liked the sound of more than any other right now. That and, she realised, it would let her see what the rest of the island looked like too. She had yet to find the map in her daypack.
It hadn’t taken her long to close the distance between the two points, the space devoid of much aside from a few trees and the small animals living inside them; she couldn’t have been wandering about for more than an hour, tops. Standing at its base, Janet finally realised just how tall the tower really was, its ladder that had been used twice already stretching high into the sky and glinting in the midday sun.
She gripped the metal bars tightly, stepping up one foot at a time. Her daypack weighed down on her shoulder, but the lifelong athlete handled it with barely a sweat; when you supported people standing on your shoulders for a sport, the bag might as well have been loaded with Styrofoam.
Oblivious to the clinking her trainers were making with each step, Janet climbed higher and higher, further and further from the hard ground below, her wrench tucked into her tight jeans’ pocket. As she finally neared the top, she froze.
Voices?
Once Janet had put distance between herself and Sidney she could finally stop to breathe. Her pace had unconsciously quickened as she was leaving, practically becoming an all-out sprint by the time she had left the mall, away from that crazy half pint Texan. It wasn’t Sidney that had made her run, not her crazy attitude and fondness for sharp objects, but it was what she represented. She had been intent on killing her, making her dead, ending her life right there and then and moving on, and Janet had realised that as she had been leaving her to wheeze out on the floor. That was what made her concerned, made her scared: someone she’d been going to school with, some smartass but otherwise harmless kid, had just tried to kill her.
Would she be the only one?
She hadn’t had any clue where to go at first, not that she was supposed to, but eventually the look-out tower had caught her eye. Tall, standing above the rest of the island, it looked secure and safe; two words Janet liked the sound of more than any other right now. That and, she realised, it would let her see what the rest of the island looked like too. She had yet to find the map in her daypack.
It hadn’t taken her long to close the distance between the two points, the space devoid of much aside from a few trees and the small animals living inside them; she couldn’t have been wandering about for more than an hour, tops. Standing at its base, Janet finally realised just how tall the tower really was, its ladder that had been used twice already stretching high into the sky and glinting in the midday sun.
She gripped the metal bars tightly, stepping up one foot at a time. Her daypack weighed down on her shoulder, but the lifelong athlete handled it with barely a sweat; when you supported people standing on your shoulders for a sport, the bag might as well have been loaded with Styrofoam.
Oblivious to the clinking her trainers were making with each step, Janet climbed higher and higher, further and further from the hard ground below, her wrench tucked into her tight jeans’ pocket. As she finally neared the top, she froze.
Voices?
Anthony shrugged at Nicole's suggestion. It worked out for him. At least he'd have something nice to look at. Let everyone else play for a bit. They could all thin each other out. Then he could...deal with Nicole when he had a plan and mop the rest of them up. Be a lot easier once he had that six-gun in his own hands.
He kept telling himself that he had shit to do, and if he had to kill someone to do it...then fuck it.
The sound of someone ascending the ladder broke into Anthony's thoughts, and his eyes flicked to the ladder. He nodded to Nicole to have her piece ready, then withdrew the knife from his pocket. He unlocked the blade and held it (not quite sure how to do so; the last knife fight he saw was when he re-watched Commando) at the ready. He put himself to the side of the ladder, where he could stab quickly if necessary.
He kept telling himself that he had shit to do, and if he had to kill someone to do it...then fuck it.
The sound of someone ascending the ladder broke into Anthony's thoughts, and his eyes flicked to the ladder. He nodded to Nicole to have her piece ready, then withdrew the knife from his pocket. He unlocked the blade and held it (not quite sure how to do so; the last knife fight he saw was when he re-watched Commando) at the ready. He put himself to the side of the ladder, where he could stab quickly if necessary.