((Damien Stone continued from Said the Spider to the Fly))
After scouring the woods for several hours or so, Damien began to suspect that finding Becky was going to be pretty much impossible.
The longer he spent searching, the more infuriated he became about the whole situation. After all, they literally had her at their mercy with a busted leg, and yet somehow they screwed up and let her get away anyway. If Brian hadn't decided to chat with her, none of this would have happened. Then again, he probably should have stepped in and finished the job himself like he said he would, rather than give her a chance to make a getaway.
Of course, deep down a part of him felt somewhat relieved to not have to put another helpless girl out of her misery. Plus, despite his earlier concerns about her sneaking up on them, he didn't honestly believe that she stood a chance at actually doing so. Especially not with that busted leg of her's. A busted leg which should have made finding her much easier, yet for some reason he was unable to do so. A part of him wondered whether or not she had even made it that far when he and Brian decided to split up, and that she had been hiding under a pile of leaves or something whilst they ran off in completely the wrong directions.
In any case, it was beginning to get dark, and after having spent the whole day searching the woods for some injured bimbo Damien decided to head to the rendezvous point to have a decent rest. And a nicely timed rest at that, seeing as it wasn't long after he left the woods that the announcement declared the woods to be a dangerzone. Well, if Becky was still out there tending her injured leg, chances were that she wouldn't make it out in time before her collar went off. So at least that problem was more-or-less taken care of.
Also, from the sound of things, the lake was no longer a dangerzone. Convenient, Damien had completely forgotten that it had been declared a dangerzone in the first place. Then again, the thought had occurred to him when Brian suggested that they met up there, but he'd assumed that Brian had payed more attention to the announcements he had.
Wouldn't have been the first mistake he'd ever made...
Other then that, the announcement was fairly standerd. Frank and Robin had killed another person each, making them both people to watch out for. Which was a shame, given how Frank happened to be one of the few classmates who Damien actually admired to a certain extent, and his first kill happened to be another honest patriot who Damien hoped would last longer. That said, his latest kill was that Mexican kid he was never particularly fond of, so it wasn't as if he was specifically targeting anyone. He was just trying to survive, like everyone else in this valley.
Come to think of it, a lot of the minority students were gone now, including Gerald and Clara. Whilst Damien had agreed to help Brian eliminate anyone who they didn't see as being worthy of surviving the program, for some reason realising that there weren't many minority students left didn't make him feel any better. Maybe it was because it meant that soon he and Brian would have to start targeting honest Americans like Frank, or maybe it was of the simple fact that nearly half of his classmates were now dead. Personally, Damien hadn't the slightest idea.
The first thing Damien noticed as he neared the lake was the headless corpse lying against a nearby tree, one which he had absolutely not intention of going any closer to. Undoubtably it belonged to someone who fell victim to their collar, or possibly a weapon capable of decapitation. Either way, it wasn't a pretty sight to behold, so the less he had to look at it the better.
Thankfully, the second thing he noticed was a boat shed nestled at the edge of the lake. One which looked like the perfect spot to setting up camp. Plus, seeing as it was one of the only buildings in the nearby vicinity, if Brian had half a brain it would be one of the first places he would check.
Before he entered the building, Damien took the opportunity to reset the ballistics knife so that he could use it in case anyone had already claimed the place for themselves. It took a bit of fiddling, but eventually he managed to put it back and get it ready for use again. Once he had his weapon at the ready, he took a deep breath and opened the door.
Empty. Thank Christ.
It wasn't exactly a four-star hotel, what with no bed and a hell of a lot of dust. But it had a roof, which made it a hell of a lot better then the place he had slept at the night before. As far as furniture went, there wasn't much. Mainly fishing equipment, tools for fixing boats, a pair of windows facing the lake and a counter of sorts which Damien planned on resting behind.
Firstly though, he had to make sure that if nobody could walk in on him without him realising it. Course, he had to make sure that Brian would still be able to enter himself, so instead of outright barricading the entrance Damien set up a makeshift alarm of sorts. Nothing too elaborate, just a stool with an empty beer bottle balanced on top of it which he positioned near the door, so if anyone was to open it they would knock the stool and the bottle over. Wasn't exactly much, but it'd be more than enough to wake him up.
Once he had finished setting it up, he had a quick bite to eat before clearing a space to rest, using his bag as a makeshift pillow and the spare military jacket he was given as a duvet cover. Despite the fact that he still felt uncomfortable as heck lying down on a rough wooden floor, he was so tired from the day's events that it wasn't long until he found himself falling asleep.
Star Spangled Banner
Star Spangled Banner
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
[Amanda White, continued from Destroying Soda: The Most Heinous of Crimes]
And so Amanda returned to the point she started from. Frankly, Amanda didn't really care where they ended up, as long as they left the danger zones. In hindsight, she also should have looked after her companions, as Louisa vanished. Amanda would have liked to get upset about this, but now that it happened three times already, she didn't worry much about a group seperating. Things would turn out right at the end. Okay, only Carlyle found them again and there was no sign of Ashley, Jasmine nor Aaron, but there was no point in being pessimistic now.
Her thoughts now focused on these three people. She didn't really wanted to think about it, but she wondered how they are doing. Ashely has to feel terrible because of Marley, that is for certain. How about the other ones? Did they also witnessed tragedies? Amanda knew they survived these so far, despite their poor "weapons", so maybe they have a fair shot at win-
Amanda shoved the thought aside, it went in a direction she didn't like.
Taking a look at the familar area, Amanda realized that she was very tired now. Especially because of the running. It was time to get some rest, and the lake appeared to be an excellent place for that. Well, not the lake itself, but the nearby buildings. Sure, they didn't look great, but they were better than the alternative. Sleeping outside, where no wall would protect them.
She turned around to Carlyle and Kyle. At least one gun was with them, and Amanda felt that Carlyle would be much more useful with it than Louisa. He already shot someone and has experience and she was... well, a bleeding heart. Actually, Amanda doubted that Louisa would ever fire it herself. At least she could intimidate someone with it, so there's that. Then again, Louisa probably wouldn't even do that. Amanda sighed. She knew she shouldn't think so much about her survival skills, it would only worsen her mood.
It was better to think about how to spend the night.
"Er, guys, I think we should sleep at those tiny houses. They look... kinda comfy. For me, at least. Strange, huh?"
Amanda didn't wait for a response. She wanted to get some rest, and she assumed the boys wanted that too, and one thing for sure, she really wants some rest. So she began walking towards her destinated sleeping place.
One the way, something catched her attention. It was a corpse. Curiosity overcame Amanda for a second, and she drifted to see who it was. She changed her mind when she got closer. The smell, as well as seeing the headless body who once belonged to one of her class mates was too much for Amanda. She averted her gaze and gained some tempo to get to the shacks faster. And away from the corpse.
Eventually, Amanda reached her destination. She stood before the shacks, and upon closer inspection, they appeared to be in a far worse state than Amanda imagined. She didn't care much, though. It wasn't the time to be picky. Amanda headed towards one of the shacks, and opened the door. The door was hard to open, Amanda had to stem against it. It opened with a loud jerk, and Amanda heard a bottle hitting the floor.
She had a bad feeling about that sound.
And so Amanda returned to the point she started from. Frankly, Amanda didn't really care where they ended up, as long as they left the danger zones. In hindsight, she also should have looked after her companions, as Louisa vanished. Amanda would have liked to get upset about this, but now that it happened three times already, she didn't worry much about a group seperating. Things would turn out right at the end. Okay, only Carlyle found them again and there was no sign of Ashley, Jasmine nor Aaron, but there was no point in being pessimistic now.
Her thoughts now focused on these three people. She didn't really wanted to think about it, but she wondered how they are doing. Ashely has to feel terrible because of Marley, that is for certain. How about the other ones? Did they also witnessed tragedies? Amanda knew they survived these so far, despite their poor "weapons", so maybe they have a fair shot at win-
Amanda shoved the thought aside, it went in a direction she didn't like.
Taking a look at the familar area, Amanda realized that she was very tired now. Especially because of the running. It was time to get some rest, and the lake appeared to be an excellent place for that. Well, not the lake itself, but the nearby buildings. Sure, they didn't look great, but they were better than the alternative. Sleeping outside, where no wall would protect them.
She turned around to Carlyle and Kyle. At least one gun was with them, and Amanda felt that Carlyle would be much more useful with it than Louisa. He already shot someone and has experience and she was... well, a bleeding heart. Actually, Amanda doubted that Louisa would ever fire it herself. At least she could intimidate someone with it, so there's that. Then again, Louisa probably wouldn't even do that. Amanda sighed. She knew she shouldn't think so much about her survival skills, it would only worsen her mood.
It was better to think about how to spend the night.
"Er, guys, I think we should sleep at those tiny houses. They look... kinda comfy. For me, at least. Strange, huh?"
Amanda didn't wait for a response. She wanted to get some rest, and she assumed the boys wanted that too, and one thing for sure, she really wants some rest. So she began walking towards her destinated sleeping place.
One the way, something catched her attention. It was a corpse. Curiosity overcame Amanda for a second, and she drifted to see who it was. She changed her mind when she got closer. The smell, as well as seeing the headless body who once belonged to one of her class mates was too much for Amanda. She averted her gaze and gained some tempo to get to the shacks faster. And away from the corpse.
Eventually, Amanda reached her destination. She stood before the shacks, and upon closer inspection, they appeared to be in a far worse state than Amanda imagined. She didn't care much, though. It wasn't the time to be picky. Amanda headed towards one of the shacks, and opened the door. The door was hard to open, Amanda had to stem against it. It opened with a loud jerk, and Amanda heard a bottle hitting the floor.
She had a bad feeling about that sound.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Bikriki. 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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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
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- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
((Kyle Williams continued from Destroying Soda: The Most Heinous Of Crimes))
Kyle ran through the forest, ran past the pines. He just wanted to keep running and forget about the failure. But reason got a hold of him. He slowed his running and tried to orient himself. He spotted Amanda a short distance away through the cracks in the forest. He changed directions and ran after her. He ended up running behind her a ways, so he had little clue where they were headed.
They ended up at the lake, a previous dangerzone if he recalled correctly. Amanda slowed her pace, then stopped and looked at him and Carlyle. Honestly Kyle had not even noticed he was there. Amanda asked if it were okay for them all to spend the night in the little shed there. Kyle agrreed. They had scarcely rested at all these past few days.
He followed Amanda as she went to the shed, but then got sidetracked by the headless body nearby. She turned away and kept going to the shed. Against his better judgement, Kyle did not turn away. He got close enough that the smell overwhelmed him, and he could see clearly what kind of damage these collars were capable of.
He couldn't stop himself. He retched, ran alongside the lake a bit farther, and vomited. He had been too in shock to react to Gwen's death and her corpse. But he wasn't in shock when he came across this one. He threw up what little he had eaten earlier that day. He still felt sick. He dropped the icd pick he had taken off Gwen.
The soft thud awakened him to his surroundings again. He glared at the weapon. It was all this things fault. If Gwen hadn't been given this then she never would have taken Louisa hostage, Carlyle wouldn't have shot her, Josephine wouldn't have run and gotten killed in a dangerzone, and they all would have stayed together. He gritted his teeth, snatched the stupid thing and flung it into the lake. It made a small splash as it sunk in.
Good riddance to bad rubbish. He took out his taser out from his pack. Trusty, nonlethal. Now he just had to head back over to Carlyle and Amannda.
Kyle ran through the forest, ran past the pines. He just wanted to keep running and forget about the failure. But reason got a hold of him. He slowed his running and tried to orient himself. He spotted Amanda a short distance away through the cracks in the forest. He changed directions and ran after her. He ended up running behind her a ways, so he had little clue where they were headed.
They ended up at the lake, a previous dangerzone if he recalled correctly. Amanda slowed her pace, then stopped and looked at him and Carlyle. Honestly Kyle had not even noticed he was there. Amanda asked if it were okay for them all to spend the night in the little shed there. Kyle agrreed. They had scarcely rested at all these past few days.
He followed Amanda as she went to the shed, but then got sidetracked by the headless body nearby. She turned away and kept going to the shed. Against his better judgement, Kyle did not turn away. He got close enough that the smell overwhelmed him, and he could see clearly what kind of damage these collars were capable of.
He couldn't stop himself. He retched, ran alongside the lake a bit farther, and vomited. He had been too in shock to react to Gwen's death and her corpse. But he wasn't in shock when he came across this one. He threw up what little he had eaten earlier that day. He still felt sick. He dropped the icd pick he had taken off Gwen.
The soft thud awakened him to his surroundings again. He glared at the weapon. It was all this things fault. If Gwen hadn't been given this then she never would have taken Louisa hostage, Carlyle wouldn't have shot her, Josephine wouldn't have run and gotten killed in a dangerzone, and they all would have stayed together. He gritted his teeth, snatched the stupid thing and flung it into the lake. It made a small splash as it sunk in.
Good riddance to bad rubbish. He took out his taser out from his pack. Trusty, nonlethal. Now he just had to head back over to Carlyle and Amannda.
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1121
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- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
((Carlyle Shotton continued from Destroying Soda: The Most Heinous of Crimes))
Whether it was through some sort of sixth sense or just plain old dumb luck, Carlyle had somehow managed to stick with Kyle and Amanda through the pine stands and back out again. His collar had started beeping midway through, and for a moment, the sudden terror and realisation that he could very well die in a few moments blinded him to where he needed to go. He’d sprinted in a random direction for a few seconds, before, thankfully, he’d heard Kyle’s footsteps nearby and followed them.
They had all safely gotten out now and were standing near the lake. All of them except Louisa. Somewhere, somehow, she’d managed to split from the rest of the group. Whether it was an accident or by choice, Carlyle had no idea. Either way, it was demoralising. The group was swiftly losing members, and Louisa was somebody Carlyle wanted to see alive to the very end. Now he didn’t even know if she’d escaped the forest in time.
This rather disturbing thought jolted Carlyle back to earth. Kyle and Amanda had started walking ahead and he hadn’t even realised it. He hadn’t even noticed that Amanda had said something. The two seemed to have been heading towards the shed, but were now walking in the direction of what looked horribly like a headless corpse. Carlyle didn’t want to go anywhere near it. There wasn’t even any bile fascination in the body. It would bring back too many bad memories and thoughts. He could give one thing to the escape from the forest; it had managed to push aside his thoughts from during the announcement, a little. He didn’t need to bring them back to the surface again.
Carlyle jogged to catch up with Amanda; Kyle seemed as though he needed a little time by himself. He definitely deserved some thinking time. He’d been the de facto leader all this time; some time alone with his thoughts would hopefully do him some good.
Amanda seemed to be having some trouble with the door, though. Carlyle was about to offer a hand, when with a shudder and a start, it shifted open. Another sound followed it, the distinctive sound of a bottle hitting the floor. Had it just been left here before the Program had even started? Or had it been placed, for some reason?
Better to be safe than sorry…
Carlyle swung his rifle down from his shoulder, where it seemed to have taken permanent residence, and gripped it in both hands. His finger wasn’t quite on the trigger, but it was ready to slip there if needed. Momentarily, he raised his left hand to his mouth, made a shushing gesture at Amanda, then returned it to the rifle.
Whether it was through some sort of sixth sense or just plain old dumb luck, Carlyle had somehow managed to stick with Kyle and Amanda through the pine stands and back out again. His collar had started beeping midway through, and for a moment, the sudden terror and realisation that he could very well die in a few moments blinded him to where he needed to go. He’d sprinted in a random direction for a few seconds, before, thankfully, he’d heard Kyle’s footsteps nearby and followed them.
They had all safely gotten out now and were standing near the lake. All of them except Louisa. Somewhere, somehow, she’d managed to split from the rest of the group. Whether it was an accident or by choice, Carlyle had no idea. Either way, it was demoralising. The group was swiftly losing members, and Louisa was somebody Carlyle wanted to see alive to the very end. Now he didn’t even know if she’d escaped the forest in time.
This rather disturbing thought jolted Carlyle back to earth. Kyle and Amanda had started walking ahead and he hadn’t even realised it. He hadn’t even noticed that Amanda had said something. The two seemed to have been heading towards the shed, but were now walking in the direction of what looked horribly like a headless corpse. Carlyle didn’t want to go anywhere near it. There wasn’t even any bile fascination in the body. It would bring back too many bad memories and thoughts. He could give one thing to the escape from the forest; it had managed to push aside his thoughts from during the announcement, a little. He didn’t need to bring them back to the surface again.
Carlyle jogged to catch up with Amanda; Kyle seemed as though he needed a little time by himself. He definitely deserved some thinking time. He’d been the de facto leader all this time; some time alone with his thoughts would hopefully do him some good.
Amanda seemed to be having some trouble with the door, though. Carlyle was about to offer a hand, when with a shudder and a start, it shifted open. Another sound followed it, the distinctive sound of a bottle hitting the floor. Had it just been left here before the Program had even started? Or had it been placed, for some reason?
Better to be safe than sorry…
Carlyle swung his rifle down from his shoulder, where it seemed to have taken permanent residence, and gripped it in both hands. His finger wasn’t quite on the trigger, but it was ready to slip there if needed. Momentarily, he raised his left hand to his mouth, made a shushing gesture at Amanda, then returned it to the rifle.
Well, that didn't take long.
He'd barely been asleep for an hour or so until the bottle had been knocked over, jolting him from his slumber almost instantaneously. After briefly wondering for a second whether or not the wind had simply blown the door open, a number of soft footsteps confirmed his suspicions.
He was no longer alone.
He gripped the ballistics knife tightly, remaining as still as humanely possible as he tried to ascertain whether or not this intruder was his over-enthusiastic ally or a threat to his safety, although one could argue that both descriptors could fit the same person he was waiting for. Regardless, if this wasn't Brian, that meant Damien had a problem. A big one at that, depending on who it was. If they had a firearm for example, he would have to be quick to dispatch them before they could get a chance to use it. Getting shot in the chest by some wimpy guy half his size didn't exactly sound like a respectable way to go.
Annoyingly, he didn't seem to have any means of seeing who it was without revealing himself. At this point he was beginning to regret not setting up a mirror of some sorts above him that allowed him to see who entered the building, whilst at the same time not revealing to anyone who entered that there was a dude with a pitchfork hiding behind the counter. He could probably take a peak, but given that whoever had entered could very well be ready to shoot anything that moves, he didn't want to take that risk. He could also just stand up and reveal himself, preying to god that if it was someone with a gun that they would be too surprised by his sudden appearance to immediately open fire, giving him a chance to make good use of his ballistics knife. Of course, he also didn't want to accidentally shoot Brian in the chest, tempting as the idea may seem.
With barely seconds until whoever this intruder was would find him, Damien picked up a plastic fishing lure and tossed it into the corner of the room, praying that this would distract whoever had entered long enough for him to see who it was without getting his head blown off.
On that note, he ducked up from behind his cover, ballistics knife at the ready.
It wasn't Brian.
Damien pressed the trigger.
He'd barely been asleep for an hour or so until the bottle had been knocked over, jolting him from his slumber almost instantaneously. After briefly wondering for a second whether or not the wind had simply blown the door open, a number of soft footsteps confirmed his suspicions.
He was no longer alone.
He gripped the ballistics knife tightly, remaining as still as humanely possible as he tried to ascertain whether or not this intruder was his over-enthusiastic ally or a threat to his safety, although one could argue that both descriptors could fit the same person he was waiting for. Regardless, if this wasn't Brian, that meant Damien had a problem. A big one at that, depending on who it was. If they had a firearm for example, he would have to be quick to dispatch them before they could get a chance to use it. Getting shot in the chest by some wimpy guy half his size didn't exactly sound like a respectable way to go.
Annoyingly, he didn't seem to have any means of seeing who it was without revealing himself. At this point he was beginning to regret not setting up a mirror of some sorts above him that allowed him to see who entered the building, whilst at the same time not revealing to anyone who entered that there was a dude with a pitchfork hiding behind the counter. He could probably take a peak, but given that whoever had entered could very well be ready to shoot anything that moves, he didn't want to take that risk. He could also just stand up and reveal himself, preying to god that if it was someone with a gun that they would be too surprised by his sudden appearance to immediately open fire, giving him a chance to make good use of his ballistics knife. Of course, he also didn't want to accidentally shoot Brian in the chest, tempting as the idea may seem.
With barely seconds until whoever this intruder was would find him, Damien picked up a plastic fishing lure and tossed it into the corner of the room, praying that this would distract whoever had entered long enough for him to see who it was without getting his head blown off.
On that note, he ducked up from behind his cover, ballistics knife at the ready.
It wasn't Brian.
Damien pressed the trigger.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
Amanda froze. She noticed that Carlyle got his rifle ready, so he also had a bad feeling. When he gestured her to be quiet, Amanda nodded slightly. Somewhere, a sound. Amanda reflexively turned her head to locate the origin of that sound.
Suddenly, her world was filled with shock and pain.
Amanda didn't know what happened, she only realized that something stuck in her torso. Something... cold. Her left hand drew near to where the pain came from. She felt steel. Warm, wet steel. Someone threw a knife at her. Her eyes widened as she felt her own blood dripping on her hand. Amanda searched the room for the assilant, her eyes slitted, her teeth compressed. Eventually, she managed to find a person hiding in the shadows. She wanted to know who attacked her.
The sound her shoes made upon impact with the floor were much louder than usual, as Amanda took three slow steps towards this person.
When she made the first step, her initial shock faded away, and became a great ire. That person, whoever it was, threw a damn knife at her. She bleed and the pain was nearly unbearable. She thought that she maybe just should take the knife and throw it back.
When she made the second step, she realized who the person in the shadow was. Damien Stone. When Amanda saw him, he was not her class mate. He was a monster. A monster she hated so much, that every shared memory, every feelings, everything that made him a human in Amanda's eyes, vanished away in a vast burning rage. She glared at him for a second. One drop of blood audibly fell to the floor and created a little red patch on the ground.
"Damien, you... idiot."
When she made the third step, Amanda lost her balance. She managed to catch herself somehow with her knees, but the blood lose became noticable and Amanda ultimatelly fell to the ground. She curled into a fetal position and she clasped her fingers around the piece of metal in her. The rythmic flow of the blood showered her inner palm in regular intervals. They were fast at first, but now became slower.
Amanda forgot about the world around her. She knew it were her last moments. She didn't feel sad about this, no, not even angry anymore. She felt empty. She wondered if she could have avoided this. Maybe she should have switched the school, maybe she should have not met up with people, maybe she should have checked a different house, maybe she should have be more careful when entering the house.
Maybe...such a useless word.
Suddenly, her world was filled with shock and pain.
Amanda didn't know what happened, she only realized that something stuck in her torso. Something... cold. Her left hand drew near to where the pain came from. She felt steel. Warm, wet steel. Someone threw a knife at her. Her eyes widened as she felt her own blood dripping on her hand. Amanda searched the room for the assilant, her eyes slitted, her teeth compressed. Eventually, she managed to find a person hiding in the shadows. She wanted to know who attacked her.
The sound her shoes made upon impact with the floor were much louder than usual, as Amanda took three slow steps towards this person.
When she made the first step, her initial shock faded away, and became a great ire. That person, whoever it was, threw a damn knife at her. She bleed and the pain was nearly unbearable. She thought that she maybe just should take the knife and throw it back.
When she made the second step, she realized who the person in the shadow was. Damien Stone. When Amanda saw him, he was not her class mate. He was a monster. A monster she hated so much, that every shared memory, every feelings, everything that made him a human in Amanda's eyes, vanished away in a vast burning rage. She glared at him for a second. One drop of blood audibly fell to the floor and created a little red patch on the ground.
"Damien, you... idiot."
When she made the third step, Amanda lost her balance. She managed to catch herself somehow with her knees, but the blood lose became noticable and Amanda ultimatelly fell to the ground. She curled into a fetal position and she clasped her fingers around the piece of metal in her. The rythmic flow of the blood showered her inner palm in regular intervals. They were fast at first, but now became slower.
Amanda forgot about the world around her. She knew it were her last moments. She didn't feel sad about this, no, not even angry anymore. She felt empty. She wondered if she could have avoided this. Maybe she should have switched the school, maybe she should have not met up with people, maybe she should have checked a different house, maybe she should have be more careful when entering the house.
Maybe...such a useless word.
AMANDA WHITE: G21 - DECEASED
21 STUDENTS REMAINING
21 STUDENTS REMAINING
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Bikriki. 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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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Kyle got up, dusted himself off, and nodded his head. "No more death, no more being useless. Anyone tries to cause trouble, they'll have to deal with thousands of volts of electricity instead." With that, he made sure his taser was ready to use, and turned to the small shed where Amanda and Carlyle were.
He was about to call over to them, when he noticed Amanda heading in. But something felt... off about her movements. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Amanda seemed to be moving real slowly. Almost as if she was carrying heavy weights. Kyle shook his head, he was overanalyzing. The body nearby was clouding his thoughts.
He started to make his way closer to the shed. Amanda was already out of sight inside, but for some reason Carlyle was still outside with his rifle ready. Kyle felt that was odd. But then he remembered caution over recklessness.
"Carlyle!" He called out. "What's up? Is it safe to head..."
And then he got a closer look at Carlyle. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
He put two and two together. His smile broke, frozen on his face. He dropped his bag on the ground.
Kyle mouthed, "Amanda" as the last shred of his hope faded away.
He was about to call over to them, when he noticed Amanda heading in. But something felt... off about her movements. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Amanda seemed to be moving real slowly. Almost as if she was carrying heavy weights. Kyle shook his head, he was overanalyzing. The body nearby was clouding his thoughts.
He started to make his way closer to the shed. Amanda was already out of sight inside, but for some reason Carlyle was still outside with his rifle ready. Kyle felt that was odd. But then he remembered caution over recklessness.
"Carlyle!" He called out. "What's up? Is it safe to head..."
And then he got a closer look at Carlyle. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
He put two and two together. His smile broke, frozen on his face. He dropped his bag on the ground.
Kyle mouthed, "Amanda" as the last shred of his hope faded away.
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
-
Pippi
- Posts: 1121
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Everything happened too fast, far too fast for Carlyle to even move before it was all over. There was movement inside the building, the sound of someone moving, and as Carlyle turned to look in that direction, there was more movement, something coming from the building and flying outside. Something that momentarily reflected the dimming light, something that was too fast to identify. Something that was now jutting out of Amanda’s torso.
Carlyle felt his blood run cold and his feet freeze to the floor. He tried to say something, anything, but the words in his head were jumbled and confused and didn’t make sense. Frozen in shock, Carlyle stood, watching Amanda slowly make her way further into the building, drops of blood periodically falling to the ground. The rifle in his hands was momentarily forgotten. It was just there. Unimportant. Useless, especially now.
Carlyle was vaguely aware of Kyle saying something from behind him, but it sounded so far off, as if the two were miles apart. Amanda had died inches away from Carlyle, and he had been powerless to stop it. It was insane, and irrational, but somehow Carlyle blamed no-one but himself. He hadn’t kept Amanda safe enough, hadn’t made her move away from the house. He hadn’t left the group behind, and kept them out of danger by associating with him. He hadn’t-
Suddenly, movement. A name called out. Damien. Only one Damien at school. Carlyle came back to earth, focused on what was in front of him. Amanda had fallen to the ground, and Damien was standing behind cover. Carlyle’s blame instantly shifted from himself to Damien, and his rifle was raised almost instantly. A split-second passed between raising the gun and pulling the trigger, but it was enough time for Damien to duck back down behind cover. His shot had been wild anyway. Carlyle hadn’t noticed it, but his hands were shaking. Not much, but enough to put him off his aim. The run-down building had a brand new hole in it. Slowly, still running on anger and adrenaline, Carlyle shifted his hands down the barrel of the rifle, holding it as best he could like a club. Damien had a ranged weapon, and Carlyle figured that in close quarters, it’d be harder to aim whatever he had. He had no idea what would happen next, but he was sure he was ready for it. He had to be.
Carlyle felt his blood run cold and his feet freeze to the floor. He tried to say something, anything, but the words in his head were jumbled and confused and didn’t make sense. Frozen in shock, Carlyle stood, watching Amanda slowly make her way further into the building, drops of blood periodically falling to the ground. The rifle in his hands was momentarily forgotten. It was just there. Unimportant. Useless, especially now.
Carlyle was vaguely aware of Kyle saying something from behind him, but it sounded so far off, as if the two were miles apart. Amanda had died inches away from Carlyle, and he had been powerless to stop it. It was insane, and irrational, but somehow Carlyle blamed no-one but himself. He hadn’t kept Amanda safe enough, hadn’t made her move away from the house. He hadn’t left the group behind, and kept them out of danger by associating with him. He hadn’t-
Suddenly, movement. A name called out. Damien. Only one Damien at school. Carlyle came back to earth, focused on what was in front of him. Amanda had fallen to the ground, and Damien was standing behind cover. Carlyle’s blame instantly shifted from himself to Damien, and his rifle was raised almost instantly. A split-second passed between raising the gun and pulling the trigger, but it was enough time for Damien to duck back down behind cover. His shot had been wild anyway. Carlyle hadn’t noticed it, but his hands were shaking. Not much, but enough to put him off his aim. The run-down building had a brand new hole in it. Slowly, still running on anger and adrenaline, Carlyle shifted his hands down the barrel of the rifle, holding it as best he could like a club. Damien had a ranged weapon, and Carlyle figured that in close quarters, it’d be harder to aim whatever he had. He had no idea what would happen next, but he was sure he was ready for it. He had to be.
In hindsight, Damien wished he had paused for a moment to properly ascertain who this intruder was before he launched his ballistics knife at them.
It had been split-second reaction. Duck out of cover, see that it wasn't Brian, open fire without a moment's hesitance. Simple really. After all, if they had a firearm he'd of been the one who got shot. Best defence is a good offence, right? Besides, even if they didn't have a firearm, they probably would have tried to kill him anyway. What are the chances of him encountering someone who was completely harmless?
Or injured, for that matter. Not to mention a girl. A girl who Damien recognised almost instantly seconds after he had pressed the trigger. A harmless injured girl whom now had a knife sticking out of her chest. A knife that he had shot at her without any provocation whatsoever.
For the first time, Damien couldn't hide how shocked he was.
Back home, not only did he know Amanda as one of his fellow schoolmates, but he also knew her as the girl who served him drinks at the bar in the fitness centre. A girl who, admittedly, had been one of Damien's first and only crushes.
He never told her of course, or anyone else for that matter. After all, he had a whole military career to think about. No point chasing girls when he could be preparing himself for his destiny, right? Save that kind of thing for after he'd retired, or at least until he older. Not that it stopped him from having silly crushes on girls he barely knew. Sure, she wasn't exactly the most stunning student at Patriot High. But she was nice. Friendly. And... Okay, he did find her cute as well.
Not that it mattered though, now that he had killed her. In cold blood no less.
He wasn't sure what to think. There she was, staggering towards him, clutching the knife that he had impaled her with. The very same girl who just a couple of weeks ago had served him a glass of ice cold cola with a bright smile on her face.
Now that very same face was glaring at him with a look of hatred that chilled him to the bone. He wasn't sure what stunned him more, the fact that he had just killed yet another girl who had done him no harm, or the fact that one of the few girls he had ever liked spent the last remaining seconds of her life loathing him with every fibre of her being.
She managed a few words before falling to the floor, finally passing away after the fatal wound Damien had inflicted upon her. She had called him an idiot, an insult that usually would have riled up the prideful student. If anyone else had said that to him, at any other time, he would have been enraged beyond belief. At that particular moment in time however, Damien couldn't think of a better word to describe himself, although the phrase 'heartless monster' did briefly pop to mind.
He didn't have time to feel guilty however, because barely moments after Amanda fell to the floor, another newcomer appeared behind her. One who actually had a gun this time.
Oh fucking shit!
Damien ducked behind the counter as the second intruder opened fire, the shot going wild and hitting a novelty Big Mouth Billy Bass that had been hung up on the wall. Idiot, why hadn't he considered the possibility of there being more than one intruder? Now he had to deal with a guy with a firearm out for revenge. He'd have to wallow in self-loathing later, after he dealt with this guy.
Whilst he had gotten behind cover fairly quickly, he had been able to get a decent glimpse at who it was. Carlyle Shotton. Damien never liked that hippy son-of-a-bitch. As much as he didn't want to die at his hands, at least he now finally had someone he could face without the slightest bit of regret.
At least, compared to the harmless girl he had just murdered...
Fuck's sake Damien! Forget about her for five minutes and focus on the bastard with the rifle! You can mope all you like later once this fucker is dead...
That said, the question now was how exactly would he deal with Carlyle? He'd used up the ballistics knife, and he couldn't exactly throw his pitchfork at him. He could probably throw the ballistics knife's handle, not that it'd do much good.
Or would it? It was cylindrical, and vaguely metallic. In the heat of the moment, one could possibly mistake it for a grenade. It was a risky move, but right now Damien didn't have any better ideas.
With that thought in mind, Damien tossed the handle behind him, praying that it would at least confuse Carlyle. Then, after waiting for a few seconds, he burst out from behind his cover to charge his opponent with pitchfork poised and ready to skewer his foe.
It had been split-second reaction. Duck out of cover, see that it wasn't Brian, open fire without a moment's hesitance. Simple really. After all, if they had a firearm he'd of been the one who got shot. Best defence is a good offence, right? Besides, even if they didn't have a firearm, they probably would have tried to kill him anyway. What are the chances of him encountering someone who was completely harmless?
Or injured, for that matter. Not to mention a girl. A girl who Damien recognised almost instantly seconds after he had pressed the trigger. A harmless injured girl whom now had a knife sticking out of her chest. A knife that he had shot at her without any provocation whatsoever.
For the first time, Damien couldn't hide how shocked he was.
Back home, not only did he know Amanda as one of his fellow schoolmates, but he also knew her as the girl who served him drinks at the bar in the fitness centre. A girl who, admittedly, had been one of Damien's first and only crushes.
He never told her of course, or anyone else for that matter. After all, he had a whole military career to think about. No point chasing girls when he could be preparing himself for his destiny, right? Save that kind of thing for after he'd retired, or at least until he older. Not that it stopped him from having silly crushes on girls he barely knew. Sure, she wasn't exactly the most stunning student at Patriot High. But she was nice. Friendly. And... Okay, he did find her cute as well.
Not that it mattered though, now that he had killed her. In cold blood no less.
He wasn't sure what to think. There she was, staggering towards him, clutching the knife that he had impaled her with. The very same girl who just a couple of weeks ago had served him a glass of ice cold cola with a bright smile on her face.
Now that very same face was glaring at him with a look of hatred that chilled him to the bone. He wasn't sure what stunned him more, the fact that he had just killed yet another girl who had done him no harm, or the fact that one of the few girls he had ever liked spent the last remaining seconds of her life loathing him with every fibre of her being.
She managed a few words before falling to the floor, finally passing away after the fatal wound Damien had inflicted upon her. She had called him an idiot, an insult that usually would have riled up the prideful student. If anyone else had said that to him, at any other time, he would have been enraged beyond belief. At that particular moment in time however, Damien couldn't think of a better word to describe himself, although the phrase 'heartless monster' did briefly pop to mind.
He didn't have time to feel guilty however, because barely moments after Amanda fell to the floor, another newcomer appeared behind her. One who actually had a gun this time.
Oh fucking shit!
Damien ducked behind the counter as the second intruder opened fire, the shot going wild and hitting a novelty Big Mouth Billy Bass that had been hung up on the wall. Idiot, why hadn't he considered the possibility of there being more than one intruder? Now he had to deal with a guy with a firearm out for revenge. He'd have to wallow in self-loathing later, after he dealt with this guy.
Whilst he had gotten behind cover fairly quickly, he had been able to get a decent glimpse at who it was. Carlyle Shotton. Damien never liked that hippy son-of-a-bitch. As much as he didn't want to die at his hands, at least he now finally had someone he could face without the slightest bit of regret.
At least, compared to the harmless girl he had just murdered...
Fuck's sake Damien! Forget about her for five minutes and focus on the bastard with the rifle! You can mope all you like later once this fucker is dead...
That said, the question now was how exactly would he deal with Carlyle? He'd used up the ballistics knife, and he couldn't exactly throw his pitchfork at him. He could probably throw the ballistics knife's handle, not that it'd do much good.
Or would it? It was cylindrical, and vaguely metallic. In the heat of the moment, one could possibly mistake it for a grenade. It was a risky move, but right now Damien didn't have any better ideas.
With that thought in mind, Damien tossed the handle behind him, praying that it would at least confuse Carlyle. Then, after waiting for a few seconds, he burst out from behind his cover to charge his opponent with pitchfork poised and ready to skewer his foe.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Kyle was in a daze. The world around him seemed far away. He heard a gunshot, more than likely the same person inside the cabin that hurt Amanda. Carlyle surely wouldn't fire his weapon. And Amanda. Kyle's smile twitched at the thought of her. Was she dead? Probably so. First the encounter at the Slope, then losing Josie, then leaving Louisa behind, and now Amanda getting hurt and probably dying right in front of Carlyle
This was the Program, wasn't it? Why should he be surprised this was the way things had gone? Kyle stared vacantly at the ground. He could hear his heartbeat. He wished he couldn't. He wished that the light would fade from his eyes, that sound wouldn't reach his ears, that the world left his sense of touch. He wanted to be alone, forgotten in darkness and cold nothingness.
But he was still at the Lake. His body felt like lead. But so long as he remained here, he had work to do. His broken smile turned into a broken frown. He checked his tazer. He looked at Carlyle. The poor guy was already in combat mode. Kyle would have to be too. He broke into a run to his friend.
He kept the tazer ready, he didn't want to see someone else he knew get hurt. Not if he could prevent it.
He only hoped that he would reach Carlyle in time.
This was the Program, wasn't it? Why should he be surprised this was the way things had gone? Kyle stared vacantly at the ground. He could hear his heartbeat. He wished he couldn't. He wished that the light would fade from his eyes, that sound wouldn't reach his ears, that the world left his sense of touch. He wanted to be alone, forgotten in darkness and cold nothingness.
But he was still at the Lake. His body felt like lead. But so long as he remained here, he had work to do. His broken smile turned into a broken frown. He checked his tazer. He looked at Carlyle. The poor guy was already in combat mode. Kyle would have to be too. He broke into a run to his friend.
He kept the tazer ready, he didn't want to see someone else he knew get hurt. Not if he could prevent it.
He only hoped that he would reach Carlyle in time.
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1121
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Carefully, slowly, step by step, Carlyle made his way further into the cabin. He couldn’t allow Damien to surprise him. Taking it cautiously was the only option here, even if what Carlyle really wanted to do was rush in there and beat the hell out of Damien. The rifle was feeling increasingly heavy and cumbersome, but right now the main thing on Carlyle’s mind was revenge on Damien, or at the very least, finding out exactly why he’d killed Amanda.
For the second time in a few minutes, something flew out from behind the cover Damien was hiding behind. Carlyle instinctively flinched, all systems ready to dodge and protect himself, but he had no need to worry. The... whatever it was had gone nowhere near him. In fact, it hadn’t flown anywhere near the same speed as the first missile which had hit Amanda. Tentatively, Carlyle focused on the flung item, lying on the floor. It didn’t look sharp, or even remotely dangerous. It was more cylindrical shaped, kind of like a...
Oh Jesus, get out of here!
Carlyle backpedalled, moving away from the grenade as fast as possible whilst still maintaining eye contact with it. What the hell was Damien playing at? Was he trapped? Was that his only way of defending himself; by blowing the shack up? Unless it was just a smoke grenade or something. Either way, Carlyle needed to get out of the shack, now.
There was sudden rush of footsteps, and Carlyle tore his gaze away from the cylinder just in time to see Damien charging towards him, with what looked like a misshapen trident pointed straight at him. With only seconds to react, Carlyle dodge to his right, out of harm’s way, so close his jacket brushed against Damien as he turned.
Somehow, things swiftly turned from bad to worse. As Carlyle moved out of the way, his feet caught up in something. Whether it was the ground or even themselves, Carlyle had no idea, but he instantly felt himself stumbling and then, with a realisation that stopped his heart cold, felt himself falling. Carlyle landed hard, but that wasn’t even important right now. What was important was the fact that he was on the ground, with only a makeshift club to defend himself. He was dead. He was a complete sitting duck now.
Jesus... so this is how it ends...
For the second time in a few minutes, something flew out from behind the cover Damien was hiding behind. Carlyle instinctively flinched, all systems ready to dodge and protect himself, but he had no need to worry. The... whatever it was had gone nowhere near him. In fact, it hadn’t flown anywhere near the same speed as the first missile which had hit Amanda. Tentatively, Carlyle focused on the flung item, lying on the floor. It didn’t look sharp, or even remotely dangerous. It was more cylindrical shaped, kind of like a...
Oh Jesus, get out of here!
Carlyle backpedalled, moving away from the grenade as fast as possible whilst still maintaining eye contact with it. What the hell was Damien playing at? Was he trapped? Was that his only way of defending himself; by blowing the shack up? Unless it was just a smoke grenade or something. Either way, Carlyle needed to get out of the shack, now.
There was sudden rush of footsteps, and Carlyle tore his gaze away from the cylinder just in time to see Damien charging towards him, with what looked like a misshapen trident pointed straight at him. With only seconds to react, Carlyle dodge to his right, out of harm’s way, so close his jacket brushed against Damien as he turned.
Somehow, things swiftly turned from bad to worse. As Carlyle moved out of the way, his feet caught up in something. Whether it was the ground or even themselves, Carlyle had no idea, but he instantly felt himself stumbling and then, with a realisation that stopped his heart cold, felt himself falling. Carlyle landed hard, but that wasn’t even important right now. What was important was the fact that he was on the ground, with only a makeshift club to defend himself. He was dead. He was a complete sitting duck now.
Jesus... so this is how it ends...
Well, he didn't immediately get his head blown off. So far so good.
Judging from the way that Carlyle was caught off guard by his charge, Damien assumed that his ploy had worked. Sure, the lanky basterd still managed to get out of the way in time, but at least he didn't have a chance to retaliate just yet. To makes things better, Damien turned around just in time to see Carlyle stumble onto his backside, leaving himself wide open for another attack.
It was also at this point that Damien got a better look at Carlyle's rifle, recognising it as a Kentucky Rifle. He remembered reading up on them when he was revising for a history lesson, not that the information did him much good. Still, he made a mental note to thank his history teacher should he ever have the chance to do so, because now he knew that the gun wouldn't be a problem anymore. Like all old guns, you could only fire the Kentucky Rifle once before having to reload it, which meant that Carlyle was pretty much fucked.
Shouldn't have wasted that bullet, now you're gonna pay for being a lousy shot...
Without further ado, Damien rushed towards his fallen foe and attempted to pin him to the floor...
...Only for his attack to be blocked by Carlyle's rifle.
The lanky student managed to hold up his rifle just in time, lodging the barrel of the gun between the prongs of Damien's pitchfork, the tips of which were barely inches away from his face as he tried to hold the other student back. Whilst Damien was anything but a weakling, Carlyle wasn't exactly a pushover either. He was actually a heck of a lot stronger than Damien assumed he was, judging from his appearance.
No matter. Damien was pretty sure that he was still the stronger of the two. All he need was to put a little more force into it and this would all be over.
Of course, that didn't take into the account the fact that there was yet another student whom Damien had failed to notice.
Judging from the way that Carlyle was caught off guard by his charge, Damien assumed that his ploy had worked. Sure, the lanky basterd still managed to get out of the way in time, but at least he didn't have a chance to retaliate just yet. To makes things better, Damien turned around just in time to see Carlyle stumble onto his backside, leaving himself wide open for another attack.
It was also at this point that Damien got a better look at Carlyle's rifle, recognising it as a Kentucky Rifle. He remembered reading up on them when he was revising for a history lesson, not that the information did him much good. Still, he made a mental note to thank his history teacher should he ever have the chance to do so, because now he knew that the gun wouldn't be a problem anymore. Like all old guns, you could only fire the Kentucky Rifle once before having to reload it, which meant that Carlyle was pretty much fucked.
Shouldn't have wasted that bullet, now you're gonna pay for being a lousy shot...
Without further ado, Damien rushed towards his fallen foe and attempted to pin him to the floor...
...Only for his attack to be blocked by Carlyle's rifle.
The lanky student managed to hold up his rifle just in time, lodging the barrel of the gun between the prongs of Damien's pitchfork, the tips of which were barely inches away from his face as he tried to hold the other student back. Whilst Damien was anything but a weakling, Carlyle wasn't exactly a pushover either. He was actually a heck of a lot stronger than Damien assumed he was, judging from his appearance.
No matter. Damien was pretty sure that he was still the stronger of the two. All he need was to put a little more force into it and this would all be over.
Of course, that didn't take into the account the fact that there was yet another student whom Damien had failed to notice.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
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Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
At least Kyle wouldn't have to see another friend get hurt. As he ran he watched Carlyle run into the shed, then quickly get out and fall on his back. And Damien Stone of all people chased after him with a pitchfork. He had him pinned, but Damien still hadn't killed Carlyle. Carlyle fought to stay alive, keeping the other boy from stabbing him with all his might.
Kyle aimed the taser and made his presence known to Damien. "Make another move and you'll be dealing with 50,000 volts of electricity in your body." He quickly checked again if it was ready to go at a moment's notice. Thankfully it was. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm only going to ask once. Drop the weapon, get off of Carlyle, and tell me what the hell you did to Amanda."
He was no killer, he could never be that. But he could incapacitate this son a bitch and leave him writhing on the floor if need be. The amps his assigned weapon put out should be low enough not to kill Damien. But Kyle knew that telling him just how high the voltage was would probably assist with getting his cooperation. But he wasn't in the mood to assume so.
"You have five seconds before I give you a world of hurt."
"Five,"
His breathing slowed. He wondered if he could really do it.
"Four,"
What if he accidentally hit Carlyle?
"Three,"
No. No more hesistation. Apathy is death. He knew that now.
"Two,"
He would not stand by and do nothing anymore.
"One."
Kyle aimed the taser and made his presence known to Damien. "Make another move and you'll be dealing with 50,000 volts of electricity in your body." He quickly checked again if it was ready to go at a moment's notice. Thankfully it was. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm only going to ask once. Drop the weapon, get off of Carlyle, and tell me what the hell you did to Amanda."
He was no killer, he could never be that. But he could incapacitate this son a bitch and leave him writhing on the floor if need be. The amps his assigned weapon put out should be low enough not to kill Damien. But Kyle knew that telling him just how high the voltage was would probably assist with getting his cooperation. But he wasn't in the mood to assume so.
"You have five seconds before I give you a world of hurt."
"Five,"
His breathing slowed. He wondered if he could really do it.
"Four,"
What if he accidentally hit Carlyle?
"Three,"
No. No more hesistation. Apathy is death. He knew that now.
"Two,"
He would not stand by and do nothing anymore.
"One."
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
-
Pippi
- Posts: 1121
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Maybe Carlyle had been a bit too hasty to declare himself a sitting duck. Sure, he was in a bad situation right now, and he definitely wasn’t thinking straight. His thoughts were focused on revenge, and nothing but. But he still had a means of defending himself, he wasn’t injured, and most importantly, he had the will to survive. He was not going to die here. If he could help it, he wasn’t gonna die at all. But definitely not here, and definitely not to Damien.
Speaking of which, the other boy was already rushing back at Carlyle, pitchfork raised and ready to stab down at his prone body. Carlyle acted on pure instinct and adrenaline, holding the rifle with both hands and swinging it up to block the pitchfork just in time. Even so, the force behind the pitchfork almost sent the prongs into his face. Damien was just as strong as he looked, possibly more so. Carlyle was no weakling, but he was fairly sure Damien was the stronger of the two. It would only be a matter of time before Carlyle’s strength gave out, and then...
Kyle’s voice came from somewhere above Carlyle. He couldn’t see the guy, he was too focused on the pitchfork inches away from him, but he sounded close by, with his taser at the ready, and very pissed off as well. Carlyle silently thanked whatever god was looking after him. At a more peaceful moment, Carlyle might have reflected on the fact that, at the start of all this, he would never have expected Kyle to save him like this. All he knew of the guy was that he was a rather patriotic kinda guy. His type and Carlyle’s type didn’t exactly mix.
But right now, Carlyle was just focused on getting to safety. The resistance against his rifle had lessened greatly after Kyle had made his presence known, and Carlyle took his chance. He pushed up, pushing the pitchfork up and aside, before scrambling to safety. Carlyle took a deep breath, and paused to collect himself.
He heard the clatter of the pitchfork behind him. Carlyle turned round in time to see Damien making a break for it. There wasn’t any way Carlyle would be able to catch him, but...
“Dude, stop him!” Carlyle yelled at Kyle. He quickly swung his bag from his back, and searched through it for the rifle pellets. He needed to stop Damien. Partially to interrogate him. Partially so he wouldn’t be able to harm anybody else.
Speaking of which, the other boy was already rushing back at Carlyle, pitchfork raised and ready to stab down at his prone body. Carlyle acted on pure instinct and adrenaline, holding the rifle with both hands and swinging it up to block the pitchfork just in time. Even so, the force behind the pitchfork almost sent the prongs into his face. Damien was just as strong as he looked, possibly more so. Carlyle was no weakling, but he was fairly sure Damien was the stronger of the two. It would only be a matter of time before Carlyle’s strength gave out, and then...
Kyle’s voice came from somewhere above Carlyle. He couldn’t see the guy, he was too focused on the pitchfork inches away from him, but he sounded close by, with his taser at the ready, and very pissed off as well. Carlyle silently thanked whatever god was looking after him. At a more peaceful moment, Carlyle might have reflected on the fact that, at the start of all this, he would never have expected Kyle to save him like this. All he knew of the guy was that he was a rather patriotic kinda guy. His type and Carlyle’s type didn’t exactly mix.
But right now, Carlyle was just focused on getting to safety. The resistance against his rifle had lessened greatly after Kyle had made his presence known, and Carlyle took his chance. He pushed up, pushing the pitchfork up and aside, before scrambling to safety. Carlyle took a deep breath, and paused to collect himself.
He heard the clatter of the pitchfork behind him. Carlyle turned round in time to see Damien making a break for it. There wasn’t any way Carlyle would be able to catch him, but...
“Dude, stop him!” Carlyle yelled at Kyle. He quickly swung his bag from his back, and searched through it for the rifle pellets. He needed to stop Damien. Partially to interrogate him. Partially so he wouldn’t be able to harm anybody else.
Just when Damien thought that he had the situation under control, Kyle stepped forward and demanded that he dropped his weapon.
Normally, Damien would scoff at the idea of someone like Kyle threatening him. Whilst he didn't know the shorter boy particularly well, he was pretty sure that if the two were to ever come to blows Damien would be the one who came out on top. Plus, admirable choice of clothing aside, Damien didn't know enough about Kyle's politics to have any real opinion about him.
At that particular moment in time however, the fact that Kyle had a taser pointed in his direction made a world of difference. Not only did Damien have to worry about another combatant, which would have made the situation even more dangerous than it already was anyway, but he had to worry about one who had a very dangerous weapon. Sure, getting hit by a taser wouldn't kill him, but it would definitely enfeeble him long enough for them to get the upper hand. After which he would then be at their mercy.
Of course, like Kyle said, he could always drop the weapon and surrender. And he would have strongly considered doing so, seeing as the thought of having 50,000 volts coursing through his body didn't sound pleasant, were it not for the fact that he would then have to explain what happened to Amanda. Damien was surprised that Kyle even bothered to ask, given how obvious the answer was.
This is the Program dumbass. What do you think I did to her?
In any case, this still left Damien at Kyle and Carlyle's mercy. And given how he hadn't given either of them any good reasons to spare his life, not to mention the fact that Carlyle made it pretty obvious that he intended to kill him the moment he opened fire...
Yeah, surrendering would pretty much be a death sentence. So would getting stunned by that taser. In other words, he only had two viable options: either he go on the offensive and try to take out Kyle before he got a chance to fire his taser, which would then mean that he would have to take both him and Carlyle on at the same time. A task which, in all honestly, sounded just a little too risky.
Or, he could make a run for it. This situation had gotten completely out of hand, and given the chance Damien preferred to be the guy who had the element of surprise on his side. Better to make a tactical retreat now rather than risk his life making some suicidal charge. That said, it would also mean abandoning all of his equipment, including the ballistics knife
that had proven to be his most useful weapon.
Well, what'll it be? Fight or flight?
Before he got a chance to make his decision, Carlyle took him by surprise by pushing the pitchfork aside, scrambling to safety and leaving Damien without a hostage to bargain with.
Mother fucker! Shit, it's now or never...
With barely milliseconds to decide, Damien turned around and ran as fast as he could, leaving the pitchfork behind him so that it wouldn't slow him down.
Painful as it was to leave his stuff behind, the risk of facing two opponents at once was too great, especially when one of them has a fricking taser. Maybe if he had a chance to ambush them or something, then he would have given it a shot. But the situation as it was had gone completely out his control. Sure, running wasn't exactly the bravest thing he could have done, but it sure as hell beated getting executed by those two clowns.
Now he just had to figure out where to go next...
((Damien Stone continued in The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed))
Normally, Damien would scoff at the idea of someone like Kyle threatening him. Whilst he didn't know the shorter boy particularly well, he was pretty sure that if the two were to ever come to blows Damien would be the one who came out on top. Plus, admirable choice of clothing aside, Damien didn't know enough about Kyle's politics to have any real opinion about him.
At that particular moment in time however, the fact that Kyle had a taser pointed in his direction made a world of difference. Not only did Damien have to worry about another combatant, which would have made the situation even more dangerous than it already was anyway, but he had to worry about one who had a very dangerous weapon. Sure, getting hit by a taser wouldn't kill him, but it would definitely enfeeble him long enough for them to get the upper hand. After which he would then be at their mercy.
Of course, like Kyle said, he could always drop the weapon and surrender. And he would have strongly considered doing so, seeing as the thought of having 50,000 volts coursing through his body didn't sound pleasant, were it not for the fact that he would then have to explain what happened to Amanda. Damien was surprised that Kyle even bothered to ask, given how obvious the answer was.
This is the Program dumbass. What do you think I did to her?
In any case, this still left Damien at Kyle and Carlyle's mercy. And given how he hadn't given either of them any good reasons to spare his life, not to mention the fact that Carlyle made it pretty obvious that he intended to kill him the moment he opened fire...
Yeah, surrendering would pretty much be a death sentence. So would getting stunned by that taser. In other words, he only had two viable options: either he go on the offensive and try to take out Kyle before he got a chance to fire his taser, which would then mean that he would have to take both him and Carlyle on at the same time. A task which, in all honestly, sounded just a little too risky.
Or, he could make a run for it. This situation had gotten completely out of hand, and given the chance Damien preferred to be the guy who had the element of surprise on his side. Better to make a tactical retreat now rather than risk his life making some suicidal charge. That said, it would also mean abandoning all of his equipment, including the ballistics knife
that had proven to be his most useful weapon.
Well, what'll it be? Fight or flight?
Before he got a chance to make his decision, Carlyle took him by surprise by pushing the pitchfork aside, scrambling to safety and leaving Damien without a hostage to bargain with.
Mother fucker! Shit, it's now or never...
With barely milliseconds to decide, Damien turned around and ran as fast as he could, leaving the pitchfork behind him so that it wouldn't slow him down.
Painful as it was to leave his stuff behind, the risk of facing two opponents at once was too great, especially when one of them has a fricking taser. Maybe if he had a chance to ambush them or something, then he would have given it a shot. But the situation as it was had gone completely out his control. Sure, running wasn't exactly the bravest thing he could have done, but it sure as hell beated getting executed by those two clowns.
Now he just had to figure out where to go next...
((Damien Stone continued in The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed))
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010