(Louis Johnson continued from Vera)
The lounge had been left behind. A few turns down hallways later he was in what appeared to be a small library. A few shelves, a checkout desk. Not bad for what one would expect in a military base.
The shelves were mostly filled with books on military tactics, wars, or weaponry. Or as he liked to think of it, nothing that would help him survive the Program. It was obvious Stefanie wasn't here. He should probably start moving.
"Well hello there Kids. This is your friend Adams. What, did you expect anyone different? It's that time again, the carnage report, sponsored by good old Uncle Sam himself! And you've been quite busy being good little patriots, haven't you? That's right, we have ten more dead in the past six hours. I really had my doubts about you kids when this all started up, but you've really turned it around."
Announcement. Right. He was able to tune them out mostly till he reached a mention of the mason twins. Still no guarantee it was Stephanie, but maybe it wasn't the best idea to look for her anymore. It was looking like she could be killing anyone, two kills.
Then more pain at the end, Allie was dead. She had been on the swim team with him as well. Was everyone he knew going to bite it this early? It was looking more and more like he was going to be going alone with his friends either dead or hunting each other down.
Well if he was going alone he needed a plan. Plans were very limited, he had no weapon and no allies at this point. Maybe he should just hide in the library for the rest of the Program. Why not? That's what he had been planning to do in the armory until the last announcement.
Yeah just hide.
He would. He walked around behind the checkout desk and just lay there.
Might as well, there's nothing I can do to change anything.
Drive
The Library
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((Brett Torres continues from Small Comforts))
Bloodthirsty little bunch, ain't we?
He took a step forward, adjusting the LMG. It was a bitch to carry, and was weighing him down more then anything else. He hadn't even fired the thing yet, and had little idea of what to expect in terms of recoil. Still, he had a plan.
Find a nice little nook. Set up, Stoner facing the doorway. Camp out, blast anyone unlucky enough to enter. Cheap move, but it's a legal one. Don't need to be a roaming killer, like that stupid fuck Ferrara, or that artsy chick Maddie. They've got people on them now, probably looking for a revenge kill. Same as me... Someone had to have liked that girl. Priscilla. She was stupid, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have friends.
Slowly Brett made his way to the center of the room, not bothering to hide his footsteps. If someone was in the library, they probably already knew he was there. And they probably already knew he was a player, so no point hiding his intent.
I've never been good with theatrics. Although I'd probably make a good Audie Murphy. I wonder if they'll give me a medal for this game? Hmm. Should ask for one if I- when. When I win.
Brett slowly breathed out, surveying the library. It was amazing just how assured he was, especially with the additional firepower. Durriken hadn't fired his weapon once from what Brett could see. The boy had left two full ammo drums with him, so it wasn't like Brett was going to run out anytime soon. Food and Water wasn't an issue either, his pack was now bulging with additional supplies stolen from his kills.
So, in a way. It was worth it.
Brett frowned to himself. His justification for opening up had been bullshit, plain and simple. He hadn't intended for things to go that far... But he had been hoping for it. And if Brett could recognize that, God most certainly would.
What, so I'd rather die instead of Durriken? No. I'd pick him, thousand times over. He deserved it, standing there like that. He even asked me pretty much. It's not my fault. This is all legal, this has happened a thousand times before. Brigadier-General Adams is a HERO for God sake. He's got medals coming out his ass. And y'know what Brett? Back home, the guys are probably having the time of their life. They've probably all put money down on you, because they KNOW you can do it. Doesn't mean I have to get my hands dirty with every kill, far from it. I've done enough already. Just need to camp out. Get my head straight, get focused. Then I'm a straight shot to the final four.
"Anyone here? I'd advise you to tell me, for uh, you're continued health let's just say." He yelled, a grin on his face. He did a quick 360, scanning the entrance behind him.
"Seriously. I'm not in the mood for hide and seek. If anyone is here, I'll cut you a deal, one time only thing. Armed or not, we'll part ways. I won't hassle you, I won't hurt you. Swear to God. But if I find you sneakin' about... Bang. Catch my drift? Now... One last time. Anyone in here?"
"Well hello there Kids. This is your friend Adams. What, did you expect anyone different? It's that time again, the carnage report, sponsored by good old Uncle Sam himself! And you've been quite busy being good little patriots, haven't you? That's right, we have ten more dead in the past six hours. I really had my doubts about you kids when this all started up, but you've really turned it around."
Brett Torres kicked open the double doors of the Library and entered, Stoner 63 first, locked and loaded. He swept the gun around the room, checking for any sign of trouble, fellow students, bodies, anything. The announcements were still playing, announcing ten dead kids in the last few hours.Bloodthirsty little bunch, ain't we?
He took a step forward, adjusting the LMG. It was a bitch to carry, and was weighing him down more then anything else. He hadn't even fired the thing yet, and had little idea of what to expect in terms of recoil. Still, he had a plan.
Find a nice little nook. Set up, Stoner facing the doorway. Camp out, blast anyone unlucky enough to enter. Cheap move, but it's a legal one. Don't need to be a roaming killer, like that stupid fuck Ferrara, or that artsy chick Maddie. They've got people on them now, probably looking for a revenge kill. Same as me... Someone had to have liked that girl. Priscilla. She was stupid, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have friends.
Slowly Brett made his way to the center of the room, not bothering to hide his footsteps. If someone was in the library, they probably already knew he was there. And they probably already knew he was a player, so no point hiding his intent.
I've never been good with theatrics. Although I'd probably make a good Audie Murphy. I wonder if they'll give me a medal for this game? Hmm. Should ask for one if I- when. When I win.
Brett slowly breathed out, surveying the library. It was amazing just how assured he was, especially with the additional firepower. Durriken hadn't fired his weapon once from what Brett could see. The boy had left two full ammo drums with him, so it wasn't like Brett was going to run out anytime soon. Food and Water wasn't an issue either, his pack was now bulging with additional supplies stolen from his kills.
So, in a way. It was worth it.
Brett frowned to himself. His justification for opening up had been bullshit, plain and simple. He hadn't intended for things to go that far... But he had been hoping for it. And if Brett could recognize that, God most certainly would.
What, so I'd rather die instead of Durriken? No. I'd pick him, thousand times over. He deserved it, standing there like that. He even asked me pretty much. It's not my fault. This is all legal, this has happened a thousand times before. Brigadier-General Adams is a HERO for God sake. He's got medals coming out his ass. And y'know what Brett? Back home, the guys are probably having the time of their life. They've probably all put money down on you, because they KNOW you can do it. Doesn't mean I have to get my hands dirty with every kill, far from it. I've done enough already. Just need to camp out. Get my head straight, get focused. Then I'm a straight shot to the final four.
"Anyone here? I'd advise you to tell me, for uh, you're continued health let's just say." He yelled, a grin on his face. He did a quick 360, scanning the entrance behind him.
"Seriously. I'm not in the mood for hide and seek. If anyone is here, I'll cut you a deal, one time only thing. Armed or not, we'll part ways. I won't hassle you, I won't hurt you. Swear to God. But if I find you sneakin' about... Bang. Catch my drift? Now... One last time. Anyone in here?"
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Thunk.
Crap. That was the door wasn't it? Obviously he had company. He hoped they would look around then leave. With all his friends dying it was unlikely that they were anyone he wanted to meet.
It hadn't been long since the last announcement. Damn, I should have stayed in the lounge. No one bothered me there. Hopefully they'd leave soon, right? There was nothing in the library that would interest anyone about anything. There was nobody here, except for him, and no one would assume he was hiding there.
Then the voice. Brett Torres. Crap, he didn't like that guy. He was always talking about how great the military was. At least the announcements didn't say he'd killed anyone yet. Of course there was no guarantee that he wouldn't change his mind when he found Louis hiding there.
Shit, he just had to say he had a gun and specifically threaten hiding people with it. Did this guy have super senses, or did he go around threatening empty rooms with firearms?
Fine. I'll get up and pray he doesn't shoot me.
He stoop up. "Yep, right here." There wasn't a need to be snarky, but he always did that. Old habits died hard.
Crap. That was the door wasn't it? Obviously he had company. He hoped they would look around then leave. With all his friends dying it was unlikely that they were anyone he wanted to meet.
It hadn't been long since the last announcement. Damn, I should have stayed in the lounge. No one bothered me there. Hopefully they'd leave soon, right? There was nothing in the library that would interest anyone about anything. There was nobody here, except for him, and no one would assume he was hiding there.
Then the voice. Brett Torres. Crap, he didn't like that guy. He was always talking about how great the military was. At least the announcements didn't say he'd killed anyone yet. Of course there was no guarantee that he wouldn't change his mind when he found Louis hiding there.
Shit, he just had to say he had a gun and specifically threaten hiding people with it. Did this guy have super senses, or did he go around threatening empty rooms with firearms?
Fine. I'll get up and pray he doesn't shoot me.
He stoop up. "Yep, right here." There wasn't a need to be snarky, but he always did that. Old habits died hard.
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Brett spun as Louis popped up, quite unexpectedly, from his hiding spot. He leveled his weapon, pointing it directly at the other boy's chest. His finger danced around the trigger guard, but after a moment of relative unease, he lowered the weapon. Louis didn't look armed, and actually listening to his little speech meant he wasn't thinking too straight either. Brett wasn't about to drop his weapons and offer to escape with him, but it was clear the kid wasn't an immediate threat.
Don't need another show of strength. Not after... That. Unpleasantness. After the next announcements go off, everyone will assume I'm bad news. If Louis keeps popping up whenever someone promises not to shoot, he's going to end up dead right quick. I don't need to do anything to speed that along. Plus, this place is nice. Blood will just fuck up the Feng Shui.
Brett laughed, looking Louis up and down. He wasn't all that bad, considering things. Definitely not one of his closest friends, but nice enough. And more then just a name. More then Durriken was, more then Priscilla. That had to count for something. A shiver ran through him. The thought made him more uncomfortable then anything else. The very fact that he was grasping at straws for a reason to think of Louis as anything other then another body to step over was scaring him.
"Son of a bitch. Well. Looks like that saved me some time. Never even thought to look behind the desk. That's so... cliche. Well, I would have found you eventually, but still. Pretty near trick. I assume you haven't got a weapon?"
Brett crossed the length towards Louis, with clear confident strides. The boy didn't seem to be holding an object, but that didn't mean anything either way. Brett had no way of knowing what Louis' weapon had been, a joke or potentially lethal. Stopping in front of the counter Brett lowered his weapon, angling the barrel down towards the floor, flicking the safety on to show his intent. Far enough away to react if Louis made a move, close enough to not miss if it came to gunfire.
No reason for that to happen. No reason at all.
Brett shook his head, clearing images of Durriken or Priscilla out of his mind, an easy task. Too easy. He grunted uncomfortably, considering the boy in front of him.
"God. Some game huh? Lookit' what I got stuck with. Stoner 63. Ever seen this? Could blow your arm clean off. What about you man? How's The Program treating you?"
Don't need another show of strength. Not after... That. Unpleasantness. After the next announcements go off, everyone will assume I'm bad news. If Louis keeps popping up whenever someone promises not to shoot, he's going to end up dead right quick. I don't need to do anything to speed that along. Plus, this place is nice. Blood will just fuck up the Feng Shui.
Brett laughed, looking Louis up and down. He wasn't all that bad, considering things. Definitely not one of his closest friends, but nice enough. And more then just a name. More then Durriken was, more then Priscilla. That had to count for something. A shiver ran through him. The thought made him more uncomfortable then anything else. The very fact that he was grasping at straws for a reason to think of Louis as anything other then another body to step over was scaring him.
"Son of a bitch. Well. Looks like that saved me some time. Never even thought to look behind the desk. That's so... cliche. Well, I would have found you eventually, but still. Pretty near trick. I assume you haven't got a weapon?"
Brett crossed the length towards Louis, with clear confident strides. The boy didn't seem to be holding an object, but that didn't mean anything either way. Brett had no way of knowing what Louis' weapon had been, a joke or potentially lethal. Stopping in front of the counter Brett lowered his weapon, angling the barrel down towards the floor, flicking the safety on to show his intent. Far enough away to react if Louis made a move, close enough to not miss if it came to gunfire.
No reason for that to happen. No reason at all.
Brett shook his head, clearing images of Durriken or Priscilla out of his mind, an easy task. Too easy. He grunted uncomfortably, considering the boy in front of him.
"God. Some game huh? Lookit' what I got stuck with. Stoner 63. Ever seen this? Could blow your arm clean off. What about you man? How's The Program treating you?"
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Laughing? This kid must be freaking insane. Then again, in his opinion the people who were so in love with the military and government were insane. He simply didn't understand their commitment to a system that forcibly drafted peoples fathers after they didn't harm anyone with their actions.
Seven years, bastards.
It wasn't the time for that. He had other things to worry about. The massive gun in Brett's hands being the biggest one. Unfortunately this time he didn't have an unstable girl to kick Brett in the balls if he turned out to be dangerous.
The mention of blowing his arm off definitely didn't help matters, especially with how casually it was mentioned.
Come on, best not to piss the guy with the gun off too badly.
In his best attempt at a casual tone in the circumstances, "Better than some, rough early on, but you're the first person I've seen in I don't know, maybe eight of nine hours." Thinking on that, he was very lucky to have avoided people for that long.
Seven years, bastards.
It wasn't the time for that. He had other things to worry about. The massive gun in Brett's hands being the biggest one. Unfortunately this time he didn't have an unstable girl to kick Brett in the balls if he turned out to be dangerous.
The mention of blowing his arm off definitely didn't help matters, especially with how casually it was mentioned.
Come on, best not to piss the guy with the gun off too badly.
In his best attempt at a casual tone in the circumstances, "Better than some, rough early on, but you're the first person I've seen in I don't know, maybe eight of nine hours." Thinking on that, he was very lucky to have avoided people for that long.
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Brett could sense the other boys unease as he spoke. Despite his best efforts to remain calm, Brett could see a twinge of panic in his eyes, obviously he was expecting the worse.
Well if he's expecting the worst, maybe he's not as stupid as I expected...
Brett listened to Louis talk, nodding his head politely. As hard as he tried he couldn't get Durriken out of his mind. As long as he'd live, Brett would never understand Durriken's actions, let alone his own. That entire confrontation... He'd asked for the worst, and he'd gotten it. And now with his hands dirty, what was he doing? Talking. Completely at ease, not a shake in his body. He'd killed two people, and not ever a twinge of guilt?
That's a good thing Brett. See, that's what Adams is looking for. He's looking for someone EXACTLY like you. And what luck, you're white! So no problems on that front. No problems at all... Fuck. So I don't feel guilt. I just feel... I don't even know what I feel. Need to find Alex. He's probably good with faggy shit like feelings. But for now, Louis. More then just a face in a crowd. Just talk Brett.
"Yeah. Yeah, eight hours, really? No shit. That's pretty good. That's one of the tricks about this game. You'd think people would've figured out by now, groups don't work. If you go it alone, hell, People've even snuck into the final four that way. Just hiding out... I wouldn't be surprised if a smart kid won that way. Found a dropped weapon, came into the finals, cracked some heads, wham bam bam plane ticket home. Weirder things have happened."
Brett sighed, looking around the library.
"Neat setup you got here. Nice and comfy. Check out any of the books? I bet I could find a few good ones in here..."
Brett paused. He looked back at Louis, sizing him up. It was clear that even if he didn't have a giant gun pointing him in the face, Louis would still be pretty intimidated by his casual demeanor. In a way, it was flattery. Brett had always wanted to be that guy, the guy who could give a look, freeze someone up. Now he WAS that guy, for better or for worse. Brett flashed him an easy going smile and took a step back, trying to give Louis some room. If he hadn't attacked yet, Brett doubted the boy would. There was no reason to add to his discomfort, as amusing as that would be.
No, Louis isn't a bad guy. Not bad at all.
"What'd you mean about 'rough' early on?" He finally asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy.
Well if he's expecting the worst, maybe he's not as stupid as I expected...
Brett listened to Louis talk, nodding his head politely. As hard as he tried he couldn't get Durriken out of his mind. As long as he'd live, Brett would never understand Durriken's actions, let alone his own. That entire confrontation... He'd asked for the worst, and he'd gotten it. And now with his hands dirty, what was he doing? Talking. Completely at ease, not a shake in his body. He'd killed two people, and not ever a twinge of guilt?
That's a good thing Brett. See, that's what Adams is looking for. He's looking for someone EXACTLY like you. And what luck, you're white! So no problems on that front. No problems at all... Fuck. So I don't feel guilt. I just feel... I don't even know what I feel. Need to find Alex. He's probably good with faggy shit like feelings. But for now, Louis. More then just a face in a crowd. Just talk Brett.
"Yeah. Yeah, eight hours, really? No shit. That's pretty good. That's one of the tricks about this game. You'd think people would've figured out by now, groups don't work. If you go it alone, hell, People've even snuck into the final four that way. Just hiding out... I wouldn't be surprised if a smart kid won that way. Found a dropped weapon, came into the finals, cracked some heads, wham bam bam plane ticket home. Weirder things have happened."
Brett sighed, looking around the library.
"Neat setup you got here. Nice and comfy. Check out any of the books? I bet I could find a few good ones in here..."
Brett paused. He looked back at Louis, sizing him up. It was clear that even if he didn't have a giant gun pointing him in the face, Louis would still be pretty intimidated by his casual demeanor. In a way, it was flattery. Brett had always wanted to be that guy, the guy who could give a look, freeze someone up. Now he WAS that guy, for better or for worse. Brett flashed him an easy going smile and took a step back, trying to give Louis some room. If he hadn't attacked yet, Brett doubted the boy would. There was no reason to add to his discomfort, as amusing as that would be.
No, Louis isn't a bad guy. Not bad at all.
"What'd you mean about 'rough' early on?" He finally asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy.
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Somehow he doubted that he would get a plane ticket home if he won. The military muck a mucks were probably too cheap for that. They'd probably send him back on the same crappy bus they brought him there on. Adams had been right on the seats being uncomfortable, he had almost been glad to be off of the damn thing. Well, he would have been if it weren't for that whole 'kill your classmates' thing.
Was Brett seriously going to go on some tangent on books, it was a library but still Louis didn't see the point of discussing them. Course there were worse things that could happen, like Brett deciding to shoot a few bullets into him. "They're mostly strategy and stuff, not much to help unless they give us a few commandos to be buddy buddy with," his voice had a little sarcasm in it as usual. The idea of his classmates leading little squads of commandos to kill each other was an odd one.
Oh rough early on, that was a good one, not as bad as the people who already got killed obviously, but it wasn't a picnic. He decided to bring his voice back to being casual, trying to copy Brett's manner a bit, it was obvious he wasn't likely to get shot now, but no reason to upset him. "Oh you know, watchin John Ferrara take a kick to the groin. That's about it though, met a few more people, but I was on my own after I talked to them."
Apparently the kick hadn't bothered John in the slightest though, his kill count was up to what, three now? Yeah three sounded right.
Was Brett seriously going to go on some tangent on books, it was a library but still Louis didn't see the point of discussing them. Course there were worse things that could happen, like Brett deciding to shoot a few bullets into him. "They're mostly strategy and stuff, not much to help unless they give us a few commandos to be buddy buddy with," his voice had a little sarcasm in it as usual. The idea of his classmates leading little squads of commandos to kill each other was an odd one.
Oh rough early on, that was a good one, not as bad as the people who already got killed obviously, but it wasn't a picnic. He decided to bring his voice back to being casual, trying to copy Brett's manner a bit, it was obvious he wasn't likely to get shot now, but no reason to upset him. "Oh you know, watchin John Ferrara take a kick to the groin. That's about it though, met a few more people, but I was on my own after I talked to them."
Apparently the kick hadn't bothered John in the slightest though, his kill count was up to what, three now? Yeah three sounded right.
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Brett cocked an eyebrow, letting out a laugh. John Ferrara? Kicked in the balls? It was too good to be true. Brett had stumbled upon someone who'd seen first hand what the top killer was up too. The gears in his head were turning, thinking of how he could turn this to his advantage.
Brett pictured John in his mind. Not too tall, a soccer kid. Italian, a stuck up little wop, one of the fastest runners in the school. For some reason he had a thing for the 'other' kids, never ragging on them as much as one would expect. Well liked, an athlete and a fast runner to boot. Plus he'd had the luck of being handed a gun right off the bat, if Brett's suspicion was correct. It wasn't hard picturing John excelling in The Program. Italians by nature seemed to be prone to violence, and John's record didn't dispute that. Three kills under his belt, it looked like he was't intent on slowing down anytime soon.
Definitely not to be trusted. Kill on sight, regardless of circumstances. If I'm going down, it's not gonna be via some spaghetti snorting douche bag. The prick probably thinks he's got a sure ticket out now...
Brett shook his head.
"I never understood why no one just up and kicked that kid in his ass when we had the chance. He was always so fuckin' high and mighty, thinking just because he was running around with the white kids he could come and go as he pleased. Pff. He was probably a spy," Brett said, looking up at Louis and grinning.
"Yeah, a spy for the 'Minority Mafia'. They probably figured the Italian wouldn't snitch on them, so they could afford to send him in to spy on the poor innocent white kids. Ferrara is pretty much white, no one would be the wiser. 'course when we all got shipped off to The Program, he was deprived of his Grandma's Cannoli. And if I know one thing, it's that you never fuck with an Italians' food. They hate that almost as much as they hate working. Only logical he just started breaking heads."
Brett laughed, readjusting his gun. Taking another step back, Brett began to scan the general vicinity. Louis hadn't made a move to leave yet... Brett suspected there was only one exit, the one behind him.
Perfect. A choke point. Knock over a few shelves and I could set up a tunnel, feed'em right to me. Could just wait out the entire Program in here if I do it right... Now. Info. Wonder if Louis' has stumbled across any other killers...? Fuckin' hope that ball kick injured Ferrara, at least some. Not int he mood for another firefight. No, no I am not.
"So tell me about him. What's he up too? And who kicked him for that matter? They should get a medal for fucking with that kid..."
Brett pictured John in his mind. Not too tall, a soccer kid. Italian, a stuck up little wop, one of the fastest runners in the school. For some reason he had a thing for the 'other' kids, never ragging on them as much as one would expect. Well liked, an athlete and a fast runner to boot. Plus he'd had the luck of being handed a gun right off the bat, if Brett's suspicion was correct. It wasn't hard picturing John excelling in The Program. Italians by nature seemed to be prone to violence, and John's record didn't dispute that. Three kills under his belt, it looked like he was't intent on slowing down anytime soon.
Definitely not to be trusted. Kill on sight, regardless of circumstances. If I'm going down, it's not gonna be via some spaghetti snorting douche bag. The prick probably thinks he's got a sure ticket out now...
Brett shook his head.
"I never understood why no one just up and kicked that kid in his ass when we had the chance. He was always so fuckin' high and mighty, thinking just because he was running around with the white kids he could come and go as he pleased. Pff. He was probably a spy," Brett said, looking up at Louis and grinning.
"Yeah, a spy for the 'Minority Mafia'. They probably figured the Italian wouldn't snitch on them, so they could afford to send him in to spy on the poor innocent white kids. Ferrara is pretty much white, no one would be the wiser. 'course when we all got shipped off to The Program, he was deprived of his Grandma's Cannoli. And if I know one thing, it's that you never fuck with an Italians' food. They hate that almost as much as they hate working. Only logical he just started breaking heads."
Brett laughed, readjusting his gun. Taking another step back, Brett began to scan the general vicinity. Louis hadn't made a move to leave yet... Brett suspected there was only one exit, the one behind him.
Perfect. A choke point. Knock over a few shelves and I could set up a tunnel, feed'em right to me. Could just wait out the entire Program in here if I do it right... Now. Info. Wonder if Louis' has stumbled across any other killers...? Fuckin' hope that ball kick injured Ferrara, at least some. Not int he mood for another firefight. No, no I am not.
"So tell me about him. What's he up too? And who kicked him for that matter? They should get a medal for fucking with that kid..."
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Huh. Ramblings on how minorities are out to get white people. Of course he had heard it all before. All of General's Pride, no, all of America was that way. It didn't surprise him, he knew Brett was that way. What amazed him was that Brett seemed to actually know something about Italians as opposed to the racists who went solely on appearance.
Of course Louis had been like that at one point too, still was a bit actually. He had only recently started questioning his loyalty after all. He still ran away from Bryant when it came down to it, of course he had also needed to get the hell away from Kendra. If he ever saw her again, dang it could be ugly. Actually he was amazed that with Kendra's short fuse she hadn't ended up on the announcements herself, whether from killing someone, or from doing what she had promised with that grenade of hers.
"Ferrara? I'm not sure. I ran into him at the first announcement. That was a while ago. Kendra something kicked him. She's fucking crazy though, you do not want to go near her. She's got a hand grenade and when I was around at least she was threatening to blow everyone to pieces. So glad I got away from her."
Of course Louis had been like that at one point too, still was a bit actually. He had only recently started questioning his loyalty after all. He still ran away from Bryant when it came down to it, of course he had also needed to get the hell away from Kendra. If he ever saw her again, dang it could be ugly. Actually he was amazed that with Kendra's short fuse she hadn't ended up on the announcements herself, whether from killing someone, or from doing what she had promised with that grenade of hers.
"Ferrara? I'm not sure. I ran into him at the first announcement. That was a while ago. Kendra something kicked him. She's fucking crazy though, you do not want to go near her. She's got a hand grenade and when I was around at least she was threatening to blow everyone to pieces. So glad I got away from her."
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Brett blinked. Once, twice. A third time, just for kicks.
A hand grenade? A fucking honest to God hand grenade?
"Holy mother of fuck. A grenade? Really? You lucky bastard. You've gotta be blessed if you managed to walk away from that..."
He shut his mouth, running things over in his mind. The possibility that Louis was fucking with him was incredibly high. That made him more angry then anything else. Still, this was The Program. Weirder things had happened. Everyone was responding to the situation different. This Kendra girl... Was she already dead? Brett wasn't sure. He hadn't heard mention of a Kendra whatsoever. That meant she was still running around, and if Louis wasn't bullshitting him, that meant she still had a grenade.
Okay. So one kid's gone loopy. And she's armed. Not a good start, but what did you expect? A bunch of pacifists, willing to bend over and get fucked by the system?
He frowned at Louis, raising his gun slightly, to show he still meant business. His casual demeanor was not to be mistaken as ignorance. Despite it being a good cover, Brett couldn't bear that. People thinking he was stupid, that he was subject to their games... That drove him up a wall. An advantage wasted, but he didn't care much.
"Don't fuckin' lie to me now Louis. I'm not out for you, I'm out for information. Friendly warning there, I'm honestly content in letting you go after this. But you keep looking at me like I'm nutty. No, I'm right as fucking rain. What's insane is how calm I'm acting aft-... Keep talking. Did you run into anyone else? Did you talk to John before he got his balls smashed to a pulp?"
A hand grenade? A fucking honest to God hand grenade?
"Holy mother of fuck. A grenade? Really? You lucky bastard. You've gotta be blessed if you managed to walk away from that..."
He shut his mouth, running things over in his mind. The possibility that Louis was fucking with him was incredibly high. That made him more angry then anything else. Still, this was The Program. Weirder things had happened. Everyone was responding to the situation different. This Kendra girl... Was she already dead? Brett wasn't sure. He hadn't heard mention of a Kendra whatsoever. That meant she was still running around, and if Louis wasn't bullshitting him, that meant she still had a grenade.
Okay. So one kid's gone loopy. And she's armed. Not a good start, but what did you expect? A bunch of pacifists, willing to bend over and get fucked by the system?
He frowned at Louis, raising his gun slightly, to show he still meant business. His casual demeanor was not to be mistaken as ignorance. Despite it being a good cover, Brett couldn't bear that. People thinking he was stupid, that he was subject to their games... That drove him up a wall. An advantage wasted, but he didn't care much.
"Don't fuckin' lie to me now Louis. I'm not out for you, I'm out for information. Friendly warning there, I'm honestly content in letting you go after this. But you keep looking at me like I'm nutty. No, I'm right as fucking rain. What's insane is how calm I'm acting aft-... Keep talking. Did you run into anyone else? Did you talk to John before he got his balls smashed to a pulp?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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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Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
Oh no, frowning was bad, gun got moved closer.
Shit. I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die
He didn't die. But seriously lying, what benefit did he possibly get from lying? Well other than possibly getting Brett to hunt down Kendra if Brett thought Kendra was a threat. Brett did have a pretty serious looking gun, surely he could handle Kendra and her grenade. Actually the great part was that he might get Brett to remove competition without even lying to him.
Did he really want to do that though? Getting people killed wasn't what he wanted to do, he didn't want anyone else to die. Well actually fuck that, his friends were pretty well all dead. Heck he had considered hunting down their killers if he had a weapon. That was why he was hiding and encountered Brett in the first place.
It was good Brett was planning to let him go after, being able to live was a good thing. Sure he would definitely need to find a new hiding spot but that wasn't so bad. He had found a few during his time across the compound. He could head back to the armory or somewhere new entirely. All he had to do was tell Brett things he knew, which were, he had to admit, not a lot. He was concerned about whatever happened "after" something, but he wasn't the one asking questions here.
"Well first off, I've been completely honest so far," he said in his usual sarcastic tone. Now isn't the time fool. He switched back to the casual tone of before, trying to ignore the threat of gunfire that had been brought onto the scene. "Anyway John didn't say a whole lot, there was some negotiation. Kendra threatened him with the grenade, see. Then the announcement happened and that's when he got kicked. Anyway I ran after that, Kendra followed."
He supposed that he didn't have to tell Brett the rest of his story, but felt it would earn him some not getting shot points. "So anyway we went to the firing range, and then Bryant Carver showed up with his shovel," he had decided not to mention Corrina, she wasn't important, and it wasn't like she had shown up on any announcements. "I ran after that, glad I did too, heard he killed someone with it on an announcement. And that's about it, been moving around and haven't seen anyone since then."
Shit. I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die
He didn't die. But seriously lying, what benefit did he possibly get from lying? Well other than possibly getting Brett to hunt down Kendra if Brett thought Kendra was a threat. Brett did have a pretty serious looking gun, surely he could handle Kendra and her grenade. Actually the great part was that he might get Brett to remove competition without even lying to him.
Did he really want to do that though? Getting people killed wasn't what he wanted to do, he didn't want anyone else to die. Well actually fuck that, his friends were pretty well all dead. Heck he had considered hunting down their killers if he had a weapon. That was why he was hiding and encountered Brett in the first place.
It was good Brett was planning to let him go after, being able to live was a good thing. Sure he would definitely need to find a new hiding spot but that wasn't so bad. He had found a few during his time across the compound. He could head back to the armory or somewhere new entirely. All he had to do was tell Brett things he knew, which were, he had to admit, not a lot. He was concerned about whatever happened "after" something, but he wasn't the one asking questions here.
"Well first off, I've been completely honest so far," he said in his usual sarcastic tone. Now isn't the time fool. He switched back to the casual tone of before, trying to ignore the threat of gunfire that had been brought onto the scene. "Anyway John didn't say a whole lot, there was some negotiation. Kendra threatened him with the grenade, see. Then the announcement happened and that's when he got kicked. Anyway I ran after that, Kendra followed."
He supposed that he didn't have to tell Brett the rest of his story, but felt it would earn him some not getting shot points. "So anyway we went to the firing range, and then Bryant Carver showed up with his shovel," he had decided not to mention Corrina, she wasn't important, and it wasn't like she had shown up on any announcements. "I ran after that, glad I did too, heard he killed someone with it on an announcement. And that's about it, been moving around and haven't seen anyone since then."
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Brett listened carefully to Louis, silent, not daring to interrupt him as he spoke. His heart was beating fast, butterflies in his stomach as Louis reached the end of his tale. Brett contemplated his options. Pushing for more information was always something, but there really wasn't much else Louis knew by the sound of things. And that left him back where he'd been before. Back with Durriken. He gulped, trying to keep his lunch down.
Brett wanted to hit himself, very badly.
I should just blast him. One less contestant. What's one more? Tie me with John. Show I mean busine- No! No, bad idea. What's wrong with me? I know what it was like. A rush, but- no, no, no, he's not worth the rep. People will already be out to get you for Priscilla. Louis probably has just as many friends still kicking. Killing him will just net you more enemies. The early players barely ever survive. Too many enemies. They're gunning for everyone, and that fact is obvious. They're crazy to play so earlier. I'm not crazy.
The debate raged on inside him. The silence stretched on as Brett weighed his options. The room seemed colder, slightly more alien. A pained expression was on his face. Suddenly the game seemed unbeatable, an unachievable goal. Brett could feel panic in his chest. His eyes flickered around, agitated.
No. Don't kill him, no reason to kill him. You don't do that, what the fuck is wrong with you? Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. Because I'm not going to kill him, just because I can, doesn't mean jackshit.
"Okay. Look..." Brett looked up, staring Louis up and down. Very likely, this would be the last conversation the two would ever have. They'd never been friends. Friends of friends, A constant fixture in his classes for the past four years. Soon Louis would be gone. Just like that.
And it was so easy to end it. So easy, so reprehensible. He hadn't been sorry for Durriken. He'd killed him for next to nothing, and had felt even less when he pulled the trigger. He had wanted to feel the rush, that had been his only reason. And now? Durriken was laying in a pool of his own blood, cold and alone, worse then Brett could ever feel. He'd shot him in the chest, because the scary men with guns had told him too.
Oh, what. Does that make me a bitch then? I listened to the government. This game, it's not kept on any record. I get out, I go home. No one is going to come after me. It was justified. I don't need this shit. Fuck Louis, fuck Durriken. If they wanted to live, they'd have shot first. Boofuckinghoo.
"... It's a tough game Louie. Seriously. I'm sorta' y'know. Gonna need to cry to a therapist after all this, get me?" He laughed, smiling at the other boy.
No. He wasn't going to kill Louis. It wasn't worth it. Pushing his thoughts and his guilt aside, Brett felt like breathing a sigh of relief. His darkened mood was gone just as suddenly as it had appeared, and he had no intention of finding it again. Things were lighter again. No threats, just two boys, talking.
"Okay look. A tip. Find a weapon, even if you don't plan on actively kicking any ass. Trouble will find you, no matter what you do. Especially with nutjobs like Kendra still around. Keep your head low, maybe swipe something from a corpse. No shame in that man. Get armed, stay smart, I'll meet you in the Final Four. That, or in hell. Deal?"
Brett stretched out his hand, offering it to the boy behind the desk.
What an odd change of thought.
Brett wanted to hit himself, very badly.
I should just blast him. One less contestant. What's one more? Tie me with John. Show I mean busine- No! No, bad idea. What's wrong with me? I know what it was like. A rush, but- no, no, no, he's not worth the rep. People will already be out to get you for Priscilla. Louis probably has just as many friends still kicking. Killing him will just net you more enemies. The early players barely ever survive. Too many enemies. They're gunning for everyone, and that fact is obvious. They're crazy to play so earlier. I'm not crazy.
The debate raged on inside him. The silence stretched on as Brett weighed his options. The room seemed colder, slightly more alien. A pained expression was on his face. Suddenly the game seemed unbeatable, an unachievable goal. Brett could feel panic in his chest. His eyes flickered around, agitated.
No. Don't kill him, no reason to kill him. You don't do that, what the fuck is wrong with you? Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. Because I'm not going to kill him, just because I can, doesn't mean jackshit.
"Okay. Look..." Brett looked up, staring Louis up and down. Very likely, this would be the last conversation the two would ever have. They'd never been friends. Friends of friends, A constant fixture in his classes for the past four years. Soon Louis would be gone. Just like that.
And it was so easy to end it. So easy, so reprehensible. He hadn't been sorry for Durriken. He'd killed him for next to nothing, and had felt even less when he pulled the trigger. He had wanted to feel the rush, that had been his only reason. And now? Durriken was laying in a pool of his own blood, cold and alone, worse then Brett could ever feel. He'd shot him in the chest, because the scary men with guns had told him too.
Oh, what. Does that make me a bitch then? I listened to the government. This game, it's not kept on any record. I get out, I go home. No one is going to come after me. It was justified. I don't need this shit. Fuck Louis, fuck Durriken. If they wanted to live, they'd have shot first. Boofuckinghoo.
"... It's a tough game Louie. Seriously. I'm sorta' y'know. Gonna need to cry to a therapist after all this, get me?" He laughed, smiling at the other boy.
No. He wasn't going to kill Louis. It wasn't worth it. Pushing his thoughts and his guilt aside, Brett felt like breathing a sigh of relief. His darkened mood was gone just as suddenly as it had appeared, and he had no intention of finding it again. Things were lighter again. No threats, just two boys, talking.
"Okay look. A tip. Find a weapon, even if you don't plan on actively kicking any ass. Trouble will find you, no matter what you do. Especially with nutjobs like Kendra still around. Keep your head low, maybe swipe something from a corpse. No shame in that man. Get armed, stay smart, I'll meet you in the Final Four. That, or in hell. Deal?"
Brett stretched out his hand, offering it to the boy behind the desk.
What an odd change of thought.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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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Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
Tough game. Oh no. Now he was afraid he was going to die again. Get the information out of him then kill him. Like Siobhan McCarthy, fucked and dumped. Course she was dead now, not that he cared. Cheerleaders didn't show up to swim meets anyway.
But no, he didn't die, again. Gee, how many times had he thought he was going to die in this one meeting? More than he would have liked, that's how many. But unfortunately he was in The Program, and that meant you could die at any time.
Brett's plan wasn't a bad one, get himself a weapon and go from there. He hadn't thought very far to the idea of being in the final four, course his current chances with no weapon hadn't exactly helped matters, but maybe he could survive that long. Heck if everyone with guns decided to chat with him instead of killing him, he might actually be able to win this thing.
Don't get too ahead of yourself, play to win, everyone else is.
That probably wasn't true, there had to be somebody out there who wasn't. What other goal someone could have in this situation he wasn't sure, but there had to be people with other goals.
Actually the wishes of good luck were something he hadn't expected from Brett Torres, but that was okay. He supposed not all military loving people were that bad once you got to talking with them.
He flashed a rare smile, shaking the other boys hand. "Final four. Count on it. Guess I'll have to see what other crazy bastards make it that far."
With my luck it'll probably be Kendra and John, just to get everyone after me.
"Anyway I'll see ya, got to keep looking around." He slung the bag over his shoulder. It was time to find two things, another place to hide, and a weapon. He walked out of the library, Brett could have it, it wasn't a good place to hide anyway. There was only one way in or out, which Brett had demonstrated oh so well wasn't a good way to plan your hiding spot.
(Louis Johnson continued in Upping the Odds)
But no, he didn't die, again. Gee, how many times had he thought he was going to die in this one meeting? More than he would have liked, that's how many. But unfortunately he was in The Program, and that meant you could die at any time.
Brett's plan wasn't a bad one, get himself a weapon and go from there. He hadn't thought very far to the idea of being in the final four, course his current chances with no weapon hadn't exactly helped matters, but maybe he could survive that long. Heck if everyone with guns decided to chat with him instead of killing him, he might actually be able to win this thing.
Don't get too ahead of yourself, play to win, everyone else is.
That probably wasn't true, there had to be somebody out there who wasn't. What other goal someone could have in this situation he wasn't sure, but there had to be people with other goals.
Actually the wishes of good luck were something he hadn't expected from Brett Torres, but that was okay. He supposed not all military loving people were that bad once you got to talking with them.
He flashed a rare smile, shaking the other boys hand. "Final four. Count on it. Guess I'll have to see what other crazy bastards make it that far."
With my luck it'll probably be Kendra and John, just to get everyone after me.
"Anyway I'll see ya, got to keep looking around." He slung the bag over his shoulder. It was time to find two things, another place to hide, and a weapon. He walked out of the library, Brett could have it, it wasn't a good place to hide anyway. There was only one way in or out, which Brett had demonstrated oh so well wasn't a good way to plan your hiding spot.
(Louis Johnson continued in Upping the Odds)
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Louis took Brett's hand, flashing him a nice, if somewhat relieved, smile. Brett tried his best to return it and silence the thoughts spiraling through his mind.
He thinks I'm going to kill him. He thought I was, this entire time. Why wouldn't he? I've got a fucking LMG, and I pointed it right at him. But now, now he thinks I'm not. What'if I pulled the pistol out right now, shoved it right up under his nose? Would he piss himself, or shit himself? How many views would I get for that clip?
Brett released Louis hand as the boy turned to grab his things. He shifted uncomfortably, keeping the gun barrel aimed at the floor. There was no reason to kill Louis. Yet why did he keep thinking about it? It was stupid. But he had it under control. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up towards the other boy, banishing the thoughts from his mind.
"Anyway I'll see ya, got to keep looking around."
Brett nodded his head, flashing Louis an ironic peace sign. He had it under control. Things were going fine.
"Make love, not war." He said, watching as the other boy exited the library.
Silence filled the room. Brett looked around, scanning the immediate vicinity before unstrapping his LMG and dropping it on the desk. Whistling to himself, Brett brought out his pistol, walking around the length of the library, checking for any other exits. The silence was nice, welcoming. Louis had been good to talk too, but his thought process had done more then a little to unnerve him.
Didn't kill him. Stuck to my plan. That proves it, I'm not psycho. The games done, it's all easy from here on out. No danger zones, no reason I can't just camp in here, kill anything that walks in. Not like a psycho at all. Professional. Yeah. Like that word. Louis will face a professional in the final four.
Satisfied in his new base of operations, Brett began rearranging the shelves. Shutting the door to ensure he wouldn't be walked in on, he slowly began to push two unbolted bookshelves up onto either side of the library doors, creating a funnel. Books tumbled to the ground, impeding his progress, but his task was completed uninterrupted. Brett headed back over behind the desk, setting up his Stoner and aiming down the sights.
Like shooting fish in a barrel. Heh.
Still, he couldn't be satisfied. There were more shelves around the library, and with some perseverance he could set up the death trap to end all death traps. The gears in his head began to turn, and Brett began to grin. He had an idea, and awful idea that only a complete bastard would think of. He liked it.
Okay. No time to think, not about anything. Time to get to work. Show the bosses upstairs how I roll...
(Continued in Let's Make Life a Living Hell)
He thinks I'm going to kill him. He thought I was, this entire time. Why wouldn't he? I've got a fucking LMG, and I pointed it right at him. But now, now he thinks I'm not. What'if I pulled the pistol out right now, shoved it right up under his nose? Would he piss himself, or shit himself? How many views would I get for that clip?
Brett released Louis hand as the boy turned to grab his things. He shifted uncomfortably, keeping the gun barrel aimed at the floor. There was no reason to kill Louis. Yet why did he keep thinking about it? It was stupid. But he had it under control. Taking a deep breath, he looked back up towards the other boy, banishing the thoughts from his mind.
"Anyway I'll see ya, got to keep looking around."
Brett nodded his head, flashing Louis an ironic peace sign. He had it under control. Things were going fine.
"Make love, not war." He said, watching as the other boy exited the library.
Silence filled the room. Brett looked around, scanning the immediate vicinity before unstrapping his LMG and dropping it on the desk. Whistling to himself, Brett brought out his pistol, walking around the length of the library, checking for any other exits. The silence was nice, welcoming. Louis had been good to talk too, but his thought process had done more then a little to unnerve him.
Didn't kill him. Stuck to my plan. That proves it, I'm not psycho. The games done, it's all easy from here on out. No danger zones, no reason I can't just camp in here, kill anything that walks in. Not like a psycho at all. Professional. Yeah. Like that word. Louis will face a professional in the final four.
Satisfied in his new base of operations, Brett began rearranging the shelves. Shutting the door to ensure he wouldn't be walked in on, he slowly began to push two unbolted bookshelves up onto either side of the library doors, creating a funnel. Books tumbled to the ground, impeding his progress, but his task was completed uninterrupted. Brett headed back over behind the desk, setting up his Stoner and aiming down the sights.
Like shooting fish in a barrel. Heh.
Still, he couldn't be satisfied. There were more shelves around the library, and with some perseverance he could set up the death trap to end all death traps. The gears in his head began to turn, and Brett began to grin. He had an idea, and awful idea that only a complete bastard would think of. He liked it.
Okay. No time to think, not about anything. Time to get to work. Show the bosses upstairs how I roll...
(Continued in Let's Make Life a Living Hell)
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. 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.