((Enter Nikki Campbell))
Picture this:
A wide open space, dirt and grass and rocks, long, empty, open. At one end They lurk, shapes and figures, humanoids and objects, monsters of a long-forgotten past, sentinels standing in the rain and the sun, many wounded, punctured apathetically for a laugh. A breeze whips across the area, kicking up the tiniest bits of dust, shaking one of Them, one that has come loose from its bearings. All this space, and all of Them, and no other figures around, no, nothing to see, nothing to think.
The sky is the color of incomprehension.
They face a building, a building behind where the lost shooters once stood, so that the building was safe, it and its inhabitants, from the gunfire. The building is large, with a small addition, a tumor clinging to its side. The guns were kept there, perhaps. To the left, another building, a grim place, graveyard of freedom, stark and barren. That building, it is the most honest of all. It is what everything here is now: a prison.
A prison to the left, and an armory in back, a firing range ahead. What better way to represent this little exercise?
The girl stirred.
She woke not from sleep, not from chemical coma, but rather from a trance, her lost mind returning from its journey through the fantastic, coming back to what passed for reality now, a quarter hour after her true awakening. The objects at the end of the firing range, so far from her, they were not Them, no, they were targets, nothing more. Dead? Worse than that. They'd never lived at all.
The breeze picked up. The girl shivered a little. Ran a hand through her hair. She'd washed it this morning. Wasn't every day that happened. Washed and braided and so very pretty. First time she'd really put thought into an aspect of her appearance in a long time. All for what?
All for her to die here.
They were all going to die. Like that mattered. Everything died someday. It was just going to be a little bit sooner for her. A little bit quicker. And death? No more paintings. No more soap operas. No more boredom. Hard to see it as such a big deal, when it was put like that. So many people scrabbling for life, fighting for every second. It would be that way, just as it always was, and Nikki wasn't really sure she wanted any part of that. Maybe better to opt out.
Not that she really had much choice. Her bag lay open beside her, its olive green complimenting the beige and brown of dead grass and never-living dirt. Her weapon lay beside it. Weapon. In a manner of speaking, it perhaps was. It killed more citizen than guns did every year. A six pack of beer. Nothing she'd never seen before. Some of her sisters drank. Everyone had someone they knew who drank. Nikki had never in her life sampled alcohol.
She pulled one of the cans free, popped the tab, just like a can of soda. Hiss of escaping air: a sigh. She sighed in time with it. Raised the can to her lips, took a nice long drought. Bitter. Bitter, fizzy foamy. What's the big deal? You wait twenty-one years for that? Just another disappointment. Seemed like this day wasn't gonna meet her expectations.
Simple plans: sit through the presentation, yawn, cruise through class, go home and draw some stuff and watch some stuff and write some stuff and sleep. Do it again tomorrow.
Never again.
No matter what happened, Nikki's life was over. She'd never see her paints again. Never see her sisters again. Never sit in front of the TV again. Never lounge around in her pajamas, wiggling her toes in her fuzzy slippers.
Yup. Today wasn't really so hot.
At least she could force this crummy beer down. Maybe forget things for a while. That's what it was supposed to do, right? Make your troubles magically go away. The easy way out.
Yup.
Looking down the firing range, Nikki was struck once more by its strange, surreal beauty. Too bad her paints were gone. Too bad she wouldn't have time to do anything worthwhile anyways. Too bad this beer didn't taste better.
Slurping the final dregs, she dropped the can to the ground, stood and stomped it flat with a small amount of enthusiastic glee.
One down.
Five to go.
Driven to Drink
Open
Moderator: Sh4dE
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3449
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((Enter Siobhan McCarthy))
That man, with his shaggy blonde hair and boyish looks. The strange sort of man-child you thought of when somebody mentioned their fun loving uncle. The embarrassment at gatherings and the life of the party. Spewing out silly words, horrible meanings. Siobhan didn't know such a person could play the role of the judge. Judgement day, that's what it was. The end of her life, the end of Michael's, Chanel's, Nikki's, all of her friends, all the boys she had slept with. Trying to find her place in the hierarchy in ways both good and bad. She'd practically touched everyone in one way or another, and now it was the end.
No more Christmas gatherings with the McCarthy's in Boston. No more dates to Phipps’s with boys. No more practice sessions for her manicures. No beauty school. No parties. No dates. No future. Nothing. That's all that seemed to wait for her. Death on a platter, she had always complained about why things never came easily to her. And now everything was gone.
In her suspended sleep, she dreamt of the little things she had taken for granted. The touch of a boys hand. Her grandmothers nails. The jokes she pretended to laugh at. The dinner put on the table by her mother. The blooper reels she watched with her father. That imaginary cat she'd never get to pet.
It didn't have to be like that.
Not if she played. Did it their way. Maybe in the end she'd be able to go back to how things had used to be, maybe they'd be better. Her own parlour on the corner of Merchant, her own loft suite, her own litter of kittens; Josie, Melody, Valerie and Alexandra, the runt. Her dreams and aspirations, an arms length away if she played her cards right.
Nobody would know what had hit them, Siobhan McCarthy, universal nice girl, cheerleader, beautician, bimbo, slut, fatty. Payback for cruel words and vicious rumours. Payback for the mockery and bullying. Payback for making her bend over backwards, trying to scale the social ladder.
Siobhan opened her eyes.
She was a new person. Not some idiot who gave free makeovers. Not some fatty who pranced about in a short skirt. Not some slut who tried to be nice everyone. Siobhan McCarthy, surely a write-off, going on to win The Program. Logan Sorenson could suck it. Harris Van Allen could blow it out his butt. Whether she had to use her bare hands, each and every one of her classmates would fall at her feet, cold, stiff, gone. Siobhan climbed to her feet, standing tall and mighty. Perhaps her example would remind all future players to never underestimate someone in a cheer jacket.
She turned, placing her fingers over the rim of the mounted bullseye, scanning the area. A hunched figure sat close by, obscured by shade. Siobhan narrowed her eyes, locking on. She wasn’t naturally aggressive, but she wasn’t most things either. Anyone, no matter how nice and wholesome they appeared to be, could crack under the right amount of pressure and reveal their true colours. Bleeding out a dirty rainbow for all to see. Siobhan clicked her tongue, turning and placing her against the wooden frame. Things were going to get messy.
Moments later she had the straps of the backpack looped snugly around her shoulders. The figure seemed to approach, as if placed on a conveyor belt as she snuck towards it, the pool cue raised in a sword-like fashion. Her breathes hissed in and out of her pursed lips, her eyes scrunched up into a cold glare. She was ready, ready to swing the cue and bash the persons brains out. Club. Strike. Whack. Bludgeon. Bludgeon sounded the fanciest. Her grip tightened, becoming almost vicelike around the cold wood.
And then something happened.
As she drew closer to the figure, she began to recognise various things through the darkness. A small frame, feminine. A long braid running down the girls back. A six-pack of beer at her side, one of the cans missing. Siobhan slowly began stepping to the side, trying to get a view of the girls face. Small nose. Spots, scattered across her forehead. Nichole Campbell. Nikki.
Like a towering house of cards, Siobhan’s murderous intent collapsed. Diminished. Gone. Nikki Campbell, one of her friends from GPHS, sometimes they sat together and designed nail stencils. Oh God, was I gonna?…Could I have? Siobhan gulped. Her grip on the pool cue remained tight, but her arms were shaky. Looking down at the girl, not a looming figure in the distance, but an actual physical person, someone she knew, someone she talked to, someone she was friends with. I can’t kill her, not anyone…I doubt I could even kill myself even if I wanted too…I’m so…Selfish. Could I really think all that? Think I’d become a killer? Siobhan dropped the pool cue to the ground and took two steps forwards.
Siobhan dropped the pool cue to the ground and took two steps forwards. She gulped again, staring off into the shadows. She felt too disgusted with herself to look down at her friend. Carrying a blunt weapon with her in her stride. Images of Nikki lying on the floor, her head broken open materialised in her mind. Her skull cracked like an egg that had been knocked against the mixing bowl. Her eyes began welling up with tears and she raised a hand to her face, not caring if she was to smudge any eyeliner. She finally sucked in a deep, rattling breath and turned to look at Nikki again.
“Nikki, I’m sorry for like, sneaking up on you or something. It’s just, can I sit down? I like…Want to be around friends right now…I think everyone does right about now.”
That man, with his shaggy blonde hair and boyish looks. The strange sort of man-child you thought of when somebody mentioned their fun loving uncle. The embarrassment at gatherings and the life of the party. Spewing out silly words, horrible meanings. Siobhan didn't know such a person could play the role of the judge. Judgement day, that's what it was. The end of her life, the end of Michael's, Chanel's, Nikki's, all of her friends, all the boys she had slept with. Trying to find her place in the hierarchy in ways both good and bad. She'd practically touched everyone in one way or another, and now it was the end.
No more Christmas gatherings with the McCarthy's in Boston. No more dates to Phipps’s with boys. No more practice sessions for her manicures. No beauty school. No parties. No dates. No future. Nothing. That's all that seemed to wait for her. Death on a platter, she had always complained about why things never came easily to her. And now everything was gone.
In her suspended sleep, she dreamt of the little things she had taken for granted. The touch of a boys hand. Her grandmothers nails. The jokes she pretended to laugh at. The dinner put on the table by her mother. The blooper reels she watched with her father. That imaginary cat she'd never get to pet.
It didn't have to be like that.
Not if she played. Did it their way. Maybe in the end she'd be able to go back to how things had used to be, maybe they'd be better. Her own parlour on the corner of Merchant, her own loft suite, her own litter of kittens; Josie, Melody, Valerie and Alexandra, the runt. Her dreams and aspirations, an arms length away if she played her cards right.
Nobody would know what had hit them, Siobhan McCarthy, universal nice girl, cheerleader, beautician, bimbo, slut, fatty. Payback for cruel words and vicious rumours. Payback for the mockery and bullying. Payback for making her bend over backwards, trying to scale the social ladder.
Siobhan opened her eyes.
She was a new person. Not some idiot who gave free makeovers. Not some fatty who pranced about in a short skirt. Not some slut who tried to be nice everyone. Siobhan McCarthy, surely a write-off, going on to win The Program. Logan Sorenson could suck it. Harris Van Allen could blow it out his butt. Whether she had to use her bare hands, each and every one of her classmates would fall at her feet, cold, stiff, gone. Siobhan climbed to her feet, standing tall and mighty. Perhaps her example would remind all future players to never underestimate someone in a cheer jacket.
She turned, placing her fingers over the rim of the mounted bullseye, scanning the area. A hunched figure sat close by, obscured by shade. Siobhan narrowed her eyes, locking on. She wasn’t naturally aggressive, but she wasn’t most things either. Anyone, no matter how nice and wholesome they appeared to be, could crack under the right amount of pressure and reveal their true colours. Bleeding out a dirty rainbow for all to see. Siobhan clicked her tongue, turning and placing her against the wooden frame. Things were going to get messy.
Moments later she had the straps of the backpack looped snugly around her shoulders. The figure seemed to approach, as if placed on a conveyor belt as she snuck towards it, the pool cue raised in a sword-like fashion. Her breathes hissed in and out of her pursed lips, her eyes scrunched up into a cold glare. She was ready, ready to swing the cue and bash the persons brains out. Club. Strike. Whack. Bludgeon. Bludgeon sounded the fanciest. Her grip tightened, becoming almost vicelike around the cold wood.
And then something happened.
As she drew closer to the figure, she began to recognise various things through the darkness. A small frame, feminine. A long braid running down the girls back. A six-pack of beer at her side, one of the cans missing. Siobhan slowly began stepping to the side, trying to get a view of the girls face. Small nose. Spots, scattered across her forehead. Nichole Campbell. Nikki.
Like a towering house of cards, Siobhan’s murderous intent collapsed. Diminished. Gone. Nikki Campbell, one of her friends from GPHS, sometimes they sat together and designed nail stencils. Oh God, was I gonna?…Could I have? Siobhan gulped. Her grip on the pool cue remained tight, but her arms were shaky. Looking down at the girl, not a looming figure in the distance, but an actual physical person, someone she knew, someone she talked to, someone she was friends with. I can’t kill her, not anyone…I doubt I could even kill myself even if I wanted too…I’m so…Selfish. Could I really think all that? Think I’d become a killer? Siobhan dropped the pool cue to the ground and took two steps forwards.
Siobhan dropped the pool cue to the ground and took two steps forwards. She gulped again, staring off into the shadows. She felt too disgusted with herself to look down at her friend. Carrying a blunt weapon with her in her stride. Images of Nikki lying on the floor, her head broken open materialised in her mind. Her skull cracked like an egg that had been knocked against the mixing bowl. Her eyes began welling up with tears and she raised a hand to her face, not caring if she was to smudge any eyeliner. She finally sucked in a deep, rattling breath and turned to look at Nikki again.
“Nikki, I’m sorry for like, sneaking up on you or something. It’s just, can I sit down? I like…Want to be around friends right now…I think everyone does right about now.”
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shawnee. 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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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3449
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Nikki was waiting. Waiting, she didn't know for what. Perhaps for the beer to take effect and make her pass out or something. Perhaps for someone to come around with a nice little gun and pop a hole in her skull. Better not to see that coming, maybe. Better to wait, wait and watch, stare into the distance until it all blurred together, keep your eyes wide open until they teared up and everything was lost behind that watery distortion, let the world slip away on its own and, when that fateful moment finally came, never even realize that you were dead.
This thought process is what kept Nikki from turning when she heard the person behind her. Man, that was quick. She'd expected to have to chill for at least a couple hours before the end. Maybe muscle her way through the rest of the six pack. 'course, that would have required moving, which would have required acknowledging that, yes, her body was kinda an integral part of her being, linked to her mind and stuff, and that one component couldn't well go on without the other. That sort of forced partnership, the unholy matrimony of flesh and spirit, it was a real bummer right about now, since her flesh didn't look like it was gonna be seeing more than another day or two.
Ah well. Not really any time for regrets or tearful last words. She'd be that one quiet girl, the one who died without saying a thing. Get herself some tearful internet fangirls, to make up all sorts of crazy stories about her, stuff like, you know, "Oh, that Nikki girl, did you hear she had a kid?" or, "That Nikki was heartbroken because she knew she couldn't get out without killing, and her boyfriend was this total revolutionary pacifist underground dude, and if she killed he wouldn't have loved her so instead she just sat there and did this peaceful protest thing." That sort of touching story. Anything better than "Nikki was kinda fat and kinda stupid and she decided to get fall-down drunk because she couldn't cope, only it turned out even that was beyond her limited capacities." Yeah, that was probably what the official site news would say, and her sisters (all six of 'em) would be sad and stuff, but she'd live on in the minds of the fangirls, live on online. Maybe someone'd sell her paintings and doodles. They weren't so good, but hey, they were now, like, celebrity paintings, and that had to make 'em worth something to some collector, right? Mom could, like, put little Sarah through college on 'em or something.
That was a pretty good way to go, right? I didn't do anything with my life, but maybe my doodles'll help my stupid kid sister, unless they nab her for this thing in two years? Okay, it was a bit lacking, but you took what you could.
Only Nikki's brains weren't flying out her forehead, so it seemed like the plan had been shifted up just a little bit. So, like, maybe she'd had a run of bad luck and whoever was standing behind her got, like, piano wire or half a cinder block or something, and this wasn't gonna be so quick and easy. That'd pretty much suck, especially if it was one of the weaker people, someone who'd, you know, take their time with the whole thing when all Nikki wanted was for it to be at least passably quick and painless.
Words. Instead of fists-knives-bullets-bricks-clubs-arrows-rocks-clocks-spears-toys-spaceships-grenades-warheads-tanks-dentures-bats Nikki was assaulted by the sound of a familiar voice. It was enough to break her will completely, enough to make her turn and look up. Oh man. Siobhan. She was here too, not, like, here in The Program, Nikki had known that, but here here, right here, and she looked like she needed a friend and she looked like she needed a hug and she looked, more than anything else, like she needed a beer.
"Hey, yeah, have a seat," Nikki said, and then realized that she'd just totally blown her silent mystique, that the fangirls were even now sighing in boredom and going off to squee over Harris Van Allen or the Mason twins or someone with a little more charisma and personality than that carried by "Hey, yeah, have a seat." Ah, whatever, she could sit for a while with Siobhan, so hey, even trade, right? Maybe she'd even got a better deal. Being a dead celebrity probably wasn't so hot.
Siobhan was someone Nikki had known for a while, someone she liked, someone who didn't really expect that much and didn't get all grumpy if some days Nikki just couldn't get things together enough to actually be on time or show up at all or whatever. That was the joy of lunchroom friendships: if you were gone, the other folks'd just assume you were sick or something, not that you were still sitting in your fourth period desk doodling in your notebook and eating Cheetos like a shut in.
And hey, right, time for that hug. Nikki leaned over, paused, considered. Maybe Siobhan didn't want a hug right now. Maybe she was, like, trying to do her own image thing, play up being vulnerable, and being given too much sympathy would totally screw that up. So wait on the hug. On to the beer.
"So, yeah," Nikki said, gesturing at the six pack. "Behold my weapon. Fearsome, no? Anyways, I figure things can't get much worse so I'm gonna get as drunk as I can and maybe it'll hurt less. And you're welcome to join me."
Reaching over, she popped two more beers free from the six pack, held one to Siobhan. And hey, if she did want hugs, she could always do the initiating herself right about now, and Nikki would drop the beers and not mind one bit and maybe even cry a little.
This thought process is what kept Nikki from turning when she heard the person behind her. Man, that was quick. She'd expected to have to chill for at least a couple hours before the end. Maybe muscle her way through the rest of the six pack. 'course, that would have required moving, which would have required acknowledging that, yes, her body was kinda an integral part of her being, linked to her mind and stuff, and that one component couldn't well go on without the other. That sort of forced partnership, the unholy matrimony of flesh and spirit, it was a real bummer right about now, since her flesh didn't look like it was gonna be seeing more than another day or two.
Ah well. Not really any time for regrets or tearful last words. She'd be that one quiet girl, the one who died without saying a thing. Get herself some tearful internet fangirls, to make up all sorts of crazy stories about her, stuff like, you know, "Oh, that Nikki girl, did you hear she had a kid?" or, "That Nikki was heartbroken because she knew she couldn't get out without killing, and her boyfriend was this total revolutionary pacifist underground dude, and if she killed he wouldn't have loved her so instead she just sat there and did this peaceful protest thing." That sort of touching story. Anything better than "Nikki was kinda fat and kinda stupid and she decided to get fall-down drunk because she couldn't cope, only it turned out even that was beyond her limited capacities." Yeah, that was probably what the official site news would say, and her sisters (all six of 'em) would be sad and stuff, but she'd live on in the minds of the fangirls, live on online. Maybe someone'd sell her paintings and doodles. They weren't so good, but hey, they were now, like, celebrity paintings, and that had to make 'em worth something to some collector, right? Mom could, like, put little Sarah through college on 'em or something.
That was a pretty good way to go, right? I didn't do anything with my life, but maybe my doodles'll help my stupid kid sister, unless they nab her for this thing in two years? Okay, it was a bit lacking, but you took what you could.
Only Nikki's brains weren't flying out her forehead, so it seemed like the plan had been shifted up just a little bit. So, like, maybe she'd had a run of bad luck and whoever was standing behind her got, like, piano wire or half a cinder block or something, and this wasn't gonna be so quick and easy. That'd pretty much suck, especially if it was one of the weaker people, someone who'd, you know, take their time with the whole thing when all Nikki wanted was for it to be at least passably quick and painless.
Words. Instead of fists-knives-bullets-bricks-clubs-arrows-rocks-clocks-spears-toys-spaceships-grenades-warheads-tanks-dentures-bats Nikki was assaulted by the sound of a familiar voice. It was enough to break her will completely, enough to make her turn and look up. Oh man. Siobhan. She was here too, not, like, here in The Program, Nikki had known that, but here here, right here, and she looked like she needed a friend and she looked like she needed a hug and she looked, more than anything else, like she needed a beer.
"Hey, yeah, have a seat," Nikki said, and then realized that she'd just totally blown her silent mystique, that the fangirls were even now sighing in boredom and going off to squee over Harris Van Allen or the Mason twins or someone with a little more charisma and personality than that carried by "Hey, yeah, have a seat." Ah, whatever, she could sit for a while with Siobhan, so hey, even trade, right? Maybe she'd even got a better deal. Being a dead celebrity probably wasn't so hot.
Siobhan was someone Nikki had known for a while, someone she liked, someone who didn't really expect that much and didn't get all grumpy if some days Nikki just couldn't get things together enough to actually be on time or show up at all or whatever. That was the joy of lunchroom friendships: if you were gone, the other folks'd just assume you were sick or something, not that you were still sitting in your fourth period desk doodling in your notebook and eating Cheetos like a shut in.
And hey, right, time for that hug. Nikki leaned over, paused, considered. Maybe Siobhan didn't want a hug right now. Maybe she was, like, trying to do her own image thing, play up being vulnerable, and being given too much sympathy would totally screw that up. So wait on the hug. On to the beer.
"So, yeah," Nikki said, gesturing at the six pack. "Behold my weapon. Fearsome, no? Anyways, I figure things can't get much worse so I'm gonna get as drunk as I can and maybe it'll hurt less. And you're welcome to join me."
Reaching over, she popped two more beers free from the six pack, held one to Siobhan. And hey, if she did want hugs, she could always do the initiating herself right about now, and Nikki would drop the beers and not mind one bit and maybe even cry a little.
Siobhan held the can in both hands, drawn into her midriff. Her thumbs silently glided up and down the smooth aluminium. Her eyes peered down into the small dark hole at the top, the bubbling liquid barely visible in the shadows. The familiar hiss like with lemonades and soda pops. She had had beer once or twice, a quick sip from her fathers glass, can given to her by a boy before the act, stolen from the refrigerator in the garage. She didn’t like beer, the bitter taste, how it got warm so quickly, unappealing. Wine. She didn’t like the taste of wine much either, the first sip sent warm burns down her throat until eventually the effects took place. Wine made her feel smart, sophisticated and stylish, like a wealthy socialite, even if she didn’t favour the taste.
She’d never be a wealthy socialite, she had known that from the start. No dreams of fame and fortune, only the comfortable, almost-reality of her own little place with pastel pink walls and those vintage hairdryer chairs like in Steel Magnolias. She didn’t really know what Nikki wanted out of life, but she always had this little montage in her head whenever she was around her, of some woman in a studio apartment making that hipster abstract art that the galleries seemed to thrive on. Siobhan stared down into the can before taking a sip. She was reminded of her first time with Ryan Cuthbert, his poor attempts at seduction on his baseball bed sheets with a can of Coors.
Lying there under the clumsy boy, staring at the ceiling. Wondering if there was anything more to sex than trying to figure out what was in it for her. She had still been curious, four minutes later when he had finished and asked her to leave, what big deal was about it. Why the older kids talked about it so much, why there was so much innuendo about something so trivial and dull. That was how she set out on her silly, juvenile mission to find a partner who actually made the act less crappy, as she had put it when she broke up with Ryan at the pancake house.
As she progressed sexually she learnt that her partners were clumsy, lacked stamina or didn’t know how to carry out foreplay. It would be her job to figure out what was wrong and find a solution. Her job not to tell a soul about what had happened afterwards. Her job to walk away disappointed and cheated. And then through whispers and gossip she had discovered what her job had really been. Practice. ‘The unattractive girl who puts out, something for the guys to learn on before they go after the hotties or girlfriend material’ Practice schmactice, a lot of girls be feeling the same way she did. At least nobody had the nerve to post complaints demanding the termination of her contract.
Things got better, they always did, but the memories stuck with her. People who had been so mean seemed nicer now, but she’d never forgive them, but she could pretend to not hold any grudges. People who had bullied her had went to different schools and whenever they saw her on the street they looked nervous, expecting her to call them out on it. She didn’t. And now in The Program, a couple of her classmates had been past tormentors. Was she going to track them down and kill them? She had thoughts about it, but who didn’t? She knew in the end she couldn’t, she just didn’t have it in her. She was the bigger person, no pun intended.
She could act all high and mighty later.
The tears that had been welling up in her eyes had begun running down her cheeks, her eyeliner beginning to slick. She cast a sideways glance at Nikki and bit her lower lip before scooting closer. She wanted a hug. A hug from her mother, father, aunts, uncles, grandparents…Nikki would have to do for now, maybe she needed one too. Maybe it’d make it hurt less, having a friend around, someone not there to watch your back, but to instead keep you company. A companion, whether their alliance be short-lived or last until their last moments. With a shaky hand Siobhan set her beer on the ground before folding her arms, her breathing was starting to grow raspy and wobbly, like it always had done when she started to cry. She needed no words, and leant into Nikki, putting an arm around her back and wrapping the other around her waist.
The tears streamed down her face leaving trails of grey and black. Her teeth were stained with plum coloured cosmetics. As she burrowed her face into Nikki’s shoulder she felt her tears seeping into Nikki’s shirt, creating patches of damp. She squeezed Nikki tighter, almost as if she was a stuffed toy rather than a friend, she just needed something to comfort her, anything. She turned her head sideways, so she could talk without being muffled by Nikki’s shoulder.
“I…I’m so sorry about all th-those times you didn’t come to the l-lunchroom and I n-never went looking for you, and…and…I’m sorry for asking you to d-draw nail stuff with me instead of a-asking if you wanted to do anything else! And…I’m s-sorry for crying now, okay?” Siobhan sucked in some deep breaths. “I j-just want to find all my f-friends so I know they aren’t d-dead! I h-hope they’d do the same for me, that they wouldn’t f-forget…Heck, I want to find everyone, even the m-mean kids! We don’t deserve this…W-we were nice, weren’t we?”
She’d never be a wealthy socialite, she had known that from the start. No dreams of fame and fortune, only the comfortable, almost-reality of her own little place with pastel pink walls and those vintage hairdryer chairs like in Steel Magnolias. She didn’t really know what Nikki wanted out of life, but she always had this little montage in her head whenever she was around her, of some woman in a studio apartment making that hipster abstract art that the galleries seemed to thrive on. Siobhan stared down into the can before taking a sip. She was reminded of her first time with Ryan Cuthbert, his poor attempts at seduction on his baseball bed sheets with a can of Coors.
Lying there under the clumsy boy, staring at the ceiling. Wondering if there was anything more to sex than trying to figure out what was in it for her. She had still been curious, four minutes later when he had finished and asked her to leave, what big deal was about it. Why the older kids talked about it so much, why there was so much innuendo about something so trivial and dull. That was how she set out on her silly, juvenile mission to find a partner who actually made the act less crappy, as she had put it when she broke up with Ryan at the pancake house.
As she progressed sexually she learnt that her partners were clumsy, lacked stamina or didn’t know how to carry out foreplay. It would be her job to figure out what was wrong and find a solution. Her job not to tell a soul about what had happened afterwards. Her job to walk away disappointed and cheated. And then through whispers and gossip she had discovered what her job had really been. Practice. ‘The unattractive girl who puts out, something for the guys to learn on before they go after the hotties or girlfriend material’ Practice schmactice, a lot of girls be feeling the same way she did. At least nobody had the nerve to post complaints demanding the termination of her contract.
Things got better, they always did, but the memories stuck with her. People who had been so mean seemed nicer now, but she’d never forgive them, but she could pretend to not hold any grudges. People who had bullied her had went to different schools and whenever they saw her on the street they looked nervous, expecting her to call them out on it. She didn’t. And now in The Program, a couple of her classmates had been past tormentors. Was she going to track them down and kill them? She had thoughts about it, but who didn’t? She knew in the end she couldn’t, she just didn’t have it in her. She was the bigger person, no pun intended.
She could act all high and mighty later.
The tears that had been welling up in her eyes had begun running down her cheeks, her eyeliner beginning to slick. She cast a sideways glance at Nikki and bit her lower lip before scooting closer. She wanted a hug. A hug from her mother, father, aunts, uncles, grandparents…Nikki would have to do for now, maybe she needed one too. Maybe it’d make it hurt less, having a friend around, someone not there to watch your back, but to instead keep you company. A companion, whether their alliance be short-lived or last until their last moments. With a shaky hand Siobhan set her beer on the ground before folding her arms, her breathing was starting to grow raspy and wobbly, like it always had done when she started to cry. She needed no words, and leant into Nikki, putting an arm around her back and wrapping the other around her waist.
The tears streamed down her face leaving trails of grey and black. Her teeth were stained with plum coloured cosmetics. As she burrowed her face into Nikki’s shoulder she felt her tears seeping into Nikki’s shirt, creating patches of damp. She squeezed Nikki tighter, almost as if she was a stuffed toy rather than a friend, she just needed something to comfort her, anything. She turned her head sideways, so she could talk without being muffled by Nikki’s shoulder.
“I…I’m so sorry about all th-those times you didn’t come to the l-lunchroom and I n-never went looking for you, and…and…I’m sorry for asking you to d-draw nail stuff with me instead of a-asking if you wanted to do anything else! And…I’m s-sorry for crying now, okay?” Siobhan sucked in some deep breaths. “I j-just want to find all my f-friends so I know they aren’t d-dead! I h-hope they’d do the same for me, that they wouldn’t f-forget…Heck, I want to find everyone, even the m-mean kids! We don’t deserve this…W-we were nice, weren’t we?”
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shawnee. 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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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3449
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Aw, man. Looked like it was to be tears after all, and here Nikki was already halfway through her second beer and everything. Well, okay, tears weren't the worst thing in the world. In complete honesty, they'd been brewing this whole time. It was hard to keep them in, hard to keep from going to pieces, and the chemicals in the beer probably weren't doing her any favors in that regard. Didn't old men, like, get drunk in bars and sob into their mugs or something? That was a pretty good thing to blame this all on. Not that there was anything wrong with crying, of course, especially not when you were getting crushed up against one of your, like, three friends. Yeah, pretty pathetic. About the most exciting part of Nikki's eventual death would probably be all those students looking at each other, all confused and stuff, and going, "Wait, Nichole? Who the heck was that?" It would be a pretty good thing if she was gonna go run and gun, actually. Probably half the class would never recognize her. Of course, running and gunning required stamina and a firearm, respectively, and Nikki was notably lacking in both departments, not to mention the actual emotional fortitude to even, like, hurt someone, much less kill them.
Nikki's t-shirt was getting all wet, and she was probably leaving some nice old stains of her own on Siobhan, and it was this great big tragic reunion and cryfest, the sort of thing normal girls probably did all the time. At least, it sure happened all the time on Nikki's soaps. She'd always felt a little left out, with nobody running up to her and oozing slime and saline all down her clothes. Where was the drama? Where were those crazy twists, those insane revelations? Not a one of her classmates was secretly the parent of another. Like, most of them didn't even have kids to begin with, even Siobhan, which was kinda a surprise from what Nikki had heard about what her friend got up to with all those boys, but it wasn't like it really mattered, not like Nikki had half a clue if it was even true or if it was just bathroom talk, not like she'd care any way it went.
Picture this:
In the desert, middle of nowhere, maybe Arizona, there is a highway, and right off that highway is a little ratty patch of grass and gravel. Past the little patch, past the people loitering down at the end, the people with their odd, circular shopping carts, the people with the weird holes in them and the carts with the weird holes in them, there is just the endless plains and the road and the cacti, cacti everywhere, can't forget the cacti, bringing a little green to the warm colors of this landscape. And behind, far from the people, there is one colossus of a Super Wal-Mart, looming tall and proud against that endless sea of sand and rock.
The sky is the color of particularly imaginative denial.
Two women sit in front of this monster Wal-Mart, bawling into each others' arms, wailing in Portuguese or something, while off the distance, across them mighty dunes, tanks roll from all directions to the Battle Hymn of the Republic, and the speakers blare, and the shoppers don't even miss a beat, and over it all the PA in that old Super Wal-Mart is just wailing away: "Would a Ms. Nichole Campbell please report to Customer Services? Your half brother and husband are waiting for you, and they seem to be one person," and she's whispering into the other woman's ear, still talking Chinese or something, and she's saying, "Don't worry, the paternity tests are in, and you're defnitely the father."
Of course, what Nikki was actually vocalizing was far more melodramatic, which was kinda a downer, since you knew you were in trouble if you were worse than the daytime soaps.
"It's okay," she said. "It's okay, d-don't worry, see I w-was just being so awful and it wasn't you and d-don't w-worry about it I loved drawing with you and I didn't want a-anything else and you d-don't have to worry ab-b-bout crying because I am too see and I k-know how you feel only m-maybe not quite but I d-don't want anyone to die either and I s-sure hope they're fine and we w-were nice and you were the nicest of all."
Man, lay it on any thicker? Like, somewhere out there right now, those screaming legions of fangirls were all at work tap tap tapping on their keyboards, writing even now about how that Nikki girl and that Siobhan girl, like, totally loved doing dirty things in the back of an old station wagon together in the hot summer nights, when the air was sticky with sweat and desire. What a way to be memorialized: forever a top Google search term. Dangit all. Shouldn't have showered. That'd keep 'em at bay a bit.
So, things were going pretty much okay right about now, and Nikki was only missing her life just the littlest of bits, and everything was pretty much bearable and stuff, only there was the tiniest inkling that maybe, just maybe, Siobhan had said something kinda important in there, and maybe, just maybe, it was gonna be a real big problem in the future, the sort of thing Nikki didn't really feel like putting up with, the sort of thing she always just kinda helped herself forget about back home, on those days when she accidentally left the alarm unset and woke up, like, four hours late, already into the afternoon, and had to drag her way to some Starbucks somewhere and get a frappuccino and by the end of it all totally realize that, like, she was supposed to be somewhere hours ago only it wasn't such a big deal because she'd never really wanted to go anyways and it had all just been a, well, not an honest mistake, but one of those sort of on-purpose mistakes you make sometimes to make life a bit easier, only there wasn't really any way she could skip out for coffee just now, being on The Program and all, so she'd probably actually get roped into doing this after all and the one thing that was still sure in life was that that was gonna suck.
Nikki blinked. Spoke slowly.
"W-wait. You wanna... find other people?"
Don't judge. Absolutely do not ooze apathy towards this. Not with Siobhan so down, so dependent, so crushed. Just smile. Smile and nod. Smile and nod and grope around for the remaining half beer and drain it down, and get ready for number three because it's gonna be a long short rest of your life.
Nikki's t-shirt was getting all wet, and she was probably leaving some nice old stains of her own on Siobhan, and it was this great big tragic reunion and cryfest, the sort of thing normal girls probably did all the time. At least, it sure happened all the time on Nikki's soaps. She'd always felt a little left out, with nobody running up to her and oozing slime and saline all down her clothes. Where was the drama? Where were those crazy twists, those insane revelations? Not a one of her classmates was secretly the parent of another. Like, most of them didn't even have kids to begin with, even Siobhan, which was kinda a surprise from what Nikki had heard about what her friend got up to with all those boys, but it wasn't like it really mattered, not like Nikki had half a clue if it was even true or if it was just bathroom talk, not like she'd care any way it went.
Picture this:
In the desert, middle of nowhere, maybe Arizona, there is a highway, and right off that highway is a little ratty patch of grass and gravel. Past the little patch, past the people loitering down at the end, the people with their odd, circular shopping carts, the people with the weird holes in them and the carts with the weird holes in them, there is just the endless plains and the road and the cacti, cacti everywhere, can't forget the cacti, bringing a little green to the warm colors of this landscape. And behind, far from the people, there is one colossus of a Super Wal-Mart, looming tall and proud against that endless sea of sand and rock.
The sky is the color of particularly imaginative denial.
Two women sit in front of this monster Wal-Mart, bawling into each others' arms, wailing in Portuguese or something, while off the distance, across them mighty dunes, tanks roll from all directions to the Battle Hymn of the Republic, and the speakers blare, and the shoppers don't even miss a beat, and over it all the PA in that old Super Wal-Mart is just wailing away: "Would a Ms. Nichole Campbell please report to Customer Services? Your half brother and husband are waiting for you, and they seem to be one person," and she's whispering into the other woman's ear, still talking Chinese or something, and she's saying, "Don't worry, the paternity tests are in, and you're defnitely the father."
Of course, what Nikki was actually vocalizing was far more melodramatic, which was kinda a downer, since you knew you were in trouble if you were worse than the daytime soaps.
"It's okay," she said. "It's okay, d-don't worry, see I w-was just being so awful and it wasn't you and d-don't w-worry about it I loved drawing with you and I didn't want a-anything else and you d-don't have to worry ab-b-bout crying because I am too see and I k-know how you feel only m-maybe not quite but I d-don't want anyone to die either and I s-sure hope they're fine and we w-were nice and you were the nicest of all."
Man, lay it on any thicker? Like, somewhere out there right now, those screaming legions of fangirls were all at work tap tap tapping on their keyboards, writing even now about how that Nikki girl and that Siobhan girl, like, totally loved doing dirty things in the back of an old station wagon together in the hot summer nights, when the air was sticky with sweat and desire. What a way to be memorialized: forever a top Google search term. Dangit all. Shouldn't have showered. That'd keep 'em at bay a bit.
So, things were going pretty much okay right about now, and Nikki was only missing her life just the littlest of bits, and everything was pretty much bearable and stuff, only there was the tiniest inkling that maybe, just maybe, Siobhan had said something kinda important in there, and maybe, just maybe, it was gonna be a real big problem in the future, the sort of thing Nikki didn't really feel like putting up with, the sort of thing she always just kinda helped herself forget about back home, on those days when she accidentally left the alarm unset and woke up, like, four hours late, already into the afternoon, and had to drag her way to some Starbucks somewhere and get a frappuccino and by the end of it all totally realize that, like, she was supposed to be somewhere hours ago only it wasn't such a big deal because she'd never really wanted to go anyways and it had all just been a, well, not an honest mistake, but one of those sort of on-purpose mistakes you make sometimes to make life a bit easier, only there wasn't really any way she could skip out for coffee just now, being on The Program and all, so she'd probably actually get roped into doing this after all and the one thing that was still sure in life was that that was gonna suck.
Nikki blinked. Spoke slowly.
"W-wait. You wanna... find other people?"
Don't judge. Absolutely do not ooze apathy towards this. Not with Siobhan so down, so dependent, so crushed. Just smile. Smile and nod. Smile and nod and grope around for the remaining half beer and drain it down, and get ready for number three because it's gonna be a long short rest of your life.
It was nice there, held in Nikki's hug, holding her back. Not pleasure inducing, but nostalgic. When a friend has something horrible to happen to them back home and you have a teary group hug in the girls room, or when something has you down and you sob into your mothers cardigan as she pats you gently on the back. It was nice like that, to know somebody cared enough to comfort you, knowing that they felt same.
Nikki was talking now, her voice shaky too. Kind words. Truthful words. Maybe they weren't completely accurate but they made the situation easier. Siobhan had always been the cry-baby, alone in her room, the invisible cuts and scratches from cruel words and taunts etched deep into her skin. She didn't want to go cry to her mother about that, too ashamed to share the information, too embarrassed that her skin didn't seem to be thicker like the other McCarthy's.
Besides, could anyone really swallow their pride and say to their parents at the dinner table, "Mom, dad, there are rumours going around school about me being promiscuous and dirty, and they aren't exactly lies." Maybe if she had actually been of the legal age of consent she wouldn't have to worry about the possibility of being sent to live with her grandmother in Carnegie.
It wasn’t that she wished depression onto others, but knowing she wasn’t alone in her anguish made things so much nicer, sitting there with Nikki in the middle of the Firing Range. Two friends who hadn’t so quickly resorted to shooting guns and screaming in anger. Two quiet bunnies in the middle of one raucous zoo full of carnivorous animals. On that note, it would probably be a good idea to get up and move somewhere else. Somewhere shady. Siobhan was about to open her mouth and suggest this, but Nikki spoke instead.
"W-wait. You wanna... find other people?"
Her voice was either laced with doubt, or still shaky from the tearfest. Siobhan didn’t know what to make of it, but decided that even if Nikki didn’t have this idea in mind, she’d pretend to interpret it as the latter choice. Nikki had friends, a couple here and there, and a few in the class through Siobhan at least. Maybe she was scared or concerned now, but how would she feel later when they turned up dead and she knew she hadn’t tried to find them? Knew that maybe she could have prevented it? Guilt was never a nice feeling.
Siobhan turned to look at Nikki, nodding her head. “Yeah,” She said, her voice growing less shaky as she began to calm down, “Like, Chanel could be out there somewhere, needing out help and…Michael! I don’t want to think of him being all by himself out there…Besides, if we find our friends we have a better chance of surviving right? Friends in the Program always crumble and turn on each other, but not ours…We wouldn’t do something like that…”
Siobhan slowly climbed to her feet, and offered a hand to Nikki. “Besides,” She started, “I think it would be best if we moved somewhere not so open. I want to give people like, the benefit of the doubt and stuff, but I doubt everyone here is friendly. I mean, our friends could be searching for us right now! How do you think they’d end up feeling if we turned up dead because we were like, d-drinking beer in the middle of the lawn!”
Nikki was talking now, her voice shaky too. Kind words. Truthful words. Maybe they weren't completely accurate but they made the situation easier. Siobhan had always been the cry-baby, alone in her room, the invisible cuts and scratches from cruel words and taunts etched deep into her skin. She didn't want to go cry to her mother about that, too ashamed to share the information, too embarrassed that her skin didn't seem to be thicker like the other McCarthy's.
Besides, could anyone really swallow their pride and say to their parents at the dinner table, "Mom, dad, there are rumours going around school about me being promiscuous and dirty, and they aren't exactly lies." Maybe if she had actually been of the legal age of consent she wouldn't have to worry about the possibility of being sent to live with her grandmother in Carnegie.
It wasn’t that she wished depression onto others, but knowing she wasn’t alone in her anguish made things so much nicer, sitting there with Nikki in the middle of the Firing Range. Two friends who hadn’t so quickly resorted to shooting guns and screaming in anger. Two quiet bunnies in the middle of one raucous zoo full of carnivorous animals. On that note, it would probably be a good idea to get up and move somewhere else. Somewhere shady. Siobhan was about to open her mouth and suggest this, but Nikki spoke instead.
"W-wait. You wanna... find other people?"
Her voice was either laced with doubt, or still shaky from the tearfest. Siobhan didn’t know what to make of it, but decided that even if Nikki didn’t have this idea in mind, she’d pretend to interpret it as the latter choice. Nikki had friends, a couple here and there, and a few in the class through Siobhan at least. Maybe she was scared or concerned now, but how would she feel later when they turned up dead and she knew she hadn’t tried to find them? Knew that maybe she could have prevented it? Guilt was never a nice feeling.
Siobhan turned to look at Nikki, nodding her head. “Yeah,” She said, her voice growing less shaky as she began to calm down, “Like, Chanel could be out there somewhere, needing out help and…Michael! I don’t want to think of him being all by himself out there…Besides, if we find our friends we have a better chance of surviving right? Friends in the Program always crumble and turn on each other, but not ours…We wouldn’t do something like that…”
Siobhan slowly climbed to her feet, and offered a hand to Nikki. “Besides,” She started, “I think it would be best if we moved somewhere not so open. I want to give people like, the benefit of the doubt and stuff, but I doubt everyone here is friendly. I mean, our friends could be searching for us right now! How do you think they’d end up feeling if we turned up dead because we were like, d-drinking beer in the middle of the lawn!”
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shawnee. 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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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3449
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Yeah, okay, sweet. They were gonna find other people. Like, right on. Nikki could not possibly be more stoked about this without being totally smashed, and she hadn't had quite enough time for that yet. They were gonna, like, find Chanel and Michael. Yeah, okay, fair enough. And, like, then what? All sit around and wait for the end together? Maybe they'd have a little party. Nikki brought the beer!
Only, thing was, there was no way, absolutely no way, there'd be any beer left by then. Not if Nikki was actually going to drag herself through some sort of war zone. That was the sort of thing that took a lot of courage, and Nikki sure didn't have a lot of courage, so she'd have to settle for completely tanking her inhibitions and judgment instead. Especially because Siobhan was being so optimistic. Like, yeah, no way their friends would kill each other. That was just for those losers in the rest of the country.
Well, hey, maybe Nikki wasn't being fair at all. Maybe, like, they'd be one big happy team until someone tossed a grenade and got, like, a five-for-one kill.
Ah well. Siobhan was really set on getting moving. So who was Nikki to protest? What did it really matter where she died? Dead was dead. Dead here, dead there, she could live with it. So, time to get moving. Right. Because their friends could be looking for them. Yeah. Yeah.
"Hey, uh, m-maybe if they're looking for us, we should just hang out here, you think? You know, j-just so we don't miss each other?"
Well, no, actually 'cause Nikki really didn't feel like dragging herself off the ground and actually going around running and getting shot and stuff. But that reason wasn't gonna fly with Siobhan, most likely. Okay, neither was this one, but it'd buy Nikki at least a tiny bit more time to prepare for this little adventure. Preparation, in this case, consisting of finishing the drops from the bottom of her can of beer, then just poppin' another loose from the six pack and ripping into it. They kinda went quickly. Didn't taste so nasty anymore, either, though she still choked a bit. Yeah, cool, this wouldn't be so bad. And hey, she was totally being productive by, like, lightenng the load and stuff, so they wouldn't have to haul all this beer around. Yeah.
Maybe if Siobhan took a really long time explaining why Nikki's plan was bad, she could even polish off the rest.
Only, thing was, there was no way, absolutely no way, there'd be any beer left by then. Not if Nikki was actually going to drag herself through some sort of war zone. That was the sort of thing that took a lot of courage, and Nikki sure didn't have a lot of courage, so she'd have to settle for completely tanking her inhibitions and judgment instead. Especially because Siobhan was being so optimistic. Like, yeah, no way their friends would kill each other. That was just for those losers in the rest of the country.
Well, hey, maybe Nikki wasn't being fair at all. Maybe, like, they'd be one big happy team until someone tossed a grenade and got, like, a five-for-one kill.
Ah well. Siobhan was really set on getting moving. So who was Nikki to protest? What did it really matter where she died? Dead was dead. Dead here, dead there, she could live with it. So, time to get moving. Right. Because their friends could be looking for them. Yeah. Yeah.
"Hey, uh, m-maybe if they're looking for us, we should just hang out here, you think? You know, j-just so we don't miss each other?"
Well, no, actually 'cause Nikki really didn't feel like dragging herself off the ground and actually going around running and getting shot and stuff. But that reason wasn't gonna fly with Siobhan, most likely. Okay, neither was this one, but it'd buy Nikki at least a tiny bit more time to prepare for this little adventure. Preparation, in this case, consisting of finishing the drops from the bottom of her can of beer, then just poppin' another loose from the six pack and ripping into it. They kinda went quickly. Didn't taste so nasty anymore, either, though she still choked a bit. Yeah, cool, this wouldn't be so bad. And hey, she was totally being productive by, like, lightenng the load and stuff, so they wouldn't have to haul all this beer around. Yeah.
Maybe if Siobhan took a really long time explaining why Nikki's plan was bad, she could even polish off the rest.
Siobhan wiped her tears on the sleeve of her cheer jacket before brushing her hair out of her eyes. Nikki still sat on the ground, the can of beer still in her grip. Nikki didn’t seem too convinced that it was a great idea, maybe she was scared or felt that staying put was the best plan of action. She could understand if Nikki was hesitant with the idea of compromising her own safety just to help Siobhan out on what could very well be a fools errand or even a wild goose chase. Nikki looked up at Siobhan and spoke, “Hey, uh, m-maybe if they're looking for us, we should just hang out here, you think? You know, j-just so we don't miss each other?”
Siobhan still had her hand held out for Nikki, and decided to pull it back. Maybe Nikki was curious or simply trying to convince Siobhan to stay with her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she felt so afraid, Siobhan might have shared the same idea. Finding a hiding place with Nikki didn’t seem like such a bad idea, keeping themselves on the down-low whilst everything else went to hell. But Siobhan wasn’t that sort of person, when she was worried or scared, she had to do something. When her grandfather was having a pacemaker put in she didn’t pace up and down the hallway like her father, or sit there grating her fingernails against each other like her grandmother. She made herself a scoubidou bracelet.
It was how Siobhan coped with things. She didn’t like the fear to get to her, because then she crumbled and collapsed. She had to have something else, something nice or something that required her attention, to take her mind off of things. Looking for Michael and Chanel wasn’t going to be as easy as how she simply said it would be, and there would probably be pitfalls, but at least she wasn’t sitting around doing nothing. At least she wouldn’t be letting the fear get to her. At least in the end she would have made something beautiful. A bracelet. An alliance.
“Nikki, there’s a time you gotta go and show you’re learning cause you know about the…Facts of…Urgh. Listen, I can’t like sugar coat anything in here, it’d be stupid and it’d be a lie, but I can’t sit around and hide. I’m not judging you, in fact, I’m jealous, because if I don’t try and do something I get scared, really, really scared and then I just break down and it isn’t pretty. If I don’t try and do anything I’m just a useless sobbing wreck and I hate being that, I don’t like crying anymore.”
Siobhan bent down and picked up the pool cue, she held it in both hands. She looked down at it and knew that it wasn’t going to take a life, even if she somehow geared herself up into killer mode. She wasn’t a fighter, and if she tried she’d be flattened like cookie dough. Her finger wrapped themselves tightly around the wood as she struggled to fight back the new wave of tears. She clenched her eyes shut as they began to brim, before giving up knowing that she had to speak quickly before her voice started shaking again.
“I have to find the others because at least then I know I’m not only doing something, but there’s the chance of seeing the people I care about again, and like, maybe even being safe. I don’t expect you to come with me, but if you do, I’d be grateful. I don’t want to leave you behind but if you aren’t coming, then I’ll just have to come back after I’ve found the others. I can’t leave two of my friends to rot just because the third would rather stay hidden.”
And like that, Siobhan turned her back to Nikki, giving her a choice. To sit there and watch as she walked away, or to follow her into the compound. She quietly wished Nikki would get up and join her, even at the prospect of being in a happy group at the end, the idea of being alone for the start of her quest sent shivers running down her spine.
Siobhan still had her hand held out for Nikki, and decided to pull it back. Maybe Nikki was curious or simply trying to convince Siobhan to stay with her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she felt so afraid, Siobhan might have shared the same idea. Finding a hiding place with Nikki didn’t seem like such a bad idea, keeping themselves on the down-low whilst everything else went to hell. But Siobhan wasn’t that sort of person, when she was worried or scared, she had to do something. When her grandfather was having a pacemaker put in she didn’t pace up and down the hallway like her father, or sit there grating her fingernails against each other like her grandmother. She made herself a scoubidou bracelet.
It was how Siobhan coped with things. She didn’t like the fear to get to her, because then she crumbled and collapsed. She had to have something else, something nice or something that required her attention, to take her mind off of things. Looking for Michael and Chanel wasn’t going to be as easy as how she simply said it would be, and there would probably be pitfalls, but at least she wasn’t sitting around doing nothing. At least she wouldn’t be letting the fear get to her. At least in the end she would have made something beautiful. A bracelet. An alliance.
“Nikki, there’s a time you gotta go and show you’re learning cause you know about the…Facts of…Urgh. Listen, I can’t like sugar coat anything in here, it’d be stupid and it’d be a lie, but I can’t sit around and hide. I’m not judging you, in fact, I’m jealous, because if I don’t try and do something I get scared, really, really scared and then I just break down and it isn’t pretty. If I don’t try and do anything I’m just a useless sobbing wreck and I hate being that, I don’t like crying anymore.”
Siobhan bent down and picked up the pool cue, she held it in both hands. She looked down at it and knew that it wasn’t going to take a life, even if she somehow geared herself up into killer mode. She wasn’t a fighter, and if she tried she’d be flattened like cookie dough. Her finger wrapped themselves tightly around the wood as she struggled to fight back the new wave of tears. She clenched her eyes shut as they began to brim, before giving up knowing that she had to speak quickly before her voice started shaking again.
“I have to find the others because at least then I know I’m not only doing something, but there’s the chance of seeing the people I care about again, and like, maybe even being safe. I don’t expect you to come with me, but if you do, I’d be grateful. I don’t want to leave you behind but if you aren’t coming, then I’ll just have to come back after I’ve found the others. I can’t leave two of my friends to rot just because the third would rather stay hidden.”
And like that, Siobhan turned her back to Nikki, giving her a choice. To sit there and watch as she walked away, or to follow her into the compound. She quietly wished Nikki would get up and join her, even at the prospect of being in a happy group at the end, the idea of being alone for the start of her quest sent shivers running down her spine.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Shawnee. 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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chitoryu12*
- Posts: 64
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:16 am
((John Ferrara continued from M05: Start))
The firing range didn't look anything like the warehouse. There was no huge, imposing, gray building. No massive doors or gunfire echoing through the walls. It was just a long stretch of barren dirt, with human silhouettes and bullseyes dozens of meters away, and a covered patio with individual stations marked out by chalk and sandbags.
And two girls down range.
He stared at them. There was only one at this range he could recognize: Siobhan. It wasn't hard, what with the massive mammaries that you could spot from across the compound.
He looked down at the gun in his hand.
He had to win. He had to make it back to his parents. How would he do that?
The answer was obvious. Shoot to kill. Show no quarter. Do the same thing he did to Matt to everyone who crossed his path.
But why did they deserve it?
No, he had never been close to a lot of the school. A lot of them wouldn't be missed in his eyes. But what had they done to HIM? Personally, not much. Though he would never care to admit it, in spite of his constant musing on the racism of the United States and how terrible General's Pride was, he had been pretty much free from trouble. Matt Gourlay was the only one who had done anything of the sort. And now his blood had soaked into the ground.
But then there was winning. His parents would be overjoyed, he could go on to become the biggest soccer player the United States had seen, maybe the WORLD. He wouldn't be poor.
So another catch-22. Have the deaths of his class on his conscience, or die? Or hope that they all just died themselves and saved him the trouble?
This game seemed to be made of catch-22s.
The girls hadn't noticed him yet. He was on a firing range. May as well take advantage of this. Take a third option.
He dropped his pack from his shoulder and held the Calico with two hands, aiming at a bullseye right between the girls.
"Hello, girls!" he shouted. "May as well get some target practice in while I'm here! I'd recommend you get out of the way so you don't......accidentally take any bullets!"
He aimed down the sights. They were awkward to use, especially for someone who had never used a gun before. A notch in the rear sight, with a tiny post ahead. He figured the post went in that notch. He tried, but it was slightly uncomfortable with nothing to press against his shoulder.
Oh well. At least he MIGHT hit it. And if the girls were in the way of the bullet, no problem, right? They were standing in the middle of a firing range. It was an accident.
POW
His ears hadn't fully recovered from shooting Matt, so it was quieter that time. It echoed throughout the entire compound; it was guaranteed that just about everyone heard any gunfire outside.
He saw a puff of smoke on the top-left of the target. At least he was learning now.
The firing range didn't look anything like the warehouse. There was no huge, imposing, gray building. No massive doors or gunfire echoing through the walls. It was just a long stretch of barren dirt, with human silhouettes and bullseyes dozens of meters away, and a covered patio with individual stations marked out by chalk and sandbags.
And two girls down range.
He stared at them. There was only one at this range he could recognize: Siobhan. It wasn't hard, what with the massive mammaries that you could spot from across the compound.
He looked down at the gun in his hand.
He had to win. He had to make it back to his parents. How would he do that?
The answer was obvious. Shoot to kill. Show no quarter. Do the same thing he did to Matt to everyone who crossed his path.
But why did they deserve it?
No, he had never been close to a lot of the school. A lot of them wouldn't be missed in his eyes. But what had they done to HIM? Personally, not much. Though he would never care to admit it, in spite of his constant musing on the racism of the United States and how terrible General's Pride was, he had been pretty much free from trouble. Matt Gourlay was the only one who had done anything of the sort. And now his blood had soaked into the ground.
But then there was winning. His parents would be overjoyed, he could go on to become the biggest soccer player the United States had seen, maybe the WORLD. He wouldn't be poor.
So another catch-22. Have the deaths of his class on his conscience, or die? Or hope that they all just died themselves and saved him the trouble?
This game seemed to be made of catch-22s.
The girls hadn't noticed him yet. He was on a firing range. May as well take advantage of this. Take a third option.
He dropped his pack from his shoulder and held the Calico with two hands, aiming at a bullseye right between the girls.
"Hello, girls!" he shouted. "May as well get some target practice in while I'm here! I'd recommend you get out of the way so you don't......accidentally take any bullets!"
He aimed down the sights. They were awkward to use, especially for someone who had never used a gun before. A notch in the rear sight, with a tiny post ahead. He figured the post went in that notch. He tried, but it was slightly uncomfortable with nothing to press against his shoulder.
Oh well. At least he MIGHT hit it. And if the girls were in the way of the bullet, no problem, right? They were standing in the middle of a firing range. It was an accident.
POW
His ears hadn't fully recovered from shooting Matt, so it was quieter that time. It echoed throughout the entire compound; it was guaranteed that just about everyone heard any gunfire outside.
He saw a puff of smoke on the top-left of the target. At least he was learning now.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3449
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Aw, nuts. Seemed Siobhan wasn't just content to chill until the others found them (or, more likely, someone a little less benign found them, but hey, it was gonna happen at some point, and this little patch of dirt and grass and rocks wasn't worse than anywhere else). At least she took an awfully long time explaining. More than long enough for Nikki to polish off her third beer. More than long enough for her to crack open a fourth. With Siobhan having had one, that left just a single, lonely can. It was kinda sad, seeing it just sitting there with her stuff. Nikki decided to plow through can number four as quick as she could, so she could put the last one out of its misery.
She wasn't really paying all that much attention to what Siobhan was saying, actually. Mostly just concentrating on the beer. The fizziness. The bitter taste. Forcing it down. Definitely not on the queasy feeling in her stomach or the blurring in her vision. Those were bad things. Probably came from that gas, or sitting around for too long. Or maybe, just maybe, the intensive nature of her first experience with alcohol. But, like, whatever. She'd walk it off in a sec.
As Siobhan finished speaking, Nikki drained the rest of the can in her hands. It was a lot like chugging soda, down to that awful stomach-crampy feeling that came with really needing to belch.
But then, all of a sudden, Siobhan was heading out. Like, actually leaving, maybe. Well, hey, that sucked, but Nikki needed to spend just a few more minutes on the ground. She'd catch up. Or not. Hey, maybe Siobhan would just go off and get ahead, and then Nikki would have to stick to her own plan and just hang out and take things easy until the others caught up. Yeah, because it'd work out. Or if it didn't, well, that'd suck and all, but not be so different from what she expected. Yeah. It would all be fine and dandy.
Only Siobhan hadn't really gotten more than a few steps when the boy was shouting and stuff. Something something blah blah get out of the way or you'll take bullets. Bullets would be nice. Bullets would mean Nikki actually had something to, like, maybe throw at anyone who came after her or something. Sure, she could take some bullets. She started giggling, and was about to shout something to that effect when there was this huge and awful bang sound and Nikki realized that, hey, "taking bullets" was a euphemism for getting shot and someone was presumably threatening their lives.
Maybe it would be a good idea to move after all.
She dropped the last can into her bag, jolted to her feet, and shouted, "S-siobhan, wait! I'm coming."
Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good, like, follow Siobhan and hide behind her and sneak out unnoticed or something.
Yeah.
Only, Nikki made it about four steps, four quick, staggering steps, before she realized that whatever connected her feet and her brain had decided to go take a smoke break, and she tripped over herself and wiped out in the dirt.
"Ow."
Yeah, ow. Not much more to say about that. Just, you know, imminent death and stuff, and a shooter and catching bullets.
She wasn't really paying all that much attention to what Siobhan was saying, actually. Mostly just concentrating on the beer. The fizziness. The bitter taste. Forcing it down. Definitely not on the queasy feeling in her stomach or the blurring in her vision. Those were bad things. Probably came from that gas, or sitting around for too long. Or maybe, just maybe, the intensive nature of her first experience with alcohol. But, like, whatever. She'd walk it off in a sec.
As Siobhan finished speaking, Nikki drained the rest of the can in her hands. It was a lot like chugging soda, down to that awful stomach-crampy feeling that came with really needing to belch.
But then, all of a sudden, Siobhan was heading out. Like, actually leaving, maybe. Well, hey, that sucked, but Nikki needed to spend just a few more minutes on the ground. She'd catch up. Or not. Hey, maybe Siobhan would just go off and get ahead, and then Nikki would have to stick to her own plan and just hang out and take things easy until the others caught up. Yeah, because it'd work out. Or if it didn't, well, that'd suck and all, but not be so different from what she expected. Yeah. It would all be fine and dandy.
Only Siobhan hadn't really gotten more than a few steps when the boy was shouting and stuff. Something something blah blah get out of the way or you'll take bullets. Bullets would be nice. Bullets would mean Nikki actually had something to, like, maybe throw at anyone who came after her or something. Sure, she could take some bullets. She started giggling, and was about to shout something to that effect when there was this huge and awful bang sound and Nikki realized that, hey, "taking bullets" was a euphemism for getting shot and someone was presumably threatening their lives.
Maybe it would be a good idea to move after all.
She dropped the last can into her bag, jolted to her feet, and shouted, "S-siobhan, wait! I'm coming."
Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good, like, follow Siobhan and hide behind her and sneak out unnoticed or something.
Yeah.
Only, Nikki made it about four steps, four quick, staggering steps, before she realized that whatever connected her feet and her brain had decided to go take a smoke break, and she tripped over herself and wiped out in the dirt.
"Ow."
Yeah, ow. Not much more to say about that. Just, you know, imminent death and stuff, and a shooter and catching bullets.
Why did someone with a gun have to turn up? And on this...Firing target thingy as well with the...Damn! Siobhan dropped the pool cue to the ground and lurched forwards, hooking Nikki beneath the armpits and pulling her to her feet. Maybe the girl was stunned, maybe she was drunk, afterall she had been tearing through the beers. Siobhan thought that if she had taken her eyes off of her half empty can for more than a second Nikki might have snatched it and finished it off.
After being pulled to her feet, Nikki swayed suddenly, her knee began to give way beneath her and she started to sink to the ground. Siobhan gave a grunt as she pulled the girl back up before wrapping one arm round the girls shoulders and the other around her midriff. She wasn't in any condition to run away, she'd probably trip and faceplant again. And Siobhan, she was slow enough on her alone, how easy a target would she be trying to drag someone out of the line of fire?
Maybe Nikki could sit in my cleavage like a little baby kangaroo... Siobhan thought, a smirk forming across her face, before she remembered the problem at hand. John had a gun. He had a gun and whilst he wasn't unloading it at them, what was to stop him from shifting from paper to human targets? Siobhan didn't remember doing anything to hurt his feelings and she was pretty sure Nikki was a neutral aqquaintance too.
But then again, thats what most of the kids in these games were to eachother. If you were close friends you formed an alliance, if you were rivals you gunned each other down, if you barely even spoke to each other and your only interaction came from brushing shoulders in the hallway, you were mere statistics. Maybe I could talk him down or something...It's not like he hates me or anything.
Making sure Nikki was stable, Siobhan pushed the girl back a couple of steps before taking a stand before her. She didn't particuarly want to get shot by John, but letting Nikki get hit before her whilst drunk felt wrong. Like when a guy has second thoughts about doing it with a drunk because he thinks he's taking advantage. Or something like that.
"John just like...Cool down with the gunshots okay? Like we don't want any t-trouble! P-people are gonna come looking for the gunshots or s-something like that, okay? Just, stop you're totally scaring us!"
After being pulled to her feet, Nikki swayed suddenly, her knee began to give way beneath her and she started to sink to the ground. Siobhan gave a grunt as she pulled the girl back up before wrapping one arm round the girls shoulders and the other around her midriff. She wasn't in any condition to run away, she'd probably trip and faceplant again. And Siobhan, she was slow enough on her alone, how easy a target would she be trying to drag someone out of the line of fire?
Maybe Nikki could sit in my cleavage like a little baby kangaroo... Siobhan thought, a smirk forming across her face, before she remembered the problem at hand. John had a gun. He had a gun and whilst he wasn't unloading it at them, what was to stop him from shifting from paper to human targets? Siobhan didn't remember doing anything to hurt his feelings and she was pretty sure Nikki was a neutral aqquaintance too.
But then again, thats what most of the kids in these games were to eachother. If you were close friends you formed an alliance, if you were rivals you gunned each other down, if you barely even spoke to each other and your only interaction came from brushing shoulders in the hallway, you were mere statistics. Maybe I could talk him down or something...It's not like he hates me or anything.
Making sure Nikki was stable, Siobhan pushed the girl back a couple of steps before taking a stand before her. She didn't particuarly want to get shot by John, but letting Nikki get hit before her whilst drunk felt wrong. Like when a guy has second thoughts about doing it with a drunk because he thinks he's taking advantage. Or something like that.
"John just like...Cool down with the gunshots okay? Like we don't want any t-trouble! P-people are gonna come looking for the gunshots or s-something like that, okay? Just, stop you're totally scaring us!"
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chitoryu12*
- Posts: 64
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:16 am
"John just like...cool down with the gunshots, okay? Like, we don't want any t-trouble! P-people are gonna come looking for the gunshots or s-something like that, okay? Just stop, you're totally scaring us!"
John tried to smile, to seem nonchalant. Like he knew exactly what he was doing taking potshots at these girls.
But he was scared. Scared utterly shitless. He knew he wasn't a killer, though he would never care to admit it. Outwardly, he wanted to seem the part of a cold-blooded murderer who would slaughter dozens just to see his way home. Maybe he succeeded. Who knew? He sure as hell did; the answer was no.
At least, for now.
He made his grin artificially wider. "No worries, ladies! That's what you get for standing in the middle of a firing range! I'll try my best to miss!"
He peered down the sights again, aiming for a standing silhouette.
POW
The silhouette fell backwards, collapsing to the dirt. English children all over the world would be finding a metaphor in this.
John tried to smile, to seem nonchalant. Like he knew exactly what he was doing taking potshots at these girls.
But he was scared. Scared utterly shitless. He knew he wasn't a killer, though he would never care to admit it. Outwardly, he wanted to seem the part of a cold-blooded murderer who would slaughter dozens just to see his way home. Maybe he succeeded. Who knew? He sure as hell did; the answer was no.
At least, for now.
He made his grin artificially wider. "No worries, ladies! That's what you get for standing in the middle of a firing range! I'll try my best to miss!"
He peered down the sights again, aiming for a standing silhouette.
POW
The silhouette fell backwards, collapsing to the dirt. English children all over the world would be finding a metaphor in this.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3449
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
Things were, like, getting better and better. After going down hard, Nikki was pretty well prepared to just stay in the dirt. Less likely she'd get shot and stuff. Low profile and all that, yeah? But no, Siobhan was going all no-comrades-left-behind, and hauled Nikki up. Just kinda heaved her up by her armpits. Nikki did her best to help, even though her legs weren't really wanting to cooperate very well at the moment. So, as soon as she was upright, Nikki almost went back down, but Siobhan caught her. Well, yay, falling wasn't the most fun she could be having. Standing was fine with Nikki. Lying face down in the dirt was fine with Nikki. These constant transitions were getting to her, though.
Then Nikki was actually staying up, swaying only a little tiny bit, and Siobhan was getting in front of her and stuff, trying to, like, be all protective and maternal and probably take all the bullets meant for her, and it was this total shock, because sure they were friends, but that was, like, having lunch together, and Nikki sure wouldn't take a shot for Siobhan, at least, she didn't think she would, and now she was feeling real guilty all of a sudden, real crummy for being the sort of friend who just lay down and got totally drunk instead of being a help. She'd been such a burden, and now Siobhan wasn't gonna leave her, was gonna go and risk her life, her life and her chances to find all her other friends, just to save poor, worthless Nikki.
It was all touching and stuff but it was pretty dumb, and Nikki wasn't about to stand for it.
Siobhan was saying something, but Nikki's ears were ringing a bit and she couldn't hear it. She was starting to get a headache, probably from the gun's noise. She also kinda felt like flopping over and hurling, but that would maybe not be the best choice right now. No, there were certainly better uses of her time.
Then there was the second gunshot, and Nikki realized that they really were going to die, Siobhan first. And it was all so stupid, so worthless, there was no need for this, no reason they both had to be killed. No. She wouldn't have taken a bullet for Siobhan five minutes ago, but right now, Nikki was pretty sure she was about to sacrifice her life for her friend. Probably be the first death. Man, that'd suck. At least everyone'd watch, especially since she was totally gonna go out a hero.
She stumbled forward towards Siobhan, but missed a step, flailed, trying to grab a hold of her friend. Did she succeed? Did she just miraculously regain her balance? Kinda hard to say. She kept the contents of her stomach down, though. She was gonna die. Didn't mean she had to do it in a puddle of puke.
"Siobhan," Nikki said. Dang, it was kinda hard to say those "s" sounds all of a sudden. "Y-you can go. Go f-find the others. Run. Don't wait for me. I'll hold him off."
Not waiting for a response, she turned to the boy, the shooter, her soon-to-be-murderer, and screamed, "You hear that? I... I'll totally take you. Like, barefist and stuff. I don't need any weapons. Like, bring it on."
She gave Siobhan the smallest of pushes.
Whispered, "Run."
Then Nikki was actually staying up, swaying only a little tiny bit, and Siobhan was getting in front of her and stuff, trying to, like, be all protective and maternal and probably take all the bullets meant for her, and it was this total shock, because sure they were friends, but that was, like, having lunch together, and Nikki sure wouldn't take a shot for Siobhan, at least, she didn't think she would, and now she was feeling real guilty all of a sudden, real crummy for being the sort of friend who just lay down and got totally drunk instead of being a help. She'd been such a burden, and now Siobhan wasn't gonna leave her, was gonna go and risk her life, her life and her chances to find all her other friends, just to save poor, worthless Nikki.
It was all touching and stuff but it was pretty dumb, and Nikki wasn't about to stand for it.
Siobhan was saying something, but Nikki's ears were ringing a bit and she couldn't hear it. She was starting to get a headache, probably from the gun's noise. She also kinda felt like flopping over and hurling, but that would maybe not be the best choice right now. No, there were certainly better uses of her time.
Then there was the second gunshot, and Nikki realized that they really were going to die, Siobhan first. And it was all so stupid, so worthless, there was no need for this, no reason they both had to be killed. No. She wouldn't have taken a bullet for Siobhan five minutes ago, but right now, Nikki was pretty sure she was about to sacrifice her life for her friend. Probably be the first death. Man, that'd suck. At least everyone'd watch, especially since she was totally gonna go out a hero.
She stumbled forward towards Siobhan, but missed a step, flailed, trying to grab a hold of her friend. Did she succeed? Did she just miraculously regain her balance? Kinda hard to say. She kept the contents of her stomach down, though. She was gonna die. Didn't mean she had to do it in a puddle of puke.
"Siobhan," Nikki said. Dang, it was kinda hard to say those "s" sounds all of a sudden. "Y-you can go. Go f-find the others. Run. Don't wait for me. I'll hold him off."
Not waiting for a response, she turned to the boy, the shooter, her soon-to-be-murderer, and screamed, "You hear that? I... I'll totally take you. Like, barefist and stuff. I don't need any weapons. Like, bring it on."
She gave Siobhan the smallest of pushes.
Whispered, "Run."
"No worries, ladies! That's what you get for standing in the middle of a firing range! I'll try my best to miss!"
What's wrong with him? Is he broken? Siobhan bit down on her lip, her eyes squinting at John. It almost seemed as if he wanted to bring down the rest of the class on down their heads. That meant that maybe Michael, Chanel or Joanne might be drawn to the noise, but the bad guys too. It would be the beach scene of Saving Private Ryan all over again.
"Siobhan,"
It was Nikki. Drunk and clumsy, as Siobhan's mother would so crudely say 'As pissed as a pudding'. Siobhan had some experience with handling drunks, mostly older cousins or the odd aunt or uncle at the family gatherings or christmas parties. She wasn't old enough to get drunk yet, and even though she had been offered numerous drinks by merry family members, she was proud to say that the drunkest she had ever been was 'somewhat tipsy'.
"Y-you can go. Go f-find the others. Run. Don't wait for me. I'll hold him off."
Nikki wasn't just drunk, she was delusional. Her mind warped by beer or not, did she really think she had a chance against a guy with a pistol, let alone a sober Siobhan? The circumstance was going from uncomfortable to just plain stupid. If Siobhan had to club her over the head and drag her away, just to save her from being shot in the face, so be it.
"You hear that? I... I'll totally take you. Like, barefist and stuff. I don't need any weapons. Like, bring it on."
Jesus Christ on a crutch… The people back at home must be finding this hilarious, or could they be screaming at the screen like people did during horror movies. She could imagine half of the American population demanding her to ditch Nikki and move on. Maybe that would be the best thing, really, to leave Nikki and save her own skin. Maybe she was at the point where she was so drunk she wouldn’t even care if half of her face was chewed off by a bullet.
Maybe a bullet in the head would count as a mercy killing, or maybe even a short and snappy euthanasia. A headshot whilst drunk was certainly a lot better than being drawn and quartered by a particularly patriotic maniac. If she saved Nikki from death at the hands of John Ferrera, who would save both of them when they bumped into Harris Van Allen or someone worse? Nikki was a liability. Nikki was a burden. Nikki was also a friend. As she staggered forwards towards John she turned to face Siobhan one last time and told her to run.
I can’t just leave her, I can’t I…"John shot at a silhouette, sending it falling to the ground. She imagined Nikki dead again, only not from being hit across the head but this time having half of it blown off. Siobhan turned and took some hurried steps away, allowing her friend to wander closer and closer to the gun nut. Damn it…Damn it to hell! Siobhan turned round and ran clumsily, making up the distance she had made whilst running off whilst Nikki waddled ever closer to the barrel of the gun.
“Nichole Campbell!” Siobhan screeched, “You turn around this instant or I swear to God I will drag you here myself!”
What's wrong with him? Is he broken? Siobhan bit down on her lip, her eyes squinting at John. It almost seemed as if he wanted to bring down the rest of the class on down their heads. That meant that maybe Michael, Chanel or Joanne might be drawn to the noise, but the bad guys too. It would be the beach scene of Saving Private Ryan all over again.
"Siobhan,"
It was Nikki. Drunk and clumsy, as Siobhan's mother would so crudely say 'As pissed as a pudding'. Siobhan had some experience with handling drunks, mostly older cousins or the odd aunt or uncle at the family gatherings or christmas parties. She wasn't old enough to get drunk yet, and even though she had been offered numerous drinks by merry family members, she was proud to say that the drunkest she had ever been was 'somewhat tipsy'.
"Y-you can go. Go f-find the others. Run. Don't wait for me. I'll hold him off."
Nikki wasn't just drunk, she was delusional. Her mind warped by beer or not, did she really think she had a chance against a guy with a pistol, let alone a sober Siobhan? The circumstance was going from uncomfortable to just plain stupid. If Siobhan had to club her over the head and drag her away, just to save her from being shot in the face, so be it.
"You hear that? I... I'll totally take you. Like, barefist and stuff. I don't need any weapons. Like, bring it on."
Jesus Christ on a crutch… The people back at home must be finding this hilarious, or could they be screaming at the screen like people did during horror movies. She could imagine half of the American population demanding her to ditch Nikki and move on. Maybe that would be the best thing, really, to leave Nikki and save her own skin. Maybe she was at the point where she was so drunk she wouldn’t even care if half of her face was chewed off by a bullet.
Maybe a bullet in the head would count as a mercy killing, or maybe even a short and snappy euthanasia. A headshot whilst drunk was certainly a lot better than being drawn and quartered by a particularly patriotic maniac. If she saved Nikki from death at the hands of John Ferrera, who would save both of them when they bumped into Harris Van Allen or someone worse? Nikki was a liability. Nikki was a burden. Nikki was also a friend. As she staggered forwards towards John she turned to face Siobhan one last time and told her to run.
I can’t just leave her, I can’t I…"John shot at a silhouette, sending it falling to the ground. She imagined Nikki dead again, only not from being hit across the head but this time having half of it blown off. Siobhan turned and took some hurried steps away, allowing her friend to wander closer and closer to the gun nut. Damn it…Damn it to hell! Siobhan turned round and ran clumsily, making up the distance she had made whilst running off whilst Nikki waddled ever closer to the barrel of the gun.
“Nichole Campbell!” Siobhan screeched, “You turn around this instant or I swear to God I will drag you here myself!”
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chitoryu12*
- Posts: 64
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:16 am
John couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"Bfwahahahaha!!!!" and so on.
This little drunk girl was trying to challenge him? He had enough ammo in this one magazine to swiss cheese her at a leisurely pace; hell, at how out-of-it she was he could have reloaded and fired all three magazines before she managed to stumble down to his shooting position and puke on him.
Watching Siobhan scream and bounce toward Nikki just made him laugh even harder. At this point, he could barely hold onto the gun. He was doubled-over, Calico hanging limply from his right hand. He was panting, tears streaming from his eyes.
"My......god!" he burst out. "You two are beyond pathetic right now! Maybe I SHOULD just try and shoot you and put you out of your misery! At least then you won't be stumbling toward me any time soohahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!"
He tried to compose himself, trying his hardest not to accidentally shoot himself in the foot. He wiped the tears from his eyes and continued smiling as he straightened up.
"Okay, play time is over! The arcade game has begun! Extra points for BIG targets!"
He took aim at Siobhan, aiming slightly above her head, and pulled the trigger.
POW
Time to start scaring.
"Bfwahahahaha!!!!" and so on.
This little drunk girl was trying to challenge him? He had enough ammo in this one magazine to swiss cheese her at a leisurely pace; hell, at how out-of-it she was he could have reloaded and fired all three magazines before she managed to stumble down to his shooting position and puke on him.
Watching Siobhan scream and bounce toward Nikki just made him laugh even harder. At this point, he could barely hold onto the gun. He was doubled-over, Calico hanging limply from his right hand. He was panting, tears streaming from his eyes.
"My......god!" he burst out. "You two are beyond pathetic right now! Maybe I SHOULD just try and shoot you and put you out of your misery! At least then you won't be stumbling toward me any time soohahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!"
He tried to compose himself, trying his hardest not to accidentally shoot himself in the foot. He wiped the tears from his eyes and continued smiling as he straightened up.
"Okay, play time is over! The arcade game has begun! Extra points for BIG targets!"
He took aim at Siobhan, aiming slightly above her head, and pulled the trigger.
POW
Time to start scaring.
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