”So…I’m going to school now mom.”
“Have fun, dear.
“No mom, you don’t understand, today’s announcement day.”
“Uh huh, can you keep it down?”
“Mom, get off the phone, he’ll be around later, I just…I just wanna say goodbye, just in case.”
“Right dear, have fun.”
“MOM! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! I COULD DIE TODAY, I COULD BE PUT INTO THE PROGRAM AND THE LAST THING YOU’D HAVE SAID TO ME IS “HAVE FUN!” I’M NOT GOING TO HAVE FUN, ALRIGHT?”
“Chanel, honestly, I can’t understand a word you’re saying, could you keep the noise down?”
“…fine. Have fun with that fucktoy of a boyfriend, mom, when the General calls and tells you I was raped and killed, try not to act too surprised.”
“Okay dear, enjoy school!”
*
D'yer Ma'ker
The Start of the End of F03
Moderator: Sh4dE
-
OverlordMikey*
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:27 pm
Claire Heartland cried in her father’s arms. The grown man tried not to cry as he held her tightly, but his brave facade was slipping. Both of them knew that they would never see each other again. Claire knew she had to get to school soon, but she didn’t want to move.
“D-daddy what do I do!?”
“I don’t know”
“I know we joked about it but… I can’t kill anyone.”
“I know.”
“Am I gonna die?” The man remained silent as he squeezed her tightly. “I said am I going to die!”
“Y-yes!” Her father yelled as the tears finally broke free.
“I don’t wanna die!”
“I know.”
“I hate them daddy! I hate this government and everyone behind it!”
“Just cry.”
She had to push away from him, if she stayed like that she wouldn’t be able to leave. She couldn’t risk her father being punished. “I-I’m going now.”
“I want you to live.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “You want me to kill!”
He just repeated in a broken voice. “I want you to live.”
Claire thought about what he said for a moment then nodded to him. “I’ll try.” With that she ran off. She knew she wouldn't see him again, but she turn back one more time; her face in a twisted forced smile, and yelled. "I'll see you later." Her last words to him a lie.
The last memory before she woke up was that one bastards face. She wished she could kill him.
-
[Claire‘s Start]
Claire wasn’t sure when she woke up, but she was in some kind of mess hall going through a bag of rations. Then she found it. Her weapon was…
“A gun?” She didn’t know the kind of gun it was, but the point was it was loaded and she had more bullets. Still could she kills?
“Juliet… I bet she could do it… I bet she could kill.” Claire sighed. “Lots of people to kill.” She pulled out a book about some kind of gun, The Ruger MK III. She threw the book to the ground which caused a loud bang and screamed. “The I don’t care about this crap. I wanna go home! Fuck the government! Screw Uncle Sam and all his propaganda shit!”
Claire’s body was trembling. She felt the locket around her neck. “Daddy I’m feeling kind of better now. I’m not going to lose because…” She put her head down.
Even if she won what was the outcome? She knew the winners vanished so she wouldn’t be going home. “I wanna live…” With that she picked up the book and began to look through it, She wondered if she really need to kill anyone. She wished she didn’t, but it seemed like the only option before her.
Claire sniffed the air. Cigarette smoke! Claire stood up with her gun ready. “Who’s here!?”
Panic was beginning to feel panic overtaking her. She couldn’t jump to hasty conclusions, but she had to survive.
“I don’t wanna kill unless I have to so…” Did she mean that? “Of course I could just shoot you as soon as you show yourself. That really depends on who you are!"
Claire thought about what she said, but it was to late now. She’d have to deal with the consequences when they came.
“D-daddy what do I do!?”
“I don’t know”
“I know we joked about it but… I can’t kill anyone.”
“I know.”
“Am I gonna die?” The man remained silent as he squeezed her tightly. “I said am I going to die!”
“Y-yes!” Her father yelled as the tears finally broke free.
“I don’t wanna die!”
“I know.”
“I hate them daddy! I hate this government and everyone behind it!”
“Just cry.”
She had to push away from him, if she stayed like that she wouldn’t be able to leave. She couldn’t risk her father being punished. “I-I’m going now.”
“I want you to live.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “You want me to kill!”
He just repeated in a broken voice. “I want you to live.”
Claire thought about what he said for a moment then nodded to him. “I’ll try.” With that she ran off. She knew she wouldn't see him again, but she turn back one more time; her face in a twisted forced smile, and yelled. "I'll see you later." Her last words to him a lie.
The last memory before she woke up was that one bastards face. She wished she could kill him.
-
[Claire‘s Start]
Claire wasn’t sure when she woke up, but she was in some kind of mess hall going through a bag of rations. Then she found it. Her weapon was…
“A gun?” She didn’t know the kind of gun it was, but the point was it was loaded and she had more bullets. Still could she kills?
“Juliet… I bet she could do it… I bet she could kill.” Claire sighed. “Lots of people to kill.” She pulled out a book about some kind of gun, The Ruger MK III. She threw the book to the ground which caused a loud bang and screamed. “The I don’t care about this crap. I wanna go home! Fuck the government! Screw Uncle Sam and all his propaganda shit!”
Claire’s body was trembling. She felt the locket around her neck. “Daddy I’m feeling kind of better now. I’m not going to lose because…” She put her head down.
Even if she won what was the outcome? She knew the winners vanished so she wouldn’t be going home. “I wanna live…” With that she picked up the book and began to look through it, She wondered if she really need to kill anyone. She wished she didn’t, but it seemed like the only option before her.
Claire sniffed the air. Cigarette smoke! Claire stood up with her gun ready. “Who’s here!?”
Panic was beginning to feel panic overtaking her. She couldn’t jump to hasty conclusions, but she had to survive.
“I don’t wanna kill unless I have to so…” Did she mean that? “Of course I could just shoot you as soon as you show yourself. That really depends on who you are!"
Claire thought about what she said, but it was to late now. She’d have to deal with the consequences when they came.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler OverlordMikey. 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.
Scuffling sounds, screaming sounds, scratched at the back of Chanel's ears, but she paid no mind to them. She wanted to enjoy that fleeting moment, the one a girl could enjoy with a nice cigarette, before she had to face the game. And if sitting there, bag sprawled in front of her, cigarette held loosely between her index and little finger and inhaling away until the burning paper scalded her hands was the way to go, then it was the way to go.
What she wouldn't have given just for a few more minutes alone.
Another girl's voice cut through the semi-darkness like a shard of glass on a vein, and this time, she was forced to turn her head. However, if she had to give anything more than her weakest bit of attention to her, then it wasn't going to work out. Chanel knew her class, but there were some people who were better off not knowing. Her philosophy of "help everyone, help yourself" was a little thing that belonged only back in civilization, and had no relevance here.
So instead of being the nice girl, the friendly girl, the singer, the vocalist, the fashion expert, or whatever the hell people liked her to be, she instead chose to be the one who gave up all hope right from the very beginning.
It was a hell of a lot better path to choose than the person who wanted to be around her friends until the bitter end.
Upon seeing someone through the darkness of the hall, she didn't smile, she didn't even say hello. Instead, she took a long inhale of her cigarette, the burn lines creeping ever closer to her fingers, and blew the cloud at the girl who's voice was vaguely familiar.
"If you're gonna kill me, just do it. I'm not cut out for this crap, and I doubt you are. So don't try and be a big girl and put on a show. If you wanna kill me, just say so right here, right now. I'll lay down and everything."
Chanel wasn't even sure she had a fighting chance yet. She didn't know what weapon she had, or whether anybody was actually going to start. She knew that the loners, the freaks, and those goddamn chinks that walked the hallways of her school would be the first to either snap or die, but frankly, she'd rather be put out of her misery by someone who wasn't a total waste of space.
That being said, she still had to try and remember who this girl was.
What she wouldn't have given just for a few more minutes alone.
Another girl's voice cut through the semi-darkness like a shard of glass on a vein, and this time, she was forced to turn her head. However, if she had to give anything more than her weakest bit of attention to her, then it wasn't going to work out. Chanel knew her class, but there were some people who were better off not knowing. Her philosophy of "help everyone, help yourself" was a little thing that belonged only back in civilization, and had no relevance here.
So instead of being the nice girl, the friendly girl, the singer, the vocalist, the fashion expert, or whatever the hell people liked her to be, she instead chose to be the one who gave up all hope right from the very beginning.
It was a hell of a lot better path to choose than the person who wanted to be around her friends until the bitter end.
Upon seeing someone through the darkness of the hall, she didn't smile, she didn't even say hello. Instead, she took a long inhale of her cigarette, the burn lines creeping ever closer to her fingers, and blew the cloud at the girl who's voice was vaguely familiar.
"If you're gonna kill me, just do it. I'm not cut out for this crap, and I doubt you are. So don't try and be a big girl and put on a show. If you wanna kill me, just say so right here, right now. I'll lay down and everything."
Chanel wasn't even sure she had a fighting chance yet. She didn't know what weapon she had, or whether anybody was actually going to start. She knew that the loners, the freaks, and those goddamn chinks that walked the hallways of her school would be the first to either snap or die, but frankly, she'd rather be put out of her misery by someone who wasn't a total waste of space.
That being said, she still had to try and remember who this girl was.
-
OverlordMikey*
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:27 pm
A moment of weakness. That’s all it is right? Hesitation… as Claire waited for the person to show herself she could feel swear moving down her brow and a knot in her stomach.
The girl who showed just barely in the darkness was Chanel something-or-nother. Claire didn’t remember her full name and they most certainly weren’t friends so it’s not like Claire had a reason to hesitate. Yet…
Chanel has friends right? She has to have people who care about her!
Claire searched her memories for what she knew about her classmates.
She didn’t date from what Claire had heard around school. She could sing right? Did she have any other hobbies? Shit! What the fuck does it matter!? If I pull the trigger one less asshole who could off me or one of my friends! I’ve seen this before, hesitation is stupidity… is this what goes through their minds. She’ll kill you before you kill her if you don’t…
"If you're gonna kill me, just do it. I'm not cut out for this crap, and I doubt you are. So don't try and be a big girl and put on a show. If you wanna kill me, just say so right here, right now. I'll lay down and everything."
Claire just stared dumbfounded. How could anyone not care? The knot in her stomach twisted more. Her grip on the gun loosened a little.
“How can you say that!?” The words she spoke were filled with an odd mix of dread and excitement. She held someone’s life in her hands; someone who didn’t care if Claire riddled her with bullets, and she hated every moment of it.
“Why are you just giving up!?” Claire shook her head and aimed the gun.
“I don’t wanna kill! I will if I have to, but… If I had the choice… I have the choice.”
Claire lowered her gun. She realized now, she didn’t have to. That’s what they would have wanted her too do. She’s just going to what she wants! What’s the worst they can do? Kill her! Ha! That what they are planning anyway so it doesn’t really matter. This is a game and she didn’t feel like playing it.
“I’m going to find my friends. You can sit here, kill others, or off yourself for all I care! If you have no will to live; even if just to see your friends one more time, then your already dead anyway.”
Claire put the manual to her gun in her supply bag and turned away from the other girl. She still held her gun in her hand.
“I‘ve got two goals. One find my friends, two go home to my daddy. I can still do one of those, so I‘m not ready to give up yet.” She looked at the other girl.
“Do you wanna come? Two of us means that less bullets will be headed our way. You know, unless you like bullets. You can make yourself useful then and be my personal human shield…I‘m being sarcastic.” Claire gave a forced grin, it was hard to stay happy at times like these. Inside her head she was thinking.
If she refuses I’ll just leave her alone. If she tries to kill me I’ll kill her. As simple as that. Claire, you can do this. You’ll find Juliet and then follow her, she’ll know what to do. She then said. “If you don’t want to join me I’ll just leave you here. It’s your choice.”
The girl who showed just barely in the darkness was Chanel something-or-nother. Claire didn’t remember her full name and they most certainly weren’t friends so it’s not like Claire had a reason to hesitate. Yet…
Chanel has friends right? She has to have people who care about her!
Claire searched her memories for what she knew about her classmates.
She didn’t date from what Claire had heard around school. She could sing right? Did she have any other hobbies? Shit! What the fuck does it matter!? If I pull the trigger one less asshole who could off me or one of my friends! I’ve seen this before, hesitation is stupidity… is this what goes through their minds. She’ll kill you before you kill her if you don’t…
"If you're gonna kill me, just do it. I'm not cut out for this crap, and I doubt you are. So don't try and be a big girl and put on a show. If you wanna kill me, just say so right here, right now. I'll lay down and everything."
Claire just stared dumbfounded. How could anyone not care? The knot in her stomach twisted more. Her grip on the gun loosened a little.
“How can you say that!?” The words she spoke were filled with an odd mix of dread and excitement. She held someone’s life in her hands; someone who didn’t care if Claire riddled her with bullets, and she hated every moment of it.
“Why are you just giving up!?” Claire shook her head and aimed the gun.
“I don’t wanna kill! I will if I have to, but… If I had the choice… I have the choice.”
Claire lowered her gun. She realized now, she didn’t have to. That’s what they would have wanted her too do. She’s just going to what she wants! What’s the worst they can do? Kill her! Ha! That what they are planning anyway so it doesn’t really matter. This is a game and she didn’t feel like playing it.
“I’m going to find my friends. You can sit here, kill others, or off yourself for all I care! If you have no will to live; even if just to see your friends one more time, then your already dead anyway.”
Claire put the manual to her gun in her supply bag and turned away from the other girl. She still held her gun in her hand.
“I‘ve got two goals. One find my friends, two go home to my daddy. I can still do one of those, so I‘m not ready to give up yet.” She looked at the other girl.
“Do you wanna come? Two of us means that less bullets will be headed our way. You know, unless you like bullets. You can make yourself useful then and be my personal human shield…I‘m being sarcastic.” Claire gave a forced grin, it was hard to stay happy at times like these. Inside her head she was thinking.
If she refuses I’ll just leave her alone. If she tries to kill me I’ll kill her. As simple as that. Claire, you can do this. You’ll find Juliet and then follow her, she’ll know what to do. She then said. “If you don’t want to join me I’ll just leave you here. It’s your choice.”
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler OverlordMikey. 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.
Ah, Claire. Claire Heartland, Chanel couldn't mistake that attitude and tone of voice for anyone else in their grade. Such a brutally honest and cut-throated personality couldn't be placed behind any other pair of glasses. But...what the hell was she trying to prove to Chanel? "Life is worth living, but don't worry, someone's gonna kill you anyway and it isn't going to be me, even though I just fucking said that I'm gonna kill?"
Sounded like Claire all right.
Chanel laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh, it was one of those terrible condescending laughs that one can only give off an air of hystericy or a gleam of hate towards anyone involved.
"YOU wanna talk about choice?" Chanel barked, moving her legs over the side of the bench and slipping out of the bolted-down table. Taking only her box of cigarettes and a lighter with her, she started to walk towards the voice. She had nothing with her, she had nothing to give to the poor bitch, only a whack across the face.
Sure enough, when she got through the lingering greyness that was that time of day, it was Claire Heartland.
"Don't you dare talk to me about choice. Do you think that we live in a country where we're given any choices at all besides living? I have lived my entire life without choice. I didn't choose for my dad to die before I was born, I didn't choose to go through the last fucking 16 years without one, I didn't CHOOSE to end up here. No, those choices were all made for me, and frankly, the choice to live right now isn't in my hands, it's in the hands of people like you."
Chanel sneered at Claire, getting closer and closer by the step. At every word, she got closer and closer, and at the final "you", she could see her own reflection in the girl's glasses.
"I don't care about you, I don't care about any of you, or those people that consider themselves classmates. I used to care, back when I thought that my life could mean something. Now do you know what I care about? I care about sitting down, finishing this cigarette, and then waiting until someone comes in here and does the job for me. I would rather it be some loner freak like that Marilyn, or even any of those testosterone-driven members of the track team, than somewhere out there, in the middle of somewhere that I didn't have the choice to be, with someone like you Claire. When I die, someone'll come in here, find me, aim, and-"
Chanel didn't hold back this time, and poked Claire hard, right in the middle of her chest.
"Pow. Just like that, I'm gone. It's not like it's much of a waste anyway. But I'm not gonna spend the rest of my time trying to find the two people in this school I've cared about for so long. Sibby doesn't need me, Ryan can do without me, and..."
Chanel stopped momentarily, brought the cigarette up to her lips, inhaled, and exhaled the smoke in the girls face, proper this time.
"Frankly, I can probably empty this whole box in the time it takes for anyone with proper cajones to find me and actually finish the job."
Chanel smirked, and turned around, heading back to her bag and belongings. With every strut, it left a loud clack throughout the empty hall.
"So go on, find your friends. If you see Siobhan McCarthy or Ryan Montoya, tell them I'm here, but leave me out of any little plan you have. Hell, tell the whole grade if you want to. You could do a lot more with your breath than try and convince someone without that much to breathe to look your own selfish little way. Claire."
Sounded like Claire all right.
Chanel laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh, it was one of those terrible condescending laughs that one can only give off an air of hystericy or a gleam of hate towards anyone involved.
"YOU wanna talk about choice?" Chanel barked, moving her legs over the side of the bench and slipping out of the bolted-down table. Taking only her box of cigarettes and a lighter with her, she started to walk towards the voice. She had nothing with her, she had nothing to give to the poor bitch, only a whack across the face.
Sure enough, when she got through the lingering greyness that was that time of day, it was Claire Heartland.
"Don't you dare talk to me about choice. Do you think that we live in a country where we're given any choices at all besides living? I have lived my entire life without choice. I didn't choose for my dad to die before I was born, I didn't choose to go through the last fucking 16 years without one, I didn't CHOOSE to end up here. No, those choices were all made for me, and frankly, the choice to live right now isn't in my hands, it's in the hands of people like you."
Chanel sneered at Claire, getting closer and closer by the step. At every word, she got closer and closer, and at the final "you", she could see her own reflection in the girl's glasses.
"I don't care about you, I don't care about any of you, or those people that consider themselves classmates. I used to care, back when I thought that my life could mean something. Now do you know what I care about? I care about sitting down, finishing this cigarette, and then waiting until someone comes in here and does the job for me. I would rather it be some loner freak like that Marilyn, or even any of those testosterone-driven members of the track team, than somewhere out there, in the middle of somewhere that I didn't have the choice to be, with someone like you Claire. When I die, someone'll come in here, find me, aim, and-"
Chanel didn't hold back this time, and poked Claire hard, right in the middle of her chest.
"Pow. Just like that, I'm gone. It's not like it's much of a waste anyway. But I'm not gonna spend the rest of my time trying to find the two people in this school I've cared about for so long. Sibby doesn't need me, Ryan can do without me, and..."
Chanel stopped momentarily, brought the cigarette up to her lips, inhaled, and exhaled the smoke in the girls face, proper this time.
"Frankly, I can probably empty this whole box in the time it takes for anyone with proper cajones to find me and actually finish the job."
Chanel smirked, and turned around, heading back to her bag and belongings. With every strut, it left a loud clack throughout the empty hall.
"So go on, find your friends. If you see Siobhan McCarthy or Ryan Montoya, tell them I'm here, but leave me out of any little plan you have. Hell, tell the whole grade if you want to. You could do a lot more with your breath than try and convince someone without that much to breathe to look your own selfish little way. Claire."
-
OverlordMikey*
- Posts: 18
- Joined: Wed Aug 15, 2018 8:27 pm
That laugh pierced Claire more than words. For a brief moment Claire wished she had just shot the girl as now that Chanel approached her she found herself frozen in fear.
Chanel was taller than her, stronger than her… She wore clothes and make-up that Claire found disturbing. Her face took on a nasty sneer.
"Don't you dare talk to me about choice. Do you think that we live in a country where we're given any choices at all besides living?”
She’s getting closer… is she - she going to kill me? She’s right you know… No we always have a choice right… things like the Underground exist… always a choice. Daddy…Live… Juliet… School… Claire’s thoughts had started to jumble under the pressure, but one thought called through all the others. I have to say what I think… I have to say what I know!
“I have lived my entire life without choice. I didn't choose for my dad to die before I was born, I didn't choose to go through the last fucking 16 years without one, I didn't CHOOSE to end up here. No, those choices were all made for me, and frankly, the choice to live right now isn't in my hands, it's in the hands of people like you."
The wheels in Claire’s head started to turn. What a pathetic person she is…Could this be the real her? What a pitiable person.
By now she was to close, Claire could feel her body tremble. Something about waiting around and no choices. It was just more self pity crap.
She poked Claire’s chest harshly. Claire gripped her gun tightly. Nothing pissed her off more than people who whine about how difficult their lives are and how much they can’t wait to die.
Claire had never smoked before. She’d dealt with people who smoke; her dad smoked, but she always kept her distance when they did. As the smoke entered her lungs she couldn’t hold back the coughs.
"Frankly, I can probably empty this whole box in the time it takes for anyone with proper cajones to find me and actually finish the job."
And that was it. She just walked away with her sick smirk as if everything she said wasn’t just a pity-fest.
"So go on, find your friends. If you see Siobhan McCarthy or Ryan Montoya, tell them I'm here, but leave me out of any little plan you have. Hell, tell the whole grade if you want to. You could do a lot more with your breath than try and convince someone without that much to breathe to look your own selfish little way. Claire."
Maybe it was the echo Chanel made as she strutted away or the smoke she blew in her face, perhaps it was just that little voice that told Claire to always say what she saw as the truth but she screamed as loud as she could. Perhaps part of her hoped someone would come and shut up Chanel; put the girl out of her own pathetic misery, but she wasn’t sure.
“Me, selfish! Who the fuck do you think you are! You spit out a bunch of self pity shit and you call me selfish! As you’re your dad, well at least he was killed! I’ve never even met my mother. She dropped me off on my freakin’ dad’s door step with a fuckin’ note saying she wanted nothing to do with me!”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing her rant. As she did she began to slowly step forward.
“You say your friends are better off without you! What happens well you sit here!? What happens if you hear an announcement that they’re dead!? Something you could have prevented! You had a choice! Yes it sucks that we’re here! I hate this fucking government and I hate this stupid ass program! I hate the fact that we don’t have as many choices as we should! But honestly I don’t care if I survive it, yet every moment I live is a moment I can help my friends! That’s a choice I can make That doesn’t matter to someone like you though! No - all someone like you cares about is a pack of cigs and a chance to whine about how daddy died and you’re oh so pathetic and pitiful!”
Claire‘s voice changed form angry to a more mocking tone. “Oh you just can’t wait to die! What will the viewers say! Poor poor Chanel! Her family life was so~ hard and she had no~ friends. Oh wait that’s because she let them get killed! Because she’s a selfish little brat who wasn‘t willing to step up and protect people!”
Claire dropped her mocking tone and returned to her normal voice. She wasn’t yelling anymore, in fact she sounded rather soft spoken. She just stood still, exasperated.
“That’s right the only selfish person here is you! Your just going to sit down and wait! If you want to die then don‘t make one of your classmates take you life… do it yourself! Don‘t make them live with that.”
Claire turned away and firmly grasped her survival pack.
“Your nothing but a coward Chanel. I can‘t tell your friends you’re here, because the Chanel they’d be looking for… she‘s dead… if she ever existed at all.”
With that Claire rushed off, stumbling a little as she went. She was sick of this shit and had wasted enough time. She had to find her friends, they needed her and she needed them.
(Claire, continued Open Ground / Lacrimosa)
Chanel was taller than her, stronger than her… She wore clothes and make-up that Claire found disturbing. Her face took on a nasty sneer.
"Don't you dare talk to me about choice. Do you think that we live in a country where we're given any choices at all besides living?”
She’s getting closer… is she - she going to kill me? She’s right you know… No we always have a choice right… things like the Underground exist… always a choice. Daddy…Live… Juliet… School… Claire’s thoughts had started to jumble under the pressure, but one thought called through all the others. I have to say what I think… I have to say what I know!
“I have lived my entire life without choice. I didn't choose for my dad to die before I was born, I didn't choose to go through the last fucking 16 years without one, I didn't CHOOSE to end up here. No, those choices were all made for me, and frankly, the choice to live right now isn't in my hands, it's in the hands of people like you."
The wheels in Claire’s head started to turn. What a pathetic person she is…Could this be the real her? What a pitiable person.
By now she was to close, Claire could feel her body tremble. Something about waiting around and no choices. It was just more self pity crap.
She poked Claire’s chest harshly. Claire gripped her gun tightly. Nothing pissed her off more than people who whine about how difficult their lives are and how much they can’t wait to die.
Claire had never smoked before. She’d dealt with people who smoke; her dad smoked, but she always kept her distance when they did. As the smoke entered her lungs she couldn’t hold back the coughs.
"Frankly, I can probably empty this whole box in the time it takes for anyone with proper cajones to find me and actually finish the job."
And that was it. She just walked away with her sick smirk as if everything she said wasn’t just a pity-fest.
"So go on, find your friends. If you see Siobhan McCarthy or Ryan Montoya, tell them I'm here, but leave me out of any little plan you have. Hell, tell the whole grade if you want to. You could do a lot more with your breath than try and convince someone without that much to breathe to look your own selfish little way. Claire."
Maybe it was the echo Chanel made as she strutted away or the smoke she blew in her face, perhaps it was just that little voice that told Claire to always say what she saw as the truth but she screamed as loud as she could. Perhaps part of her hoped someone would come and shut up Chanel; put the girl out of her own pathetic misery, but she wasn’t sure.
“Me, selfish! Who the fuck do you think you are! You spit out a bunch of self pity shit and you call me selfish! As you’re your dad, well at least he was killed! I’ve never even met my mother. She dropped me off on my freakin’ dad’s door step with a fuckin’ note saying she wanted nothing to do with me!”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing her rant. As she did she began to slowly step forward.
“You say your friends are better off without you! What happens well you sit here!? What happens if you hear an announcement that they’re dead!? Something you could have prevented! You had a choice! Yes it sucks that we’re here! I hate this fucking government and I hate this stupid ass program! I hate the fact that we don’t have as many choices as we should! But honestly I don’t care if I survive it, yet every moment I live is a moment I can help my friends! That’s a choice I can make That doesn’t matter to someone like you though! No - all someone like you cares about is a pack of cigs and a chance to whine about how daddy died and you’re oh so pathetic and pitiful!”
Claire‘s voice changed form angry to a more mocking tone. “Oh you just can’t wait to die! What will the viewers say! Poor poor Chanel! Her family life was so~ hard and she had no~ friends. Oh wait that’s because she let them get killed! Because she’s a selfish little brat who wasn‘t willing to step up and protect people!”
Claire dropped her mocking tone and returned to her normal voice. She wasn’t yelling anymore, in fact she sounded rather soft spoken. She just stood still, exasperated.
“That’s right the only selfish person here is you! Your just going to sit down and wait! If you want to die then don‘t make one of your classmates take you life… do it yourself! Don‘t make them live with that.”
Claire turned away and firmly grasped her survival pack.
“Your nothing but a coward Chanel. I can‘t tell your friends you’re here, because the Chanel they’d be looking for… she‘s dead… if she ever existed at all.”
With that Claire rushed off, stumbling a little as she went. She was sick of this shit and had wasted enough time. She had to find her friends, they needed her and she needed them.
(Claire, continued Open Ground / Lacrimosa)
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Claire may have been rambling, insulting, trying to put her down, but Chanel wasn't paying attention. The only thing that came out of that girls mouth before she left was wordswordswordswordswordswordswordswords. By the time Chanel had sat herself down again, discarded her cigarette, and lit a new one, the girl had left.
Good fucking riddance.
Grimacing at the feeling, the knowledge that the second cigarette was never as good as the first, she sighed, taking another inhale on the rebound.
Still not that helpful.
For 4 minutes and 38 seconds Chanel Martin sat there, still trying to reach that feeling of euphoria that the first cigarette provided. An entire stick was gone in that time, the ash still stuck there, hovering.
Chanel blinked, and exhaled slowly.
The imitation of the stick crumbled onto the table below.
One more exhalation.
The dust blew along the table, dancing. It joined its stepbrothers in the darkness.
She didn't have the desire to look at her bags. She felt a few hunger pangs, but they would pass with time. The only thing that really concerned Chanel was...just one thing that Claire said before she left.
"I can‘t tell your friends you’re here, because the Chanel they’d be looking for… she‘s dead… if she ever existed at all.”
That was how it was, was it? As soon as she died here, was she going to be filed away? Would her body, or even her ashes, make it back to her mother? And what of her mother? Once she found another guy, one who didn't like children, would she simply forget about her as well? Not even a picture?
Siobhan, Ryan...they deserved better than to live with the knowledge that the girl they knew was dead. She wasn't dead, she'd just faced reality. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, the fact remained that everyone they knew was dead. Every boy, every girl, they were going to be changed by this game in more ways than one.
Chanel would never be able to face the world outside this hall. That girl was going to tell everyone she met that Chanel was crazy, she was a changed woman, an insane woman.
...she never would be able to tell Ryan how much she loved her. And that was the thing that hurt the most.
Taking a look in her bag, open on the bench in front of her, she spotted her weapon, the thing that was now laying faceup for her to finally see.
Vicodin.
Painkillers.
She managed a small smile, her head laying on her hand so it squashed her face, and her second cigarette lost to the day. The government cared so much about her that they would end her pain. Or just minimize it, whatever they were supposed to do.
She wanted another cigarette, but instead she rested her head in front of her belongings, arms up like a cushion, and went to sleep.
Good fucking riddance.
Grimacing at the feeling, the knowledge that the second cigarette was never as good as the first, she sighed, taking another inhale on the rebound.
Still not that helpful.
For 4 minutes and 38 seconds Chanel Martin sat there, still trying to reach that feeling of euphoria that the first cigarette provided. An entire stick was gone in that time, the ash still stuck there, hovering.
Chanel blinked, and exhaled slowly.
The imitation of the stick crumbled onto the table below.
One more exhalation.
The dust blew along the table, dancing. It joined its stepbrothers in the darkness.
She didn't have the desire to look at her bags. She felt a few hunger pangs, but they would pass with time. The only thing that really concerned Chanel was...just one thing that Claire said before she left.
"I can‘t tell your friends you’re here, because the Chanel they’d be looking for… she‘s dead… if she ever existed at all.”
That was how it was, was it? As soon as she died here, was she going to be filed away? Would her body, or even her ashes, make it back to her mother? And what of her mother? Once she found another guy, one who didn't like children, would she simply forget about her as well? Not even a picture?
Siobhan, Ryan...they deserved better than to live with the knowledge that the girl they knew was dead. She wasn't dead, she'd just faced reality. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, the fact remained that everyone they knew was dead. Every boy, every girl, they were going to be changed by this game in more ways than one.
Chanel would never be able to face the world outside this hall. That girl was going to tell everyone she met that Chanel was crazy, she was a changed woman, an insane woman.
...she never would be able to tell Ryan how much she loved her. And that was the thing that hurt the most.
Taking a look in her bag, open on the bench in front of her, she spotted her weapon, the thing that was now laying faceup for her to finally see.
Vicodin.
Painkillers.
She managed a small smile, her head laying on her hand so it squashed her face, and her second cigarette lost to the day. The government cared so much about her that they would end her pain. Or just minimize it, whatever they were supposed to do.
She wanted another cigarette, but instead she rested her head in front of her belongings, arms up like a cushion, and went to sleep.
Fireworks exploded in the sky above the young boy, the light reflecting off his eyes as he looked upwards, the splendor and magic that can only come once a year amazing him. The fourth of July, the day for America, was today. His chest swollen with pride, Vaughn beheld the wonder of the American way alluded to by the red, white, and blue lights fluttering down to the earth before fizzling out.
M29: PEARSON, VAUGHN - START
The utility knife grasped in his hand, Vaughn slowly crept closer to the voices. The voice that appeared to have departed he recognized as Claire. The second voice he couldn't have placed, if not for the reek of tobacco. The smoking minor is none other than Chanel Martin.
Chanel Martin. How many times had he wrinkled his nose in disgust at her? The repugnant odour of smoke. The yellowed teeth of an old crone. The distasteful clothing. Chanel was a disgrace to America, pure and simple.
Vaughn slipped from the bathroom, where he had woken up inside of a stall, and scanned the mess hall. Then, he spotted her, with her head resting in front of her bag. So defenseless! he sang in his head, I'll make sure to twist the blade nice and hard for this stupid cunt.
Her back was to him. Perfect. This was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. Beginning to creep towards her, Vaughn felt triumphant. This Program stuff is fucking simple!
THUNK
Vaughn jumped at the sound. During his stealthy approach, he had neglected to notice his proximity to one of the tables, his upper thigh connecting sharply with the corner. This had caused the table to lift off of two of it's legs and collide again with the linoleum flooring on it's decent.
Looking up, Vaughn half expected to see himself looking down the barrel of a gun.
M29: PEARSON, VAUGHN - START
The utility knife grasped in his hand, Vaughn slowly crept closer to the voices. The voice that appeared to have departed he recognized as Claire. The second voice he couldn't have placed, if not for the reek of tobacco. The smoking minor is none other than Chanel Martin.
Chanel Martin. How many times had he wrinkled his nose in disgust at her? The repugnant odour of smoke. The yellowed teeth of an old crone. The distasteful clothing. Chanel was a disgrace to America, pure and simple.
Vaughn slipped from the bathroom, where he had woken up inside of a stall, and scanned the mess hall. Then, he spotted her, with her head resting in front of her bag. So defenseless! he sang in his head, I'll make sure to twist the blade nice and hard for this stupid cunt.
Her back was to him. Perfect. This was an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. Beginning to creep towards her, Vaughn felt triumphant. This Program stuff is fucking simple!
THUNK
Vaughn jumped at the sound. During his stealthy approach, he had neglected to notice his proximity to one of the tables, his upper thigh connecting sharply with the corner. This had caused the table to lift off of two of it's legs and collide again with the linoleum flooring on it's decent.
Looking up, Vaughn half expected to see himself looking down the barrel of a gun.
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"You couldn't have stayed, could you."
"Chanel, you know yourself that it wasn't my fault."
"Bullshit. You could have stayed, you could have fought back, you could have refused. Instead, you decided to be a patriot."
"And what? Leave Georgie do watch me die? I couldn't do that to her, I loved her too m-"
"Don't say it, dad. You never loved her, you never even wanted me."
"Chanel, please, I loved your mother. And it doesn't matter if you were an accident or not. You were born in 2009, you were my child, and you know that if I could have stayed and looked after you, I would have. If not for your mother, for you."
"...why didn't she tell me how you died? Why did I have to find out myself? I...I searched through everything I could find, every picture, every scrap, every newspaper, even your marriage certificate. She hid it, and she never thought I'd actually look for it. Stupid BITCH! She lied to me, why did she always lie to me?"
"She...I don't think she actually thought that she could ever hope to make a replacement, Chanel. She knew that the image she tried to make of me would never match up to what I am...what I was, in reality."
"She didn't need to! Why the hell did she want to try and make you the best to me when all she'd do was find someone else? I could never love them if she did that! I'd never trust them! Why, dad, why? Why...*why couldn't you have just touched me*?"
"...we'll have all the time in the world to speak soon."
"Wha...dad...daddy?"
*
"Daddy?" Chanel mumbled, as she felt the vibrations in the floor below her rage tenfold against her ears. It was one of the things about being on a metal table; noises were magnified by a lot.
Waking up, she saw that nobody else had taken it upon themselves to rid her while she slept. But in any case, she was still kicking. Alive was not something she was concerned about, but...
...what the heck made that noise?
Rubbing her head, she turned herself around to look at the perpetrator.
And it was someone, basically the only someone, whom she had a problem with actually killing her.
Vaughn Pearson. Ugly bastard in her classes who was the lowest of the low on her scale. Everything he said, everything he did screamed 'future serial killer' to Chanel, and she didn't even have to blame that on her hatred of guys. He was a swimmer, who always seemed to be watching that Allison girl, some preppy happy little thing on the swim team. He was disgusting, he was a waste of space, and frankly, as 'unpatriotic' as Chanel was, his parents could have done a lot better than to waste their effort trying to turn the losers into their future.
Clearing her eyes for a bit, she tried to look at what he had in his hand, was it...a stick of somekind? Pff, they probably gave him some Mentos, or an enema, or some tiny little capsule so he could kill himself and rid the class of his presc-KNIFE!
Chanel's eyes flew open, and almost immediately she was scrambling up onto the table. Her packet of cigarettes tumbled onto the seats, but Chanel managed to grasp one of them before it flew under the bolted table. While standing there, she started to gather her things together. Dammit, she wanted to give up, but there was no way in HELL this fucktard was offing her.
"Get away from me, Pearson. Don't you come any closer, or I'll rip your fucking nuts off," Chanel yelled, as all her belongings finally made themselves known to her bag. What the hell could she use to get rid of him? No gun, no knife, no nothing!
What did she have to do to live past this encounter?
"Chanel, you know yourself that it wasn't my fault."
"Bullshit. You could have stayed, you could have fought back, you could have refused. Instead, you decided to be a patriot."
"And what? Leave Georgie do watch me die? I couldn't do that to her, I loved her too m-"
"Don't say it, dad. You never loved her, you never even wanted me."
"Chanel, please, I loved your mother. And it doesn't matter if you were an accident or not. You were born in 2009, you were my child, and you know that if I could have stayed and looked after you, I would have. If not for your mother, for you."
"...why didn't she tell me how you died? Why did I have to find out myself? I...I searched through everything I could find, every picture, every scrap, every newspaper, even your marriage certificate. She hid it, and she never thought I'd actually look for it. Stupid BITCH! She lied to me, why did she always lie to me?"
"She...I don't think she actually thought that she could ever hope to make a replacement, Chanel. She knew that the image she tried to make of me would never match up to what I am...what I was, in reality."
"She didn't need to! Why the hell did she want to try and make you the best to me when all she'd do was find someone else? I could never love them if she did that! I'd never trust them! Why, dad, why? Why...*why couldn't you have just touched me*?"
"...we'll have all the time in the world to speak soon."
"Wha...dad...daddy?"
*
"Daddy?" Chanel mumbled, as she felt the vibrations in the floor below her rage tenfold against her ears. It was one of the things about being on a metal table; noises were magnified by a lot.
Waking up, she saw that nobody else had taken it upon themselves to rid her while she slept. But in any case, she was still kicking. Alive was not something she was concerned about, but...
...what the heck made that noise?
Rubbing her head, she turned herself around to look at the perpetrator.
And it was someone, basically the only someone, whom she had a problem with actually killing her.
Vaughn Pearson. Ugly bastard in her classes who was the lowest of the low on her scale. Everything he said, everything he did screamed 'future serial killer' to Chanel, and she didn't even have to blame that on her hatred of guys. He was a swimmer, who always seemed to be watching that Allison girl, some preppy happy little thing on the swim team. He was disgusting, he was a waste of space, and frankly, as 'unpatriotic' as Chanel was, his parents could have done a lot better than to waste their effort trying to turn the losers into their future.
Clearing her eyes for a bit, she tried to look at what he had in his hand, was it...a stick of somekind? Pff, they probably gave him some Mentos, or an enema, or some tiny little capsule so he could kill himself and rid the class of his presc-KNIFE!
Chanel's eyes flew open, and almost immediately she was scrambling up onto the table. Her packet of cigarettes tumbled onto the seats, but Chanel managed to grasp one of them before it flew under the bolted table. While standing there, she started to gather her things together. Dammit, she wanted to give up, but there was no way in HELL this fucktard was offing her.
"Get away from me, Pearson. Don't you come any closer, or I'll rip your fucking nuts off," Chanel yelled, as all her belongings finally made themselves known to her bag. What the hell could she use to get rid of him? No gun, no knife, no nothing!
What did she have to do to live past this encounter?
Vaughn's brows furrowed. That fucking voice. The smug, cancerous voice laced with venom dripping from her yellowed mouth caused red-hot rage to spread in his gut. He glared at her as she packed her things.
"Shut your stupid mouth, bitch, and stop messing around with your bag."
Brimming with confidence, Vaughn pressed the button and slid the blade of the knife further out, as intimidation. He smirked. Finally, he was in power. He had the weapon, and he felt like a God.
"You heard me. Stop fucking around with the bag, you dumb whore, or I'll slice your blackened esophagus out of your neck."
Every time he insulted her, Vaughn's confidence grew. What was this feeling? It was like whenever he would bully people when he was a kid, but stronger. His smirk gave way to a full grin, awaiting her compliance.
"Shut your stupid mouth, bitch, and stop messing around with your bag."
Brimming with confidence, Vaughn pressed the button and slid the blade of the knife further out, as intimidation. He smirked. Finally, he was in power. He had the weapon, and he felt like a God.
"You heard me. Stop fucking around with the bag, you dumb whore, or I'll slice your blackened esophagus out of your neck."
Every time he insulted her, Vaughn's confidence grew. What was this feeling? It was like whenever he would bully people when he was a kid, but stronger. His smirk gave way to a full grin, awaiting her compliance.
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Stop messing around with her bag? Why the fuck did he think he could tell her what to do? What the fuck? He wasn't anything, he was nothing, even with a weapon. If he tried to kill her, she could just fight back, win, take the weapon and really end it herself.
Standing up a bit taller as she got her little box of pills into her pocket, she remained silent as he tried being threatening with that little knife of his. A box cutter. A knife for cutting boxes. Pathetic just like him. Such a tiny little blade...
"S'that all? You're gonna threaten me with that? Boy, you're not even near me. What's the use in trying to threaten me if I'm the one who's got every advantage over you...apart from that little pointy thing in your hands. I imagine it's compensating for something, Pearson? It's small, but it should probably be a lot bigger than the tiny little thing you play around with at night," Chanel chided, tightening the grip on her bag's strap. Unless he could superjump, he wasn't going to get the edge on her, not while she knew the exits and every advantage point of this room.
...well, this was a welcome change from before, wasn't it? At least she didn't want to die this time.
All the while, she started taking little steps, baby steps, not even them, backwards, across the table.
Standing up a bit taller as she got her little box of pills into her pocket, she remained silent as he tried being threatening with that little knife of his. A box cutter. A knife for cutting boxes. Pathetic just like him. Such a tiny little blade...
"S'that all? You're gonna threaten me with that? Boy, you're not even near me. What's the use in trying to threaten me if I'm the one who's got every advantage over you...apart from that little pointy thing in your hands. I imagine it's compensating for something, Pearson? It's small, but it should probably be a lot bigger than the tiny little thing you play around with at night," Chanel chided, tightening the grip on her bag's strap. Unless he could superjump, he wasn't going to get the edge on her, not while she knew the exits and every advantage point of this room.
...well, this was a welcome change from before, wasn't it? At least she didn't want to die this time.
All the while, she started taking little steps, baby steps, not even them, backwards, across the table.
Vaughn wasn't even close to noticing her steps, instead fuming over the comment about his anatomy. How dare she?!
"Yeah, you've probably seen enough of them anyways, right? You stupid loose cunt. And last I checked, I'm the one with a weapon. What have you got, huh?"
He took a step forward, ready to sprint after her if he had to. No matter what, he wanted to kill her. Everything about her made him sick. The standoffish, snobby whore!
"Now stay right there, you filthy-mouthed bitch, or else I'll carve those rotting teeth out of your skull."
He stepped forward once more, licking his lips. His palms became sweaty, and his heart pounded in his chest. He was painfully of his breath. Was he really going to try to kill her?
Of course! That's why they put him in here! What else was he supposed to do? Besides, he had always been an upstanding citizen. If he just does as he was put here, he's guaranteed to get home. He could already hear the cheers of the kids at General's Pride, praising him of his performance.
"Yeah, you've probably seen enough of them anyways, right? You stupid loose cunt. And last I checked, I'm the one with a weapon. What have you got, huh?"
He took a step forward, ready to sprint after her if he had to. No matter what, he wanted to kill her. Everything about her made him sick. The standoffish, snobby whore!
"Now stay right there, you filthy-mouthed bitch, or else I'll carve those rotting teeth out of your skull."
He stepped forward once more, licking his lips. His palms became sweaty, and his heart pounded in his chest. He was painfully of his breath. Was he really going to try to kill her?
Of course! That's why they put him in here! What else was he supposed to do? Besides, he had always been an upstanding citizen. If he just does as he was put here, he's guaranteed to get home. He could already hear the cheers of the kids at General's Pride, praising him of his performance.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Egads. 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.
The boy was disgusting, the way he moved and acted when he got closer. Chanel could see every wheezy breath, every little movement. It made her sick to her stomach to think that this guy was given the big end of the stick for once.
...if he got ahold of her, it was over. She wanted it to end, she really did, but...not like this, no fucking way.
But what would she do if he did get her, corner her like a rat? She was a weak person, a smoker, overweight. Unless she found something big, something heavy, she wasn't going to be able to beat that. A knife was still a knife, whether it was being used as a motivator to a sleazy little pig like the one in front of her or an implement in taking coke, it was a knife that could end her with a simple plunge.
The fear was gradually rising, first to her feet, then slightly to her face as they stood there, the boy slowly but surely approaching. Like she knew, he was a swimmer. That meant he could outrun her, hell, one of those video game nerds could probably outrun her. What she wouldn't give to just whack him over the head with her guitar and be able to run. She didn't bring it to the trip, so...
You make the music yourself, Chanel. Find your own instrument.
...make the music....yourself.
The boy was still getting closer. Every breathe was magnified tenfold, as the little blade in his hand seemed to reflect the littlest movement in the hall.
Chanel closed her eyes.
One big breathe in.
And out.
And in again.
And out again.
And in one more time...
And run and jump.
Chanel's legs moved rapidly, almost instantly, as she sprinted across the short distance that was the width of the table and jumped through the air towards the boy.
She still didn't know whether she was going to go down or not, but hell, she was a fighter.
...if he got ahold of her, it was over. She wanted it to end, she really did, but...not like this, no fucking way.
But what would she do if he did get her, corner her like a rat? She was a weak person, a smoker, overweight. Unless she found something big, something heavy, she wasn't going to be able to beat that. A knife was still a knife, whether it was being used as a motivator to a sleazy little pig like the one in front of her or an implement in taking coke, it was a knife that could end her with a simple plunge.
The fear was gradually rising, first to her feet, then slightly to her face as they stood there, the boy slowly but surely approaching. Like she knew, he was a swimmer. That meant he could outrun her, hell, one of those video game nerds could probably outrun her. What she wouldn't give to just whack him over the head with her guitar and be able to run. She didn't bring it to the trip, so...
You make the music yourself, Chanel. Find your own instrument.
...make the music....yourself.
The boy was still getting closer. Every breathe was magnified tenfold, as the little blade in his hand seemed to reflect the littlest movement in the hall.
Chanel closed her eyes.
One big breathe in.
And out.
And in again.
And out again.
And in one more time...
And run and jump.
Chanel's legs moved rapidly, almost instantly, as she sprinted across the short distance that was the width of the table and jumped through the air towards the boy.
She still didn't know whether she was going to go down or not, but hell, she was a fighter.
((GMing approved by handler.))
Vaughn grinned as she started towards him. Stupid slut! I'm pointing a knife at her! Does she want to die? Well, if you want it you-
WHUMP
The rough sound of bodies colliding resonated through the hall, the sound waves reaching the farthest of the rooms. Time seemed to move as if in slow motion, as Vaughn felt his legs leave the ground, his feet moving out from the force. A sensation filled his stomach, and it felt as if he was jumping of a diving board. A last thought crossed his mind before he made contact with the ground.
Aw, this is gonna HURT.
And it did. Vaughn's and his opponent's combined weight slammed his back into the ground, the air escaping his lungs. As he gasped, the bitch on top of him began getting up. Before she could get far, though, Vaughn grabbed the front of her shirt. "Where... do you... think you're going..." he heaved, his lungs racing for air.
His grip tightened on both her shirt and the knife in his hand, as he sent the knife sailing towards her side. "YOU STUPID BITCH!"
Vaughn grinned as she started towards him. Stupid slut! I'm pointing a knife at her! Does she want to die? Well, if you want it you-
WHUMP
The rough sound of bodies colliding resonated through the hall, the sound waves reaching the farthest of the rooms. Time seemed to move as if in slow motion, as Vaughn felt his legs leave the ground, his feet moving out from the force. A sensation filled his stomach, and it felt as if he was jumping of a diving board. A last thought crossed his mind before he made contact with the ground.
Aw, this is gonna HURT.
And it did. Vaughn's and his opponent's combined weight slammed his back into the ground, the air escaping his lungs. As he gasped, the bitch on top of him began getting up. Before she could get far, though, Vaughn grabbed the front of her shirt. "Where... do you... think you're going..." he heaved, his lungs racing for air.
His grip tightened on both her shirt and the knife in his hand, as he sent the knife sailing towards her side. "YOU STUPID BITCH!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Egads. 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.
To be cliched and say that time stood still as Chanel sailed through the air towards Vaughn would have been so cliched and wrong. Fuck that scene time went as normal, and Chanel went through every moment of it. She connected with him in a tackling position and almost crushed him beneath her weight, and she was so proud of it. If she was any heavier, she would have loved to be able to crush this fuckers ribs right under him.
As her feet connected the floor, she felt the boys lungs expel his diseased breath into her space, and that was the signal she needed to run, waddle, walk, saunter, whatever. As she got to her feet, however, the scene changed for the worse.
He was still moving, Vaughn still had some fight left in him, and that was not what Chanel was planning on at all. His little, obviously furred on the inside hands grabbed her shirt as she tried to get up, and she was yanked back to earth. Terror started to skyrocket like an shaken-up soda inside of her as she watched him scream, and sail the knife through the air towards her.
Now here, and no cliches intended, was where time really stood still. A knife flying towards someone did wonders for the adreneline, and Chanel was stock full of that stuff. It...it was coming, and Chanel was stuck in this one place as she awaiting what she only knew as death.
...DEATH WASN'T SUPPOSED TO JUST STING, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO FUCKING HURT.
She felt the knife enter her side. No, not her side, her clothing. She didn't know it, but her casually loosing her old cigarette packets was what saved her life right then and there. The knife twisted itself into one of her jacket pockets, cushioned somewhat by the empty box. Now that's not to say it saved her, nope, not in a lifetime. What happened next was that the knife went straight through, and a little, only a little, of the blade, ripped through the side of her waist and cute open her skin.
Even though it was only a bit of the blade, it was hurting. Not fucking hurting like she expected death to, but STINGING. The worst kind of pain, a sting. It was at that point of pain where it became something more than an annoyance and crashed right into hinderance territory.
And of course, this stinging pain of having a knife to her waist was now becoming more than a hinderance.
Chanels first reaction was to yell out, her throat begging for something more than what she could provide, a scream. She screamed loud, but hell she screamed fast, boy. Her next reaction, the blade still stuck in her skin, was the ram her head forward and hit Vaughn square in the centre of his ugly little face with her own.
Or at least that's what she hoped happened.
As her feet connected the floor, she felt the boys lungs expel his diseased breath into her space, and that was the signal she needed to run, waddle, walk, saunter, whatever. As she got to her feet, however, the scene changed for the worse.
He was still moving, Vaughn still had some fight left in him, and that was not what Chanel was planning on at all. His little, obviously furred on the inside hands grabbed her shirt as she tried to get up, and she was yanked back to earth. Terror started to skyrocket like an shaken-up soda inside of her as she watched him scream, and sail the knife through the air towards her.
Now here, and no cliches intended, was where time really stood still. A knife flying towards someone did wonders for the adreneline, and Chanel was stock full of that stuff. It...it was coming, and Chanel was stuck in this one place as she awaiting what she only knew as death.
...DEATH WASN'T SUPPOSED TO JUST STING, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO FUCKING HURT.
She felt the knife enter her side. No, not her side, her clothing. She didn't know it, but her casually loosing her old cigarette packets was what saved her life right then and there. The knife twisted itself into one of her jacket pockets, cushioned somewhat by the empty box. Now that's not to say it saved her, nope, not in a lifetime. What happened next was that the knife went straight through, and a little, only a little, of the blade, ripped through the side of her waist and cute open her skin.
Even though it was only a bit of the blade, it was hurting. Not fucking hurting like she expected death to, but STINGING. The worst kind of pain, a sting. It was at that point of pain where it became something more than an annoyance and crashed right into hinderance territory.
And of course, this stinging pain of having a knife to her waist was now becoming more than a hinderance.
Chanels first reaction was to yell out, her throat begging for something more than what she could provide, a scream. She screamed loud, but hell she screamed fast, boy. Her next reaction, the blade still stuck in her skin, was the ram her head forward and hit Vaughn square in the centre of his ugly little face with her own.
Or at least that's what she hoped happened.