(M18 - Johan Luther START)
Johan woke up in the open with a tingle on his fingers, carefully clutching (not to mention hiding) his Communist insignia hat.
Ack, that was some dream...
He then looked around at his empty surroundings, and then memories of the past few hours came back to him, bit by bit, from Announcement Day to the bus ride...
This... can't possibly be me. I...
He then glanced down at his hat, and sighed.
Well, no point in denying it. I'm in the Program, the crown jewel of propaganda for this goddamn dictatorship.
For a second, Johan felt the impulsive urge to put on his hat and go out into the open with it, but his more rational side decided not to.
I suppose it could make me a target...
Johan then opened his bag, placed the hat into it, and inspected the contents. Some food, a medical kit, a flashlight, a compass, and a map. Pretty basic. Then he caught sight of the javelin, and sighed again.
Looks like I got caught on the short end of the draw. Still, I could be the one with the toothpick. Might as well get some practice with this.
Then Johan took the map out of the bag, and inspected the locations. He noticed the closest one to him was marked "Armory". He thought on whether it was worth it to go to such an obvious location, and decided it was better then nothing.
If I'm lucky, it'll be empty and I suppose I can ambush anyone coming in. If I'm not, well...
He decided to put his negative thoughts behind and sprinted into the armory.
This Can't Be Me
Moderator: Sh4dE
This Can't Be Me
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Un67. 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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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
[[Abby Erickson START]]
Abby Erickson sat on her bed, her hands clasped together, lost in thought. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there. Minutes, hours... She couldn't exactly recall. It didn't really matter, did it?
Time is relative, right? What I could perceive to be a few minutes might be a few hours for someone else. What if that's just it? What if, we're all moving along at different paces... and that's what causes the friction between people, between the ones we love...
No, that's a stupid idea, stupid, scratch that one Abby...
Abby gave a sigh and collapsed atop her bed. She raised her hands up, blocking the light with her blue gloves. She couldn't think. Or well, she could think. She just couldn't think of anything good. Abby Erickson had a massive, massive case of writers block. And it was driving her to hell and back. Bringing her hands down, Abby flipped her hair out of her face and stared vacantly up towards the ceiling. She just didn't get it. She had been full of ideas just hours before, magnificent ideas, wonderful ideas. But it seemed that the second she had entered the house, they'd vanished without a trace. It was as if she had entered a strange sort of creative dead zone. An interesting concept, if it were happening to anyone else. It wasn’t interesting, it was just annoying.
Come'on, come'on, what was that one? The one with the girl, and- and it was colorful, it was like that day in July when Mom was out at a fancy dinner, and- no... no it wasn't like that day at all! It was that OTHER day, it felt like it was hot and it was very, very dark outside, that was the feeling. And... and there was a girl, it was colourful around the lights, no, the candles! No, no, I didn't think of candles. There were no candles. Maybe I should change the light to candles? No, come'on think. There was a girl, annnd it was dark and hot- but a pleasant heat... and... it was safe near the light, but it wasn't exactly dangerous in the dark... and the girl would have been sitting near the candles and she was thinking abou- OHHHHH I just lost it again didn't I? Yes. Yes I did.
She turned on her side, looking towards the corner of her rather spacious room. Her prized possession, a beat up Fender Stratocaster sat in the corner, the sixth string broken. She frowned as she looked at it; she had been meaning to get that fixed. And by that, she meant asking her sister for some money to buy a new string. She wasn't that good at the guitar to begin with, and the lack of playing was certainly not helping. Her hands were beginning to feel soft again, free from callouses beneath her gloves. That was a bad sign she figured.
Not spacious. Empty. It’s an empty room. Spacious implies this room is big to begin with... It was a stupid idea. I can't write poems based on a feeling I had just one time. But... that wasn't what I was writing it about. I was writing it about a memory. But, it was still stupid. What makes a poem then? Maybe... maybe it wasn't a poem at all. Was it a song? No, it wasn't, if it was I'd have remembered a line, not a feeling... It would have been all, ‘Fender, fender, fender stratocaster…’ an-
A loud bang interrupted her thoughts, causing her to jump. Making her way off her bed, Abby opened her bedroom door just in time to see her older sister Alex making her way up the stairs, her face red with anger. Abby beat a rather hasty retreat back into her room, shutting the door behind her as her sister strode past, towards her own room. Abby hesitated a second before opening her door again. Rubbing her hands together out of habit, Abby stared out into the hall. Alex’s door was closed. Abby felt a shiver go up her spine. Whatever had occurred, it wasn’t good. And she was beginning to get the feeling she would be hit with the aftershocks soon enough. Abby turned and momentarily paced about in her room… the idea wasn’t returning to her, whatever it had been. That wasn’t good. It left her little to do. And Abby hated boredom. With a groan Abby yanked open her door and hesitantly entered the hallway. She had no real plan. That wasn’t anything new.
Abby didn’t bother to knock before entering her sister’s room. Their Mother even at her most furious would make sure to knock before entering. Alex didn’t have to turn around to know it was her sister. Abby flinched back at the sight of her, Alex lay sprawled on her bed, her face twisted with rage, her pants covered in mud. Abby stood, frozen at the door half considering a retreat. The older girl looked up and raised a hand to brush locks of hair out of her face. She considered Abby, contempt on her face. With some effort, the older girl attempted to crack a smile towards her sister. It didn’t work out very well.
“What?”
Abby stood frozen a moment longer but eventually managed to yank her gaze away from her sister’s dirt smeared clothes. Her gaze flitted about her sisters wrecked room, it was messy beyond belief. Finally becoming aware her sister was waiting on her, Abby stuttered back to reality. She took a step back, standing just outside the doorway of her sister’s domain. She cared for her sister, but she wasn’t about to get sick on her behalf.
“What the hell was that about?”
Her sister frowned, picking her bag up off the ground and rummaging through it. Abby was sure she wasn’t looking for anything important. Her sister gave a sigh, not bothering to look up from her task.
“It’s nothing important.”
“Which, y’know, means it is.”
“You know our mom?”
“Somewhat…”
“She’s a Grade-A bitch.”
Abby’s eyes widened. She began to rub her hands together again, nervously, glancing behind her towards the staircase. Alex was bad enough in a foul mood, combined with her mother it would reach an entirely new level of chaos.
“Don’t worry, she’s not here.” Alex said the contempt notable in her voice. Abby turned back to her older sister. She sat on the bed, flicking on her Nintendo DS. Abby made a quick note of his posture, defeated, a noticeable slouch. It wasn’t like her. Alex was usually upbeat, even after a fight.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“It’s not what I did; it’s what she found out.” Alex shot her a glare. “Don’t say fuck. You’re only like, 12 for Christ sake. Just because the other kids swear, doesn’t mean you can too. It won’t make you like them. Go play that shit guitar of yours.”
Abby frowned. If it was anyone else, she’d have simply walked off. People sometimes had a way of getting under her skin. Alex hadn’t originated the practice, but she had definitely perfected it.
“It isn’t shit. It’s a Fender Stratocaster. A 60th Anniversary Edition Fender Stratocaster.” She said slowly, putting emphasize on each word.
“A used 60th Edition Fender you mean…”
“That isn’t the point. The string is broken anyways, so NO, I can’t go play my guitar.”
“Oh? When did that happen?”
“Stop avoiding the subject. What did you do? She’s crazy when she’s in a bad mood.”
Alex threw the DS down onto the bed in a huff. Giving a sigh, she brought up her hand, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair back, out of her face.
“She found out about John n’ me. Dunno how, but she did.”
Abby paused for a moment. John was, or at least had been, Alex’s boyfriend. Her “American” boyfriend. Or in other words, her WHITE boyfriend. Abby loved her mother, but had to admit she was a hypocrite. Terrified of appearing the slightest bit “un-American” the Erickson’ girls had to watch everything they said, everything they did. It was bitterly ironic in a way that sleeping WITH an American was on the list of un-American activities.
Considering, when you think about it, that’d be the only way to get a bit of American inside us…
“Oh fuck. Well… What’re you gonna’ do?” Her sister didn’t look up, but continued rubbing her forehead. It was a strange sight. Alex was usually the victor, or at least got away with whatever it was anyway. Whatever had happened, it had blown her confidence apart. In a strange way, that scared Abby more than Alex’s dirt smeared room. Abby glanced around, at a loss for what else she could say or do.
“Does it matter? Go write a poem kid.”
“I don’t have any ide-“
“By that I meant, get out. Kid.”
Abby tensed, anger coursing through her. With a sigh she turned on her heels, stalking back to her room and slamming the door. She didn’t know exactly why she had bothered. Alex could take care of herself, better than anyone in the house, better even than her mother. Pacing about her room, rubbing her hands together, Abby stared into the distance. An idea was brewing. Crossing to her guitar, Abby picked it up, plopping back down on her bed. Abby snatched up a pic and set about, randomly tugging on the chords, checking to make sure the guitar was tuned.
“This one goes out to forbidden love.” She whispered. “One, two, three, four!”
Abby Erickson began to play.
-------
Abby sat on the bench, bouncing the hammer from knee to knee. The Armoury was silent, empty. She had awoken there, mere minutes earlier. The racks were empty, or at least, she had assumed they were empty. She hadn’t moved much. There wasn’t much of a point. Besides, she couldn’t. Abby Erickson was terrified. So she waited.
For what? Death? I don’t want that either…
But they hadn’t given her much of a choice, had they? She’d been chosen, for this “Patriotic” game. A massacre rather... Abby didn’t believe them for a second. There was no glory here. She knew what The Program was. It was a corruption of Rock n’ Roll; it was what her Father had run from.
Daddy…
And now it had come for her. And what’s worse, it had caught her without pen or instrument. Abby Erickson was utterly alone, armed with naught but a hammer. Abby couldn’t lie to herself. She was going to die. The second she had heard her name called, she realized her fate had been sealed. She remembered looking around, wide eyed as the men lead her out of the auditorium. She hadn’t seen Alex. She didn’t even remember when she had last seen her.
Just like Dad. I can’t remember, just like how Dad…
Abby smacked the hammer down hard on her knee, causing her to jolt back to reality. She couldn’t think about that, especially not HERE. She needed to think. She needed to live.
But for what? Would they really let some immigrant win The Program? Yeah fucking right. That’d be a huge blow to… to morale. Or whatever the hell this show is supposed to induce.
Abby sighed. There was no way out. She had been given a terrible weapon, and she had been shoved into a blood sport. The odds of a happy ending to this fairy-tale were zilch.
Fairy Tales didn’t ever have a happy ending… It always ended with blood. Blood. Oh yes, there will be blood. There will be dirt, and there will be blood and you’re going to get shot in the face and… And that’s why I’m still here. It’s clean here. It’s relatively safe. For, y’know. B-blood sports… Well at least I know why now. At least I’ve got that.
Abby suddenly tensed. A tapping sound was close by, fast approaching. Another classmate, a competitor. Abby wondered who it could be. Abby wondered if that really mattered. But most of all, Abby wondered if this was really the end. Closing her eyes, and lowering her head towards the floor, Abby began to shake as the footsteps grew closer… closer… it was unbearable. Abby opened her eyes just in time to see a boy sprinting into the otherwise empty room. Her eyes went wide with fright. She couldn’t move. She could barely speak. The hammer dropped onto her foot.
“Oh shit. Hi there.” She stammered, weak and timid.
Just like that. It all ends, just like that.
Abby Erickson sat on her bed, her hands clasped together, lost in thought. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there. Minutes, hours... She couldn't exactly recall. It didn't really matter, did it?
Time is relative, right? What I could perceive to be a few minutes might be a few hours for someone else. What if that's just it? What if, we're all moving along at different paces... and that's what causes the friction between people, between the ones we love...
No, that's a stupid idea, stupid, scratch that one Abby...
Abby gave a sigh and collapsed atop her bed. She raised her hands up, blocking the light with her blue gloves. She couldn't think. Or well, she could think. She just couldn't think of anything good. Abby Erickson had a massive, massive case of writers block. And it was driving her to hell and back. Bringing her hands down, Abby flipped her hair out of her face and stared vacantly up towards the ceiling. She just didn't get it. She had been full of ideas just hours before, magnificent ideas, wonderful ideas. But it seemed that the second she had entered the house, they'd vanished without a trace. It was as if she had entered a strange sort of creative dead zone. An interesting concept, if it were happening to anyone else. It wasn’t interesting, it was just annoying.
Come'on, come'on, what was that one? The one with the girl, and- and it was colorful, it was like that day in July when Mom was out at a fancy dinner, and- no... no it wasn't like that day at all! It was that OTHER day, it felt like it was hot and it was very, very dark outside, that was the feeling. And... and there was a girl, it was colourful around the lights, no, the candles! No, no, I didn't think of candles. There were no candles. Maybe I should change the light to candles? No, come'on think. There was a girl, annnd it was dark and hot- but a pleasant heat... and... it was safe near the light, but it wasn't exactly dangerous in the dark... and the girl would have been sitting near the candles and she was thinking abou- OHHHHH I just lost it again didn't I? Yes. Yes I did.
She turned on her side, looking towards the corner of her rather spacious room. Her prized possession, a beat up Fender Stratocaster sat in the corner, the sixth string broken. She frowned as she looked at it; she had been meaning to get that fixed. And by that, she meant asking her sister for some money to buy a new string. She wasn't that good at the guitar to begin with, and the lack of playing was certainly not helping. Her hands were beginning to feel soft again, free from callouses beneath her gloves. That was a bad sign she figured.
Not spacious. Empty. It’s an empty room. Spacious implies this room is big to begin with... It was a stupid idea. I can't write poems based on a feeling I had just one time. But... that wasn't what I was writing it about. I was writing it about a memory. But, it was still stupid. What makes a poem then? Maybe... maybe it wasn't a poem at all. Was it a song? No, it wasn't, if it was I'd have remembered a line, not a feeling... It would have been all, ‘Fender, fender, fender stratocaster…’ an-
A loud bang interrupted her thoughts, causing her to jump. Making her way off her bed, Abby opened her bedroom door just in time to see her older sister Alex making her way up the stairs, her face red with anger. Abby beat a rather hasty retreat back into her room, shutting the door behind her as her sister strode past, towards her own room. Abby hesitated a second before opening her door again. Rubbing her hands together out of habit, Abby stared out into the hall. Alex’s door was closed. Abby felt a shiver go up her spine. Whatever had occurred, it wasn’t good. And she was beginning to get the feeling she would be hit with the aftershocks soon enough. Abby turned and momentarily paced about in her room… the idea wasn’t returning to her, whatever it had been. That wasn’t good. It left her little to do. And Abby hated boredom. With a groan Abby yanked open her door and hesitantly entered the hallway. She had no real plan. That wasn’t anything new.
Abby didn’t bother to knock before entering her sister’s room. Their Mother even at her most furious would make sure to knock before entering. Alex didn’t have to turn around to know it was her sister. Abby flinched back at the sight of her, Alex lay sprawled on her bed, her face twisted with rage, her pants covered in mud. Abby stood, frozen at the door half considering a retreat. The older girl looked up and raised a hand to brush locks of hair out of her face. She considered Abby, contempt on her face. With some effort, the older girl attempted to crack a smile towards her sister. It didn’t work out very well.
“What?”
Abby stood frozen a moment longer but eventually managed to yank her gaze away from her sister’s dirt smeared clothes. Her gaze flitted about her sisters wrecked room, it was messy beyond belief. Finally becoming aware her sister was waiting on her, Abby stuttered back to reality. She took a step back, standing just outside the doorway of her sister’s domain. She cared for her sister, but she wasn’t about to get sick on her behalf.
“What the hell was that about?”
Her sister frowned, picking her bag up off the ground and rummaging through it. Abby was sure she wasn’t looking for anything important. Her sister gave a sigh, not bothering to look up from her task.
“It’s nothing important.”
“Which, y’know, means it is.”
“You know our mom?”
“Somewhat…”
“She’s a Grade-A bitch.”
Abby’s eyes widened. She began to rub her hands together again, nervously, glancing behind her towards the staircase. Alex was bad enough in a foul mood, combined with her mother it would reach an entirely new level of chaos.
“Don’t worry, she’s not here.” Alex said the contempt notable in her voice. Abby turned back to her older sister. She sat on the bed, flicking on her Nintendo DS. Abby made a quick note of his posture, defeated, a noticeable slouch. It wasn’t like her. Alex was usually upbeat, even after a fight.
“What the fuck did you do?”
“It’s not what I did; it’s what she found out.” Alex shot her a glare. “Don’t say fuck. You’re only like, 12 for Christ sake. Just because the other kids swear, doesn’t mean you can too. It won’t make you like them. Go play that shit guitar of yours.”
Abby frowned. If it was anyone else, she’d have simply walked off. People sometimes had a way of getting under her skin. Alex hadn’t originated the practice, but she had definitely perfected it.
“It isn’t shit. It’s a Fender Stratocaster. A 60th Anniversary Edition Fender Stratocaster.” She said slowly, putting emphasize on each word.
“A used 60th Edition Fender you mean…”
“That isn’t the point. The string is broken anyways, so NO, I can’t go play my guitar.”
“Oh? When did that happen?”
“Stop avoiding the subject. What did you do? She’s crazy when she’s in a bad mood.”
Alex threw the DS down onto the bed in a huff. Giving a sigh, she brought up her hand, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair back, out of her face.
“She found out about John n’ me. Dunno how, but she did.”
Abby paused for a moment. John was, or at least had been, Alex’s boyfriend. Her “American” boyfriend. Or in other words, her WHITE boyfriend. Abby loved her mother, but had to admit she was a hypocrite. Terrified of appearing the slightest bit “un-American” the Erickson’ girls had to watch everything they said, everything they did. It was bitterly ironic in a way that sleeping WITH an American was on the list of un-American activities.
Considering, when you think about it, that’d be the only way to get a bit of American inside us…
“Oh fuck. Well… What’re you gonna’ do?” Her sister didn’t look up, but continued rubbing her forehead. It was a strange sight. Alex was usually the victor, or at least got away with whatever it was anyway. Whatever had happened, it had blown her confidence apart. In a strange way, that scared Abby more than Alex’s dirt smeared room. Abby glanced around, at a loss for what else she could say or do.
“Does it matter? Go write a poem kid.”
“I don’t have any ide-“
“By that I meant, get out. Kid.”
Abby tensed, anger coursing through her. With a sigh she turned on her heels, stalking back to her room and slamming the door. She didn’t know exactly why she had bothered. Alex could take care of herself, better than anyone in the house, better even than her mother. Pacing about her room, rubbing her hands together, Abby stared into the distance. An idea was brewing. Crossing to her guitar, Abby picked it up, plopping back down on her bed. Abby snatched up a pic and set about, randomly tugging on the chords, checking to make sure the guitar was tuned.
“This one goes out to forbidden love.” She whispered. “One, two, three, four!”
Abby Erickson began to play.
-------
Abby sat on the bench, bouncing the hammer from knee to knee. The Armoury was silent, empty. She had awoken there, mere minutes earlier. The racks were empty, or at least, she had assumed they were empty. She hadn’t moved much. There wasn’t much of a point. Besides, she couldn’t. Abby Erickson was terrified. So she waited.
For what? Death? I don’t want that either…
But they hadn’t given her much of a choice, had they? She’d been chosen, for this “Patriotic” game. A massacre rather... Abby didn’t believe them for a second. There was no glory here. She knew what The Program was. It was a corruption of Rock n’ Roll; it was what her Father had run from.
Daddy…
And now it had come for her. And what’s worse, it had caught her without pen or instrument. Abby Erickson was utterly alone, armed with naught but a hammer. Abby couldn’t lie to herself. She was going to die. The second she had heard her name called, she realized her fate had been sealed. She remembered looking around, wide eyed as the men lead her out of the auditorium. She hadn’t seen Alex. She didn’t even remember when she had last seen her.
Just like Dad. I can’t remember, just like how Dad…
Abby smacked the hammer down hard on her knee, causing her to jolt back to reality. She couldn’t think about that, especially not HERE. She needed to think. She needed to live.
But for what? Would they really let some immigrant win The Program? Yeah fucking right. That’d be a huge blow to… to morale. Or whatever the hell this show is supposed to induce.
Abby sighed. There was no way out. She had been given a terrible weapon, and she had been shoved into a blood sport. The odds of a happy ending to this fairy-tale were zilch.
Fairy Tales didn’t ever have a happy ending… It always ended with blood. Blood. Oh yes, there will be blood. There will be dirt, and there will be blood and you’re going to get shot in the face and… And that’s why I’m still here. It’s clean here. It’s relatively safe. For, y’know. B-blood sports… Well at least I know why now. At least I’ve got that.
Abby suddenly tensed. A tapping sound was close by, fast approaching. Another classmate, a competitor. Abby wondered who it could be. Abby wondered if that really mattered. But most of all, Abby wondered if this was really the end. Closing her eyes, and lowering her head towards the floor, Abby began to shake as the footsteps grew closer… closer… it was unbearable. Abby opened her eyes just in time to see a boy sprinting into the otherwise empty room. Her eyes went wide with fright. She couldn’t move. She could barely speak. The hammer dropped onto her foot.
“Oh shit. Hi there.” She stammered, weak and timid.
Just like that. It all ends, just like that.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Johan was immediately startled the moment he heard Abby's hammer drop, believing it was some kind of weapon sound...
“Oh shit. Hi there.”
Then he heard Abby's voice, and turned his head to look. Taking a careful glance at her, he realized it was just a hammer. Just.
For a few seconds he scrutinized her, not really quite sure what to do. In front of him was a relatively defenseless Asian girl who was obviously much more scared of him then he was of her. He saw her a few times before, and realized her name was "Abby", or at least, her first name. He has also heard some rumors about her father deserting the military, which was a rather good point for Johan, being the military-hating and government-hating (although not necessarily America-hating) Communist that he was. But more importantly, she was basically at his mercy, and he could choose to kill her at any moment...
However, he then looked back at his own hands and thought about what he believed he should protect. His own life, certainly, but also the lives of those who couldn't stand up for themselves. After all, Communism stressed that the masses should rise up against their oppressors. Killing her in cold blood would certainly be doing nothing to achieve that. Johan then shuddered. In the Compound there were going to be at least a few self proclaimed "patriots" that were going to kill minority and "unpatriotic" students without the slightest thought. He would not bring himself down to that level, not even for a completely different motivation. No, he would only fight in self defense. Not that he wouldn't fight hard. No reason to prove for the goddamn government that so called "patriots" would be victorious. He was planning to do everything he could to humiliate them, and in effect, the Government...
...but then again, he was getting ahead of himself. He then blinked back into reality and decided to put his javelin into a much less threatening position. He decided to then say softly and calmly, "Hey there. Your name is Abby, right?"
“Oh shit. Hi there.”
Then he heard Abby's voice, and turned his head to look. Taking a careful glance at her, he realized it was just a hammer. Just.
For a few seconds he scrutinized her, not really quite sure what to do. In front of him was a relatively defenseless Asian girl who was obviously much more scared of him then he was of her. He saw her a few times before, and realized her name was "Abby", or at least, her first name. He has also heard some rumors about her father deserting the military, which was a rather good point for Johan, being the military-hating and government-hating (although not necessarily America-hating) Communist that he was. But more importantly, she was basically at his mercy, and he could choose to kill her at any moment...
However, he then looked back at his own hands and thought about what he believed he should protect. His own life, certainly, but also the lives of those who couldn't stand up for themselves. After all, Communism stressed that the masses should rise up against their oppressors. Killing her in cold blood would certainly be doing nothing to achieve that. Johan then shuddered. In the Compound there were going to be at least a few self proclaimed "patriots" that were going to kill minority and "unpatriotic" students without the slightest thought. He would not bring himself down to that level, not even for a completely different motivation. No, he would only fight in self defense. Not that he wouldn't fight hard. No reason to prove for the goddamn government that so called "patriots" would be victorious. He was planning to do everything he could to humiliate them, and in effect, the Government...
...but then again, he was getting ahead of himself. He then blinked back into reality and decided to put his javelin into a much less threatening position. He decided to then say softly and calmly, "Hey there. Your name is Abby, right?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Un67. 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.
-
chitoryu12*
- Posts: 64
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:16 am
((John Ferrara continued from Daddy's Little Girl Ain't a Girl No More))
As soon as he heard talking, he froze.
John was crouched just outside the doorway to the armory, debating whether or not to enter. Somehow, he almost knew that whoever was inside that building was not someone he wanted to be friends with.
The number one thing on his mind was survival. And with this comes a conundrum: kill or hide?
His hollow, fragile "weapon" was probably good for one, maybe two hits. There were at least two people in there. They could be armed with Barbie dolls and still give him some trouble, and if they had even a single gun among them he was dead as soon as he charged in there and whacked one.
So he was in a catch-22. In order to survive, he had to kill. He could not kill, but killing was the only way to get the MEANS to kill.
This catch-22 was what left him out in the beating sun outside that dark portal, waiting for something to do. Waiting for a chance to make his mark and maybe find his way back home.
As soon as he heard talking, he froze.
John was crouched just outside the doorway to the armory, debating whether or not to enter. Somehow, he almost knew that whoever was inside that building was not someone he wanted to be friends with.
The number one thing on his mind was survival. And with this comes a conundrum: kill or hide?
His hollow, fragile "weapon" was probably good for one, maybe two hits. There were at least two people in there. They could be armed with Barbie dolls and still give him some trouble, and if they had even a single gun among them he was dead as soon as he charged in there and whacked one.
So he was in a catch-22. In order to survive, he had to kill. He could not kill, but killing was the only way to get the MEANS to kill.
This catch-22 was what left him out in the beating sun outside that dark portal, waiting for something to do. Waiting for a chance to make his mark and maybe find his way back home.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler chitoryu12. 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.
-
Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
(Benjamin Latimer continued from M05: START)
The door to the warehouse clanged shut behind him, but he barely heard it as his ears were still ringing from the loud bang of the two shots he had fired not too long ago, as well as the blood pumping through his ears.
The sudden change from the darkness of the warehouse to the light in the armory was unsettling and cause him to squint. Ben wasn't doing too well inside though, he had just shot at someone! He tried to justify it in his mind that the other guy was going for his own gun and would have shot him.
Then he saw the two of them, that Asian chick, Abby, and that German guy, Johan. They had probably heard the gunshots, but Ben hoped they wouldn't attack him without asking questions. "Uhh, hey guys."
The door to the warehouse clanged shut behind him, but he barely heard it as his ears were still ringing from the loud bang of the two shots he had fired not too long ago, as well as the blood pumping through his ears.
The sudden change from the darkness of the warehouse to the light in the armory was unsettling and cause him to squint. Ben wasn't doing too well inside though, he had just shot at someone! He tried to justify it in his mind that the other guy was going for his own gun and would have shot him.
Then he saw the two of them, that Asian chick, Abby, and that German guy, Johan. They had probably heard the gunshots, but Ben hoped they wouldn't attack him without asking questions. "Uhh, hey guys."
(OOC: I'll wait for Little to post to keep the post order, but if that doesn't happen soon I'll just edit this post and break it, sorry.)
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Abby was surprised the boy had stopped, even more so when he dropped his weapon. She leaned forward, trying to keep her shoulders from shaking. She had less success with her hands. Awkwardly she leaned down, trying to pick the hammer up. She gave up after the third time it slipped through her blue gloves.
It’s probably dirty anyway. It was dirty before. I don’t know where it’s been, I don’t know where I’ve been even… Oh man, is this really what I’m going to think about before…
Abby straightened, looking towards the strange boy, wiping dust and grime onto her pant legs. He hadn’t made a move forward yet. It was rather strange, rather… surreal. The entire situation suddenly felt dreamlike, ethereal.
“Are you going to come closer or…?”
The second she had spoken she regretted it. Closer. That was how she was going to get killed. She didn’t want that, did she?
Oh hell no, I definitely DON’T need that right now.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t do much. She had been given a terrible weapon. Her more eager classmates were probably hacking and slashing their way towards her, even as she spoke. Calm.
Calm. Alex could be calm, even under pressure. When Alex was angry, what would she do? She would stew. Think on it. Why not Abby? That was what she was doing, wasn’t it?
It’s just like those assholes. Throw the germaphobic in a death game, expect her to get her hands dirty.
“What’s your name? I don’t think I know you.” She said, looking the boy up and down. He held a javelin in his hand, but it was unthreatening, at least for the moment. Abby aimed to keep it that way. It was a true statement besides. Abby really didn’t recognize the boy. She wasn’t one of the more social members of General’s Pride, and she didn’t want to start now. A pang of fear passed through her. Had any of her friends been pulled into this crazy game? The thought of Megan or Ryan…
No, no, no no, bad thoughts bad thoughts. That way leads to madness. I didn’t hear it. They could-, they could not be here. They could be back home. Watching me. Ugh.
“Uhh, hey guys.”
Abby jumped up, out of her seat. Out of the gloom suddenly emerged a new figure, another boy. Abby’s hands instinctively went to her gut as she willed herself to contract, contract into nothingness, evaporate into vapour. Appear anywhere, anywhere safer. The entire situation was putting her on edge, and the blood pumping in her ears was making her feel sick. She opened her mouth, but was unable to formulate a response, last words, anything.
I’m not cut out for this. I am NOT cut out for this….
It’s probably dirty anyway. It was dirty before. I don’t know where it’s been, I don’t know where I’ve been even… Oh man, is this really what I’m going to think about before…
Abby straightened, looking towards the strange boy, wiping dust and grime onto her pant legs. He hadn’t made a move forward yet. It was rather strange, rather… surreal. The entire situation suddenly felt dreamlike, ethereal.
“Are you going to come closer or…?”
The second she had spoken she regretted it. Closer. That was how she was going to get killed. She didn’t want that, did she?
Oh hell no, I definitely DON’T need that right now.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t do much. She had been given a terrible weapon. Her more eager classmates were probably hacking and slashing their way towards her, even as she spoke. Calm.
Calm. Alex could be calm, even under pressure. When Alex was angry, what would she do? She would stew. Think on it. Why not Abby? That was what she was doing, wasn’t it?
It’s just like those assholes. Throw the germaphobic in a death game, expect her to get her hands dirty.
“What’s your name? I don’t think I know you.” She said, looking the boy up and down. He held a javelin in his hand, but it was unthreatening, at least for the moment. Abby aimed to keep it that way. It was a true statement besides. Abby really didn’t recognize the boy. She wasn’t one of the more social members of General’s Pride, and she didn’t want to start now. A pang of fear passed through her. Had any of her friends been pulled into this crazy game? The thought of Megan or Ryan…
No, no, no no, bad thoughts bad thoughts. That way leads to madness. I didn’t hear it. They could-, they could not be here. They could be back home. Watching me. Ugh.
“Uhh, hey guys.”
Abby jumped up, out of her seat. Out of the gloom suddenly emerged a new figure, another boy. Abby’s hands instinctively went to her gut as she willed herself to contract, contract into nothingness, evaporate into vapour. Appear anywhere, anywhere safer. The entire situation was putting her on edge, and the blood pumping in her ears was making her feel sick. She opened her mouth, but was unable to formulate a response, last words, anything.
I’m not cut out for this. I am NOT cut out for this….
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“Are you going to come closer or…?”
Johan laughed as she said that. Did she think he was a cold blooded murderer? He then considered her for a second...
I guess she has a point... we might as well all be cold blooded murderers, safer to just assume that. Closer... hmm... closer... ugh, that's one reason why I never bothered to watch the Program.
He then tried to get his unpleasant thoughts out of his mind and again looked at Abby. She was obviously disturbed at the events, and he realized he would just as much if not more. He then heard her talk again,
“What’s your name? I don’t think I know you.”
Johan then realized he didn't introduce himself and that he would probably look bad otherwise. So he then said with all the humor he could muster and a slight grin,
"I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. I'm Johan, Johan Luther. And before you ask, I'm not going to kill you, shoot you, stab you, slash you, torture you, or, err... 'use' you. I'm not a sadist or a psychopathic murderer. I can promise you that much."
Mutter and Vater are probably either watching this carefully or crying in their rooms, and I... argh. No negative thoughts, not right now.
Luckily for him, his thoughts were interrupted with the entrance of another person in the Armory.
“Uhh, hey guys.”
He then looked at the new boy carefully. And then he saw his gun, and his eyes blinked open in fear...
Can't help but think that's the same thing the girl was thinking earlier, but more importantly, I might as well be dead... Still, might as well play it cool.
"Err... hi there. What's your name?" he said, surprisingly calmly for a person in terror.
Johan laughed as she said that. Did she think he was a cold blooded murderer? He then considered her for a second...
I guess she has a point... we might as well all be cold blooded murderers, safer to just assume that. Closer... hmm... closer... ugh, that's one reason why I never bothered to watch the Program.
He then tried to get his unpleasant thoughts out of his mind and again looked at Abby. She was obviously disturbed at the events, and he realized he would just as much if not more. He then heard her talk again,
“What’s your name? I don’t think I know you.”
Johan then realized he didn't introduce himself and that he would probably look bad otherwise. So he then said with all the humor he could muster and a slight grin,
"I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. I'm Johan, Johan Luther. And before you ask, I'm not going to kill you, shoot you, stab you, slash you, torture you, or, err... 'use' you. I'm not a sadist or a psychopathic murderer. I can promise you that much."
Mutter and Vater are probably either watching this carefully or crying in their rooms, and I... argh. No negative thoughts, not right now.
Luckily for him, his thoughts were interrupted with the entrance of another person in the Armory.
“Uhh, hey guys.”
He then looked at the new boy carefully. And then he saw his gun, and his eyes blinked open in fear...
Can't help but think that's the same thing the girl was thinking earlier, but more importantly, I might as well be dead... Still, might as well play it cool.
"Err... hi there. What's your name?" he said, surprisingly calmly for a person in terror.
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chitoryu12*
- Posts: 64
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 3:16 am
They were still talking. What was he supposed to do?
Do I go in or do I stay out? In or out? In out? Innie outie?
He looked around. It was almost deserted, but he couldn't see most of the compound from where he was. He could see a few people on the other end of the compound, but they were too far away to spot him hiding in the shadows.
He felt exposed outside, like at any moment he might feel something slice through his gut, followed by the CRACK of a high-powered rifle in the distance. It wasn't safe. He had to get inside. Somewhere, anywhere. Wherever it was, it was probably better than being out here.
The warehouse was attached to the armory. That seemed like a good place. Maybe soon he could come back here, see if there were any weapons left. For now, he would settle for the dank, dark, cavernous building at his flank.
He turned to leave, the side of the banjo lightly hitting against the wall as he snuck past the open doorway. Shit, hope nobody heard that.
(( John Ferrara continued in M05: Start))
Do I go in or do I stay out? In or out? In out? Innie outie?
He looked around. It was almost deserted, but he couldn't see most of the compound from where he was. He could see a few people on the other end of the compound, but they were too far away to spot him hiding in the shadows.
He felt exposed outside, like at any moment he might feel something slice through his gut, followed by the CRACK of a high-powered rifle in the distance. It wasn't safe. He had to get inside. Somewhere, anywhere. Wherever it was, it was probably better than being out here.
The warehouse was attached to the armory. That seemed like a good place. Maybe soon he could come back here, see if there were any weapons left. For now, he would settle for the dank, dark, cavernous building at his flank.
He turned to leave, the side of the banjo lightly hitting against the wall as he snuck past the open doorway. Shit, hope nobody heard that.
(( John Ferrara continued in M05: Start))
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Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
The girl's mouth hung agape, like she was scared of him. "Oh sorry about that. Don't worry the safety's on now," he said as he flipped the thumb safety to avoid accidental shots.
The guy, Johan, was a lot calmer. "Err... hi there. What's your name?" Actually it was a little creepy, how calm he was. Then again the only things he'd seen so far were panicking people. "I'm Ben."
Ha yeah Big Ben, that clock in England or something like that.
He had heard of it mentioned in some old book he had read. A pretty rare thing for him.
He turned to talk to Abby, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot you." He sure wasn't planning on it, guns caused people to panic, like he had not too long before.
The guy, Johan, was a lot calmer. "Err... hi there. What's your name?" Actually it was a little creepy, how calm he was. Then again the only things he'd seen so far were panicking people. "I'm Ben."
Ha yeah Big Ben, that clock in England or something like that.
He had heard of it mentioned in some old book he had read. A pretty rare thing for him.
He turned to talk to Abby, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot you." He sure wasn't planning on it, guns caused people to panic, like he had not too long before.
"I'm Ben."
Johan definitely is putting on quite a show. He's pretty calm (or at least calm looking), but inside he's not so calm or for that matter very confident.
Ben. Hmm, I don't really recognize him, but I guess its better then being someone who I already know is a complete bastard... or maybe not... no, no negative thoughts, I'm not going to break and die, because that's the first people die on the Program. But...
If someone was watching him closely at this moment, they'd see him breaking into cold sweat. Not a lot of it, but its definitely there.
Please oh please don't shoot me, God, please oh please...
And then within milliseconds of that thought Ben's voice interrupted it before he could finish.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot you."
Johan seems to be much more reassured but its obvious he's still nervous. In any case, it doesn't look like he's letting his guard down at any moment.
Trying to sound confident, he then said, "I'm Johan. Johan Luther."
God oh God, please oh please...
Johan definitely is putting on quite a show. He's pretty calm (or at least calm looking), but inside he's not so calm or for that matter very confident.
Ben. Hmm, I don't really recognize him, but I guess its better then being someone who I already know is a complete bastard... or maybe not... no, no negative thoughts, I'm not going to break and die, because that's the first people die on the Program. But...
If someone was watching him closely at this moment, they'd see him breaking into cold sweat. Not a lot of it, but its definitely there.
Please oh please don't shoot me, God, please oh please...
And then within milliseconds of that thought Ben's voice interrupted it before he could finish.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot you."
Johan seems to be much more reassured but its obvious he's still nervous. In any case, it doesn't look like he's letting his guard down at any moment.
Trying to sound confident, he then said, "I'm Johan. Johan Luther."
God oh God, please oh please...
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Abby couldn't help but keep her cynicism, despite the other boys seeming peaceful intent. She knew neither Ben or Johan Christ, I barely know ANYONE to begin with... and making friends wasn't going to do her much good.
No one escapes the Program. So if you go in expecting to escape, expecting to make allies... you're done. Alex said that.
Abby had never watched the Program. It was violent, it was crude, it wasn't anything valuable. Alex on the other hand? She had watched, much to the ire of her Mother. It was morbid, but she never took joy in it. Abby didn't understand. She didn't try to. Why should she? What Alex did was Alex's business. If she wanted to start shit, she could.
Was it about that though? Was that the real reason she watched it? Maybe it was for Dad. Maybe she watched, to- to rationalize what he did, what happened. Certainly a compelling reason to get out, if you're a kid. He wasn't a kid though. He was just...
....
I had more important things to think about then this game... Well, now it's the only thing important to think about. Or is it? It is. Can I trust this kid? Stupid idea. He came from outside. They both did, I have no idea what the hell they've been doing all this time. Would Alex trust them? No. She wouldn't. And.. And that's how she'd survive.
The gears inside her head began to turn. It was as if she had been walking along, and stumbled suddenly upon a key. A key to her salvation. Survival. A plan began to take form in her head.
I don't need to fight. I- I just need to be smart. If I win, the government can't do anything, no matter how much they'd want to. That's true, isn't it? I could survive. I just need to be smart. Alex would probably have a billion ideas, bad and good going on. And I'm just sitting here. If I stay strong, stay under the radar... Could I do it? They've got nothing they can use against me. My friends. They didn't get called. They didn't I would have... I didn't hear. But they didn't. I know it. And Alex, she isn't here. I didn't see her, but she's back home, probably watching right now. Probably yelling at me, to do something. That's so weird... Alright. Alright. They can't attack me, well, they can. But if I keep away, till the end... I can think of something for the end. They don't know me. And I don't NEED them to know me...
Composing herself, Alex reached down, grabbing her pack. She turned to regard the pair, unsure of what to say.
"Well... That's good." GENIUS ABBY. "That, you're not going to shoot someone. And the safety's' on, at least, now it is." Which begs the question, why was it off in the first place Ben?
A chill went up her spine at that. She wondered if Johan had made the same logical jump that she had made.
Do I really want to stick around and find out? No. No, I most definitely DON'T. But how do I leave? I can't just up and leave. That'd be rude. And dangerous, considering there's one of them at each exit...
"Well. I mean. I don't mean to be rude, but uh. Can't do much in this, game. Program. Whatever. I'll, I'll be seeing you guys around yeah? Hopefully. Because if not, that'd be bad. Because you'd be dead. And that's bad."
She looked at the two boys, feeling the awkward silence seep into her bones. She gave a cough.
"Very bad. I'll just, not keep you guys then."
...
This is the part where you start moving feet...
Abby stood still. Her feet stuck to the ground.
Oh shit, seriously. Oh shit. Oh shit. You've gotta- oh shitshitohshitshit...
No one escapes the Program. So if you go in expecting to escape, expecting to make allies... you're done. Alex said that.
Abby had never watched the Program. It was violent, it was crude, it wasn't anything valuable. Alex on the other hand? She had watched, much to the ire of her Mother. It was morbid, but she never took joy in it. Abby didn't understand. She didn't try to. Why should she? What Alex did was Alex's business. If she wanted to start shit, she could.
Was it about that though? Was that the real reason she watched it? Maybe it was for Dad. Maybe she watched, to- to rationalize what he did, what happened. Certainly a compelling reason to get out, if you're a kid. He wasn't a kid though. He was just...
....
I had more important things to think about then this game... Well, now it's the only thing important to think about. Or is it? It is. Can I trust this kid? Stupid idea. He came from outside. They both did, I have no idea what the hell they've been doing all this time. Would Alex trust them? No. She wouldn't. And.. And that's how she'd survive.
The gears inside her head began to turn. It was as if she had been walking along, and stumbled suddenly upon a key. A key to her salvation. Survival. A plan began to take form in her head.
I don't need to fight. I- I just need to be smart. If I win, the government can't do anything, no matter how much they'd want to. That's true, isn't it? I could survive. I just need to be smart. Alex would probably have a billion ideas, bad and good going on. And I'm just sitting here. If I stay strong, stay under the radar... Could I do it? They've got nothing they can use against me. My friends. They didn't get called. They didn't I would have... I didn't hear. But they didn't. I know it. And Alex, she isn't here. I didn't see her, but she's back home, probably watching right now. Probably yelling at me, to do something. That's so weird... Alright. Alright. They can't attack me, well, they can. But if I keep away, till the end... I can think of something for the end. They don't know me. And I don't NEED them to know me...
Composing herself, Alex reached down, grabbing her pack. She turned to regard the pair, unsure of what to say.
"Well... That's good." GENIUS ABBY. "That, you're not going to shoot someone. And the safety's' on, at least, now it is." Which begs the question, why was it off in the first place Ben?
A chill went up her spine at that. She wondered if Johan had made the same logical jump that she had made.
Do I really want to stick around and find out? No. No, I most definitely DON'T. But how do I leave? I can't just up and leave. That'd be rude. And dangerous, considering there's one of them at each exit...
"Well. I mean. I don't mean to be rude, but uh. Can't do much in this, game. Program. Whatever. I'll, I'll be seeing you guys around yeah? Hopefully. Because if not, that'd be bad. Because you'd be dead. And that's bad."
She looked at the two boys, feeling the awkward silence seep into her bones. She gave a cough.
"Very bad. I'll just, not keep you guys then."
...
This is the part where you start moving feet...
Abby stood still. Her feet stuck to the ground.
Oh shit, seriously. Oh shit. Oh shit. You've gotta- oh shitshitohshitshit...
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Courtography
- Posts: 518
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 11:03 pm
I'm Johan. Johan Luther." Ben knew the guys name, no clue where from though. Johan looked nervous, but Ben had already told him he wouldn't shoot him so there wasn't much he could do to calm him down besides talking to him.
"Well... That's good." Said Abby. The pause let Ben know that she was still uncomfortable with him and the gun. Well I can't help that, they gave me a gun, so why is it so weird for me to have one? "That, you're not going to shoot someone. And the safety's' on, at least, now it is," she continued. Right, well he was justified in having it off before, that guy in the warehouse had been shooting, he had to be able to defend himself, but now it seemed safe so the safety went back on. But he said none of that, just stood there mouth agape trying to form words but failing. Wow Ben you must look like a frickin fish like that.
"Well. I mean. I don't mean to be rude, but uh. Can't do much in this, game. Program. Whatever. I'll, I'll be seeing you guys around yeah? Hopefully. Because if not, that'd be bad. Because you'd be dead. And that's bad." Of course it was bad, the Program was a bad part of a great nation, and death was bad, because of well, death. She coughed, awkward. "Very bad. I'll just, not keep you guys then," she said, without moving her feet. "Trying to teleport?" he said with a chuckle.
"Well... That's good." Said Abby. The pause let Ben know that she was still uncomfortable with him and the gun. Well I can't help that, they gave me a gun, so why is it so weird for me to have one? "That, you're not going to shoot someone. And the safety's' on, at least, now it is," she continued. Right, well he was justified in having it off before, that guy in the warehouse had been shooting, he had to be able to defend himself, but now it seemed safe so the safety went back on. But he said none of that, just stood there mouth agape trying to form words but failing. Wow Ben you must look like a frickin fish like that.
"Well. I mean. I don't mean to be rude, but uh. Can't do much in this, game. Program. Whatever. I'll, I'll be seeing you guys around yeah? Hopefully. Because if not, that'd be bad. Because you'd be dead. And that's bad." Of course it was bad, the Program was a bad part of a great nation, and death was bad, because of well, death. She coughed, awkward. "Very bad. I'll just, not keep you guys then," she said, without moving her feet. "Trying to teleport?" he said with a chuckle.
"That, you're not going to shoot someone. And the safety's' on, at least, now it is."
Johan, a bit contented, yet still somewhat worriedly, said, "That's reassuring..."
Hmm... why was it off in the first place? I can only hope that he was only testing it...
Johan then looked at both of the others in the Armory, somewhat more confidently. It didn't seem like either of them were going to attack anyone, but he knew how spontaneously things broke out in the Program.
"Well. I mean. I don't mean to be rude, but uh. Can't do much in this, game. Program. Whatever. I'll, I'll be seeing you guys around yeah? Hopefully. Because if not, that'd be bad. Because you'd be dead. And that's bad."
Expecting her to leave, he turned his attention to Ben, until he heard Abby again.
"Very bad. I'll just, not keep you guys then."
Johan murmured, "Yeah, I guess."
But she didn't leave.
Ben said with a chuckle, "Trying to teleport?"
She's probably a nervous wreck by now...
Johan then simply said, chuckling nervously at the end, "If you want to leave right now, go ahead. I don't know how good of an idea that would be though, for all we know the fighting is just starting up outside. Still, I probably wouldn't want to be in a room with two strangers, one with a gun, who may or may not want to kill me - oh wait, I already am."
Johan, a bit contented, yet still somewhat worriedly, said, "That's reassuring..."
Hmm... why was it off in the first place? I can only hope that he was only testing it...
Johan then looked at both of the others in the Armory, somewhat more confidently. It didn't seem like either of them were going to attack anyone, but he knew how spontaneously things broke out in the Program.
"Well. I mean. I don't mean to be rude, but uh. Can't do much in this, game. Program. Whatever. I'll, I'll be seeing you guys around yeah? Hopefully. Because if not, that'd be bad. Because you'd be dead. And that's bad."
Expecting her to leave, he turned his attention to Ben, until he heard Abby again.
"Very bad. I'll just, not keep you guys then."
Johan murmured, "Yeah, I guess."
But she didn't leave.
Ben said with a chuckle, "Trying to teleport?"
She's probably a nervous wreck by now...
Johan then simply said, chuckling nervously at the end, "If you want to leave right now, go ahead. I don't know how good of an idea that would be though, for all we know the fighting is just starting up outside. Still, I probably wouldn't want to be in a room with two strangers, one with a gun, who may or may not want to kill me - oh wait, I already am."
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
Abby laughed at Johan's joke as she gathered her things. At least, she thought it was a joke. It was growing hard to tell. The entire situation was getting stranger and stranger. True, Abby never indulged in The Program, but she had a basic grasp of what occurred. And that basic idea was telling her that there should be no possible reason why she was still alive. Cornered by two boys, both armed with deadly weapons? Her, a nubile (Maybe nubile wasn't the proper word...) young girl, utterly terrified, without any form of defense? On any other day, she would be dead. Or on her way to being dead.
Or- oh, no, I am NOT going there. Who the hell am I to complain anyway?
Finally convincing her feet to begin moving, Abby nervously shuffled her way closer to Johan, towards the exit. Johan was... odd. As if he had something to hide, not that she could afford to dwell on something that obscure. But all the same, with her paranoia flaring up, he seemed like a far better choice then to hustle over Ben's way. Keeping her head low and avoiding eye contact, Abby took a deep breathe and held it as she walked by the boy towards the exit.
For a split second, Abby was sure Johan would stop her, slow her down, anything. But no. She was safe. Slowly letting the breathe out, Abby turned back towards the pair.
"I- well, I hate to go so soon, but yeah. I don't. Not really. I think you understand." She paused, unsure of what to add.
Good luck? That'd be rather hypocritical... It would be much easier if they just dropped dead...
"I'll go this way now." She said, pointing out the doors, towards the outside. "Uhm.. God Bless America. Or, whatever you're supposed to say."
Turning quickly, Abby opened the doors and headed out of the Armoury. The air outside was cool, but for the most part it was nice out. All the same, with her brain still reeling, she needed someplace to lay down, someplace safe.
I'm probably going to get sick. Immune system, it's probably not functioning after all this. Nerves are shot. Plus, that gas we inhaled. No telling what that could have done to me. Oh no, that's bad. That's bad. What would Alex do? Alex would be alone. That's the smartest thing to do. For once, we're thinking alike...
Hustling along, Abby made her way along the side of the Armoury, disappearing from sight.
[ Abby Erickson continues in Mark it Up]
Or- oh, no, I am NOT going there. Who the hell am I to complain anyway?
Finally convincing her feet to begin moving, Abby nervously shuffled her way closer to Johan, towards the exit. Johan was... odd. As if he had something to hide, not that she could afford to dwell on something that obscure. But all the same, with her paranoia flaring up, he seemed like a far better choice then to hustle over Ben's way. Keeping her head low and avoiding eye contact, Abby took a deep breathe and held it as she walked by the boy towards the exit.
For a split second, Abby was sure Johan would stop her, slow her down, anything. But no. She was safe. Slowly letting the breathe out, Abby turned back towards the pair.
"I- well, I hate to go so soon, but yeah. I don't. Not really. I think you understand." She paused, unsure of what to add.
Good luck? That'd be rather hypocritical... It would be much easier if they just dropped dead...
"I'll go this way now." She said, pointing out the doors, towards the outside. "Uhm.. God Bless America. Or, whatever you're supposed to say."
Turning quickly, Abby opened the doors and headed out of the Armoury. The air outside was cool, but for the most part it was nice out. All the same, with her brain still reeling, she needed someplace to lay down, someplace safe.
I'm probably going to get sick. Immune system, it's probably not functioning after all this. Nerves are shot. Plus, that gas we inhaled. No telling what that could have done to me. Oh no, that's bad. That's bad. What would Alex do? Alex would be alone. That's the smartest thing to do. For once, we're thinking alike...
Hustling along, Abby made her way along the side of the Armoury, disappearing from sight.
[ Abby Erickson continues in Mark it Up]
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