M05: START

[Courtography]

(M05: LATIMER, BENJAMIN- START)

Benjamin Latimer opened his eyes, yet it was still dark. It was not quite as dark as when eyes were shut, but still very dark. "Aw shit," he said to the surrounding darkness. He grinned to himself in the darkness.

Well I guess I'm not working my shift today.

Then he remembered he would have a bag. After fumbling around for a minute he managed to find it. He felt his way through the bag looking around, finally he found it. A flashlight. He clicked it on and examined his surroundings. It looked like a storage place, there were some crates stacked to his left, and on the right a bunch of folding tables leaning against a wall.

He used his light to examine the insides of his bag, spotting the first aid kit he picked up. Then he put it back, he didn't need it...yet. Finally he found the two things he was looking for: his map and an object that gave him a small spark of hope for the future, a tan colored pistol. Looking through his pack more he found it, a manual that read: Instructions for the Kimber Desert Warrior. He opened the manual and discovered the thumb safety on the gun. He made sure it was on, no need shooting himself when he tripped in the dark.

Then he took a look at his map, and assumed that the area for this Program was some kind of military base, as he saw locations like "Barracks" or "Officers Quarters." It appeared he was in the warehouse marked on the map. Apparently the only way in or out was to go through another area marked "Armoury."

He tucked the Desert Warrior into the front of his jeans and took a seat on a nearby crate.

[Rocky*]

((G12 Joanne Seguin Start))

Joanne Seguin was not having a good day. She must have forgot to take her meds that morning, because she had apparently fallen asleep in class. Which was odd. Joanne hadn't missed her meds in... well ever. If there was one thing that you could count on with Joanne, it was she would be sure to take her medication. So why was she just waking up? She didn't remember getting home and sleeping...

Joanne's eyes snapped open, remembering where she was. She had been selected for the Program. Somehow, she wasn't very surprised at this revelation. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had more or less resigned herself to the fact that one day she would end up in this situation. She didn't like it, but there was no use in freaking out or something like that.

Bad news, she didn't have her bag. Good news, she always kept her pills in her pants at all time. So she should be fine as long as... wait, where were he pills? Joanne hastily checked both her pockets and her immediate surrounding area, but there was no little bottle. They were gone.

"Fuck!" Joanne yelled, not caring if anyone was in her immediate area. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Where are my pills?" the blonde haired girl frantically crawled in circles, hoping against all odds that they had simply fallen out, and hadn't been taken. After a couple minutes of searching, she didn't come up with anything. They were gone. For the first time on God knew how many years, Joanne didn't have her medication.

Joanne sat down in the relative darkness of the warehouse, and tried her best to not break into tears. Her pills were gone, that was going to make her easy pickings once her current dose wore off. Maybe she could find someone to protect her? That seemed like the best choice. The blonde girl pulled her bag in close, not bothering to check it yet, but making sure it was near by.

[chitoryu12*]

((M19: Matthew Gourlay start))

Snap

The 50 round magazine snapped into place on top the handgun. It was barely even a handgun at that size; more like a carbine.

The Calico Liberty III pistol was one of the most unusual weapons anyone could find; it was long, included a foregrip so you could fire it with two hands, and a helical magazine that snapped onto the top of the receiver. It looked like someone clipped a futuristic thermos to the top of a carbine.

It took more strength than he thought to pull the cocking handle back. As he released it with an echoing snapclick, the first round was stripped from the magazine and shoved into the chamber. One twitch of his finger, and someone was dead.

Matthew Gourlay grinned.

As scared as he was, he knew that he stood a chance. He had enough ammo to kill every little bitch in this compound and then some. Three extra magazines gave him a total of 150 kills. He was the man.

He would never admit it, but he just about pissed himself when his name came up. Had he not gotten such a superweapon for the competition, he definitely would have.

But now he had a chance. He could prove his superiority to everyone, especially over all those little dark-skinned idiots who were always bugging him.

He had to test the gun. See exactly what a nine millimeter bullet could do.

He stood up, leaving his olive green duffel on the ground, aimed at the wall, and pulled the trigger.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM

Somehow, he knew that it was a stupid idea. Maybe it was the fact that he could no longer hear. Contrary to what movies had shown him, gunfire wasn't just a bunch of nice little "booms" and "blams" that you could casually talk over. It sounded like someone taking an empty metal drum and dropping an anvil in it. His ears were pounding and ringing, and the acrid smell of gunsmoke was starting to float toward him. The flash from the muzzle blinded him, and now he had the image of a roaring flame burned into his retina.

At least he knew the gun worked.

[Courtography]

After looking through his bag some more Benjamin had found something very nice, a mounted light for his pistol, now he wouldn't need to use one hand for light and one for the gun, lucky him. Of course he wasn't planning on using the gun, not yet, Ben actually got along well with most of his classmates.

Moments later his thoughts were interrupted by a girl's yell in the darkness, "Fuck!", and again, "Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Where are my pills?" For a moment he wondered who it could be, there were probably a few druggies that got picked, or was it someone who had a prescription for something? Moments later a gunshot somewhere, had the girl gotten so mad she shot, or...he felt a chill at the thought, was there someone else in here, someone who had possibly just killed the girl?

Don't move man, maybe if you just stay still they won't find you.

He turned out the light on his pistol, no need to tell them where he was. As the darkness returned to his part of the warehouse he thumbed the safety, he didn't want to, but soon he might have to use the Desert Warrior for its intended purpose.

[Rocky*]

Joanne had to use everything within her to not yell out at the sudden gunshot that happened. That seemed to be a good a reason as any to finally check her bag to see what kind of weapon she got. Opening the bag, the first thing she noticed was the shock of bright red. Removing the object from the bag, she found herself looking at some sort of axe. It looked like the ones that firemen used, although slightly more compact. Still weildable with two hands, although Joanne found herself being able to hold it quite comfortably in one hand. In other words, she was fucked against a gun.

Zipping her bag back up, Joanne slung it over her left shoulder, carrying the axe in her right hand. She walked through the dim warehouse, hoping that she didn't run into whoever had fired the gun. What, or who, they were firing at, she didn't know, not did she really care. As long as she didn't run into them and she was able to leave then she would be okay.

Unfortunately for her, the fates determined otherwise.

As the blond haired girl was moving in the darkness, she didn't notice a piece of old equipment or something laying on the floor. Her feet didn't miss it either. She kicked the metal equipment hard, causing her to fall... right in front of a boy wielding a rather large looking gun of some form.

"Oh fuck!" Joanne yelled out, feeling the pain from her feet spread up her leg. She was pretty sure that she broke a toe, which would be bad. Of course, she didn't exactly have time to worry about that, as she was quickly scrambling into a crouching position, holding her fire axe in both hands, looking at the boy she had fallen in front of. Was he the one who fired the gun? Judging from the look on his face, probably.

[chitoryu12*]

His head pounding from the nine millimeter hammer through his eardrums, Matt clutched at his skull and groaned. That was a painfully stupid idea, one he didn't want to repeat any time soon.

As his eyes readjusted to the darkness, there was a sudden crash and shouted curse. He could see little but pitch black, only a flash of a slightly light patch in front of him. A blond head?

Needless to say, Matthew Gourlay wet himself.

With a babbled yelp that sounded something like "Gyawhadafuk!" Matt stumbled backwards, crashing against a wooden crate. There was another resounding crash as a dislodged toolbox fell off and smashed at his feet. He suddenly fell into panic mode, bringing the Calico up and firing a completely random shot that flew across the building and smacked into the wall. Suddenly blind and deaf again, Matt lost it.

"What the FUCK? Who the fuck is that!?"

Hands shaking with the sudden weight of the pistol in his hand, a warm stream trickled down his leg.

[Courtography]

Ben listened for sounds in the dim warehouse, his heart was pounding, the shooter could be anywhere. He heard someone moving around. "Oh fuck!" came the girls voice, she wasn't dead from the shooter at least, unless she was the shooter.

Suddenly a guys yelp went through the darkness, then another gunshot. Ben thought that he was probably the shooter, unless the girl had shot him, or an unknown fourth person. Multiple crashes were heard, then a guys voice, "What the FUCK? Who the fuck is that!?"

Ben kept quiet on top of his crate, the two or possibly three people, if the shooter wasn't one of the two people yelling. Not that Ben was calm either, he could feel his palms and neck sweating. Despite the sweat he tightened his grip on his gun.

[Rocky*]

Joanne cringed as the boy tripped over something and fell, firing off another shot. Due to proximity, this time the blonde girl felt like her ears were about to burst. And then, she smelled it. The thick, overwhelming scent of urine pervaded the air, and Joanne wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh at his incompetence, or gag on the smell. Either way, this kid was a little bitch. Joanne almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Ugh, gross." Joanne said out loud, standing to her full height. She continued to hold her axe in both hands, and noticed that the boy's bag was laying near her. A cruel smile crossed the athlete's face. Surely he wouldn't stop her from going through his things? If she was going to have to deal on this island without her pills, then she needed energy. Energy meant food. Keeping one eye on the pisser and one hand on her axe, Joanne opened the bag, then began to rifle through it until she found what she was looking for.

"I'm sure you won't mind champ, but a growin' woman needs her food." She winked, even though she was sure that he wouldn't see it in this dim light. "I'm in a good mood, so I'll leave the rest of your stuff in there. Here." Joanne tossed a loaf of bread at the boy, which landed at his feet. "It's not all bad. That should last you awhile." another wink, this time accompanied with a coy grin.

Joanne finished transferring the food into her bag, hoisting it up onto her shoulder. She almost wanted to taunt the pisser some more, but anything more than that would probably get her shot. Sticking around any longer probably wouldn't be a good idea either. She blew the boy a little kiss, smiling at him. "Thank you for your donation, we'll be sure this makes it to those who are in need." she said for her parting words before making her exit.

Well that was easy.

((Joanne Seguin continued in Lightweights))

[chitoryu12*]

Matt stared at the bread.

One loaf of bread.

That's it.

How the FUCK had she managed to do that? Matt was the king. He was the alpha male. He had a massive gun and the will to kill every son of a bitch in his way. How was this little girl with a piece of metal on a stick able to rob him blind?

Because Matt Gourlay was utterly terrified.

NOBODY had ever fucked with Matt. He wanted to feel powerful, but never wanted to lose his crown. He knew that if someone got pushed too far, that crown would go tumbling down. He'd be beaten, left the laughing stock of Pittsburgh.

A boy who eggs houses and sends nasty messages on the internet does not do well in a fight. And lo, there was a fight in his future. When this happened, he just lost it.

Which is why when he had his finger on the trigger, ready to blow Joanne's brains all over the concrete floor, he couldn't. The thought of being harmed was utterly terrifying to his brain. Despite all the logic in the world telling him that a flick of his index finger could end all the problems right there, logic never once entered his thoughts.

And now there was a loaf of bread at his feet.













"RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[Courtography]

Alert in the darkness Ben could hear the girl talking, even if he couldn't make out the words. He decided to move in for a better listen, gun still in hand, of course, but talking was good, normal talking probably meant no one was about to get killed. "Thank you for your donation, we'll be sure this makes it to those who are in need," was the only thing he heard, then footsteps of her leaving, then the doors slam of her leaving the warehouse. Then a yell or roar from a guy, someone was mad.

Ben turned the light back on that was mounted on the Desert Warrior and turned the corner. His light showed a guy standing by a wall, his bag was a few feet away, and a loaf of bread was at his feet. Then the stench hit his nostrils, "I know the Program's no fun, but it's not a pissing contest dude."

[chitoryu12*]

A third bright light appeared in Matt's eyes within the span of about a minute and a half. This one was constant, one that made him hold up his hand and shield his vision from the harsh glare.

"I know the Program's no fun, but it's not a pissing contest dude."

Something about this boy made Matt instantly hate him.

He brought his hand partway down, but the flashlight shining in his eyes kept him from seeing who it was. All he could see was a dark silhouette, a threat shadowed from view. For all he knew, the General himself could have been standing there mocking him.

Still, Matt could only marvel at how utterly STUPID this kid was. The reason?

48 9x19mm Parabellum rounds at his disposal.

The futuristic handgun was suddenly up in both hands, pointing straight into the light source.

"Get the FUCK away from me! I'm armed, motherfucker!"

He held the gun somewhat loosely out in front of him, arms still shaking a bit. He could feel tears of rage and pain running down his cheeks. He looked for all the world like a psycho, ready to snap at any moment.

[Courtography]

The guy seemed to be trying to block his eyes from the light, his face glaring furiously at Ben. It had only been a joke, it's what Ben did. Then he spotted the gun by the boy. Ben made the connection, this guy was the one who must have been shooting up the place.

Suddenly the guy went for the gun, and by reflex Ben shot two wild shots out of his gun. Without looking back Ben ran for the door out of the warehouse and into the armory. He found the door and walked through it.

What did I just do!?

(Benjamin Latimer continued in This Can't be Me)

[chitoryu12*]

Matthew Gourlay must have been the luckiest kid in the world.

BAM BAM

Before he knew it, two massive bullets were flying right toward him. Despite waiting for the inevitable burning pain and sudden darkness of death. It would be just like the movies; blood splashes on the crate behind him, everything goes black, he falls. The credits wouldn't roll after his death, though. He was just another mook gunned down by the hero on his quest for vengeance.

He felt a sharp sting by his ear, and another by his left arm. That's it, Matt. This is the end. Hope you enjoyed all your vodka.

He opened his eyes. He could hear nothing but silence. It was dark. That was it.

M19: Matthew Go--








No.

His vision started to return. He could see a blue square in the corner of his vision. There was a window at the top of the wall. His hand felt behind him; rough wood.

He was still in the warehouse.

Had there been any more urine in his bladder, it would have been on the floor with the rest.

Matt stumbled forward, feeling around for his pack. He dropped to his knees and began rummaging for the flashlight. Finding it, his trembling hands pointed the beam at the crate. There were two ragged holes in the wood.

In shock, he began patting himself down, and found a tiny bit of blood under his ear. None of the bullets had hit him; the spray of splinters from the bullet impacts had hit him and drawn blood.

"Heh.....heh heh.......bwahahahahahaha!!!"

Insanity? Relief? Who knew?

Either way, Matt Gourlay was still in the game.

[storyspoiler*]

(Juliet Watanabe continued from Some Folks Are Born Made To Wave The Flag)

Warehouse.

Big aluminum doors. Everything was huge in this compound, as if they wanted humans to feel insignificant, dwarfed. Like a temple to something. Juliet was thinking back to churches, how uneasy they made her. Her aunt and her three fussy little cousins went there every Sunday, but Juliet, who had grown up in a maze-like, low-ceilinged apartment always felt dwarfed. Aunt Lily had called it 'good for the soul'. Juliet remembered one of her few times talking back to Aunt Lily, telling her that her soul already felt sufficiently dwarfed from school days.

Memories were probably not going to serve her well at this moment. She and Karl had heard gunshots, and she had pulled him back and said through clenched teeth that they ought to wait a couple of minutes. She had counted to one-twenty, trying not to imagine Marilyn bleeding out on the floor.

But one-twenty seconds were gone. And she hadn't heard any more gunshots.

Still. No use having a point-man-cum-hostage if you didn't use him. And if Marilyn was bleeding out, there was no way she was getting shot without putting Karl Chalmers in the way first.

Memories were banging at the windows of her brainpan again. Sitting in Ms. Suthers' office, nursing a bloody nose and a split lip given to her by Harris Van Allen. Harris, that fucker, had just torn Marilyn's hair out, and she had swung at him. Stupidly, in anger. He's going to report me, and they're not going to tolerate me anymore. The only way to win was to lose the fight, to let Harris plant a haymaker to her face and throw her to the floor. Harris had shouted--she couldn't remember what he had shouted when she was on the floor, he was kicking her, and she was taking sharp breaths to suck up the pain. And then Ms. Suthers' office, where Ms. Suthers smirked at her nose, at her lip, and let her off easy because she had lost the fight. Bloody, bloody Juliet.

And then as she was leaving, Marilyn coming in, flushed out of the girl's bathroom by the fat, stupid janitor, and Juliet gritting her teeth. That slimeball really did tattle on her. Slapping a fist into her hand, calling Karl Chalmers any number of names in her head suck-up, shitnoser, apple polish, authoritarian toady, fucking bean counter, patronizing little prick…

But it was mostly anger at herself, nursing her bloody nose with a tissue as she stumbled to class. Why didn't I protect her? Could have gone to the bathroom with her, taken the blame when that fat turd came in. If you have a lesbian crush on a girl, you might as well use it for something, make sure she's okay--

And now the gunshots in the warehouse were making her chew her tongue, and she wasn't sure she could wait anymore.

Her gun was still at Karl's head.

"Karl. Go in. If it's safe, say--" Oh God, here she was going for code words, like in an adventure novel-- "say 'safe'. If not, say random other things, like 'all clear' or 'raspberries' or something, because I figure if one of us is going to be at risk of getting shot, it's you."

She pushed him. He stumbled forward. He still looked idiotic in his suit.

The warehouse doors were dark, and huge. She let him go.

[chitoryu12*]

There was a noise from the other end of the warehouse. It was rough, like something being slid along concrete.

It was a huge door opening.

Matt stumbled backward, catching himself on the pockmarked crate again. Panic etched his features, but within seconds was replaced with a pleased, almost psychotic smile. He looked down at the bread on the ground.

If Joanne could rob him so easily, how easy would it be for him to do the same thing?

He picked up the bread and tossed the dusty loaf into his now much lighter pack, zipping it up and slinging it over his torso to let it hang limply from his back. He lifted the Calico again, lightly patting the side of the helical magazine. His security.

Slowly, Matt crept through the maze of crates and scattered furniture across the warehouse. It was dusty and dark, a place where one could easily get lost in the recesses. It seemed a place of shadow and death, a building that you couldn't escape from no matter how hard you tried.

And then, there it was. The doors. And a silhouette framed in the light.

Whoever he was, he seemed nervous. Scared. He didn't look armed, but there was no way to actually tell that yet. But he was the best opportunity Matt had seen today. A scared, skinny boy ripe for the picking. Someone who just wandered in without a thought or clue as to what lay inside.

Matt slipped the flashlight from his pocket, holding it in his left hand. The oversized semi-automatic in his right felt awkward and unbalanced without the extra support, but no matter. He was strong enough to hold it steady, and that's all he needed. No need to kill, no. Just scare him. Take his food, maybe kick him in the stomach, and leave.

He hadn't been spotted yet. Good. With a sudden burst of speed that the rest of the soccer team could envy, he flew around the corner of the crate, flicking the flashlight on and pointing it directly at the kid. Karl Chalmers. Son of a bitch. Matt would enjoy this one.

"Oh look, a little bitch without a weapon!" he snarled. The smile grew even wider and more sinister. "Okay buddy, here's how this works. You want to die? I guess not. So how about you lead me over to where you keep all your food and I fill this bag up, and maybe I let you live for now?"

He stepped closer, finger tightening on the trigger. "How does that sound?"

_____________________________________

((John Ferrara continued from This Can't Be Me))

The building was massive, but he already knew that. He had been stalking along the side for a good 3 minutes. Watching, waiting. Staying in the building's shadow as much as he could and freezing if he detected even a hint of movement. He found none.

And now he was by the side door. Unlike the massive roll-ups at the front, this was a simple metal door with an L-shaped handle. Just like one he'd find at school. He found a distinct sense of irony, but couldn't quite place the exact details.

As he walked, he had heard several gunshots inside. A mixture of fear and excitement welled up inside his gut; he knew that it was probably terribly dangerous, but he also knew that there was probably a corpse somewhere inside. A corpse that he could use to his advantage. It could have a new weapon, food, medicine, anything that would give him an edge.

He paused. No need to do something stupid and charge into a gunfight with a banjo.

He would wait.