((Samantha Reynolds continued from An Ode to Adelaide))
Time passed.
Samantha did not sleep. She had not slept in... oh, it must have been going on twenty-six hours. Her personal record was forty-nine. That had been Junior year. Two days, no coffee, no tea, just sheer force of will, reading and rereading and still having trouble come exams, still turning in papers below the level she knew she could reach. Collapsing at the end of it, on Friday afternoon, fresh from swim team, lying in bed and not waking up until Saturday morning, and with a terrible cold at that.
Now, she was willing to take a cold, take lost hours and sickness and headaches, if it meant her survival. Sleep was death. Sleep was the end, a chance for someone to wander by and pump her full of lead. No, that was not how this would go. She would live. She could do it.
The announcements had played some time ago. An hour or two. Fuck it. Didn't matter. The guy on the beach, that had been Cristo, one of the killers. So, only one killer was left. Interesting. It seemed that, perhaps, people weren't so willing to take lives. That was an advantage. It meant there was a good chance people wouldn't come in shooting. A good chance they'd want to talk, like Otis had. If the dangerous ones had weeded themselves out, it would make things so much easier. She would survive. That precluded getting shot. It meant she had to be smart, ruthless. Ready to do whatever it took.
Kill?
Time to ponder that later.
The forest was unnatural. Black. A forest of death. That was why she was here, though. Four more people were dead. Otis and Cristo she'd seen. But two had exploded in the forest. Samantha had been close to the area when that was stated, and she'd moved in as quickly as she could. The important thing was to be the first person on the scene. To get hold of the guns and supplies, not out of any real need for them, but to deny them to the others. To control as many variables as possible.
Unfortunately, she'd had absolutely no luck. The forest was big, but it wasn't that big. Certainly not big enough for her to have seen no sign after two hours of searching, not when she was using her sense of smell almost as much as her sense of sight. Blood stank. Bodies stank. She knew just how they smelled. Not a single whiff of that. Damn.
Then again, there were the moments, moments like now, when she could hardly be sure she was conscious, when she was wrapped up in her dreams, walking through a haze, her eyelids drifting closed and open, closed and open, her gait lilting, her grip on her gun slackening. She kept it in hand at all times now. No more surprises. No.
She stumbled, nearly fell. Dammit.
Anger.
A quick thought.
Snap, crack, pain. Her face on fire again. Adrenaline shooting through her system, bringing her to awareness once more. She had discovered that she could trick her body into believing it was in real danger with just a few little torturous adjustments every half hour or so. There'd be hell to pay later, she was sure of it, but it was a gamble she was willing to take. It meant that there would be a later. And, if there wasn't, if she failed and died, what did it matter how fucked up her system was?
The forest made it hard to distinguish things. Hard to place shapes. The geometry of the place seemed to twitch and shift every time she looked away, presenting her with a constantly-refreshed environment to explore. And yet, no corpses. No corpses anywhere. Her left hand was clenched, the nails digging furrows into her palm. Not drawing blood. She'd read about that so many times, but couldn't quite believe it was possible to claw one's own palm open. After all, she'd tried. It hadn't worked.
She stumbled again, this time out of clumsiness, not fatigue. A protruding root had tripped her up. There were roots and fallen branches everywhere.
It was no good. No good at all. Samantha slumped to the ground, leaning against the tree for a second. Not sleeping. Keeping alert. Gun held at the ready, glancing around. She just needed rest for a second. Rest, not sleep. Time to focus, to come up with a plan.
Live.
It was all that mattered. She would live. She would do what she had to. Killing people? No. Not unless they attacked her. After all, there was still at least one killer out there, one person thinning the ranks or spreading paranoia. But, in the end, she would have to change that. If there had been twenty subjects in the beginning (and she was fairly sure there had been), then there were thirteen left. Slightly less than two thirds. It made no sense to make any sort of play until the final four or five. Sure, she probably was unidentifiable to the others, but that was no reason to stir up trouble, to risk herself, her health.
And there was always that niggling fear that she was doing something wrong. That there was a better way, another option. If Otis was here, he'd have thought of it. If he was here, she would be sleeping now, probably leaned up against him—no. No, she'd have been keeping him at arm's length, because... because...
It didn't matter anymore. She could think and feel whatever she liked about Otis. He was dead.
She took her glasses from her face and wiped them on her blouse. It was no longer white. It was stained with dirt, mud, and sand. Some blood, too. Must have been Otis' blood. How had that gotten there?
A sigh. Soon. Soon it would be over. She could make it. She could survive.
She had to.
Aftermath
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((Ashlie Jackson continued from The Sound of Silence))
Ashlie hadn't stopped walking since leaving the holding cells and the other two behind. She stumbled along blindly, her feet still bleeding. She didn't care about her feet anymore. Blood seeped between the bandages, and no doubt if she looked at them she would find something she didn't want to know about. Whatever, she couldn't feel the pain in her feet anymore. Besides, they were the least of her worries. Taryn was no doubt trying to hunt her down at this moment for what she did to her friend. Her feet would mean nothing if she was dead.
As Ashlie continued to walk, she heard the announcements come on. She ignored them, they didn't mean anything to her. As long as she stayed out of the dangerzones, she would be fine. Thankfully, where she was right now wasn't a dangerzone. It was a creepy looking forest however. Gripping her remaining pistol in her right hand, she continued on.
Ashlie needed to think of a plan. Clearly wandering around aimlessly wasn't doing anything for her. She needed to find someone. Maybe an easy target or two. At this point her best plan was to thin out the field some more. The more people dead the less people in her way. Hell, she had already killed one person, she could do it again. Granted the first one was purely by mistake, but that was besides the point. It's not like it would be hard for her, what with her powers. Just talk, aim, and fire. Easy as that. Now she just needed to find someone. It shouldn't be too hard....
Ashlie hadn't stopped walking since leaving the holding cells and the other two behind. She stumbled along blindly, her feet still bleeding. She didn't care about her feet anymore. Blood seeped between the bandages, and no doubt if she looked at them she would find something she didn't want to know about. Whatever, she couldn't feel the pain in her feet anymore. Besides, they were the least of her worries. Taryn was no doubt trying to hunt her down at this moment for what she did to her friend. Her feet would mean nothing if she was dead.
As Ashlie continued to walk, she heard the announcements come on. She ignored them, they didn't mean anything to her. As long as she stayed out of the dangerzones, she would be fine. Thankfully, where she was right now wasn't a dangerzone. It was a creepy looking forest however. Gripping her remaining pistol in her right hand, she continued on.
Ashlie needed to think of a plan. Clearly wandering around aimlessly wasn't doing anything for her. She needed to find someone. Maybe an easy target or two. At this point her best plan was to thin out the field some more. The more people dead the less people in her way. Hell, she had already killed one person, she could do it again. Granted the first one was purely by mistake, but that was besides the point. It's not like it would be hard for her, what with her powers. Just talk, aim, and fire. Easy as that. Now she just needed to find someone. It shouldn't be too hard....
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
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Black. Brown. Red. Grey. Colors around her, fading in and out of reality. Don't fall asleep. Don't lose like this. Don't let it all end.
Then: a noise. Minuscule. So simple to ignore it, to let go and catch some rest. Samantha was alert in half a second. Gun out, held two-handed. No mistakes. No fucking around. In that moment, clarity. If someone attacked her, she would kill them. No hesitation. No regrets. No feeling. A simple process, pull the trigger, noise, motion, blood. Just like at the beach. Just like Cristo had done.
Was there really someone there, though? Or was this the sort of paranoid delusion brought about by a total lack of rest, a psyche on the edge of collapse? Samantha was no longer fully stable. She understood this, and believed that her understanding would keep her sane enough to function. She had to stay calm, stay in control. Stop panicking. Put an end to these snap reactions, these poor choices. If Otis hadn't been with her on the beach, she would have been killed. If he hadn't been able to do... whatever he did to Cristo, she would have been killed. If he'd decided not to play nice, decided to make her his first step towards a career as a murderer, she'd have been killed.
Knowing she had survived by luck and the grace of others was not a good feeling. No. She had to get back to the state of mind she'd held on the bridge, getting the drop on Pippi (Pippi, who was still alive out there, somewhere, despite her crippling idiocy. Funny, that), keeping her own interests first and foremost in her mind. Yes. That was how a survivor thought.
Time to face problems head on. Time to get a grip. Time to deal with things directly.
Samantha stepped around the tree, gun at the ready, and there, coming towards her, was a girl. Pink hair. Piercings. A bit overweight. Slut. Samantha's reaction was so visceral it surprised even her. What did it matter if some punk-ass whore was here? It was to be expected. They'd gone and grabbed a good variety, hadn't they? And yet, this girl, this person too fucking idiotic to even wear shoes, ground on Samantha's nerves like none other, especially with all that blood on her. Was she the other killer, then? Samantha almost blew the girl away on the spot.
The gun stopped her. At least this person was ready.
"Don't try anything."
Quick words, buying time. Once more, a stalemate. This time, though, Samantha found she enjoyed it.
Then: a noise. Minuscule. So simple to ignore it, to let go and catch some rest. Samantha was alert in half a second. Gun out, held two-handed. No mistakes. No fucking around. In that moment, clarity. If someone attacked her, she would kill them. No hesitation. No regrets. No feeling. A simple process, pull the trigger, noise, motion, blood. Just like at the beach. Just like Cristo had done.
Was there really someone there, though? Or was this the sort of paranoid delusion brought about by a total lack of rest, a psyche on the edge of collapse? Samantha was no longer fully stable. She understood this, and believed that her understanding would keep her sane enough to function. She had to stay calm, stay in control. Stop panicking. Put an end to these snap reactions, these poor choices. If Otis hadn't been with her on the beach, she would have been killed. If he hadn't been able to do... whatever he did to Cristo, she would have been killed. If he'd decided not to play nice, decided to make her his first step towards a career as a murderer, she'd have been killed.
Knowing she had survived by luck and the grace of others was not a good feeling. No. She had to get back to the state of mind she'd held on the bridge, getting the drop on Pippi (Pippi, who was still alive out there, somewhere, despite her crippling idiocy. Funny, that), keeping her own interests first and foremost in her mind. Yes. That was how a survivor thought.
Time to face problems head on. Time to get a grip. Time to deal with things directly.
Samantha stepped around the tree, gun at the ready, and there, coming towards her, was a girl. Pink hair. Piercings. A bit overweight. Slut. Samantha's reaction was so visceral it surprised even her. What did it matter if some punk-ass whore was here? It was to be expected. They'd gone and grabbed a good variety, hadn't they? And yet, this girl, this person too fucking idiotic to even wear shoes, ground on Samantha's nerves like none other, especially with all that blood on her. Was she the other killer, then? Samantha almost blew the girl away on the spot.
The gun stopped her. At least this person was ready.
"Don't try anything."
Quick words, buying time. Once more, a stalemate. This time, though, Samantha found she enjoyed it.
Ashlie wasn't very surprised when a voice called out to her, telling her not to try anything. She turned to look at the speaker, not bothering to raise her gun, but keeping her grip on the weapon tight. The other girl looked nervous, not that Ashlie could blame her. All the death and carnage around them, some six or seven out of twenty killed, scary looking bloodstained girl standing in front of her. It amazed Ashlie slightly that she hadn't been shot on the spot by the twitchy girl.
Standing in the dim forest, gun pointed in her general direction, the pink haired girl couldn't help the small smirk that crossed her face. Funny how not a few hours ago Ashlie was holding someone hostage, and now the situation had been reversed on her. She wasn't afraid though. It wasn't the first time she had found herself in a tight situation, and that's not even counting her time on the island.
Ashlie, having nothing better to do and having no way of communication, started to mentally apraise the girl. She wasn't quite her type, and she got major negative points for threatening her. Still, she had a nice body. Face could use some work. Seemed like the type that could easily be talking into or out of doing something, like shooting someone. Too bad Ashlie couldn't talk. Well, she could, but that never ended well. Alas, such is life.
All Ashlie could do at that point was wait. Wait for something to happen. Maybe the girl in front of her would decide she wasn't worth her time, or perhaps she would even decide Ashlie was harmless and drop her guard. Or she might just shoot her. Whatever happened, Ashlie didn't care. Although she would prefer to not get shot.
Standing in the dim forest, gun pointed in her general direction, the pink haired girl couldn't help the small smirk that crossed her face. Funny how not a few hours ago Ashlie was holding someone hostage, and now the situation had been reversed on her. She wasn't afraid though. It wasn't the first time she had found herself in a tight situation, and that's not even counting her time on the island.
Ashlie, having nothing better to do and having no way of communication, started to mentally apraise the girl. She wasn't quite her type, and she got major negative points for threatening her. Still, she had a nice body. Face could use some work. Seemed like the type that could easily be talking into or out of doing something, like shooting someone. Too bad Ashlie couldn't talk. Well, she could, but that never ended well. Alas, such is life.
All Ashlie could do at that point was wait. Wait for something to happen. Maybe the girl in front of her would decide she wasn't worth her time, or perhaps she would even decide Ashlie was harmless and drop her guard. Or she might just shoot her. Whatever happened, Ashlie didn't care. Although she would prefer to not get shot.
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CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
((Pippi Rivers continued from Darkness))
"Fuck. This. Shit."
Kicking a idle stick up into the air, she gave another swear, something she had been doing WAY too much the last few hours. She really thought that they had a good gameplan. Knowing her luck, they actually did. And then that over-caffinated chick decided to ruin everything by the dangerzones. Fuck, I thought we had it...
Picking up a rock, she gave a grunt and threw it at a tree. Goddamnit. All she wanted to do was go home. None of this fucking magic super powers crap, none of this shoot everyone and kill them stuff. Just be at Elizas apartment and laughing at bad comedies, or on the courts at home with some 2-on-2 with LT on her side and Jess and Chuck yapping at them to keep up. She gave a soft sigh. What was LT thinking now? Or Eliza? Were they wondering where she went?
Shaking her head, she kept walking. This was getting her nowhere.
"Fuck. This. Shit."
Kicking a idle stick up into the air, she gave another swear, something she had been doing WAY too much the last few hours. She really thought that they had a good gameplan. Knowing her luck, they actually did. And then that over-caffinated chick decided to ruin everything by the dangerzones. Fuck, I thought we had it...
Picking up a rock, she gave a grunt and threw it at a tree. Goddamnit. All she wanted to do was go home. None of this fucking magic super powers crap, none of this shoot everyone and kill them stuff. Just be at Elizas apartment and laughing at bad comedies, or on the courts at home with some 2-on-2 with LT on her side and Jess and Chuck yapping at them to keep up. She gave a soft sigh. What was LT thinking now? Or Eliza? Were they wondering where she went?
Shaking her head, she kept walking. This was getting her nowhere.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler CorruptDropbear. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The other girl didn't try anything. She also didn't say anything. The only thing she did was turn around and then fucking stand there, giving Samantha the eye. Like she wasn't even worth acknowledging. It made Samantha both angry and nervous. On the one hand, such dismissal was a pretty stupid idea, especially coming from a punk slut on the wrong end of a pistol. On the other hand, maybe it meant she had some sort of power that would change the dynamics, the sort of thing that would totally reverse the situation and allow her to dispatch Samantha so easily she didn't even need to be concerned. But there was yet another possibility, that being that she was counting on Samantha to think this through, that she was just trying to bluff her way out of the situation, get Samantha to drop her guard.
It was too complicated. Too much of a pain for her tired mind to work out. No, the solution was blindingly obvious. There was one way to confirm or deny every single one of her suspicions.
She just had to pull the trigger.
Everything hinged on that one little act. It was the logical culmination of her time here, of her pledge to Otis. Live. And how, without killing? There was no way. And shooting this girl would force her hand. If she was bluffing, or just scared, or whatever the fuck it could be, she would die. If she had a dangerous power, maybe Samantha would get the drop on her. And, if she was bulletproof or some shit like that? Maybe the surprise would give Samantha more time to run.
Do it.
Yes. Yes, it made sense, oh how it made sense. And better still, it would be a new way to vent, a new way to blow off her stress. Until now, she had hurt only herself. How simple it would be to adjust that basic philosophy, to spread the pain to others too. The screams would be the same, right? Did it really matter from whose throat they emanated?
Do it.
She tightened her finger on the trigger. A simple pull. So easy, so, so easy. Wash away her problems, her doubts, her fear, her pain. Prove that she had what it took to live. After all, she would murder at some point, or she would die. No way to wiggle free. The very fact that she hadn't fired yet was an argument in favor of biting the bullet and taking a life now. It would desensitize her, give her what she needed for the final battle. Let her blow through all the psychological damage now, when she still had time to recover.
Do it.
Samantha's hands had begun to tremble. She steadied them. The gun was aimed exactly where it had to be.
She pulled the trigger.
The bullet went smashing into a tree, safely clear of Bloodslut. The recoil wasn't nearly so bad this time, being expected.
"Get the fuck out of here," Samantha growled. "I don't know what your game is, and I don't care. I'm too tired to deal with this right now. Maybe I'll catch you in the finals, and we can pick up this delightful interaction then. Maybe I'll never see you again. Here's hoping that's the case."
Then, just to be sure she wasn't going to get blown to pieces by some other attacker, Samantha took a glance around. And there, not nearly far enough away, was Pippi. The moron herself, somehow still alive and unharmed. Would wonders never cease?
"Pippi. Good to see you. A little help here?"
Yeah, idiot. Help me get rid of this whore, and maybe watch out while I get some sleep, and I'll return the favor, and we can be happy and shit, and then go our own ways and never, ever interact again.
It was too complicated. Too much of a pain for her tired mind to work out. No, the solution was blindingly obvious. There was one way to confirm or deny every single one of her suspicions.
She just had to pull the trigger.
Everything hinged on that one little act. It was the logical culmination of her time here, of her pledge to Otis. Live. And how, without killing? There was no way. And shooting this girl would force her hand. If she was bluffing, or just scared, or whatever the fuck it could be, she would die. If she had a dangerous power, maybe Samantha would get the drop on her. And, if she was bulletproof or some shit like that? Maybe the surprise would give Samantha more time to run.
Do it.
Yes. Yes, it made sense, oh how it made sense. And better still, it would be a new way to vent, a new way to blow off her stress. Until now, she had hurt only herself. How simple it would be to adjust that basic philosophy, to spread the pain to others too. The screams would be the same, right? Did it really matter from whose throat they emanated?
Do it.
She tightened her finger on the trigger. A simple pull. So easy, so, so easy. Wash away her problems, her doubts, her fear, her pain. Prove that she had what it took to live. After all, she would murder at some point, or she would die. No way to wiggle free. The very fact that she hadn't fired yet was an argument in favor of biting the bullet and taking a life now. It would desensitize her, give her what she needed for the final battle. Let her blow through all the psychological damage now, when she still had time to recover.
Do it.
Samantha's hands had begun to tremble. She steadied them. The gun was aimed exactly where it had to be.
She pulled the trigger.
The bullet went smashing into a tree, safely clear of Bloodslut. The recoil wasn't nearly so bad this time, being expected.
"Get the fuck out of here," Samantha growled. "I don't know what your game is, and I don't care. I'm too tired to deal with this right now. Maybe I'll catch you in the finals, and we can pick up this delightful interaction then. Maybe I'll never see you again. Here's hoping that's the case."
Then, just to be sure she wasn't going to get blown to pieces by some other attacker, Samantha took a glance around. And there, not nearly far enough away, was Pippi. The moron herself, somehow still alive and unharmed. Would wonders never cease?
"Pippi. Good to see you. A little help here?"
Yeah, idiot. Help me get rid of this whore, and maybe watch out while I get some sleep, and I'll return the favor, and we can be happy and shit, and then go our own ways and never, ever interact again.
Ashlie watched as the girl in front of her continued to point her gun at her. She looked kind of pathetic really. Looking all high and mighty with her gun, thinking she was in control. She was so very wrong. All Ashlie needed to do was say one word, just one simple phrase, and she would have the upper hand. It wouldn't be very hard for her to just dispatch the girl as she lay on the ground, puking her guts ou-
The pink haired girl instinctively ducked when the loud bang went off. The bullet that was intended for her had missed, hitting a tree nearby. Ashlie had to do everything in her power to not laugh at that moment. The fucking bitch missed! What a fucking loser. They were no more than 10 or 15 feet apart, how the fuck do you miss from that distance? Of course, in Ashlie's mind there was no way that missing her could have been intentional.
The girl's next words ended up doing the exact opposite of what they had intended to do. Her high and mighty act only served to infuriate Ashlie even more. She was going to shoot the bitch dead... or at least the new bitch who just walked in on them. The shooting bitch seemed to know her, friends maybe? Perfect.
Ashlie stood up quickly, shifting her weight so that she could make a quick dash for it once she did what she was going to do. A large grin crossed Ashlie's features as she raised the gun in her hands and quickly pulled the trigger in rapid succession three times, pointed in the direction of the newcomer.
The pink haired girl instinctively ducked when the loud bang went off. The bullet that was intended for her had missed, hitting a tree nearby. Ashlie had to do everything in her power to not laugh at that moment. The fucking bitch missed! What a fucking loser. They were no more than 10 or 15 feet apart, how the fuck do you miss from that distance? Of course, in Ashlie's mind there was no way that missing her could have been intentional.
The girl's next words ended up doing the exact opposite of what they had intended to do. Her high and mighty act only served to infuriate Ashlie even more. She was going to shoot the bitch dead... or at least the new bitch who just walked in on them. The shooting bitch seemed to know her, friends maybe? Perfect.
Ashlie stood up quickly, shifting her weight so that she could make a quick dash for it once she did what she was going to do. A large grin crossed Ashlie's features as she raised the gun in her hands and quickly pulled the trigger in rapid succession three times, pointed in the direction of the newcomer.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((Breaking post order to ensure everyone has time to get post in before the cap))
Whatever Samantha had expected, it was not an aggressive reaction. Not an attack. She wasn't able to move. Probably wouldn't have done so even had she been able to. Bloodslut stood, moving quickly, and fired. Fired, not at Samantha, but at Pippi.
Samantha wondered, in that split second, if it was wrong that all she could feel was relief.
Whatever Samantha had expected, it was not an aggressive reaction. Not an attack. She wasn't able to move. Probably wouldn't have done so even had she been able to. Bloodslut stood, moving quickly, and fired. Fired, not at Samantha, but at Pippi.
Samantha wondered, in that split second, if it was wrong that all she could feel was relief.
((inb4inactive))
Ashlie stood in her place, gun still raised, aimed in the general direction of the newcomer. She waited to see what would happen as a result of her firing her gun.
Ashlie stood in her place, gun still raised, aimed in the general direction of the newcomer. She waited to see what would happen as a result of her firing her gun.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
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CorruptDropbear*
- Posts: 53
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 4:03 am
The world went red.
Struggling, Pippi forced herself up off the ground, looking at her arm now slicked with red blood. Giving a grunt of pain, she fell back down on her knees, her vision blurring in front of her. She touched her breast. More blood flowed out onto her hands.
F-fuck. I... Ahhh! Pain...
Looking up, she swallowed, fumbling with something in the waistband of her black tracksuit pants. She recognised that girl, Samantha. She could be saved. She could escape.
Fucking hell. Run, Samantha, get the fuck out of here!
Pulling out the cold metal of the pistol, she moved to depress trigger at her attacker.
You fuck me up, I fuck you u-AHHH!
Sprawling back onto the ground, she coughed up blood. Another shot to the chest, her gun flying aimlessly at her side. She wanted to cry foul, that this wasn't even a fair fight, before realising her lungs were collapsed, her voice taken.
And then another shot.
The scream could be heard across the island, ringing at the back of people's minds, before after an age... it stopped.
Subject C12 - Penelope Rivers: Deceased.
Struggling, Pippi forced herself up off the ground, looking at her arm now slicked with red blood. Giving a grunt of pain, she fell back down on her knees, her vision blurring in front of her. She touched her breast. More blood flowed out onto her hands.
F-fuck. I... Ahhh! Pain...
Looking up, she swallowed, fumbling with something in the waistband of her black tracksuit pants. She recognised that girl, Samantha. She could be saved. She could escape.
Fucking hell. Run, Samantha, get the fuck out of here!
Pulling out the cold metal of the pistol, she moved to depress trigger at her attacker.
You fuck me up, I fuck you u-AHHH!
Sprawling back onto the ground, she coughed up blood. Another shot to the chest, her gun flying aimlessly at her side. She wanted to cry foul, that this wasn't even a fair fight, before realising her lungs were collapsed, her voice taken.
And then another shot.
The scream could be heard across the island, ringing at the back of people's minds, before after an age... it stopped.
Subject C12 - Penelope Rivers: Deceased.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler CorruptDropbear. 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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armeggedonCounselor*
- Posts: 23
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:30 pm
((Chris Richardson continued from Darkness))
Chris was hopelessly lost. Pathetically, hopelessly lost. How hard was it to find the shore?
Apparently, pretty hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't be lost now.
*BANG* *BANG*
Chris jumped, nearly dropping everything he was carrying. Survival instinct forgotten, he pulled his knife from his pocket and charged toward the gunshots. Voices in his mind....
Pippi. And she was in pain. She was telling someone to run, to get away. Then the scream started.
Chris threw his hands to his head, wincing. It was a terrible noise, the last agonizing cry of a dying psychic. He burst into the clearing as Pippi's body hit the ground.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
Chris was hopelessly lost. Pathetically, hopelessly lost. How hard was it to find the shore?
Apparently, pretty hard. Otherwise, he wouldn't be lost now.
*BANG* *BANG*
Chris jumped, nearly dropping everything he was carrying. Survival instinct forgotten, he pulled his knife from his pocket and charged toward the gunshots. Voices in his mind....
Pippi. And she was in pain. She was telling someone to run, to get away. Then the scream started.
Chris threw his hands to his head, wincing. It was a terrible noise, the last agonizing cry of a dying psychic. He burst into the clearing as Pippi's body hit the ground.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The shots impacted, forcing Pippi down, curtailing her futile attempt at resistance. It would've been really tragic, except for the fact that Samantha's head was filled with the girl's mental processes. Needless to say, they were not pleasant. It was... oh god, it was the beach again, Pippi was willing her to run, to get clear, Pippi knew she was going to die, just wanted Samantha safe or something. Not again. Someone else dying for her, trying to protect her. Why? What made her so worthwhile? Pippi was stupid as bricks, but surely even she had figured out that she'd been abandoned earlier. People just kept seeing something important in Samantha, something worth saving. Or, no, no, it was a curse. Everyone she met died. Otis. Cristo. Pippi.
Then the screams, the mental blast, ringing through her, consuming her as Pippi passed. It was too much. Samantha reacted instinctively, matching the mental pain with physical, contorting her features, sharpening them, the agonies washing over her, mixing—
After a few moments of her transformation, Pippi's mental scream cut off prematurely, leaving Samantha blinking through tears, staggered but totally aware, totally prepared. Someone else crashed in, asking what was going on as Pippi slumped over dead. Didn't matter. Fuck him. Because it was finally time. Samantha was just so fucking tired of of people dying for her, so fucking tried of freaking out and running away, so fucking tired of being unable to do anything, so fucking tired of, of, of...
Everything.
...live.
Why bother?
Because sometimes, there's nothing to do but keep on trying. Sometimes, you fight for something without even really knowing why. Sometimes, just acting is enough.
You shot the wrong person, bitch.
Samantha turned and opened fire at the murdering whore, one two three four wild shots, and all the while Samantha was moving, running for cover behind even as the recoil threw an erratic waver into her stride. No freezing now. The stress had mounted up, built upon itself, threatened to crush her down, and now it had all broken, everything had shattered into a thousand pieces, she didn't even know what she was doing or why, but she didn't care, either, not now. Now, there was one focus, one alone.
Kill the bitch.
Then the screams, the mental blast, ringing through her, consuming her as Pippi passed. It was too much. Samantha reacted instinctively, matching the mental pain with physical, contorting her features, sharpening them, the agonies washing over her, mixing—
After a few moments of her transformation, Pippi's mental scream cut off prematurely, leaving Samantha blinking through tears, staggered but totally aware, totally prepared. Someone else crashed in, asking what was going on as Pippi slumped over dead. Didn't matter. Fuck him. Because it was finally time. Samantha was just so fucking tired of of people dying for her, so fucking tried of freaking out and running away, so fucking tired of being unable to do anything, so fucking tired of, of, of...
Everything.
...live.
Why bother?
Because sometimes, there's nothing to do but keep on trying. Sometimes, you fight for something without even really knowing why. Sometimes, just acting is enough.
You shot the wrong person, bitch.
Samantha turned and opened fire at the murdering whore, one two three four wild shots, and all the while Samantha was moving, running for cover behind even as the recoil threw an erratic waver into her stride. No freezing now. The stress had mounted up, built upon itself, threatened to crush her down, and now it had all broken, everything had shattered into a thousand pieces, she didn't even know what she was doing or why, but she didn't care, either, not now. Now, there was one focus, one alone.
Kill the bitch.
Ashlie's lips formed a content grin as she watched the girl fall to the ground. There was no doubt about it that she was dead. One more dead bitch on the ground, one more step to survival. There couldn't be many more left, and she had more than enough to eliminate them all. She would be home inside of a week, and despite her.... issues with her voice, would go on to live the rest of her life as far away from the rotting, bug ridden corpses of these fuckers.
Ashlie's little inner monologue was cut off by the other girl firing in her general direction. Although she instinctively ducked, she didn't have to, thanks to the girl's terrible aim. Still, the thought of being shot after removing another contender from the game wasn't a pleasant one. It would just suck. Someone else had carelessly crashed into their little party, and he looked like a real downer. One of those ones that usually marked the time to make a hasty exit. Which was just what the pink haired girl planned on doing.
Standing back to full height, Ashlie pointed her gun again, not really at anyone particular, and fired. In the ensuing chaos of her attack, the girl grabbed her bag and, mustering all the energy she could while ignoring the pain in her feet, made a hasty exit away from the scene of the chaos, and onward to hopefully more victims.
((Ashlie Jackson continued in Hit and Run))
Ashlie's little inner monologue was cut off by the other girl firing in her general direction. Although she instinctively ducked, she didn't have to, thanks to the girl's terrible aim. Still, the thought of being shot after removing another contender from the game wasn't a pleasant one. It would just suck. Someone else had carelessly crashed into their little party, and he looked like a real downer. One of those ones that usually marked the time to make a hasty exit. Which was just what the pink haired girl planned on doing.
Standing back to full height, Ashlie pointed her gun again, not really at anyone particular, and fired. In the ensuing chaos of her attack, the girl grabbed her bag and, mustering all the energy she could while ignoring the pain in her feet, made a hasty exit away from the scene of the chaos, and onward to hopefully more victims.
((Ashlie Jackson continued in Hit and Run))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
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armeggedonCounselor*
- Posts: 23
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:30 pm
Chris barely had time to take in the scene before a shoot out began. Panicking wildly, he threw himself flat and scrambled behind a tree. Almost as soon as it had started, the gunfight was over. He peeked around the tree and saw that the girl who had shot Pippi had run away. That suited him just fine. He stood up and stepped around the tree, putting his hands up and screaming, "Don't shoot me! Don't shoot me!"
Considering the lack of hot lead slamming into his chest, Chris could only assume that that had worked. Either that, or this other girl was staring at him incredulously, wondering just how someone could be this big of an idiot.
"Please don't shoot me. I-I just want to know what happened here. I was kinda friends with her-" he indicated Pippi's body. "-and I suppose answers would be nice. .... Did I mention please don't shoot me?"
Considering the lack of hot lead slamming into his chest, Chris could only assume that that had worked. Either that, or this other girl was staring at him incredulously, wondering just how someone could be this big of an idiot.
"Please don't shoot me. I-I just want to know what happened here. I was kinda friends with her-" he indicated Pippi's body. "-and I suppose answers would be nice. .... Did I mention please don't shoot me?"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler armeggedonCounselor. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3435
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
And just like that, half a second, and Bloodslut was gone, with one poorly-aimed parting shot (meaning she'd fired, what, four times?), leaving Samantha panting, fuming, seething in anger, doing her best to force down the bloodlust she'd never even known she possessed. Her new resolved warred with her common sense, every urge telling her to chase after the girl gun blazing, every bit of self preservation telling her to control the situation, to do the smart thing.
Somehow, she fought her feelings down. For once in this entire fucking disaster of an experience, Samantha made the right choice. She locked her anger away in a little corner of her mind, to live with the stress the pain the madness the sorrow. Then, that done, she walked ever-so-calmly over to Pippi's corpse. The girl was leaking blood from everywhere. Nothing Samantha hadn't seen before, not now. Nothing like a melted, eyeless corpse. Nothing she could even bring herself to be upset over.
Memories: gunshot stumbling rocks trees bridge girl idiot gun red hair: a jumbled mess, no connections anymore, no feelings.
Words from the past: "We can go there, work things out or whatever, and then get out of each other's way."
Yes. That was what she had said, and that was what they had done, gotten out of each other's way, but Pippi, stupid Pippi, she had come back, hadn't she? She had come back and so she had fallen, killed by the curse. Because everyone who met Samantha died. Right now, only two people she had interacted with still drew breath: Bloodslut, and this boy here. The boy was nothing special. Brown messy hair, whining and pleading at her, begging her not to kill him. Pathetic. A sniveling wimp. Where the fuck did they get these people, these dysfunctional freaks and latent sociopaths? Of them, only Otis had been sane, had been cool. It made Samantha wonder what the fuck was wrong with her.
She had stooped down, rummaged Pippi's bag. It was getting to be routine. Gun. Check it: fourteen shots, unfired. Knife. Food. Looked like Pippi hadn't really done all that much. Too bad for her. Not surprising. Pippi had never been smart.
And then, that taken care of, Samantha turned to the guy as he finished speaking, and she leveled her gun at him.
She wished she could pretend she didn't know what she was doing. Wished she could come up with an excuse or a logical explanation for her actions that pushed aside responsibility, chalked it up to stress. But it was more than that. It was her finally playing this smart, finally doing the right thing, now that there wasn't anyone left to take bullets for her. Live. Living meant taking life, but, more than that, it meant procuring the necessities to survive. Things were winding down, rolling towards a conclusion. They were nearly halfway, and now Samantha knew who the big threat was, knew who to shoot on sight. She also knew the score when it came to weapons.
She had four guns. Add in Otis' gun, lost or discarded somewhere. He was smart enough to make sure nobody else could use it. Add in the two in the forest, missing, seemingly vanished into thin air. No way would anyone find them. Add in the one this boy surely held, and that made eight. Over a third of the weapons in this game that Samantha could account for.
"Sorry," she said. "I need your gun. Slide it over nice and easy, and nothing unpleasant needs to happen. I won't take your food or your knife. I don't want to hurt you."
Left unspoken: But I will if I have to.
"Oh, and I knew her too, kind of. I'm sorry your friend died, but, hey, maybe you can go hunt down the pink-haired whore or something."
Somehow, she fought her feelings down. For once in this entire fucking disaster of an experience, Samantha made the right choice. She locked her anger away in a little corner of her mind, to live with the stress the pain the madness the sorrow. Then, that done, she walked ever-so-calmly over to Pippi's corpse. The girl was leaking blood from everywhere. Nothing Samantha hadn't seen before, not now. Nothing like a melted, eyeless corpse. Nothing she could even bring herself to be upset over.
Memories: gunshot stumbling rocks trees bridge girl idiot gun red hair: a jumbled mess, no connections anymore, no feelings.
Words from the past: "We can go there, work things out or whatever, and then get out of each other's way."
Yes. That was what she had said, and that was what they had done, gotten out of each other's way, but Pippi, stupid Pippi, she had come back, hadn't she? She had come back and so she had fallen, killed by the curse. Because everyone who met Samantha died. Right now, only two people she had interacted with still drew breath: Bloodslut, and this boy here. The boy was nothing special. Brown messy hair, whining and pleading at her, begging her not to kill him. Pathetic. A sniveling wimp. Where the fuck did they get these people, these dysfunctional freaks and latent sociopaths? Of them, only Otis had been sane, had been cool. It made Samantha wonder what the fuck was wrong with her.
She had stooped down, rummaged Pippi's bag. It was getting to be routine. Gun. Check it: fourteen shots, unfired. Knife. Food. Looked like Pippi hadn't really done all that much. Too bad for her. Not surprising. Pippi had never been smart.
And then, that taken care of, Samantha turned to the guy as he finished speaking, and she leveled her gun at him.
She wished she could pretend she didn't know what she was doing. Wished she could come up with an excuse or a logical explanation for her actions that pushed aside responsibility, chalked it up to stress. But it was more than that. It was her finally playing this smart, finally doing the right thing, now that there wasn't anyone left to take bullets for her. Live. Living meant taking life, but, more than that, it meant procuring the necessities to survive. Things were winding down, rolling towards a conclusion. They were nearly halfway, and now Samantha knew who the big threat was, knew who to shoot on sight. She also knew the score when it came to weapons.
She had four guns. Add in Otis' gun, lost or discarded somewhere. He was smart enough to make sure nobody else could use it. Add in the two in the forest, missing, seemingly vanished into thin air. No way would anyone find them. Add in the one this boy surely held, and that made eight. Over a third of the weapons in this game that Samantha could account for.
"Sorry," she said. "I need your gun. Slide it over nice and easy, and nothing unpleasant needs to happen. I won't take your food or your knife. I don't want to hurt you."
Left unspoken: But I will if I have to.
"Oh, and I knew her too, kind of. I'm sorry your friend died, but, hey, maybe you can go hunt down the pink-haired whore or something."