F12 - Freya Nygård: Program Start
Freya was in a bad mood, and for once she felt it was entirely justified.
She had awoken in some shitty little house in some shitty country, and as soon as her brain had reminded her of how she had come to be there, Freya had promptly begun smashing up the place.
Now though she was tired and in pain. Both of her hands were bleeding after going into a mirror and through a window and she had tweaked an ankle stomping some chairs into splinters.
It was only after the red mist had lifted and the adrenaline subsided that she realised just what she had done. The knuckles on both of her hands were cut up and her arms also had cuts on them.
That meant her calming down period had been spent disinfecting and bandaging her hands while sat on the floor. But, it hadn’t been a waste. She took the time to think and consider her options. Her weapon—such as it was—appeared to be a musket. The symbolism and implications of colonialism were not lost in Freya as she looked over it, but by the same merit it was shit as far as being used as a gun. She was sure the bayonet it had come with would prove to be more useful. In fact she was of the opinion that they musket itself would have been better utilised as a club. That wasn’t her main thought process however, she was more focused on the idea that she had been kidnapped by America.
Freya hated America. They had driven her family out of their home and made them refugees. She had spent years under the shadow of the country, learning to dread and fear them when she was a child. But slowly that had turned into hate and now, after it seemed that they, while not safe, were at least going to be able to live some semblance of a normal life. That was all gone. She was in their stupid fucking death game.
It wasn’t fair.
Freya picked up a nearby piece of debris and threw it across the room with force. It clattered into the wall and fell out of site behind a sofa.
Her mind continued to assess her situation as well as it could, looking for something she could do.
Anything would have been better than sitting and moping.
The Path
Open
((F03 Philippa "Pippa" Andolini: Start))
In one hand, Pippa Andolini clutched the locket around her neck. Inside was a picture of Giacomo and Renata Andolini, her father's grandparents, wearing the finest clothes a pair of cobblers in a small village in Italy could afford. To Pippa, this was one of the few ties she had to her paternal line, as most members of her father's family were still in Italy or were gone. It was one of the few items salvaged after her home was destroyed in that raid almost a decade ago, and one of the few mementos she had of home.
In her other hand was the knife she found in the bag by her side when she woke up in this new city. With both of these items in her hands, Pippa understood where she was and what was the one running constant of her life: America was vile and wanted to destroy her. It had already killed her father and wrecked her childhood, and now it was actively trying to kill her by abducting her and her classmates and forcing them to fight to the death. Clearly, the country wasn't satisfied ruining the lives of her and everyone else in Bellington and the British isles.
Pippa awoke laying on the porch of one of the houses in the Eastern Dwellings. She had to remember the series of events that led to her teachers being killed and her own abduction by an enemy military force. Seeing that she had a knife was barely any comfort. It wasn't a bad knife; a little small and maybe not as intimidating as a gun, but it barely made her feel like she had a chance here. She was probably going to die far from home, and there was nothing to do about it.
Pippa stepped away from the porch, not even bothering to go into the house. She needed to understand where she was and if the rest of her peers had decided to protest the Americans like reasonable people or had given into their kidnapper's demands like cowards. Where she'd go from there she wasn't sure, but she needed to at least get some idea what the others were doing.
It wasn't until she walked near one house that she realized how one person was taking this: quite poorly. She heard the sounds of someone smashing and breaking a lot of items inside the house. Pippa walked near the door and tried to listen in. Pippa had to quickly try to understand what was going on in there. Either two of her peers were having a brawl and had given into the game's objective to kill everyone, or something else was going on. She had to weigh the options and decide what was best for her. This meant she was outside for a few minutes after the smashing stopped before she made a decision.
Pippa then put a hand on the doorknob and slowly opened it. She decided "sod it all" and would investigate. If there was a fight, she still had a knife and could probably intimidate the fighters and take control of the situation. If it wasn't a fight, then she still had a knife and the chance to take control of the situation. Plus, considering enough time had passed and she hadn't seen or heard anyone, it might be safe to move inside.
Either way, Pippa was willing to take the risk and achieve the best result. If she was going to die here, she could at least make an effort before it ended.
In one hand, Pippa Andolini clutched the locket around her neck. Inside was a picture of Giacomo and Renata Andolini, her father's grandparents, wearing the finest clothes a pair of cobblers in a small village in Italy could afford. To Pippa, this was one of the few ties she had to her paternal line, as most members of her father's family were still in Italy or were gone. It was one of the few items salvaged after her home was destroyed in that raid almost a decade ago, and one of the few mementos she had of home.
In her other hand was the knife she found in the bag by her side when she woke up in this new city. With both of these items in her hands, Pippa understood where she was and what was the one running constant of her life: America was vile and wanted to destroy her. It had already killed her father and wrecked her childhood, and now it was actively trying to kill her by abducting her and her classmates and forcing them to fight to the death. Clearly, the country wasn't satisfied ruining the lives of her and everyone else in Bellington and the British isles.
Pippa awoke laying on the porch of one of the houses in the Eastern Dwellings. She had to remember the series of events that led to her teachers being killed and her own abduction by an enemy military force. Seeing that she had a knife was barely any comfort. It wasn't a bad knife; a little small and maybe not as intimidating as a gun, but it barely made her feel like she had a chance here. She was probably going to die far from home, and there was nothing to do about it.
Pippa stepped away from the porch, not even bothering to go into the house. She needed to understand where she was and if the rest of her peers had decided to protest the Americans like reasonable people or had given into their kidnapper's demands like cowards. Where she'd go from there she wasn't sure, but she needed to at least get some idea what the others were doing.
It wasn't until she walked near one house that she realized how one person was taking this: quite poorly. She heard the sounds of someone smashing and breaking a lot of items inside the house. Pippa walked near the door and tried to listen in. Pippa had to quickly try to understand what was going on in there. Either two of her peers were having a brawl and had given into the game's objective to kill everyone, or something else was going on. She had to weigh the options and decide what was best for her. This meant she was outside for a few minutes after the smashing stopped before she made a decision.
Pippa then put a hand on the doorknob and slowly opened it. She decided "sod it all" and would investigate. If there was a fight, she still had a knife and could probably intimidate the fighters and take control of the situation. If it wasn't a fight, then she still had a knife and the chance to take control of the situation. Plus, considering enough time had passed and she hadn't seen or heard anyone, it might be safe to move inside.
Either way, Pippa was willing to take the risk and achieve the best result. If she was going to die here, she could at least make an effort before it ended.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Cactus
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It had been over an hour now, and for all of the calming tricks that he'd tried, his heart just wouldn't stop pounding. Deep breath in, deep breath out. In through the nostrils, exhale through the mouth. Stretch arms out, bring them back in. Breathe again.
Fuck it. The calming techniques were shit, the situation was shit, and all he could see around him was shit, shit, SHIT.
Shit.
((FISHER DARDEN GAME START))
This was how things had gone for Fisher Darden since he'd awoken - it was one big loop of horrible feelings and oncoming dread. His heartbeat had not settled down since the first gunshots had rang through the classroom. Over and over, pounding through his chest. Were it a creature, it would have thrust itself from his body and escaped through the air on its own. The mix of panic and hyper-realization had grabbed him from the very beginning. The Americans had attacked, the Americans had taken them, and now they were all going to die.
No - that was wrong. They were already dead. Every last one of them. He knew what this was. Fisher wasn't an idiot. The Americans had been doing this to their own youth for years; he'd poured over any information that he could on the practice of a death contest. It had fascinated him - he'd wanted to make a film on it when he was in college. That had been his goal, his area of fascination. He wanted to understand why - he'd wanted to get close.
Not this close.
After twenty minutes of panic, Fisher had finally taken stock of his own situation. If he was going to try and survive the American death game, he'd best understand his own inventory. His pack was well-stocked with medical supplies and food, but his 'weapon', if he could even call it that, left a lot to be desired. He'd taken to fanning himself with the laminated sheet of paper as he walked through the streets, not a soul to be seen. 'Indy', as he'd dubbed it, made a silly flopping sound as he waved it back and forth. It was comical, really. The very thing that had started all of this mess one hundred years before he was born was the only thing that he had to defend himself with. Luck had really cocked him up, no doubt. Thanks for nothing, Indy.
So it was here, hiding behind a shrubbery, that he gathered that his luck couldn't be that bad. Pippa Andolini was slowly making her way into a house several meters in front of him. Not that she was his absolute, number one, first choice for an ally, she was someone whom he expected would keep a decently clear head considering the circumstances. More importantly, he'd never had any issue with her. Reaching out to anyone right now was risky, but...
Him and Indy weren't going to win this war on their own.
As Pippa entered the house carefully, Fisher waited a moment and approached the door after her. Still keeping his distance and hesitantly standing on the path a few meters from the door, he inhaled a sharp breath.
His heart was still pounding, fuck.
"Hey, Pippa! It's me, Fisher... you okay in there?"
Fisher's voice was sturdier than he felt inside and for the moment, he was grateful for that. More than anything else, he was scared, and the more normal he could keep himself feeling, the better he'd do. If he was going to dive into the shit, he didn't want to do it alone.
Fuck it. The calming techniques were shit, the situation was shit, and all he could see around him was shit, shit, SHIT.
Shit.
((FISHER DARDEN GAME START))
This was how things had gone for Fisher Darden since he'd awoken - it was one big loop of horrible feelings and oncoming dread. His heartbeat had not settled down since the first gunshots had rang through the classroom. Over and over, pounding through his chest. Were it a creature, it would have thrust itself from his body and escaped through the air on its own. The mix of panic and hyper-realization had grabbed him from the very beginning. The Americans had attacked, the Americans had taken them, and now they were all going to die.
No - that was wrong. They were already dead. Every last one of them. He knew what this was. Fisher wasn't an idiot. The Americans had been doing this to their own youth for years; he'd poured over any information that he could on the practice of a death contest. It had fascinated him - he'd wanted to make a film on it when he was in college. That had been his goal, his area of fascination. He wanted to understand why - he'd wanted to get close.
Not this close.
After twenty minutes of panic, Fisher had finally taken stock of his own situation. If he was going to try and survive the American death game, he'd best understand his own inventory. His pack was well-stocked with medical supplies and food, but his 'weapon', if he could even call it that, left a lot to be desired. He'd taken to fanning himself with the laminated sheet of paper as he walked through the streets, not a soul to be seen. 'Indy', as he'd dubbed it, made a silly flopping sound as he waved it back and forth. It was comical, really. The very thing that had started all of this mess one hundred years before he was born was the only thing that he had to defend himself with. Luck had really cocked him up, no doubt. Thanks for nothing, Indy.
So it was here, hiding behind a shrubbery, that he gathered that his luck couldn't be that bad. Pippa Andolini was slowly making her way into a house several meters in front of him. Not that she was his absolute, number one, first choice for an ally, she was someone whom he expected would keep a decently clear head considering the circumstances. More importantly, he'd never had any issue with her. Reaching out to anyone right now was risky, but...
Him and Indy weren't going to win this war on their own.
As Pippa entered the house carefully, Fisher waited a moment and approached the door after her. Still keeping his distance and hesitantly standing on the path a few meters from the door, he inhaled a sharp breath.
His heart was still pounding, fuck.
"Hey, Pippa! It's me, Fisher... you okay in there?"
Fisher's voice was sturdier than he felt inside and for the moment, he was grateful for that. More than anything else, he was scared, and the more normal he could keep himself feeling, the better he'd do. If he was going to dive into the shit, he didn't want to do it alone.
A plan was beginning to form in Freya’s head, although calling it a plan was being generous. It was more of an idea. It wasn’t an idea she liked, but she supposed it was better than nothing.
As Freya sat she continued to think over her situation and the loose plan she was developing, she heard the telltale sound of a muffled voice. It put her on edge, her heart began to beat slightly faster as it prepared her for whatever she needed to do.
One hand reached out and took the musket while the other braced against the floor. In one smooth motion Freya pushed with her legs and used her hand as a lever to spin up onto her feet.
She gripped the elderly weapon tightly in her bandaged hands as she pointed it at the entrance to the room. Whoever was there their intentions were unknown. She wasn’t going to take chances.
“Hello?” She called out.
As Freya sat she continued to think over her situation and the loose plan she was developing, she heard the telltale sound of a muffled voice. It put her on edge, her heart began to beat slightly faster as it prepared her for whatever she needed to do.
One hand reached out and took the musket while the other braced against the floor. In one smooth motion Freya pushed with her legs and used her hand as a lever to spin up onto her feet.
She gripped the elderly weapon tightly in her bandaged hands as she pointed it at the entrance to the room. Whoever was there their intentions were unknown. She wasn’t going to take chances.
“Hello?” She called out.
Pippa gingerly stepped down the main hallway. The hall had a few open entrances to other rooms on each side. Pippa wasn't sure which side had the origin of the smashing sounds, but she decided to merely take her time. There was definitely no need to rush into a dangerous situation, and the last thing she needed was to stomp on a creaky panel or enter a room too quickly and pay the ultimate price for her blunder.
She also didn't need the sounds of whatever that shouting from the other side of the door was. Pippa instantly tensed, sinking her head into her shoulders and tightening her grip on the knife. She could hardly make out what was said on the other side of the main door, but she was now greatly annoyed with whoever it was who made it. Someone else, a girl, called out from one of the rooms near the hallway. Pippa figured she was the cause of the smashing, and if she was still here, then maybe she was the victor of whatever fight was going on, if that's what was occurring when Pippa was passing through.
Pippa quietly inhaled and exhaled, deciding to do her best to remain levelheaded in this situation. She decided to reply to the other girl in the house, as diplomatically as she could.
"Hello," she called back. "I heard noises outside. I mean no harm. Just wanted to see what was going on."
She bit her lip. This had to work. Maybe a human element would help.
"My name is Philippa," she added. "Are you okay?"
That should do it.
She also didn't need the sounds of whatever that shouting from the other side of the door was. Pippa instantly tensed, sinking her head into her shoulders and tightening her grip on the knife. She could hardly make out what was said on the other side of the main door, but she was now greatly annoyed with whoever it was who made it. Someone else, a girl, called out from one of the rooms near the hallway. Pippa figured she was the cause of the smashing, and if she was still here, then maybe she was the victor of whatever fight was going on, if that's what was occurring when Pippa was passing through.
Pippa quietly inhaled and exhaled, deciding to do her best to remain levelheaded in this situation. She decided to reply to the other girl in the house, as diplomatically as she could.
"Hello," she called back. "I heard noises outside. I mean no harm. Just wanted to see what was going on."
She bit her lip. This had to work. Maybe a human element would help.
"My name is Philippa," she added. "Are you okay?"
That should do it.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Be still my beating heart.
No, seriously - Fisher actually glanced down at his chest - he wanted his heart to stop hammering the inside of his chest. He slowly crept toward the house as his calls went unanswered, the door slamming behind Pippa as she went in. Maybe she didn't hear him. Perhaps she thought he was dangerous, in this particular situation, that was supposed to be the point. Balling his hand into a fist, he pressed against the middle of his chest, hoping that it would somehow slow his heart-rate. He should follow her in, of course. What if she was in trouble? He could... he could paper-cut them to death.
Fisher wobbled the paper, listening to the silly noise it made. No, he couldn't. He couldn't even do that. He could bore an attacker to death, maybe. But that was it. Indy wasn't a companion that he could see a way to weaponize, not even a little. So he had that going for him. Taking a deep breath, Fisher stopped at the side of the door, taking every step slowly, trying to calm himself down as he stared at the closed door. He thought he could hear a voice or two from within, but it was hard to say.
Did he risk it? There could be someone inside with a gun, a knife, or some other far-more-deadly implement than a laminated piece of paper. Of course, perhaps that was the Americans' big joke. Give the Brits ridiculous weapons and watch them tear one another apart, piece by piece.
He fucking hated the Americans. Warmongering bloody wankers, the lot of them.
Taking a look around the outside of the area, he couldn't see a soul. That was good - nobody seemed to have homicidal intentions just yet, though he couldn't imagine any of his classmates buying in to what the Yanks were selling. Who would just up and start killing? No one came to mind. Maybe they could figure a way out. Fight back, if someone had an adequate weapon.
And then what?
Fisher grimaced. His indecision was almost as grating on him as the thundering sound of his heart. Inside or out, Fish? He had to choose one. On the plus side, there was nobody outside, and he could see for kilometers in every direction. On the other hand, if someone started coming with a gun, it would be very bad for him to be sitting around, exposed.
Inside it was.
Taking the door handle, he slowly opened it, and peeked his head around the corner, careful to keep himself outside. No one seemed to be in the entrance, so obviously Pippa had wandered in, in search of whatever secrets lurked inside. With no other recourse, he called out again.
"Hello? Pippa? Anyone else - it's Fisher! I'm bloody scared shitless out here, so I'm coming in, okay?"
There was a pause, and nothing - so he took it as an affirmation, and slipped inside the house. Great - that was step one. Step two would be to calm his heartbeat, which had skyrocketed as he stepped one foot closer to peril.
No, seriously - Fisher actually glanced down at his chest - he wanted his heart to stop hammering the inside of his chest. He slowly crept toward the house as his calls went unanswered, the door slamming behind Pippa as she went in. Maybe she didn't hear him. Perhaps she thought he was dangerous, in this particular situation, that was supposed to be the point. Balling his hand into a fist, he pressed against the middle of his chest, hoping that it would somehow slow his heart-rate. He should follow her in, of course. What if she was in trouble? He could... he could paper-cut them to death.
Fisher wobbled the paper, listening to the silly noise it made. No, he couldn't. He couldn't even do that. He could bore an attacker to death, maybe. But that was it. Indy wasn't a companion that he could see a way to weaponize, not even a little. So he had that going for him. Taking a deep breath, Fisher stopped at the side of the door, taking every step slowly, trying to calm himself down as he stared at the closed door. He thought he could hear a voice or two from within, but it was hard to say.
Did he risk it? There could be someone inside with a gun, a knife, or some other far-more-deadly implement than a laminated piece of paper. Of course, perhaps that was the Americans' big joke. Give the Brits ridiculous weapons and watch them tear one another apart, piece by piece.
He fucking hated the Americans. Warmongering bloody wankers, the lot of them.
Taking a look around the outside of the area, he couldn't see a soul. That was good - nobody seemed to have homicidal intentions just yet, though he couldn't imagine any of his classmates buying in to what the Yanks were selling. Who would just up and start killing? No one came to mind. Maybe they could figure a way out. Fight back, if someone had an adequate weapon.
And then what?
Fisher grimaced. His indecision was almost as grating on him as the thundering sound of his heart. Inside or out, Fish? He had to choose one. On the plus side, there was nobody outside, and he could see for kilometers in every direction. On the other hand, if someone started coming with a gun, it would be very bad for him to be sitting around, exposed.
Inside it was.
Taking the door handle, he slowly opened it, and peeked his head around the corner, careful to keep himself outside. No one seemed to be in the entrance, so obviously Pippa had wandered in, in search of whatever secrets lurked inside. With no other recourse, he called out again.
"Hello? Pippa? Anyone else - it's Fisher! I'm bloody scared shitless out here, so I'm coming in, okay?"
There was a pause, and nothing - so he took it as an affirmation, and slipped inside the house. Great - that was step one. Step two would be to calm his heartbeat, which had skyrocketed as he stepped one foot closer to peril.
There was a pause after she called out. A tense moment where nothing seemed to move, the house itself seemed to hold its breath. Then a response came from the other side of the door and all the tension was released. Pippa was a person she guessed. In truth, the girl was barely on Freya's radar. She knew of her, in much the same way people naturally began to know people who they spent a lot of time around. But despite all of that Freya couldn't remember anything about the girl. The girl who was now stood on the other side of the doorway.
The question now, was how much did Freya believe? She was dealing with an unknown, both literally and figuratively. She knew nothing about Pippa besides her name. It was a question of trust, and that was difficult for Freya. As things stood though she was in a good position. The musket was held tightly by the white knuckles of her hands. It had the ability to fire if she needed it to, but it also had a bayonet, which meant it had range.
Having range was an important advantage in a fight, as long as you used range properly you could dictate where any engagements happened. It wasn't that Freya was expecting the first person she met to try and attack her, but she didn't want to take a chance. She hated that she hadn't been awake that long but already she had unconsciously fallen into the exact thinking the Americans wanted. She didn't want to give them that satisfaction.
Meanwhile, she could still hear someone else in the background. They were muffled but they were there.
"It's Freya." She said as she stayed where she was, musket still held tight. "Who else is with you?"
The question now, was how much did Freya believe? She was dealing with an unknown, both literally and figuratively. She knew nothing about Pippa besides her name. It was a question of trust, and that was difficult for Freya. As things stood though she was in a good position. The musket was held tightly by the white knuckles of her hands. It had the ability to fire if she needed it to, but it also had a bayonet, which meant it had range.
Having range was an important advantage in a fight, as long as you used range properly you could dictate where any engagements happened. It wasn't that Freya was expecting the first person she met to try and attack her, but she didn't want to take a chance. She hated that she hadn't been awake that long but already she had unconsciously fallen into the exact thinking the Americans wanted. She didn't want to give them that satisfaction.
Meanwhile, she could still hear someone else in the background. They were muffled but they were there.
"It's Freya." She said as she stayed where she was, musket still held tight. "Who else is with you?"
Pippa groaned a bit as the person outside opened the door and came in, loudly announcing himself. Fisher. And the girl inside was Freya. Pippa wasn't too familiar with either of them. She knew Freya was a bit antisocial and abrasive, so she might have been the worst person to come across. Fisher was supposed to be really smart and social, so the fact that he knew who Pippa was and seemed okay with trying to check in on her made her think he was likely to not kill her. The keyword was "likely"; Pippa wasn't just going to blindly trust anyone.
Pippa looked back down the hall and saw Fisher standing there in the distance. She held her free hand up quietly to tell him not to come closer. She still didn't know how dangerous Freya was, and she definitely didn't want Fisher to get close to her. She couldn't be too foolish; both of them could wish her harm.
"It's Fisher," Pippa told Freya. "He just walked in after me, but we're not together."
"Are you alone? I heard noises outside, so was someone else in here with you?"
Pippa looked back down the hall and saw Fisher standing there in the distance. She held her free hand up quietly to tell him not to come closer. She still didn't know how dangerous Freya was, and she definitely didn't want Fisher to get close to her. She couldn't be too foolish; both of them could wish her harm.
"It's Fisher," Pippa told Freya. "He just walked in after me, but we're not together."
"Are you alone? I heard noises outside, so was someone else in here with you?"
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Cactus
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His eyes took a moment to adjust, and then right there - oh, bollocks - Pippa stood, hand raised in the air in his direction, as though to tell him to keep his distance. That was totally fine with him. As he'd closed the door behind him, he'd backed up against the wall. It was doing a bang-up job of supporting him and allowing his still-pounding heart to ease off the adrenaline a little bit. Pippa didn't seem overly violent at the moment; she'd held up a fist rather than a weapon, and seemed to be talking to someone at the other end of the hall.
Which was a development. He'd seen Pippa walk in, but she must have entered for a reason. Fisher wasn't sure who was at the other end of the hall - he could only see Pippa and he couldn't hear the voice. Heart rate finally slowing, he absently wiggled the laminated sheet of paper, producing an overly silly noise given the situation. It helped calm him. Waging his options for a moment, he knew that silence was probably the optimal reaction, but his anxiety at this whole thing wouldn't let that happen.
"Who else is down there? I don't mean any harm, I just," he gulped, "I don't know what else to do!"
Great work, Fisher. Absolutely pathetic. Of course, when all he was armed with were his wits and a laminated sheet of historical information, he didn't think things could get much worse. Unless whomever else was in the house had lost it, and was armed.
Okay - scratch that. They could get a lot worse.
Which was a development. He'd seen Pippa walk in, but she must have entered for a reason. Fisher wasn't sure who was at the other end of the hall - he could only see Pippa and he couldn't hear the voice. Heart rate finally slowing, he absently wiggled the laminated sheet of paper, producing an overly silly noise given the situation. It helped calm him. Waging his options for a moment, he knew that silence was probably the optimal reaction, but his anxiety at this whole thing wouldn't let that happen.
"Who else is down there? I don't mean any harm, I just," he gulped, "I don't know what else to do!"
Great work, Fisher. Absolutely pathetic. Of course, when all he was armed with were his wits and a laminated sheet of historical information, he didn't think things could get much worse. Unless whomever else was in the house had lost it, and was armed.
Okay - scratch that. They could get a lot worse.
What was taking so long?
That was Freya’s main thought now that her body and brain had settled down. She got it, she understood why Pippa was being cautious. It was sensible, but Freya felt like a stupid asshole having a conversation through a door while she held a musket.
In any other situation it would have been laughable, but she was in the one very specific situation where it was serious.
The good news was Pippa was honest with her about who was around. Not that she had any reason to lie. They were still talking to each other from either side of a door after all.
“It’s just me.” Freya replied, noticing how strongly her accent was coming through for the first time.
There was a lengthy pause as Freya thought.
“So are you coming in or what?”
That was Freya’s main thought now that her body and brain had settled down. She got it, she understood why Pippa was being cautious. It was sensible, but Freya felt like a stupid asshole having a conversation through a door while she held a musket.
In any other situation it would have been laughable, but she was in the one very specific situation where it was serious.
The good news was Pippa was honest with her about who was around. Not that she had any reason to lie. They were still talking to each other from either side of a door after all.
“It’s just me.” Freya replied, noticing how strongly her accent was coming through for the first time.
There was a lengthy pause as Freya thought.
“So are you coming in or what?”
“Alright. I suppose,” Pippa said.
Pippa stepped into the room she could hear Freya talking from. She quickly glanced back at Fisher and gestures towards the room with her head. He may as well come in. He insisted on being a part of this moment, so he may as well join the group.
Pippa saw all the damage to the room, as if a wild bear had burst in and stomped all over the place. She then saw Freya, with her hands bandaged. It looked like she went through quite a bit before Pippa and Fisher arrived.
Pippa kept her knife close to her breast, mostly to show Freya she was armed, but wasn’t threatening her with it. It wasn’t the most impressive knife anyways, so surely the other girl wouldn’t be intimidated.
“My, what a mess,” Pippa said. “Are you alright?”
Pippa stepped into the room she could hear Freya talking from. She quickly glanced back at Fisher and gestures towards the room with her head. He may as well come in. He insisted on being a part of this moment, so he may as well join the group.
Pippa saw all the damage to the room, as if a wild bear had burst in and stomped all over the place. She then saw Freya, with her hands bandaged. It looked like she went through quite a bit before Pippa and Fisher arrived.
Pippa kept her knife close to her breast, mostly to show Freya she was armed, but wasn’t threatening her with it. It wasn’t the most impressive knife anyways, so surely the other girl wouldn’t be intimidated.
“My, what a mess,” Pippa said. “Are you alright?”
G014: Mayumi Tendou
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Pippa beckoned him over, so that was a good thing. In theory, that meant that she wasn't planning to skewer him with a spear, or shoot him with a pistol, or fillet him with a knife - or any of those other lovely things that those American fucks wanted them to do to one another. Nodding, he slowly made his way down the hallway towards the door as Pippa went inside. As he moved closer, he waited for any telltale signs of a struggle from inside of the room.
None came.
Wiggling the laminated document a bit as he walked down the hall; the sound was out-of-place enough in such a serious situation that it gave him a strange calming feeling. They were in a fight for their lives, they were in mortal danger, but the silly wobble reminded him that life still went on, danger notwithstanding. Taking a deep breath - mostly to try and settle his racing heart down - he grasped the door handle and opened the door, quietly stepping in to the room.
Wow. It looked like a hurricane had gone through here. Hurricane Freya, no doubt.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior of the smashed-up room, the second occupant was familiar to him. If he were being honest, these two women weren't exactly on his top-five list for people he'd love to spend time with. Freya had a reputation as being a bit sour on the best of days, and Pippa hadn't been privately called an ice queen for no reason. He hadn't ever had any kind of run-in with either of them himself; he supposed that if ever his predilection for getting along with most people were to come in handy, the time was now.
With a wry, sad smile, he held up a hand in greeting to the both of them. Freya seemed to have bandages on both hands - he couldn't blame her for acting out in anger. His own fear had taken over, but there was a healthy bunch of anger mixed in, too. His movements were slow and deliberate, as he'd taken notice of the knife and musket - really, a musket - that both women were armed with.
"Hi, ladies." Standard platitudes didn't seem appropriate, and he took another moment to survey the damage within the room. His shoulders sagged, and he let out the only thing he could think of.
"This whole thing certainly puts a damper on things, doesn't it?" Internally he smacked himself: no shit, Fisher - understatement of the year. He continued.
"I'm glad to see you're both okay."
He left it at that. Nothing much else came to mind.
None came.
Wiggling the laminated document a bit as he walked down the hall; the sound was out-of-place enough in such a serious situation that it gave him a strange calming feeling. They were in a fight for their lives, they were in mortal danger, but the silly wobble reminded him that life still went on, danger notwithstanding. Taking a deep breath - mostly to try and settle his racing heart down - he grasped the door handle and opened the door, quietly stepping in to the room.
Wow. It looked like a hurricane had gone through here. Hurricane Freya, no doubt.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior of the smashed-up room, the second occupant was familiar to him. If he were being honest, these two women weren't exactly on his top-five list for people he'd love to spend time with. Freya had a reputation as being a bit sour on the best of days, and Pippa hadn't been privately called an ice queen for no reason. He hadn't ever had any kind of run-in with either of them himself; he supposed that if ever his predilection for getting along with most people were to come in handy, the time was now.
With a wry, sad smile, he held up a hand in greeting to the both of them. Freya seemed to have bandages on both hands - he couldn't blame her for acting out in anger. His own fear had taken over, but there was a healthy bunch of anger mixed in, too. His movements were slow and deliberate, as he'd taken notice of the knife and musket - really, a musket - that both women were armed with.
"Hi, ladies." Standard platitudes didn't seem appropriate, and he took another moment to survey the damage within the room. His shoulders sagged, and he let out the only thing he could think of.
"This whole thing certainly puts a damper on things, doesn't it?" Internally he smacked himself: no shit, Fisher - understatement of the year. He continued.
"I'm glad to see you're both okay."
He left it at that. Nothing much else came to mind.
Freya looked between Pippa and FIsher as they both entered and spoke. She saw the knife that Pippa carried and made a note of it. She couldn't see any weapon in Fisher's hands, he had a laminated piece of paper, but nothing obviously deadly. That didn't mean he didn't have a weapon of some kind, it just meant that she couldn't see it.
Despite that, there wasn't any feeling of danger as things were. Plus, if they did try to rush her the musket afforded her a degree of time and protection. The bayonet on the end could ward them off. For the moment however they were talking, and that was good.
Annoyingly, what they were saying was vapid shit, empty words that meant nothing.
"Obviously fucking not." Freya snapped at Pippa before her gaze turned to Fisher. "No fucking part of this is alright or okay."
She fought the urge to start smashing things again.
Unlike Pippa, Freya knew of Fisher. She wasn't a fan. He talked too much, made shit jokes and put on voices that made her want to punch him in the face. So of the two Freya preferred Pippa if only because she didn't remember who she was to any real degree.
Still, she lowered the musket slightly so that it wasn't pointing directly at the pair. She was sure that if she decided to fight them there was a good chance that she would be able to win. But she wasn't going to do that, not unless she had to.
"But sure yeah I'm great."
Despite that, there wasn't any feeling of danger as things were. Plus, if they did try to rush her the musket afforded her a degree of time and protection. The bayonet on the end could ward them off. For the moment however they were talking, and that was good.
Annoyingly, what they were saying was vapid shit, empty words that meant nothing.
"Obviously fucking not." Freya snapped at Pippa before her gaze turned to Fisher. "No fucking part of this is alright or okay."
She fought the urge to start smashing things again.
Unlike Pippa, Freya knew of Fisher. She wasn't a fan. He talked too much, made shit jokes and put on voices that made her want to punch him in the face. So of the two Freya preferred Pippa if only because she didn't remember who she was to any real degree.
Still, she lowered the musket slightly so that it wasn't pointing directly at the pair. She was sure that if she decided to fight them there was a good chance that she would be able to win. But she wasn't going to do that, not unless she had to.
"But sure yeah I'm great."
Pippa had to step back slightly and purse her lips at Freya's snap. It was clear the state of the room was an accurate depiction of Freya's mental and emotional state right now, and the last thing Pippa needed to do was antagonize her. That large gun with the sharp metal end was intimidating enough that Pippa could easily regress to the mental faculties a toddler with a wet nappy if she was on Freya's bad side, so she was content to let Freya get everything out verbally as long as it didn't turn to such a devastating situation.
Pippa quietly breathed in and out and cleared her throat. Clearly, she'd have to be the diplomatic one here, as would be expected of anyone who hoped to own her own company, so she decided to speak.
"Well, now that we're all reacquainted," Pippa began, "I suggest we reach an understanding. Now, it's clear that none of us want to be here and none of us want to give in to the American government's perverse idea of retribution, so how about we sit down..."
Pippa looked around the room. There weren't many options for sitting now that Freya got her frustration out of her system.
"...or stand, if that makes you feel more comfortable, and try to decide the best course of action here."
Pippa looked to Freya and Fisher in hopes they'd agree. Freya was already a bit of a wildcard, but surely Pippa could find some humanity and reason in her. Fisher was also potentially a liability, but considering he was armed with a laminated piece of paper, he was more a threat to himself than the women. She had to be the leader here. The process of elimination made that quite apparent.
Pippa quietly breathed in and out and cleared her throat. Clearly, she'd have to be the diplomatic one here, as would be expected of anyone who hoped to own her own company, so she decided to speak.
"Well, now that we're all reacquainted," Pippa began, "I suggest we reach an understanding. Now, it's clear that none of us want to be here and none of us want to give in to the American government's perverse idea of retribution, so how about we sit down..."
Pippa looked around the room. There weren't many options for sitting now that Freya got her frustration out of her system.
"...or stand, if that makes you feel more comfortable, and try to decide the best course of action here."
Pippa looked to Freya and Fisher in hopes they'd agree. Freya was already a bit of a wildcard, but surely Pippa could find some humanity and reason in her. Fisher was also potentially a liability, but considering he was armed with a laminated piece of paper, he was more a threat to himself than the women. She had to be the leader here. The process of elimination made that quite apparent.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
-
Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
Freya snapped at Pippa, and she may as well have been snapping at him too. At least he'd gotten a sassy retort. Honestly, Fisher couldn't blame either of them. This was a devastating situation, and on another day; another mood, he might have wrecked the place up and been tense as hell as well. Thankful that the musket was pointed at the ground (for now, anyway), he held his hands up in mock surrender, his expression apologetic.
"Whoa, right, right. I'm sorry. You're both absolutely right. This is," he pursed his lips as he gestured to the wrecked room, "so absolutely fucked-up in every perceivable way."
Pippa broke in with her 'group leader' voice, which irked him just a little bit. Not that he necessarily disliked people in authority, but he was always rolled his eyes at those who tried to assume authority when none existed. In this particular instance, however, he was fine to abscond any leadership role to whichever of the women wanted it.
He supposed that since Freya had the gun, she was the one calling the shots, but he didn't tell Pippa that. Fisher also opted not to mention that bringing a knife to a gun-fight didn't usually end up well for the one with the knife; making jokes right now wasn't exactly a smart play, not when things were as tense as they were now. Trying to speak slowly and keep things light, Fisher let his hands fall to his sides and offered a suggestion.
"My vote for best course of action would be to start by not trying to kill one another."
He let the thought hang in the air for a moment, and shrugged.
"Maybe it's just me," he infused the first four words with a lot of sarcasm but returned to his normal cadence for the remainder, "but I don't feel like letting the Americans force us into buggering one another for their own enjoyment."
That brought an ugly thought to mind.
"You don't think any of us would stoop that low, do you? After all, we're Brits."
He didn't think any of his classmates would do that - let alone the two in the room with him - but the fact that he couldn't fully get behind that idea ran a chill down his spine.
"Whoa, right, right. I'm sorry. You're both absolutely right. This is," he pursed his lips as he gestured to the wrecked room, "so absolutely fucked-up in every perceivable way."
Pippa broke in with her 'group leader' voice, which irked him just a little bit. Not that he necessarily disliked people in authority, but he was always rolled his eyes at those who tried to assume authority when none existed. In this particular instance, however, he was fine to abscond any leadership role to whichever of the women wanted it.
He supposed that since Freya had the gun, she was the one calling the shots, but he didn't tell Pippa that. Fisher also opted not to mention that bringing a knife to a gun-fight didn't usually end up well for the one with the knife; making jokes right now wasn't exactly a smart play, not when things were as tense as they were now. Trying to speak slowly and keep things light, Fisher let his hands fall to his sides and offered a suggestion.
"My vote for best course of action would be to start by not trying to kill one another."
He let the thought hang in the air for a moment, and shrugged.
"Maybe it's just me," he infused the first four words with a lot of sarcasm but returned to his normal cadence for the remainder, "but I don't feel like letting the Americans force us into buggering one another for their own enjoyment."
That brought an ugly thought to mind.
"You don't think any of us would stoop that low, do you? After all, we're Brits."
He didn't think any of his classmates would do that - let alone the two in the room with him - but the fact that he couldn't fully get behind that idea ran a chill down his spine.